pulled up in the sleeping area, going over the last third of the transmission system. Andrews nodded to his crew, then looked past them at the technician servicing the tranny.
“Hey, Halderman. Make sure the holding tank has been emptied, all right?”
Halderman smiled. “You’re good to go on that, sir. Everyone is free to pee with abandon.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear, thanks.”
Andrews pushed himself into the cockpit and slid into the left seat. The rig was still running on external power, so activating the instrument panel was as simple as flipping a switch on the inverter panel. Chimes sounded as the instruments powered up, and the screens came to life as the rig’s array of computers booted. Once the power-on test was completed, a schematic of the vehicle appeared on the center display. He could see every panel that was open on the rig’s exterior, the status of every system, the level of every fluid reservoir—and he was happy to confirm that Halderman had been correct, the rig’s poop tank was reading as empty. The SCEVs were powered by a sophisticated hybrid powerplant, using two variable-speed turboshaft engines for propulsion that in turn charged an array of batteries that would keep the rig going for a couple of days in the unlikely event both engines shit the bed. Andrews ran all the pre-ignition checks but stopped short of actually starting the rig—even though there were at least two pre-positioned caches of fuel along their route, he had no idea if they were still accessible, or if they’d been raided in the war’s aftermath. In light of that, they’d need to preserve every drop of fuel in the tanks.
Spencer stuck his head inside the cockpit. “Hey, el Capitan . We’re good to go on the externals. I’m going to have them pull external power once you give the word. And the big guy is coming up now.” The crew chief pointed out the thick viewport windows.
Andrews looked through them and saw Mulligan sauntering toward the rig, a scowl on his face. The maintainers gave the big NCO a wide berth, wary of his foul expression.
“Take another walkaround, just to be safe,” he told Spencer. “I’ll let you know when you can disconnect the external power supply.”
“Roger that.” Spencer ducked out of the cockpit, and Andrews paged through the menus on the system display, checking off items that had been completed. A moment later, he felt a presence hovering over his right shoulder. Andrews looked up, even though he knew who it was. Mulligan looked down at him with eyes that were about as warm as a polar ice cap.
“Sergeant Major,” Andrews said by way of greeting.
“I see you weren’t successful in getting me pulled off the roster,” Mulligan said.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Regrettable.”
Andrews pointed to the right seat. “I take it you remember the ignition procedures?”
“I’m not that out of it, sir.” Mulligan crouched down as he pushed himself into the cockpit and lowered himself into the copilot’s seat with surprising dexterity. Andrews was impressed. The cockpit was extremely tight, and the close quarters made taking a seat almost an exercise in gymnastic torture. That a man of Mulligan’s size was able to slip into the copilot’s seat almost effortlessly made it seem as though he’d spent a lifetime crewing on SCEVs.
“Something wrong, Captain?”
Andrews smiled and shook his head. “We’re good, Sarmajor. Maybe you can show Choi how to enter the cockpit like you did—it’s a pain in the ass when he kicks the center console and flips the radio frequencies.”
“I’ll make a note of it.”
Andrews slipped on his radio headset and, from the corner of his eye, saw Mulligan do the same. “Leona, are we buttoned up back there?”
“Roger, we’re secure throughout the rig,” Leona reported from the second compartment. “All floor panels are replaced and locked, and only crew are aboard at this time.”
“Roger that. Mulligan, bring the APU
“Hey, Halderman. Make sure the holding tank has been emptied, all right?”
Halderman smiled. “You’re good to go on that, sir. Everyone is free to pee with abandon.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear, thanks.”
Andrews pushed himself into the cockpit and slid into the left seat. The rig was still running on external power, so activating the instrument panel was as simple as flipping a switch on the inverter panel. Chimes sounded as the instruments powered up, and the screens came to life as the rig’s array of computers booted. Once the power-on test was completed, a schematic of the vehicle appeared on the center display. He could see every panel that was open on the rig’s exterior, the status of every system, the level of every fluid reservoir—and he was happy to confirm that Halderman had been correct, the rig’s poop tank was reading as empty. The SCEVs were powered by a sophisticated hybrid powerplant, using two variable-speed turboshaft engines for propulsion that in turn charged an array of batteries that would keep the rig going for a couple of days in the unlikely event both engines shit the bed. Andrews ran all the pre-ignition checks but stopped short of actually starting the rig—even though there were at least two pre-positioned caches of fuel along their route, he had no idea if they were still accessible, or if they’d been raided in the war’s aftermath. In light of that, they’d need to preserve every drop of fuel in the tanks.
Spencer stuck his head inside the cockpit. “Hey, el Capitan . We’re good to go on the externals. I’m going to have them pull external power once you give the word. And the big guy is coming up now.” The crew chief pointed out the thick viewport windows.
Andrews looked through them and saw Mulligan sauntering toward the rig, a scowl on his face. The maintainers gave the big NCO a wide berth, wary of his foul expression.
“Take another walkaround, just to be safe,” he told Spencer. “I’ll let you know when you can disconnect the external power supply.”
“Roger that.” Spencer ducked out of the cockpit, and Andrews paged through the menus on the system display, checking off items that had been completed. A moment later, he felt a presence hovering over his right shoulder. Andrews looked up, even though he knew who it was. Mulligan looked down at him with eyes that were about as warm as a polar ice cap.
“Sergeant Major,” Andrews said by way of greeting.
“I see you weren’t successful in getting me pulled off the roster,” Mulligan said.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Regrettable.”
Andrews pointed to the right seat. “I take it you remember the ignition procedures?”
“I’m not that out of it, sir.” Mulligan crouched down as he pushed himself into the cockpit and lowered himself into the copilot’s seat with surprising dexterity. Andrews was impressed. The cockpit was extremely tight, and the close quarters made taking a seat almost an exercise in gymnastic torture. That a man of Mulligan’s size was able to slip into the copilot’s seat almost effortlessly made it seem as though he’d spent a lifetime crewing on SCEVs.
“Something wrong, Captain?”
Andrews smiled and shook his head. “We’re good, Sarmajor. Maybe you can show Choi how to enter the cockpit like you did—it’s a pain in the ass when he kicks the center console and flips the radio frequencies.”
“I’ll make a note of it.”
Andrews slipped on his radio headset and, from the corner of his eye, saw Mulligan do the same. “Leona, are we buttoned up back there?”
“Roger, we’re secure throughout the rig,” Leona reported from the second compartment. “All floor panels are replaced and locked, and only crew are aboard at this time.”
“Roger that. Mulligan, bring the APU
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