Bad Eggs Pt. 3

Into the fire...

This is part 3. Click here for part 2.

The cherry picker reaches the upper gantry. The rest of the crew are waiting there. I hand my squire, Robert, my synchrohelm bag and let him handle the external hookups. At thirteen, he’s a likely enough lad. Quick study in the sims and in the manuals. Not many his age take to the book learning that well. I secure the coolant and waste plumbing, ins and outs, to my arming jack. Then I clamber into my cramped cockpit.

At last, I’m in my hotseat. I plug in the remaining pilot telemetry leads to my synthdhole arming jack. Pre-start check list, start. Standby power, on. Industrial breakers snap close and there’s an electric hum. Coolant pressure in and out, check. I feel a rush of cold and goosebumps as the coolant pumps turn over. Pilot telemetry, check. Life support leads, check. Robert lifts my synchrohelm out of the bag and hands it over. The bucket goes on and my world goes black then returns as the kampfmarcher bootstraper completes POST. Master arm, engage. Pre-start complete. Daddy’s home.

Robert helps me with the last of the synchro leads. There’s the momentary vertigo when my perceived center of gravity shifts from my own body to that of Astrid. Astrid is my custom Royal Hippogriff PzKpfM V Aufs Z ride.

“Welcome back pilot Richard Smythe,” says Astrid. “Activation pass-phrase?’

“To strive, to strike, to drink deeply of the victor’s cup, and not to yield.” I answer.

“But what is best in life?” Astrid counters.

“To crush my enemies,” I finish the authentication. “To see them driven before me, and to hear the lamentations of their women.”

“Activation pass phrase and authentication counter accepted,” says Astrid. “Once more into the breach dear friend. Beginning activation sequence.” There’s a sequence of snaps and electric hums from the main breakers closing and then the deep, bone rattling base tone of the main fusion plant turning over. The tone builds in pitch, higher and higher. It becomes a whine that sets your teeth on edge. The crew have their noise cancelling headphones on. My armored canopy closes, cutting out the worst of it. I can eject the opaque armored layers and pilot with the mark one eyeball through a bubble of transparent aluminum if I have to. But I never have.

“Panzer kampfmarcher OS 3.1 bootstraping. Reactor, online. Sensors, online. Communications, online. Fire-control, online. Command-net, online. POST checks green. All systems, nominal.” Says Astrid.

“This is Hussar Six,” I send on the net. “Reporting mission ready. All Hussars, sound-off mission readiness.”

My team leaders echo my command down the net. Save for Hussar 2-4, whose Hippo won’t start, we’re all green. That’s annoying. But in a kampfmarcher company, eleven out of twelve operational ain’t bad on any day.

“Six, this is 2-4, it’s a false negative in the control board, just give us ten and we can clear it!” Jensen sounds desperate over the radio. This was only his second rodeo.

“Stand down 2-4,” I reply. “Help your chief with the tear down and think about spending more time in the bay instead of cheating at cards.”

“Yes boss.” Jensen sounds properly chastised.

I switch over to the battalion channel and make my report. “Myrmidon Six, this is Hussar Six, reporting mission ready.”

“Very good Smithy, I hear you’re down one.”

“Any day I’m only one marcher down is a damn good day, Old Man.”

“Hah! Feeding you the tac link now, happy hunting Hussars. Go secure our LZ. Once we’re down and secure, I’ll send you to engage their mobiles forces and tie them up. I’ll be leading the micro-talos suits in a vertical envelopment of the target to secure Objective Rose.”

“Rose?”

“A pretty little flower, no?”

“Let’s hope she doesn’t have thorns boss.”

“Your lips to God’s ears, mine freund.”