On Matters of C.O.W. P.O.O.

[Thau'Shir Mrkath 0]

"We'll be hauling what?!" Mrkath asked incredulously as he scrolled down the mission briefing on his monitor. Not being Terran the C.O.W. P.O.O. didn't really register, however the literal bovine excrement that he could imagine in large quantities did. "No way any of them are setting one hoof in my hanger," he declared to the empty office.

 

The dark-furred Caitian noted that the services of his pilots would be required once they arrived for patrol purposes, and the note that the locals were experiencing another kind of poo-related activity, going ape-sh*t over feeling left behind in the wake of the Nero attack. "The more distance humans put between themselves and Earth the crazier they get," he thought.

 

He sent back an acknowledgment of the orders to Calestorm, and then pulled up the system map for Primos so he could contemplate patrol parameters.

 

*** Meanwhile, down below ***

 

Chief Petty Officer Mike Rowe had a dirty job: he was, through an accident of fate, in charge of all the recycling equipment on the Creek. That, much to his dismay, included the waste reclamation system. Because of that the other engineers always called him any time there was so much as a stopped toilet.

 

Now he was being asked to personally see to the disposal of any waste that their bovine cargo came up with on the journey. "Why is there always poo?" He asked the ceiling, or perhaps he was aiming at Fate. Neither answered in any case. The Comanche Creek was a capable vessel that could do many things, but livestock transportation apparently slipped the minds of the designers. Therefore there was no ready way to collect kilograms of excrement and get it into the system.

 

One section of piping ran behind the bay they would be using to hold the cows, so Mike had to tap into it. Unfortunately, even with valves activated to keep any new material from entering that shunt, the system couldn't completely evacuate the line without a full purge taking place, so the sight and smell that greeted him after cutting into it was far from pleasant. His expressive face was a study in dismay and disgust.

 

He, through much wrangling and grunting, was finally able to get a chute installed. He wasn't sure whether there would be a layer of hay or anything included, so he added a liquidizer to the contraption. It was probably a good idea in any case, because the system wasn't quite used to handling large loads in a local section anyway. He made a mental note to see how Tellarites handled their systems, though that wouldn't help now.

 

He reactivated the valve, allowing waste to come back through the line. After the valve in the chute failed however, he was calling out words that, in this very special case, described what shot out of the chute. Fifteen minutes later he had the valve fixed and the line was running normally again, but the mess remained.

 

"Just breaking in the bay for what's to come," he commented wearily. Then he was informed that just setting up the system beforehand wasn't everything. He'd also have to get the poo into the system once the cattle were on board.o

 

"Crap."