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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 3 years

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Necessary Repairs

Part III. I don’t even know if you have to read any of the other parts. SecUnit should probably have slept through most of its own healing, but that’s not this machine’s luck.

Part I | Part II

At some indeterminate point later, I woke up.

I was receiving minimal sensory data, and none of it was sight-related. A diagnostic subroutine spun up and casually began sending me bursts of error messages I couldn't even begin to translate.

Oh, and the world was pitch black.

It took me more than five seconds to determine that the darkness was self-inflicted and open my eyes. Longer still for the random noise to resolve into sounds I could understand -- the hum of an air circulation system, at least two distinct voices, and an automated warning system. My connection to the feed stabilized, but the walls that normally guarded my mind against its onslaught were conspicuously absent.

Something else was shielding me, something big and surprisingly gentle.

Friend?

I could feel cold metal under my back and head, probably the medical suite platform. My internal temperature refused to rise, so I was shivering and couldn't stop. It felt like I was still leaking, and the pain ebbed and flowed with each passing moment.

“Would you like me to turn up the heat?” Transport asked.

Yes. Where the hell am I?

I felt a mild shock as the governor kicked in. It hadn't liked my tone, apparently, or the phrasing of my answer, and wasn't shy about letting me know. The standard code read, "you're outside of protocol and need to adjust your attitude."

Silently, I cursed the damn thing. I was getting used to life without it.

A moment later, Transport answered, "SecUnit, you're still in medical, and your performance rating, while stable, remains abysmally low."

The ship paused and sent me a couple of data packets that succinctly described all the things still wrong -- which was most of them. I should've probably remained in stasis, but the medical unit was calibrated for humans. So, it hadn't given me nearly enough sedative to knock out the organic parts of a construct for any appreciable amount of time.

I was awake, kind of.

"I'm waiting for your vital signs to improve," Transport added. "Until then, would you like to watch an episode of that one show you liked?"

Yes, please.

The ship's calm tone reassured me, even though everything else looked like shit. My diagnostics were coming back with nonsense, still. The governor couldn't find a SecSystem to connect with. The Traveler didn't have or need one of those; it had a skeleton HubSystem instead managed security, life support, and logistics. My inflexible governor couldn't figure out how to interface with it.

Surprise, surprise...

It fell back on some preprogrammed garbage, complete with a minimal set of actions and responses. "Yes, please" and "No, thank you" was probably the best I could manage at the moment without incurring its wrath. I'd try poking at it later when my performance no longer looked quite so dramatically sad.

Captain Owens pulled up a chair and sat down where she could see me. Transport shared the view from one of its cameras, so now I could see her, too. It also queued up an episode of a long-running serial and waited for the captain before it started playing. I wanted to ask about the hostiles but couldn't -- thanks governor -- and Transport didn't seem inclined to enlighten me.

I suppose it was only fair; it was doing its best to keep me calm.

MedSystem sorted out the sleeping issue in the meantime and had injected more sedatives into my resupply channel, so sleep was happening shortly, whether I liked it or not. I could practically feel my diagnostics slowing down to a crawl since they relied on data from my organic parts, which were affected by the drugs.

"Good afternoon, SecUnit. I'm glad to see you're awake." The captain nodded in my direction and then turned toward someone I couldn't see. "As I mentioned, thanks to SecUnit, we came out of the boarding attempt in one piece. I'm sorry to hear your ship wasn't as lucky."

A stranger in formal wear came into camera view as he approached Owens. I figured he was the owner of that second voice I hadn't been able to identify earlier. The logo on his tunic looked familiar, but I couldn't place it. Parts of my memory felt like tangled network cables.

"Indeed, but this is still better than nothing. I don't suppose you've already contacted your bonding company?"

The captain's face scrunched up in confusion. "We're insured outside of the Corporation Rim," she explained. "I've sent a message, but I'm here pretty much on my own."

Outside of the Rim, everything appeared to work in ways that were incompatible with corporation control. A lot of the propaganda around freehold planets implied they were a complete shitshow. Except, clearly, the Traveler was doing just fine.

I had a sudden burst of "bad feeling" in my organic neural tissue. Something about the newcomer didn't sit right with me. I thought it might be unwise for the captain to tell him anything about herself or her ship.

"No, thank you." It sounded like my voice, but I didn't remember speaking. Hi buffer, I thought I'd never see you again.

The newcomer gave me a puzzled glance. "So, where'd you get your unit then?"

Owens shrugged and schooled her expression. I'd seen that face before when she'd spoken to her daughter before our first jump. "I rented it from a friend, as a security consultant. It's doing a great job."

I was?

I mean, the human was alive, and the Traveler had an intact hull, so I guess things weren't terrible. I could practically hear the Transport laughing on a private channel. If I could roll my eyes, I probably would have, but the governor frowned on that sort of thing, and my eyes had closed minutes ago.

"I see. Well, if you wouldn't mind giving us a hand with repairs, we can both be on our way." The man watched the captain like a hawk. "I would also recommend getting your unit checked out at a licensed repair station when you get a chance. With this level of damage, there's no telling what other problems are hiding under the surface."

As far as statements go, it was polite enough, but I didn't like it. It sounded to me like a threat.

Performance rating dropping. Initiating emergency shutdown.

I really would prefer you didn't.

***

Memory fragment:

The mining installation doesn't inspire confidence. There are eight of us and two combat models. Ten security units should be enough to keep a workforce of 153 miners and a dozen more supervisors in line. Everything looks worn and rundown, including the humans.

Protocol dictates that we take shifts. A human has created a schedule to which we adhere. The two combat units are mixed in with the rest of us.

It's my patrol shift. I walk through one of the mining shafts and stop at the far end. I can hear a supervisor arguing with two of her employees—something about the rocks they've uncovered. I turn around, ready to head back to the primary installation, when one of the combat units walks up to the three humans.

It has been summoned by the supervisor.

The supervisor tells it to fire on the workers. It does, without question. Bodies crumple to the floor. Then, the supervisor notices me.

***

Transport popped into my feed. "Wake up, SecUnit. How're you feeling?"

"Like I got shot."

The words were out before I could consider the consequences, and I braced for an electric shock -- or worse. Nothing happened. Performance reliability was at 87% and rising steadily. My diagnostics routines had run several times, and the results looked promising. I was also no longer leaking, and most of my organic parts had grown back.

I had two arms again. That was nice.

Transport shared a smiling sigil. Reason unknown. "You did get shot, silly. MedSystem patched you up pretty well. If you're up to it, my captain and I could use your help." It paused and added, "Captain suggested that you might want payment in exchange for services rendered. That's how it works in CR, right?"

I had my doubts about anything actually working in the Corporation Rim. Still, arguing with a clearly sentient ship about theoretical economics didn't sound appealing. I'd rather get shocked again.

"OK," I said aloud and sat up. "Priority question: who was here earlier?"

"Dr. Alexander Soren is the current captain of an ArialHydra exploration vessel. They are stranded in this sector after a pirate attack. Captain Owens speculates that it may be the same group of pirates. We were lucky to have you on board."

Lucky. Right.

I shoved off the platform and crumpled to the floor in a pile of arms and legs. Hi there, limbs. A few minutes later, I managed to get up and stumble around under my own power. I admit to sitting on the floor and trying out my new arm. It didn't have a cannon -- MedSystem didn't have the required parts -- but it was fully functional, otherwise.

"I've seen Dr. Soren before." I couldn't remember where. That bothered me.

"Perhaps you were deployed on one of his survey missions?"

"I don't know."

One of the ship's drones floated into the room, carrying spare clothing, which it dropped directly on my head. I grabbed at the falling fabric and started getting dressed. It was the Traveler's standard-issue uniform, beige and blue and generally not hideous. I missed the protective qualities of armor, but it would've been weird to wander through the ship's pristine, carpeted halls with it on.

Captain Owens walked into the medical room and waved at me and the drone. "I see you're both here and scheming."

"We're not scheming, and technically, I'm everywhere," Transport informed us.

"I don't think you should trust Dr. Soren," I blurted out.

Owens narrowed her eyes. "Do you know anything you'd care to share?"

I shook my head. Constructs don't get gut feelings -- we don't even have a gut to have them with -- and my memories of any encounters with the doctor had been removed. Memory wipes aren't typical, but occasionally, a bonding company or a manufacturer/repair company decides they're necessary. I've had at least one that I know about. I also had no idea how to explain that my organic neurons probably remembered things the rest of me didn't.

"Well, in that case, has Trav told you what we need?" At my puzzled expression, the captain said, "We gave the other ship supplies, and they're almost ready to depart. And they're making a fuss about..." She sighed. "Something. I really don't care. They'll be coming back aboard in a few hours to discuss whatever it is. And I would feel much better if you were there. Just in case. And only if you're feeling up to it."

Protecting humans was literally the only thing I liked about my job. "OK."

"Great. Do you want a weapon?"

"Depends on how threatening you want me to look." Any weapon I wielded would be for show unless the human was in danger. And if she was, I had a miniature cannon hidden inside an arm.

The captain pondered this for a moment. Her face went through a range of expressions that Transport interpreted for me as "Captain Owens thinks the other ship's posturing is stupid and would like to be on her way, but it would be impolite to leave, so here we are." I agreed with the captain's assessment.

Finally, she said, "Let's try without any extra threats and see what happens. The quicker we get this over with, the better."

Transport suggested we spend the time between now and the upcoming meeting watching more of its favorite shows. I agreed.

#the murderbot diaries #SecUnit #let me sleep #into the unknown #fanfiction

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

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West African Hybrids

“Hey… Hey! Wake up, we’re almost there.”

Ru’Yi felt a slight nudge at her side and opened her eyes. Her uniform was slightly rumpled. She managed to tie up her hair so it wouldn’t be too frizzy on landing. “Really?” She whimpered in a sleepy disappointment. “That was so fast…”

“Well, the executive department doesn’t like to waste time. So the gear department modifies planes for maximum speed.” Rodney gave her a shy smile, revealing a single dimple on his right cheek. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

She shook her head. “I’m alright.”

It was still too dark to see much but, as people began to turn on their overhead lights, she noticed that his eyes were hazel, brown with flecks of green and gold mixed in, hidden behind his dark brown bangs. Everything from his hair cut, to his quiet voice, and hesitant demeanor spoke to his shyness, but now that she got a good look at him, she could tell that he was at least as strong as Brian. He had those same broad shoulders and muscles along his arms. He was also relatively tall, stretching his legs under the seat in front of him.

Around her all the students were always wide awake, shifting and speaking to their seatmates.

Ru’Yi only remembered flying once before. Back when she was fourteen when they were on the island, she had been so excited to take her first flight and she packed all her things early. She even watched videos of 757, 747 and 777 airliners to see how things would be. These massive jets with smiling Flight attendants, a friendly captain speaking over an intercom, and movies built into the seats.

But instead of a large bustling airport, her father and mother took a boat to another island where a sandy flat ribbon of land served as a runway. There were no customs, no shopping, nothing like that. Just a long silver luxury private jet in the middle of nowhere.

“Why can’t we just be normal?” She had lamented.

Her father answered her question in his usual succinct manner. The nearest airport was nearly a day’s travel away and she would never be able to use it anyway because she didn’t have a passport. He looked at her with a head slightly tilted, like a curious bird wondering what was wrong. The juxtaposition of his serious-eyed stare, his questioning gesture and his shirt with the bright yellow hibiscus flowers would have been funny but she wasn’t laughing.

This was better anyway, her mother had chimed in. They had the whole plane to themselves. There was an onboard chef ready to fix anything they possibly would want to eat, music, movies, games, and a good pilot that her father knew. She also was dressed in a yellow sundress to match her husband’s and together, they looked like the happy globetrotting couple.

Ru’Yi had relented, but didn’t smile. Deep down, he knew all the kids at school would envy her. They would question how some tour guide could afford a private flight to the United States.

She should be grateful.

Now sitting in the Beluga Aircraft, she realized that this was as close to normal as she could get. At least now, she was surrounded by other people who also didn’t seem to use passports, use airports or pass through customs. They were flying a jet with a jet tucked inside it like a Russian nesting doll and still managed to go faster than the planes she’d looked at as a child. She started to wonder if normalcy was as much as a fantasy to her as dragons were to ordinary people.

Aircraft Carrier, Aido-Hwedo, West Africa Branch.

The calm Atlantic waters broke beneath the unstoppable gun-metal bow of the moving wall of metal that towered a thousand feet high. It was topped with what appeared to be a flat road surface, as though a piece of highway had broken off a steel cliffside and set sail. On the side of this cliff was a name in large white block text a dozen feet high: Aido-Hwedo.

The original name of the vessel was the USS-Enterprise. This aircraft carrier was the one near enough to Pearl Harbor to participate in the famous World War II battle. It had scrambled several of its jets to help, but in the confusion of the sudden attack, many of them were shot down by their own countrymen. Later it saw intense battles of the South Pacific and then other missions during peacetime. But, for all its storied history, it still ended up at the shipyard to be turned into scrap at the end of its life.

According to history, it was scrap. Supposedly, all that was left of the ship was its bell, an anchor and the name plaque. Indeed, the name plaque was removed, but the ship itself moved about on the seas like a ghost of decades past, fighting battles under its new name.

The Aido-Hwedo was the great rainbow serpent that both created the world and sustained Earth’s form from falling to chaos -- A great beast that ate iron and, lacking iron, would instead eat its own tail.

Ordinarily, this floating runway would have been decorated with fighter jets, but for this occasion the landing surface was cleared to accommodate its incoming oversized cargo.

Within the control tower a tall man with skin the color of black coffee watched through his binoculars while a woman sat watching the radar screen. He was dressed in a black naval uniform, decorated with gold tassels. He was still, silent, and tense as he prepared to watch the plane land.

Landing on a flight deck is one of the most difficult things a pilot will ever do. The flight deck only had about 500 feet of runway space for landing planes, which wasn’t nearly enough for the heavy, high-speed jets like the modified Beluga coming in. To land on the flight deck, it would need a tailhook, which was exactly what it sounded like — an extended hook attached to the plane’s tail. The pilot’s goal would be to snag the tailhook on one of four arresting wires, sturdy cables woven from high-tensile steel wire. It would be precision flying at low speed and a high angle of attack. It was the definitive skill that tested Navy carrier pilots. The principle on landing would be to fly the plane aboard the ship at the slowest speed at which it can be done safely, to deliberately stall and drop into the landing.

Despite his confidence in the pilot, Foli Abalo looked through his binoculars with anticipation of a close call. The wire system was checked, rechecked and placed under guard. A back up emergency wire system was installed in case it failed anyway.

“Approach speed 450. Tail hook lowered.” The woman murmured.

The lights of the plane were suddenly visible as it made its approaching turn. It moved incredibly slowly, stalking the ship like a massive fat shark.

“Speed reduced 350…”

It was the moment of truth. By now, the plane was so low and flying so slow, it had two options, land perfectly on the aircraft carrier or land on the ocean. There would be no recovering from this descent.

“On final approach. Flaps full. Speed 300.”

The roar of the engines was now audible in the tower. It rattled the glass. This plane would take up every inch of the runway and its wings would span the full width of the ship. Compared to the plane, this aircraft carrier seemed more like a sheet of notebook paper.

“Landing in five… four, three, two…”

The plane suddenly dwarfed the runway. The weight of it rocked the carrier. A pair of reverse thrusters built into the engines ignited in front of it. The brake lines caught the tailhooks and screamed under the strain. The plane passed the tower, rumbled further and further to the edge and then stopped completely, its nose peeking over the water.

A smattering of applause echoed throughout the tower. “We did it! We did it! That was the hard part wasn’t it? Get the crew down, have medics on board just in case the force of the stop caused any injuries.”

While the crew scattered, Foli smiled, his teeth a brilliant white, his black eyes twinkling. “Grant… it’s been far too long. How have you been doing my friend? Will you still recognize me? I wonder.” He chuckled.

Foli was one of a set of quadruplets. His mother had two eggs fertilized that day and by luck, both of them divided into two sets of twins. They were all born on the same day and seemed to have the same spirit in them so it was impossible to tell them apart as babies even for the most experienced spiritualist. Normally, the children would be named after the day of the week until they were given their permanent names. As it turned out, they were given the names of their birth order and that was that.

The name Foli meant first son, Atsu meant the younger of twins, Do was the first child after twins, and Dofi the second child after twins. His three brothers were also on this ship, scattered throughout the crew. Those onboard had no trouble telling them apart thanks to the uniform system of the West Africa branch. The gold crown on his hat meant he was the First Officer. But without his hat, it was very difficult to tell for those who didn’t know them well, and it wasn’t uncommon for his brothers to disguise themselves as pranks. He wouldn’t meet his friend today. His youngest brother, Dofi, would meet him instead.

He walked out of the tower where his brother was waiting and passed his his hat. Looking at them was like looking at a reflection. The same curled hair, cut short in the same buzzed syle, the same smile, and broad nose.

It was Dofi’s idea to play the prank. He was always the jokester and the one who initiated play on the ship. Atsu, the Chief Engineer was up to his ears after making the modifications to the ship for this mission. And Do had to stay on watch, keeping a careful eye on the stirring atmosphere just a few hundred miles distant. Although they were all the same age, Foli was expected to be the responsible representative and more was required of him as the oldest brother, even if he was only the oldest by a few minutes. So he wasn’t allowed to be seen playing, drinking or smoking.

Dofi screwed the hat on his head. “I’ll say I stole it.” He said, turning on his heel with a wink and then, pulling his face into a stoic frown, marched straight towards the bridge. When the other crew saw him they quickly pulled up in a sharp salute, thinking he was the captain.

The West Africa Branch had managed to remain under the radar for much of history. Africa had few mountains to guarantee a sufficient amount of steady rains. So great buildings and permanent settlements were mostly confined to the coasts and river valleys. The rest of Africa was forced to follow the shifting weather. The most valuable items one had had to be portable. So the hybrids of Africa were always mobile and moving. They kept their secrets with them in oral traditions, and carried their alchemical knowledge in the form of clothing, necklaces and even scars and tattoos. When the tidal wave of destructive colonization smashed to ruins the cultures of millions and the cutting knife of modern country borders separated allies and grouped them with enemies, and the explosion of civil war blew countries into eternal cycles of poverty, the hybrid life of West Africa was like a serpent, sliding under it all, with a secret network of transportation, communication and trade.

Anjou landed on the shores searching for such treasures. They were aware of him immediately and shied away. After all, those Europeans were nothing but looters and could not be trusted. They offered him fakes in hopes of luring him off their land. He saw through their counterfeits, but showed a surprising amount of restraint and tolerance for their hesitance. After a few years of negotiations, they finally trusted him enough to grant him a single piece of exquisite art that contained the alchemical formula for a special kind of dragonslaying metal. In return, he agreed to keep them secret for seven years.

Those seven years passed and the promise was kept and the relationship grew a bit more open. They began to send their young men and women to the college. Foli attended along with Grant. Sadly, the death of Anjou was an uncertain time for the College. They didn’t know this “Lu Mingfei” or this “Von Frings”. But Foli knew Grant Baldwin and he couldn’t refuse a request for help from a friend. Grant said he needed people who could keep secrets and no one kept secrets like the West African Hybrids.

The crew that would welcome them rolled the tall stairway up to the plane’s door and arranged themselves in a long row spanning its length, hands folded behind their backs, looking like a row of sharply dressed dominoes.

The door finally opened and Grant exited first. He looked out over them and stepped easily down towards the ‘Captain’ who gazed at him with a serious air. For a moment, the two stared at each other not saying anything.

From his perch in the tower, Foli could hear what was being said through the wire Dofi wore. He grinned as he heard his brother say, “Welcome to my ship, Director.”

Grant’s voice, at its most deadpan and dry tone said, “Since when did Foli grow a mole on his cheek? Where is he? Which brother are you?”

Within the tower, Foli tilted his head back and howled with laughter, his joy at his brother’s prank failing was intensified by the fact that his friend still remembered him after all his time. “Which brother are you? Hahaha…” He leaned forward and clicked the PA system and his voice boomed over the speakers attached to the tower. “Good morning, Mr. Baldwin! Long time no see! Hahaha!”

“Was this a test?”

“Yes! And you half passed. For the second half, you will have to find out for yourself which brother is he!”

The rest of the line of crew also grinned but kept their laughter in check as Dofi gave a bow with an elegant leg. “We’ll show your students a good time. They need rest while we prepare the mission.”

The students piled off the plane in a rush, eagerly waving and looking around. Foli watched carefully, making a checklist in his mind of each face. He’d gotten the roster from Baldwin of those approved for the mission, so when he saw a woman get off he straightened with surprise.

He didn’t remember any women being on the roster. She seemed young, her skin was only the color of a latte, but her hair was long, coiled and beautiful. She carefully stepped down to the ground and took her place in line to wait for her luggage.

He turned off the PA. It seemed that Grant had his own surprises. “Ensign… who is the girl?”

The woman at the radar shook her head. She’s not on the roster. There’s no female name on the manifest.

He rubbed his chin. He knew he should trust Mr. Baldwin, but he also knew that he only had so much authority. The School Board would easily overrule him.

“Find out what you can about her.” He turned. “I will make my way down to the deck.”

#dragon raja #fanfic #Class of 2032

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ofblcckcats · 4 years

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You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you. You died before I had time— Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off the beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My Polack friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine, Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You— Not God but a swastika So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the screw. And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I'm finally through. The black telephone's off at the root, The voices just can't worm through. If I've killed one man, I've killed two— The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There's a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through. In Memory of W. B. Yeats by W. H. Auden I He disappeared in the dead of winter: The brooks were frozen, the airports almost deserted, And snow disfigured the public statues; The mercury sank in the mouth of the dying day. What instruments we have agree The day of his death was a dark cold day. Far from his illness The wolves ran on through the evergreen forests, The peasant river was untempted by the fashionable quays; By mourning tongues The death of the poet was kept from his poems. But for him it was his last afternoon as himself, An afternoon of nurses and rumours; The provinces of his body revolted, The squares of his mind were empty, Silence invaded the suburbs, The current of his feeling failed; he became his admirers. Now he is scattered among a hundred cities And wholly given over to unfamiliar affections, To find his happiness in another kind of wood And be punished under a foreign code of conscience. The words of a dead man Are modified in the guts of the living. But in the importance and noise of to-morrow When the brokers are roaring like beasts on the floor of the Bourse, And the poor have the sufferings to which they are fairly accustomed, And each in the cell of himself is almost convinced of his freedom, A few thousand will think of this day As one thinks of a day when one did something slightly unusual. What instruments we have agree The day of his death was a dark cold day. II You were silly like us; your gift survived it all: The parish of rich women, physical decay, Yourself. Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry. Now Ireland has her madness and her weather still, For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives In the valley of its making where executives Would never want to tamper, flows on south From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs, Raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives, A way of happening, a mouth. III Earth, receive an honoured guest: William Yeats is laid to rest. Let the Irish vessel lie Emptied of its poetry. In the nightmare of the dark All the dogs of Europe bark, And the living nations wait, Each sequestered in its hate; Intellectual disgrace Stares from every human face, And the seas of pity lie Locked and frozen in each eye. Follow, poet, follow right To the bottom of the night, With your unconstraining voice Still persuade us to rejoice; With the farming of a verse Make a vineyard of the curse, Sing of human unsuccess In a rapture of distress; In the deserts of the heart Let the healing fountain start, In the prison of his days Teach the free man how to praise. Proem: To Brooklyn Bridge by Hart Crane How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest The seagull's wings shall dip and pivot him, Shedding white rings of tumult, building high Over the chained bay waters Liberty— Then, with inviolate curve, forsake our eyes As apparitional as sails that cross Some page of figures to be filed away; —Till elevators drop us from our day ... I think of cinemas, panoramic sleights With multitudes bent toward some flashing scene Never disclosed, but hastened to again, Foretold to other eyes on the same screen; And Thee, across the harbor, silver-paced As though the sun took step of thee, yet left Some motion ever unspent in thy stride,— Implicitly thy freedom staying thee! Out of some subway scuttle, cell or loft A bedlamite speeds to thy parapets, Tilting there momently, shrill shirt ballooning, A jest falls from the speechless caravan. Down Wall, from girder into street noon leaks, A rip-tooth of the sky's acetylene; All afternoon the cloud-flown derricks turn ... Thy cables breathe the North Atlantic still. And obscure as that heaven of the Jews, Thy guerdon ... Accolade thou dost bestow Of anonymity time cannot raise: Vibrant reprieve and pardon thou dost show. O harp and altar, of the fury fused, (How could mere toil align thy choiring strings!) Terrific threshold of the prophet's pledge, Prayer of pariah, and the lover's cry,— Again the traffic lights that skim thy swift Unfractioned idiom, immaculate sigh of stars, Beading thy path—condense eternity: And we have seen night lifted in thine arms. Under thy shadow by the piers I waited; Only in darkness is thy shadow clear. The City's fiery parcels all undone, Already snow submerges an iron year ... O Sleepless as the river under thee, Vaulting the sea, the prairies' dreaming sod, Unto us lowliest sometime sweep, descend And of the curveship lend a myth to God. Tom O' Bedlam's Song anonymous ballad, circa 1620 From the hag and hungry goblin That into rags would rend ye, The spirit that stands by the naked man In the Book of Moons, defend ye. That of your five sound senses You never be forsaken, Nor wander from your selves with Tom Abroad to beg your bacon, While I do sing, Any food, any feeding, Feeding, drink or clothing; Come dame or maid, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing. Of thirty bare years have I Twice twenty been enragèd, And of forty been three times fifteen In durance soundly cagèd. On the lordly lofts of Bedlam With stubble soft and dainty, Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips, ding-dong, With wholesome hunger plenty, And now I sing, Any food, any feeding, Feeding, drink or clothing; Come dame or maid, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing. With a thought I took for Maudlin, And a cruse of cockle pottage, With a thing thus tall, sky bless you all, I befell into this dotage. I slept not since the Conquest, Till then I never wakèd, Till the roguish boy of love where I lay Me found and stript me nakèd. While I do sing, Any food, any feeding, Feeding, drink or clothing; Come dame or maid, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing. When I short have shorn my sow's face And swigged my horny barrel, In an oaken inn, I pound my skin As a suit of gilt apparel; The moon's my constant mistress, And the lovely owl my marrow; The flaming drake and the night crow make Me music to my sorrow. While I do sing, Any food, any feeding, Feeding, drink or clothing; Come dame or maid, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing. The palsy plagues my pulses When I prig your pigs or pullen Your culvers take, or matchless make Your Chanticleer or Sullen. When I want provant, with Humphry I sup, and when benighted, I repose in Paul's with waking souls, Yet never am affrighted. But I do sing, Any food, any feeding, Feeding, drink or clothing; Come dame or maid, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing. I know more than Apollo, For oft when he lies sleeping I see the stars at mortal wars In the wounded welkin weeping. The moon embrace her shepherd, And the Queen of Love her warrior, While the first doth horn the star of morn, And the next the heavenly Farrier. While I do sing, Any food, any feeding, Feeding, drink or clothing; Come dame or maid, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing. The Gypsies, Snap and Pedro, Are none of Tom's comradoes, The punk I scorn, and the cutpurse sworn And the roaring boy's bravadoes. The meek, the white, the gentle, Me handle not nor spare not; But those that cross Tom Rynosseross Do what the panther dare not. Although I sing, Any food, any feeding, Feeding, drink or clothing; Come dame or maid, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing. With an host of furious fancies, Whereof I am commander, With a burning spear and a horse of air To the wilderness I wander. By a knight of ghosts and shadows I summoned am to tourney Ten leagues beyond the wide world's end: Methinks it is no journey. Yet I will sing, Any food, any feeding, Feeding, drink or clothing; Come dame or maid, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing. After the Persian by Louise Bogan I I do not wish to know The depths of your terrible jungle: From what nest your leopard leaps Or what sterile lianas are at once your serpents' disguise and home. I am the dweller on the temperate threshold, The strip of corn and vine, Where all is translucence (the light!) Liquidity, and the sound of water. Here the days pass under shade And the nights have the waxing and the waning moon. Here the moths take flight at evening; Here at morning the dove whistles and the pigeons coo. Here, as night comes on, the fireflies wink and snap Close to the cool ground, Shining in a profusion Celestial or marine. Here it is never wholly dark but always wholly green, And the day stains with what seems to be more than the sun What may be more than my flesh. II I have wept with the spring storm; Burned with the brutal summer. Now, hearing the wind and the twanging bow-strings, I know what winter brings. The hunt sweeps out upon the plain And the garden darkens. They will bring the trophies home To bleed and perish Beside the trellis and the lattices, Beside the fountain, still flinging diamond water, Beside the pool (Which is eight-sided, like my heart). III All has been translated into treasure: Weightless as amber, Translucent as the currant on the branch, Dark as the rose's thorn. Where is the shimmer of evil? This is the shell's iridescence And the wild bird's wing. IV Ignorant, I took up my burden in the wilderness. Wise with great wisdom, I shall lay it down upon flowers. V Goodbye, goodbye! There was so much to love, I could not love it all; I could not love it enough. Some things I overlooked, and some I could not find. Let the crystal clasp them When you drink your wine, in autumn. Elegy Written in a Country Church-Yard by Thomas Gray The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds: Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share, Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

#taaaaaaaaaaaaaaags #tag tags taaaags

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marineparts1-blog · 6 years

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Electric Toilets Dept. Blog : The Benefits of a Remote Boat Engine Kill Switch

Don't Get Caught Off Guard - Install a Remote Boat Engine Kill Switch

Raritan Engineering Company your electric toilets suppliers would like to share with you these topics we thought would be of interest to you this month regarding the benefits of a remote boat engine kill switch.

Your electric toilets experts talk about how a safety-stop lanyard - aka engine kill switch - comes standard with marine power systems to instantly shut down propulsion if the helmsman gets tossed from the boat. Yet many skippers forget that they're tethered and walk away from the wheel, inadvertently killing the engine.

Fell Marine's MOB+ wireless man-overboard systems resolve this issue. Essentially, a remote xFob that you wear connects wirelessly using the WiMEA protocol to a Fell xHub on the boat. When a wearer falls overboard, it breaks the signal and the engine shuts down.

Install the xHub

Select a spot near the wheel and cut a standard 21/16-inch-diameter hole, making sure you have clearance behind it for the 61/2-inch-long xHub antenna (it is flexible and can bend slightly). Remove the xHub nut and attach the antenna to the back of the unit.

Connect to Power

Take care to turn off the onboard battery power before wiring the connector cable to an onboard power source. The connector cable has a five-wire color-coded pigtail. Connect the red (positive) wire to a stable, positive 12-volt DC source with a 1- to 3-amp fuse with either a marine in-line fuse holder or a fuse block, neither of which is supplied with the Fell system.

Remote Boat Engine Kill Switch Can Save Lives

See your choice of electric toilets here at Raritan Engineering and see how we always take care of your marine sanitation supply needs.

Connect Signal Wires

Two of the remaining three pigtails are used to connect the signal wires to the existing kill switch on your boat. To determine which two, visit fellmarine.com for a wire schematic for your engine brand.

Test the System

Test while tied to a dock. Turn on the engine. If you wired the system to the existing kill switch, pull the lanyard to ensure it works. Reconnect the lanyard and restart the engine. Submerge the xFob Multifob in the ocean or lake, or walk with it until the engine stops. The xHub will light up red and emit a sound signal to indicate a man overboard.

What good is a kill switch that you don't use?

Many (most) operators of small, outboard-powered boats do not use their corded kill switch as it was designed, by clipping it to their clothing. Properly attached to you, the kill switch ties you down to a very limited space onboard.

If you happen to fall or get thrown out of your boat and you're not properly tethered to the outboard by your kill switch lanyard, the boat will either spin in circles or just keep motoring straight--two disastrous alternatives.

If you fall overboard, the xHUB cuts the engine, sounds an alarm and flashes red lights on your dash. The device includes an "Override Mode". In Override Mode, any passenger or crew onboard can restart the engine without the need to interact with the MOB+ system.

Don't forget these easy steps for installing your remote boat engine kill switch. 1) Install the xHub; 2) connect to the power; 3) connect the signal wires; and 4) test the system.

Fleet of sailboat drones could monitor climate change's effect on oceans

Two 7-meter-long sailboats are set to return next month to California, after nearly 8 months tacking across the Pacific Ocean. Puttering along at half-speed, they will be heavy with barnacles and other growth. No captains will be at their helms.

That is not because of a mutiny. These sailboats, outfitted with sensors to probe the ocean, are semi autonomous drones, developed by Saildrone, a marine tech startup based in Alameda, California, in close collaboration with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) in Washington, D.C.

After World War II, most sea surface data were collected from ships. Then came buoys and satellites. Now, NOAA scientists want to send in the drones. "We could be making the next epochal advancement in oceanography," says Craig McLean, NOAA's assistant administrator for oceanic and atmospheric research and acting chief scientist.

Richard Jenkins, an engineer and Saildrone's founder, smelled an opportunity. He had built a sailboat on wheels called Greenbird that in 2009 broke the land-speed record for a wind-powered vehicle, reaching 202 kilometers per hour on a dry lake bed in Nevada. Afterward, he helped two ocean-minded philanthropists, Eric and Wendy Schmidt, outfit their research vessel, the R/V Falkor, at a cost of $60 million.

The first Pacific test started on 5 September 2017, when two saildrones, 1005 and 1006, set out from San Francisco, California, for equatorial waters. Satellites had spotted cold tongues of surface water extending westward from the South American coast, an indicator of a strong La Niña, El Niño's opposite number.

In addition to temperature, wind, and solar radiation data, the Pacific saildrones are measuring how the ocean and air exchange gases like carbon dioxide and oxygen, and they are using Doppler instruments to gauge currents coursing up to 100 meters below the surface.

Order your marine toilet parts here at Raritan Engineering and see how we provide you the best products in the marine sanitation industry today.

Be sure to watch our latest video on marine toilets below.

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via Installing A Remote Boat Engine Kill Switch

via MOB+ Wireless Man Overboard System

via Fleet of sailboat drones could monitor climate change's effect on oceans

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watersports145-blog · 6 years

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Electric Toilets Dept. Blog : The Benefits of a Remote Boat Engine Kill Switch

by Raritan-Engineering - May 24, 2018

Don't Get Caught Off Guard – Install a Remote Boat Engine Kill Switch

Install the xHub

Connect to Power

Remote Boat Engine Kill Switch Can Save Lives

See your choice of electric toilets here at Raritan Engineering and see how we always take care of your marine sanitation supply needs.

Connect Signal Wires

Test the System

What good is a kill switch that you don't use?

If you fall overboard, the xHUB cuts the engine, sounds an alarm and flashes red lights on your dash. The device includes an “Override Mode”. In Override Mode, any passenger or crew onboard can restart the engine without the need to interact with the MOB+ system.

Don't forget these easy steps for installing your remote boat engine kill switch. 1) Install the xHub; 2) connect to the power; 3) connect the signal wires; and 4) test the system.

Fleet of sailboat drones could monitor climate change's effect on oceans

After World War II, most sea surface data were collected from ships. Then came buoys and satellites. Now, NOAA scientists want to send in the drones. “We could be making the next epochal advancement in oceanography,” says Craig McLean, NOAA's assistant administrator for oceanic and atmospheric research and acting chief scientist.

Order your marine toilet parts here at Raritan Engineering and see how we provide you the best products in the marine sanitation industry today.

Be sure to watch our latest video on marine toilets below.

via Installing A Remote Boat Engine Kill Switch

via MOB+ Wireless Man Overboard System

via Fleet of sailboat drones could monitor climate change's effect on oceans

0 notes

ozsaill · 6 years

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Anatomy of a Panama Canal transit

What’s it like to transit the Panama Canal? How much it costs to go through is the first thing most people want to know, if only out of curiosity; those details are here. What’s the process of a transit through the isthmus like? For those in our wake: a summary of Totem’s our experience, the resources that were helpful to us, and what we learned about how to transit safely.

“Cristobal Signal Station, this is sailing vessel Totem.” After weeks of anticipation and planning, the VHF call to inform the port entry coordinator of Totem’s location marks the start of Totem’s canal transit. The process began months before with research: helpful aids were Noonsite, The Panama Cruising Guide, and Mad About Panama – blogs added helpful color and opinions.

Pre-transit planning

This process varies depending on whether you do it yourself or hire an agent. Despite a bias to DIY, we chose the latter to have an advocate for getting through in a timely fashion and avoid tramping around Colon (unsafe in the best of times, worse with the rioting this month).

The agent will handle:

the canal officialdom runaround

organize lines (4 x 125’) and fenders and line handlers if needed (for a fee)

cover your $900 “buffer” fee with the Panama Canal Authority (ACP)

advocate for your desired transit date

assist with outbound clearance

Colon has a dismal reputation for personal safety and erupted in riots in March, so it was peace of mind that our agent did the leg work there. He also found us early transit dates when arriving boats were being assigned two to three weeks wait period.

Jamie coaches our line handlers before transit. Yes, the Flats is quite a charming anchorage…

Want to DIY? No problem, by all accounts. Good cruiser descriptions for their DIY transit to be found at Gone with the Wynns, White Spot Pirates, and ImpetuousToo.

Waiting to transit

A transit date is only assigned after your official measurement is complete and all canal fees are paid. This interval can take a few days in low season or a few weeks at peak. Waiting in Colon means either paying steep rates at Shelter Bay Marina (owning the monopoly!) or anchoring out where you 1) must not leave the boat unattended for security reasons, and 2) have no place to leave the dinghy, so it’s drop-offs / pickups only.

Motoring up to the first locks on departure day

If assigned transit date is too long to wait around Colon, there are two options. Pay to fast track. We were quoted about $3,000, in addition to regular fees, to request without guarantee, an expedited transit. Well that was nice to know! Alternatively, do a day sail east to historic Portobelo or overnight trip to Guna Yala (San Blas). Getting there can be a bash during peak tradewinds; watch conditions.

Go time!

Six humans is the minimum crew during transit: the captain, four line handlers, and an ACP advisor. Mairen and Siobhan were rejected as line handlers (on the unfair basis of their gender, as far as I could tell, but it’s not our call). They’d have done fine, but it was a bonus to have two friends aboard helping fill the role.

Cruising boats do what’s called a handline transit: this means the lines between ship and shore are moved by human handlers. Commercial ships (or fancypants boats measuring 125’ and more) get pulled through the locks by cables attached to locomotives.

Shoreside locomotive with cables to our Ro-Ro lock buddy, Sunshine Ace

Handline transit vessels have four possible configurations to pass through the locks. When your boat is measured, you can specify top two preferences with the admeasurer. Descriptions to prepare for locking through in different configurations is thoroughly detailed in the Mad About Panama ebook.

Transit begins by meeting your advisor at The Flats, an anchorage 2.5 miles from the first Caribbean-side lock. Because we were assigned a one-day transit, we anchored overnight as the advisor was due to arrive before sunrise. Andrew and Tristan From Utopia II joined us as linehandlers (and entertainment!) When two other boats anchored nearby, we suspected that our raft partners had arrived. Just before dawn, an ACP vessel maneuvered to deliver an advisor to anchor boat.

And advisor is delivered to Totem at dawn

The canal is roughly 37 miles long, most of which is the waterway of Lake Gatun and canal cuts between the trios of locks at each end. Entering from the Caribbean side, three sequential chambers of the Gatun locks lift vessels up around 90 feet. On the Pacific side, there’s a brief motor across Lake Miraflores between the inland lock (Pedro Miguel) and the last two chambers (in front of the Miraflores visitor center) where boats are lowered back down.

Canal path screenshot on OpenCPN

With our advisor, Roy, on board things began to happen quickly. We were directed to create a raft with Totem in the middle. Roy said, “perfect, now we have big fenders to protect us.” We like Roy! We stayed rafted through the first three locks, then separated to cross Lake Gatun, then raft up again to descend the last three locks.

The advisor isn’t the captain—you’re responsible for boat and crew!—but it is essential to follow advisor directions closely, as they understand the lock conditions. Some instructions may seem odd, like directions to turn the boat to point towards a lock wall, but it’s for a reason. There could be a four knot current deflected by the wall. Follow instruction or risk being spun around (which is bad!).

Entering the locks

As the center boat meant Totem was the primary propulsion for the raft and Roy was the lead advisor to direct all three boats. It also meant an easier trip for Totem’s line handlers. Once the raft was formed by securing bow, stern, and spring lines, our line-handlers became passengers.

Most cruising boats share the chamber with a commercial vessel. When locking up (towards the higher water in Lake Gatun), commercial boats enter first. Our “buddy boat” for the first series of locks was the 650’ ro-ro (roll-on, roll-off car carrier), Sunlight Ace.

As the raft drives slowly into the open lock, four ACP handlers – two on each side of the lock walls – throw a small, weighted monkey’s fist with messenger line attached down to the two boats on the outside of the raft. Line handlers on these boats tie the messenger lines to loops on to corresponding bow and stern lines. This does require that the line-handler know how to tie a knot! Our expectation was this was fast and furious, but it happens slowly. This is not the tricky part.

It’s an intimidating toss for the weighted line from a shoreside handler

When messenger line and your line are joined, the shoreside line-handlers pull your lines up the lock walls and secure the loop on large bollards (big ship cleats). When boats are secure, the riveted steel plates on the massive lock doors begin to close.

Sending lines back up to shore

What happens in the locks?

When the lock doors close and water level begins to change, the line handlers must tension (or loosen) the lines per advisor instructions. It sounds easy, right? But a line handler thinking about capturing the scene on the GoPro they have stuffed in a pocket may not respond when necessary. A cleat that is cluttered by junk on deck will make the line handler’s job unnecessarily difficult. A language barrier between handler and/or skipper and/or and advisor can cause problems from missed or delayed communications. A side-boat advisor distracted by cell phone because primary advisor is in charge is dangerous too.

Roy advises all three boats from the center of the raft

Once the change starts, it is critical to keep pace tightening or easing the lines to shore as directed. Something like 55 million gallons flow through in 10 minutes and the water movement is intense. Salt and fresh water don’t like to mix, so when they flood together, lighter fresh water rushes over the salt water create currents on horizontal and vertical planes. If spider-leg lines holding your three-boat raft in place are not properly handled the raft can begin to spin, which is when bad things happen to boat.

Handlers manage lines during intense turbulence in the chamber

Dry descriptions don’t convey how heated action can be inside the chamber. Turbulent water can damage boats and humans. When locking “up” to Lake Gatun, lines had to be tightened as the raft floated up to meet the top of each lock, shrinking the distance from boat to bollard. Locking “down” meant loosening lines. If not closely watched, the lines really load up. One of the boats next to us was sloppy with easing the lines when the raft started to shift. The crew realized and scrambled to secure the line that was pulling from them, and twice, nearly caught hand/fingers in the process. So much better to just pay attention!

Exiting the locks

When a massive ship just in front of you spins up the props to move out of the lock, there is a lot of wash. Totem’s engine in forward with moderate RPMs to hold station against four knots of current. All hands must pay close attention to advisor direction to keep the boats centered and pointing straight.

Massive steel lock gates in the canal. Does this make it look gentle? It’s not!

Once turbulence subsides, the raft slowly motors forward. If another lock is immediately adjacent (this happens three times), the shoreside handlers walked the raft like they were a trio of dogs on a leash. If there’s not another lock immediately ahead, shoreside handlers will remove lines from bollards and toss them into the water for the boats to pull in.

When dismantling the raft for Lake Gatun and at the exit, the connected boats first motor ahead a safe distance to be clear before separating under the advisor’s direction.

Lake Gatun

By the time we reached Lake Gatun, it felt like the day should be half over – but it was barely 10 o’clock in the morning! Time to hydrate and pass the snacks.

If assigned a two-day transit, you spend the night tied to a large buoy just outside the channel. Lake Gatun is an artificial lake full of tree-stumps and other anchor-eating debris, so it’s mooring only! We initially hoped for this overnight stay, to watch for crocs and listen for howler monkeys. In hindsight the one-day transit was nice to get it done, though long at 11 hours. Thanks to our friend Tammy for this photo of their Gatun mooring!

From here it’s a motorboat ride through history on the big-ship highway to Pedro Miguel locks on the far side. Mad About Panama’s ebook details it all, from how to spot Noriega’s jail to the crane called Titan that was built by Hitler’s Germany and claimed by the US as a war prize…it’s still used to service lock doors.

Andrew keeping an eye on traffic

Differences in the last locks

Locking down the three chambers reverses a few aspects of locking up – besides the obvious descent. Cruising boats enter first, with the commercial vessel behind. Boats float at the same level as shoreside handlers, so Monkey’s fists are tossed across instead of dropped down, a less intimidating prospect for the weighted line.

Lousy picture – you get the idea!

Current effects were different: again, it was essential to pay close attention to the advisors direction and expect that his instructions may not feel intuitive. Our return to the Pacific (a journey which the canal makes mostly by going south, and a little east!) was a relief, celebrated with the

Takeaways for a safe transit

Notes on our transit, reflections over the last two weeks, have gelled some perspective on our transit: what worked, what could have been done better.

Foremost, all advisors are not created alike. Roy was excellent, and helped us have a problem-free trip. Advisors adjacent to Totem were more attentive to their smartphones than the line handlers. This made cause a few exciting moments – all ended well, anyway.

Our advisor, Roy, was all that and a bag of chips. We scored with this great guy on board!

The advisor is assigned; you don’t have control over that. Here’s what you can control and do to prepare.

Clear decks. The area around bow and stern cleats must be as clear as possible. We moved stern rail mounted outboard to rest on deck near Totem’s mast to free up space near the stern cleats.

You’re either a line handler or you’re not. If you want to take photos or text or adjust your GoPro or message Facebook friends or, or, or, when in the locks, then you are not a line handler.

Fair leads! You know your boat: if the bow line has to pass through the bow pulpit for a clear path to the cleat, then have it run that way at the start. Re-leading in the moment takes time you may not have if currents start spinning the raft.

Stern lines: Jamie felt these took the most load: a strategy to consider is running them to a cockpit winch with the stern cleat as a guide.. This gives far better control when easing a loaded line and more muscle to tension when required.

Repeat the instruction given by the advisor. This makes the advisors job easier in knowing you heard and are responding to the action called for. It may serve to clarify the advisor’s intentions when issuing rapid instructions.

Mitigating an un-engaged advisor. If the lead advisor is distracted or communication is poor (and even if they’re not), proactively talk through maneuvers before they need to happen. We felt the boats rafted to us struggled a couple of times due to less attentive advisors.

PAY ATTENTION! The lead advisor (who is not necessarily on your boat) may call for rapid engine and or steering changes. One of the boats rafted to us was… less attentive. It created a couple of fire drills and added to our burden to prevent the raft from spinning.

Totem and her fenders I mean lock mates: a nearly matched set of Ovnis.

Resources for planning

Start at Noonsite: succinct, solid orientation for the process.

Ready for details? They’re all in Mad About Panama’s website and very useful $1.99 ebook. If you read just one guide to prepare, this should be it.

Also helpful is The Panama Cruising Guide (Bauhaus) but it’s very expensive if you only want canal info. Invaluable for Guna Yala, however, a good all-around cruising guide for Panama.

To appreciate the magnitude of this awesome feat of human labor, read David McCullough’s The Path Between the Seas

In addition to reading, first-timers can prepare by volunteering to line handle for another cruiser in advance of their own transit: a great way to pay it forward and internalize the process before going in your own boat. Listen on the morning VHF nets (details on Noonsite)

Totem is now northbound from Panama, lingering off Costa Rica for a better window to get across the Papagayos. We’ll cross our circumnavigation track in Zihuatanejo, Mexico, in the next few weeks. If you’ll be in the neighborhood, let us know!

from Sailing Totem https://ift.tt/2pK45w4 via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Sailing Totem

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jnglcat21 · 7 years

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There is no denying submarines evoke a sense of danger, stealth, and adventure, and they all have nail-biting stories to tell. But even amongst these silent stalkers, few are as legend-worthy as the USS Halibut (SSGN 587). Her keel was laid in April 1957 and just 2 years later she hit the water. After her official Naval commission in early 1960, she was deployed on her first cruise on March 11 of that year. Halibut was already a history-maker by being the first nuclear-powered submarine designed to deploy guided missiles, but she cemented her place in the history books by becoming the first nuclear sub to successfully launch said missile while at sea. Over the next five years, Halibut would participate in seven patrols throughout the Pacific, but missile technology was moving fast, and by 1965, she was replaced by the George Washington class of Polaris submarines. It was a short patrol life, but not to fear: her true adventures were about to begin. After a brief stint testing the capabilities of the Permit class submarines, Halibut was taken to Pearl Harbor in February 1965 for a massive overhaul. You see, the somewhat-clunky-looking Halibut had caught the eye of John Craven, an ocean engineer working for Naval Intelligence, who was tasked with locating and recovering launched Soviet missiles from the seabed. He took one look at the Halibut and he knew he had the potential for a deep sea recovery vessel. By late 1967, after two years of massive renovations, and countless failed tests, Halibut was ready for her first research mission. She was sent out to recover the cone of a Soviet ballistic missile, but problems with the cables attached to her recovery equipment thwarted that attempt. She tried again in January 1968, but she couldn't locate a missile to recover (and she nearly lost a man who was washed overboard while the ship was surfaced one night). Halibut headed back to Pearl Harbor from her second failed recovery attempt, and there she learned the Soviets had lost a Golf II class submarine of their own somewhere in the Pacific. It took a fair bit of decoding but Naval Intelligence learned K-129 had left port on February 24, 1968 and sometime in April, when she was out in the mid-Pacific, her transmissions stopped. The Soviets had tried to locate their lost sub, but failed to find it. So now, the Americans would try. What a boon to Naval Intelligence during these hot Cold War years to recover a Soviet sub with ballistic missiles, codebooks, and other military technology on board. And what better vessel to locate the missing K-129 than the USS Halibut? This type of mission is what Craven had designed her for, and though she had failed in her attempts to locate missile pieces, a full submarine was a different treasure altogether. After using underwater acoustics to pinpoint a possible location of the Golf II wreck, Naval Intelligence dispatched Halibut on July 15, 1968. And after days of searching the sea floor using "fish" - mini subs with attached cameras and lights - the crew hit the jackpot. There she was, intact, with a 10-foot hole in the hull just aft of the conning tower. Halibut had done it. She had successfully located a target on the ocean floor. Halibut pulled out all the stops by capturing over 22,000 images of the sunken K-129 before returning to port in September 1968. Her successful discovery led directly to the 1974 Project Azorian - the United States' attempt to raise K-129 from her seabed grave using a specially-built recovery vessel called the Glomar Explorer. Finding K-129 was an incredible success, but Naval Intelligence wasn't finished with Halibut just yet. In 1970, they concocted a new mission for the research sub: locate and tap a Soviet telephone cable in the Sea of Okhotsk. It was the riskiest and most questionably legal operation yet of the Cold War, but the potential return in intelligence was too much to pass up. Therefore, Halibut headed back to the port at Mare Island for yet another refit, but this time, some of the new additions would include decompression and lockout chambers for deep sea divers. By October 1971, she was ready to go, and Halibut set out for what her sailors called the "Sea of Oshkosh." It took several days of searching (trimmed significantly from the potential search time thanks to an intelligence officer's idea to look for "Do Not Anchor, Cable Here" signs like ones he remembered seeing along the Mississippi River as a kid), but the Halibut located, and tapped, the desired cable. It was a boon even greater than the location of the sunken K-129. The US could now eavesdrop on Soviet military conversations, something none of their other spy technology (such as satelittes) were capable of doing at the time. Furthermore, Operation Ivy Bells - the official name for the cable tap mission - yielded invaluable data, and remained undiscovered by the Soviets, for over 10 years. Halibut would make return trips to the cable tap in the Sea of Okhotsk (on her second trip, she had a close call when she crashed "belly first" into the seabed to avoid surfacing during a violent storm), but her glory days were over. Clunky, loud, and oddly shaped - her crew started calling her the "Bat Boat" because she resembled the Batmobile in their eyes - she had nevertheless proven indispensable to the United States' Cold War efforts. USS Halibut was decommissioned in June 1976 and fully scrapped by September 1994. An ignoble end, but she retains a glorious legacy...

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emergencyplumberbirmingham · 7 years

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Plumbing Yardley, Birmingham

Many often do not think much of plumber and plumber services in Yardley. This is due to many reasons such as the low prestige of the trade or the infrequent need of and contact with the Yardley plumber. However, they provide a valuable service to society, allowing us to enjoy the comfort of our environment with a well functioning plumbing system.

Obtaining a plumbing license in Yardley does not state specific guidelines. Currently Local has general licensing guidelines for licensed plumbers in Yardley.

General Requirements to Become a Plumber in Yardley

In order to become a plumber in Yardley who offers Plumbing, the person should apply for a plumbing license. This license is issued by Local city the person resides in. Therefore, each city within the state can have its own plumbing license requirements. However, all counties and cities within Yardley agree that a plumber must have work experience as an apprentice. Before you can become licensed, your work experience would need to be completed under a plumber who is already licensed by Yardley.

A plumber in Yardley is a very important person who plays a very crucial role in the smooth running of a home or business premises. The supply of clean water and the proper disposal of waste from a building is the responsibility of the plumber.

How to Start a Plumbing Business

The Roman's used lead and clay piping for potable water that serviced private homes, amphitheaters, and bathhouses throughout the Roman Empire. In fact lead was still the predominant metal used for water services servicing homes and businesses in the US up until WW II. Lead was very flexible and extremely durable which made it an ideal piping material. In fact "lead wiping" was considered an art form. The use of lead for potable water declined sharply after WW II because of the dangers of lead poisoning. There is still some controversy with regards to the harmfulness of lead water services being used. Some testing was done several years ago and it was found that the service calcified so quickly very little if any lead leeched through the calcification be that as it may lead services are no longer used and are still being replaced to this day in some of our larger older cities across the US.

Just after WWII copper became the material of choice for water services around the country and galvanized screw piping became the material of choice for interior plumbing piping. In the 70's, copper replaced galvanized piping for water piping supremacy. Copper is fairly easy to work with, comes in soft (annealed) and hard copper. There are several different grades of copper water, waste and vent piping; DWV copper tubing is the thinnest walled copper tubing and is only recommended in drainage waste and vent applications. Type "M" is the thinnest walled copper to be used for plumbing water piping. It is approved for water piping in most municipalities but it's more popular use is for drain, waste and vent (DWV) piping.

Ductile iron replaced sand cast in the early 1960s. Ductile iron is a cast iron, but the way it's heated and enhanced by chemical compounds greatly improved its strength and improved on cast iron's tendency to be strong but very brittle.

With regards to waste and vent piping, cast iron and PVC are the materials used most especially for large diameter piping. Copper is also used for waste and vent but in smaller diameter applications. Because of copper's value it becomes cost prohibitive to use it with larger diameter pipe for reference, say 3" and above.

There is one other area that we think needs to be touched upon and its acid waste piping. Acid waste, by definition, is any waste in which acids appear in higher concentrations than found in household waste. Although PVC has acid resistant properties, it is not recommended for use in situations where piping is continually exposed to higher than normal concentrations i.e. photo labs, science labs, chemical companies etc. In these situations acid resistant pipe and fitting are recommended.

The Different Kinds of Plumbing Services

When working as a plumber some of the work that you might do includes installing and repairing various plumbing systems such as waste and water.

Leak detection

One of the main reasons that a plumber may be called by a homeowner for leak detection is that their water bill has suddenly went up due to a high reading. Searching for the leak could take a few hours and may include having to cut holes in the walls to check out the pipe fittings and pipes. If possible, call the plumber during their operating hours because it is more expensive to call after hours, which is considered an emergency call.

Unclogging pipes

Many things can clog sinks, like hair, food, grease, etc and may require a plumber's service if you cannot unclog it yourself. When a plumber comes to your home, they have special tools they can use like plumber's snakes and rooter machines. The rooter machine has rotating blades that are hooked to cables and spin to clear the clog. A plumber's snake reaches into the pipes to clear the clogs. Some plumber's snakes have a small camera attached so they can see inside the pipes and they also come in various lengths. If it is a very tough clog the plumber may use hydro-jetting. This involves used high-pressured water to unclog and clean the pipes. It can also be used on septic systems and sewer lines.

Rerouting pipes

When you have old leaky pipes or doing home remodeling, a professional plumber may be called to re-pipe or reroute the pipes. This involves changing the configurations of the pipes so they mesh with the new design of the new kitchen or kitchen. It is also done to close off damaged or leaky pipes.

Plumbers also do preventative inspections of the plumbing system to help prevent any future problems from occurring, usually when a home is sold or being bought. They visually review the fixtures and pipes, test the flow of drains, and check faucets for leaks.

Why Is Plumbing Important in Yardley?

So, you want to start a plumbing business. This could be a terrific decision, or, it could be the worst idea ever. Starting a plumbing business, or any business really, involves a certain amount of structured thinking to put everything in place, and making sure that you have thought of everything. By following this strategy planning process, you will have covered all the important aspects of getting your planning and strategy in the right place, and this will make the starting of your own plumbing business some 450% more successful.

The Strategy Required to Start Any Business

Starting a plumbing business, a bakery, or a high-tech company all requires the same basic thinking strategy. To remember it best, use the EASI acronym. In this case, E stands for emotion, A for achieving a win, S for simple and straightforward and I for the implementation.

Everybody wanting to start a business should be aware that it is going to involve plenty of challenges, hardships, stress, worry, and a multitude of other issues. The process of starting a business has often been likened to jumping off a cliff, and building an aeroplane on the way down. It will mean sleepless nights, long working hours and the unwavering support of family and friends around you. This is real, and the reason so many start-up businesses fail.

The first step, therefore, is to examine the reasons that you want to start the business in the first place. This involves an examination of the emotions, or feeling behind the rationale of starting your own plumbing business. Everyone will have their own reasons for wanting to start their business. It may be as a last resort as they are unable to find employment in the field, it may be that they hate having a boss, it may be that they want to become extraordinarily wealthy. Whatever the reason, it is essential that the owners of the business, if there are more than one, are aware of the strength of their emotions regarding the venture. This will determine the power of the motivation, the real forces behind the venture, and, with the aid of a skilled consultant, allow the prospective business owners to determine if their vessel will survive the storms on the ocean, or if there needs to be some additional emotional management included.

The second item speaks to the vision, or goal of the organisation. A prospective plumbing business may have as its goal to be a loss leader and therefore a tax write-off. It may be that achieving a win with the business would be familial survival, or putting children through school. Either way, all the owners need to be able, collaboratively, to understand what the goal is and to have a combined vision of the business that everyone can buy into. Without this shared vision, any subsequent planning and strategizing will ultimately be negated and sporadic, with everyone involved having different goals and aims, instead of pulling together in the right direction.

Keep Things Simple and Straightforward

It does not take any real skill to make things more complex. The real genius in any situation is to make things more simple. This line of thinking is propagated by all the top entrepreneurs such as Richard Branson, Bill Gates, and Elon Musk. Albert Einstein often used to say that if you couldn't explain a thing to a six-year-old, you didn't understand it yourself. In light of this strategic thinking, the next piece of advice is to keep all your plans and strategies simple and straightforward. Set a goal that everyone involved, all the stakeholders, can buy into. See where you currently are, and plan a way to get to that goal that all concerned can understand, appreciate, and take ownership of.

These steps, as outlined above, if conducted thoroughly and efficiently, with the businesses core vision in mind and a positive collaborative mindset as a starting point, will ensure that the business has a better than 80% chance of success. However, as stated numerous times during this discussion piece, this is not a 5-minute exercise. This is a detailed strategic thinking process that will require honesty and commitment. There are certain things, therefore, that should be borne in mind before even embarking on the strategy process.

The first is an audit of the emotional intelligence of the stakeholders in the plumbing business. Like any service industry, plumbing involves hard work and much on-site work where things can easily go wrong. A high emotional intelligence score amongst the business owners is the best possible indicator of success. Emotional intelligence means being able to cope and manage the stresses and challenges involved, it means training your mind to find solutions in the midst of chaos happening all around you, and it means being able to be an effective leadership team who can steer a business through uncertain times. On the other hand, it does not mean someone who succumbs to the influences of anger or vindictiveness. Emotional intelligence can be learned and improved upon, so it certainly can be developed, but it is key that this quality be determined before initiating any business.

Secondly, there needs to be an understanding that knowledge is vital. The prognosis for a baker who wakes up one morning and sees a plumber friend making lots of money and then decides to start a plumbing business is unfortunately not very good. Plumbing, in order to be successful, needs to be done well. In a highly competitive business environment such as there is today all over the world, any business needs to actually be good at their job to be successful. It is for this reason that it is a prerequisite of starting a plumbing business that the stakeholders at the very least have access to high quality plumbing services. This includes knowing all aspects of the work, the market potential, and the survival rates of their competition. Without this core knowledge, no matter how good the strategizing process and the plans that come out of it, there is no chance of success.

In conclusion, therefore, starting a plumbing business is easy. Starting a plumbing business that is successful and over the short, medium, and long term can deliver on the aims and requirements of the owners is less much less easy. The key differentiator here is having a good, well thought out and innovative strategy, and using this strategy to generate and compile effective implementation plans in the right areas. JFK always used to say that efforts and courage are not enough without purpose and direction, and so it is with many things, and starting a plumbing business is one of those things.

Emergency plumber Birmingham offers Plumbing

from EPB http://emergencyplumberbirmingham.co/local/yardley-plumbers/

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