Heavy Metal Cont'd

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While Dex went to the MPAC (her technical designation was MPAC-UPC08X929, but Parker had dubbed her "Shelob" and somehow the name stuck - he said it was from some book he'd read) and started unhooking fuel and data feeds, Wilkes booted the warmup sequence from the master panel. I remember the first time I heard that engine rev up - I expected something loud and growly, like a big old eighteen wheeler gearing for a drag or something, but instead it's a low, heavy whine as deep in her guts her nuclear powerplant spills engergy into the massive, magnetically-supported flywheel. There were a few higher pitched whines as corkscrew servos adjusted the tension on the legs and she shifted subtly, coming to life and finding her balance.

Wilkes jabbed at a flashing rectangle on the touchscreen and Shelob popped a small port open under her leading edge. I walked over and dropped a short ladder down and clambered up inside and into the cozy command pod. Unlike the old tank interiors Shelob was designed to keep her crew comfortable, albeit still tight. She had a noise cancelling system that kept the interior quiet enough to speak at a normal volume (except when the big thirty mikes were firing - then all conversation stopped!) and a climate control setup that kept the crew at a comfortable 72 degrees no matter how hot it got outside. The command seat was elevated above Dex's operations panel where he monitored all the life functions of Shelob, and between the two weapons stations. The nav system was behind my seat, back to my back. The driver's station was lowest and farthest forward, down a step in front of Dex's spot. My station was equipped primarily with numerous data monitors, where I could access info on whatever was happening in the vehicle, or choose to use vid feeds from the thirteen cameras scattered over the hull. I could even pop a small port over my head and stand on my seat and get a practical eye view from the top of Shelob if I wanted.

As I settled into my seat and began to configure the pod for my prefs, choosing seat orientation and monitor designation, Dex said,

"Here comes the fun bunch - cam six."

I toggled a touchscreen button on one of the vid-feed monitors and the display showed the view from one of the forward-facing cameras. The rest of Shelob's crew were arriving, clearly as awed by the sight of the repaired craft as Dex and I had been. I slid the mike headset over one ear and held down a switch on the arm of my chair, and my voice boomed out into the hangar,

"All right, don't just stand there with your jaws hangin' - we got work to do."

They hustled on in, squeezing up through the chin port one at a time. MacDonald on port weapons, Sharpe on starboard, Lambert on the nav console and Powell in the driver's seat. They settled into their seats, adjusting them to their preferences as I had and grumbling jokingly about what a half-ass job the tech guys had done putting her back together. I let them bellyache for a few minutes, then told them to zip it and get the beast operational.

Finally my panel showed green on all stations, and Lambert asked,

"So we gonna take her out on the course Cap, or we got a real gig today?"

They had all turned to look at me so when I replied, "We're taking her out on Patrol Six," I could see the grimaces that flashed across their faces. The banter stopped and they each turned back to their stations with a tension that had not been there moments earlier.

Patrol Six. Worst patrol route in our zone. The worst for cover, the worst for tactical advantage, and the most likely to have a raft of bad characters looking to do us some harm. It was out on Patrol Six that we'd taken so much damage the last time out, and it was on Patrol Six that we lost Parker.