SODF Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX // BOREDOM…
0800 HOURS // PLANET ARCHIMEDES ONE
“This sucks. We wait, then wait, then wait some more, and none of the sims or anything are online,” James grumbled, “And it’s still not cool enough out there for us to leave this cesspool.”

Brendan nodded, “D’you think the Genesis is even still spaceworthy after that heat?”

“Its insulation should have kept the engines at a survivable temperature, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, it’s the armour I can’t shake the idea of failing. Engines are survivable; we just call for help.”

James looked at his team-mate, “Call for help? Fat chance of that. We’re lightyears away from help.”

“Speaking of which, what are the chances they finished JUGGERNAUT while we’ve been here?”

“Nil. They need to test it, and no ordinary human can withstand that amount of force. Until we get back inside contact range, they won’t even work on it now that A1 has been glassed. They most likely think we’re dead.”

“Check our listings and correct any errors, then.”

James nodded, pulled a handheld computer out of his ammunition store, and switched it on. He tapped a number of buttons, then came up with the listings, “We’re all MIA. Well, there’s nothing really to fix there. All of us who are KIA will probably just be listed MIA anyway.”

A red light flashed and the handheld computer beeped loudly.

“Damn, I have to put it back before it overheats or I’m in big trouble. These things cost the ERSPF too much to just throw away. It’s a pity, it would have been good to play some of the games on it,” James switched it off and slid it back inside his ammunition store, “Now what do we do?”

“Is that even a question? What do we do? We tease Smith, that’s what!”

“Brendan! Have you ever heard of trouble? Well, if we tease Smith, we’ll be in the biggest trouble anyone could ever get in,” Cat glared behind her faceplate, “And damn it, we’re lucky we’re even alive at the moment, yes, but I don’t want to be court-martialled again!”

“Okay,” Brendan turned to James and opened a closed COM with him, “How’s about we go and test out the armour of that Genesis? Cat of course will be furious, but we’ll get away with it.”

“No, Brendan,” James killed the link and walked over to the dropship, “How’s it going in there?”

Smith walked over to the metre-thick Perspex window, “The temperature probes we dropped with this thing are reading negative fifty-three degrees. We should be able to get out of here now.”

“Finally. Well, the one good thing about glassed planets is that they cool down quickly. Fifty three below is well inside normal operational parameters. Sir, can you open the troop bay door? Teams, get in the troop bay. Shelby, you’re in charge of getting us out of here. You get in the hotseat.”

Colloquially referred to as the ‘hotseat’, the cockpit was uncomfortably small and complicated. It would have to be a claustrophobe’s worst nightmare. Buttons, levers and knobs were everywhere, and each had a separate function. The steering column was where the main weapons controls were situated, but it was also where the ignition and landing controls were. If a pilot was careless in the cockpit of a Genesis, it would likely be the last place he or she would ever see.

Smith dashed for the cockpit to open the troop bay and cockpit doors, pressed their respective buttons, and scrambled back to the troop bay just as Cat and Brendan nabbed the two best places on the bench-style seats. James took his time, knowing he could order anyone but Smith to move for him. Shelby was already in the cockpit and starting up the Genesis by the time he had ordered Brendan off the best part of the seat to starboard and sat down.

Over the intercom, Shelby pushed for more orders, “Head for home, sirs?”

James and Smith nodded to each other, then James pressed the button and they said together, “Head for home,” but James added to it, “The sooner we get inside contact range of AW Six, the better. I don’t want them to worry for too long.”

Everyone laughed except Smith, who looked at James with an oddly quizzical expression.

“Inside joke, sir. We know they won’t, but I still use that sentence to get our pilots to move fast.”