Most of the ship's maintenance crew were working on the planes, Several burly young men having popped open the armoured paneling on the upper left wing of Aime's devastator, one of the three men having worked his hand into the plane's inner workings. A few moments later, he pulled his hand free, carrying a live round for the louisianan's guns. The round had been bent just behind the neck of the cartridge, however, preventing it from loading properly. The deckhand tossed the damaged bullet into a water-filled bucket, then helped his co-workers replace the armour plate, before starting on undoing the control cabling from the bent rudder on the same side.<br/><br/>Further along, Dixie's bloodhawk was resting comfortably, the few damaged armour plates being stripped from her plane's frame, either to be hammered out into their correct shape if it was a mere dent, or to have a replacement fabricated from the spare sheets of centimetre-thick rolled steel that was used, in layers, as the most common armour for the planes. Next to the Bloodhawk, the Avenger was looking inordinately smug, the rounded nose and two large engines, combined with a slight upturn to the plane's wings making the entire plane look like it had a great, big, goofy smile if looked at from the front. Several Crewmen had already brought over a large push-cart loaded with boxes of ammunition, and were refilling the Avenger's ammunition stores.<br/><br/>The Raven at the end of the short row, sadly, looked like it was on its last legs; smoke still oozed from deep cracks in the battered and gouged armour plate, a lift hoist was keeping the nose up, and four of the plane's six guns were clearly destroyed, the barrels having been badly bent, or even 'chopped' by high-calibre impacts. The large master of the flight deck stood next to the plane, writing on a clipboard as several of his crew began peeling off the destroyed armour plating, calling out when they found internal damage. There were a lot of calls as the older man nodded and walked over to the Trio of pilots that stood at the entrance to the Small quarters that had been built for them.<br/><br/>Bob paused, then took off his ever-present hat, bowing his head slightly towards the two women, though he didn't offer anyone his hand to shake, as her fingers were somewhat oil-covered from maintenance. "Ladies, Gentleman. Name's Bob. I'm the boss when it comes to working on things down here, so, just to get a few things straight; Don't yell at my crew; they do good work, and if you have a problem, be civil, and talk with me. Secondly, if you want to modify your planes for whatever reason, leave me a note with the wild-arse ideas you have. I'm no miracle worker, though, so don't expect me to do something like swap out Six thirties for four sixties. Anyhow, once the fourth member of your little flight is ready, I'll bring you up to the lounge. Any questions?"