Technical Specialist 3rd Class, Donald P. Burr, looked like he was trying to get crushed by one of those gigantic metal fists. Over local suit comms, she said, "AMTS Burr, if I see you climb up on this thing when it's moving, you'll be cleaning toilets in the pilots' Hab for the next six months."
Burr said, "Chief Reese does it."
"Chief Reese already has two prosthetic limbs."
Burr was her crew's newest of newts, a cherry they picked on on Sagan, three weeks out of training. His exosuit was still bright red all over. That color would change to a singed crimson after the first, unexpected plasma bath he got from an alien bomb or a fighter pilot too eager to get out of the bays.
"Checklist," she said.
"Did it."
"Do it again. Batteries?"
"Fully fucking charged"
Burr was getting annoyed, but cherries who don't do their basic sys-checks don't come back. "Rebreather Systems?"
"All green ."
"Suit comp and NAV?"
"Green, green. It's all green. Let's go."
"Alright, kid. Get ready to climb up on my shoulders." Horcheese worked the sticks and pedals and did her best to make the 4-meter-tall knuckledragger kneel. It bent at the midpoint of its back legs while leaning its hulking torso forward, supporting itself on its bent front arms and two giant fists. She said, "OK. Get up there, Burr."
He climbed up the suit's right arm and disappeared from her view as he got on top of the machine. "I'm on."
Horcheese 'stood up'. For the knuckledragger, that meant straightening the arms, leaning the torso back, and returning to a posture in which the mech-suit looked more like a headless, mechanical ape than anything else. She walked it to the edge of the bay.
She said, "Don't mess with my puffer jets this time, 'Bandit'."
"Fuck you, Chief."
The first time Burr ever rode on the top of her knuckledragger was back at Sagan Station at the Staas Company Yards. He didn't tell her it was his first time riding 'gorilla-back' and since nobody else had been up there with him to tell him what not to do, dumbass Burr (just trying to hold on) bent his torso over one of the puffers, the little gas maneuvering jets. The burst of gas it shot out had been meant to adjust the course of a 4-meter-tall mechanized suit, so when Horcheese maneuvered and the puff of gas hit Burr in the belly, it knocked him off and sent him flying 2km out over the shipyards. He went fast enough and far enough that a pair of the autonomous QF-111 Dingo drones on patrol veered in to sniff him and see if he was some new kind of alien spybird. They almost declared him a bandit and probably would have chewed him up with the autocannon if Horcheese hadn't flown the knuckledragger after him and got him so fast.
If Burr was a glory-boy fighter pilot, he would have got called 'Bandit' for that. But redsuits don't get nicknames. Redsuits get it done.
Groomsbridge shone up from below as Horcheese puffed the knuckledragger out into the black. "Bridge, this is Horcheese. I'm out with crew and lookin' for your hole." Burr snickered on local comms.
Lt. Commander Dana Sellis said, "Copy that, Horcheese. Let us know when you find it."
Horcheese turned the 'dragger parallel to the open bay. She flew over bays 11 and 10 until she got to the edge of the module and turned the corner.
The command tower rose up over 200 meters off the spine. On the aft side, where the raw light from Groomsbridge 1618 struck the outer hull and armor, it looked sheathed in a cowl of zero-gee flame. The windows of the bridge and the observation deck perched at the top of the dark side, high up and small, glowing in the shadows. Horcheese used her helmet to zoom in on them. She saw Dana Sellis looking back at her.
"Alright, Burr," Horcheese said, "the lady up in the tower is watching us so we're gonna do the part she can actually see first so it looks like we're working extra hard, get it?"
"Got it."
"Good." Horcheese puffed to port and starboard and spun the mech-suit ninety degrees. Then, she puffed from
Burr said, "Chief Reese does it."
"Chief Reese already has two prosthetic limbs."
Burr was her crew's newest of newts, a cherry they picked on on Sagan, three weeks out of training. His exosuit was still bright red all over. That color would change to a singed crimson after the first, unexpected plasma bath he got from an alien bomb or a fighter pilot too eager to get out of the bays.
"Checklist," she said.
"Did it."
"Do it again. Batteries?"
"Fully fucking charged"
Burr was getting annoyed, but cherries who don't do their basic sys-checks don't come back. "Rebreather Systems?"
"All green ."
"Suit comp and NAV?"
"Green, green. It's all green. Let's go."
"Alright, kid. Get ready to climb up on my shoulders." Horcheese worked the sticks and pedals and did her best to make the 4-meter-tall knuckledragger kneel. It bent at the midpoint of its back legs while leaning its hulking torso forward, supporting itself on its bent front arms and two giant fists. She said, "OK. Get up there, Burr."
He climbed up the suit's right arm and disappeared from her view as he got on top of the machine. "I'm on."
Horcheese 'stood up'. For the knuckledragger, that meant straightening the arms, leaning the torso back, and returning to a posture in which the mech-suit looked more like a headless, mechanical ape than anything else. She walked it to the edge of the bay.
She said, "Don't mess with my puffer jets this time, 'Bandit'."
"Fuck you, Chief."
The first time Burr ever rode on the top of her knuckledragger was back at Sagan Station at the Staas Company Yards. He didn't tell her it was his first time riding 'gorilla-back' and since nobody else had been up there with him to tell him what not to do, dumbass Burr (just trying to hold on) bent his torso over one of the puffers, the little gas maneuvering jets. The burst of gas it shot out had been meant to adjust the course of a 4-meter-tall mechanized suit, so when Horcheese maneuvered and the puff of gas hit Burr in the belly, it knocked him off and sent him flying 2km out over the shipyards. He went fast enough and far enough that a pair of the autonomous QF-111 Dingo drones on patrol veered in to sniff him and see if he was some new kind of alien spybird. They almost declared him a bandit and probably would have chewed him up with the autocannon if Horcheese hadn't flown the knuckledragger after him and got him so fast.
If Burr was a glory-boy fighter pilot, he would have got called 'Bandit' for that. But redsuits don't get nicknames. Redsuits get it done.
Groomsbridge shone up from below as Horcheese puffed the knuckledragger out into the black. "Bridge, this is Horcheese. I'm out with crew and lookin' for your hole." Burr snickered on local comms.
Lt. Commander Dana Sellis said, "Copy that, Horcheese. Let us know when you find it."
Horcheese turned the 'dragger parallel to the open bay. She flew over bays 11 and 10 until she got to the edge of the module and turned the corner.
The command tower rose up over 200 meters off the spine. On the aft side, where the raw light from Groomsbridge 1618 struck the outer hull and armor, it looked sheathed in a cowl of zero-gee flame. The windows of the bridge and the observation deck perched at the top of the dark side, high up and small, glowing in the shadows. Horcheese used her helmet to zoom in on them. She saw Dana Sellis looking back at her.
"Alright, Burr," Horcheese said, "the lady up in the tower is watching us so we're gonna do the part she can actually see first so it looks like we're working extra hard, get it?"
"Got it."
"Good." Horcheese puffed to port and starboard and spun the mech-suit ninety degrees. Then, she puffed from
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