Editing Mercenaries and Planes: Writefaggotry (section)

===Osprey encounter by Skyhawk===


It was a thankfully peaceful night in this particular stretch of the South Atlantic and Ensign Kamal Benayache of the Royal Moroccan Navy was glad of it. Any dog watch was a pain in the rear at the best of times but at least quiet ones didn’t leave you feeling like camel dung the next morning.

Kamal had dealt with rough nights on watch before. The Atlantic was not a forgiving place and many a night had found him concluding his watch in the middle of a raging South Atlantic storm. The placid seas outside the bridge windows tonight were a blessing and he offered up yet another prayer of thanks as he got up from his seat to stretch his legs. Not that there was much room to stretch in on the cramped bridge of the RMNS PV-7.

The Osprey 55 class patrol boat was one of the smaller warships in the Royal Moroccan Navy but the four vessels in the class were coveted posts for young officers looking to gain command experience. Not only were they at sea a good deal of the time but they were also known for allowing ensigns more opportunities to stretch their fledgling command authority in duties that weren’t just training exercises. There was a lot to do on a fifty-five meter vessel with a crew of only thirty-six after all.

Finishing his stretch Kamal circled the bridge. The man at the wheel was obviously tired but he’d straitened himself up when Kamal had gotten up to stretch and was even now looking much more awake than he had moments before. The ensign nodded to him and stepped up close to give the radar screen a brief scan. Nothing...’Just as it should be,’ he thought contentedly. But even the powerful surface search radar wouldn’t pick up everything. Small rafts, bits of garbage, and even modern zodiacs wouldn’t show up as more than a flutter on the radar screen...and just one missed contact could ruin Kamal’s night. That was why, even with modern technology, the Mk-1 Human Eyeball would never fall out of use.

Kamal left the radar screen and stepped out onto the tiny starboard side wing platform where one of the pair of duty lookouts were posted. It was a cramped space, meant only for one, but often occupied by many more on certain occasions. The seaman on duty didn’t seem to mind the intrusion in any case as his attention was elsewhere. The huge pair of night-binoculars he held looked like they’d been glued to his face. Kamal wasn’t sure how the man did it but whenever he came out here the binoculars were there...attached to his face like some strange limpet that never came off.

“No sightings?” Kamal asked, even though he knew the answer.

“No sightings, sir,” came the man’s reply; The same reply he’d given dozens of times and would probably continue to give even after Kamal was long gone from the PV-7.

Kamal nodded and opened his mouth to reply when the world turned itself on its ear.