Hellbound - Printable Version

Meallan woke up rather abruptly by a kick on the shin from the wisp, Sinclair, who dropped a data-pad unceremoniously at his feet. Letting go of a swear at the lightning pain in his leg, he stopped his raging fit as he looked at Sinclair that moved and looked much like a zombie. She was probably up for the past three days to cover for the lack of personnel, and now was heading towards her bunk, more like dragging her feet, to sleep her four hours off. He sighed as he rubbed his sore shin and looked at the data pad. The engine was finally plugged in. He grabbed it with enthusiasm and looked at the first test data. His eyes ran the screen with speed and only stopping on Dixon's notes.

"Uh. First run, over 14% core drain for the continuous combustion."

Expected, he sighed. Even while him, Dixon and Gunsmith worked around the clock to overcome the extra energy drain, there was just to many discrepancies to overcome in a such short timetable. He tapped the data pad to check if there was updates on the other areas. Blythe reported that the final stress test on the electrical and support systems grids went without a flaw, ending her detail in the project. Gunsmith was finishing replacing and adapting the sensors arrays that were generously donated by an Overlord undergoing a refit next door. It was almost done. He dropped the data-pad and patted the support beam in the bulkhead corridor he was sleeping, grabbing his dirty work leather jacket as a makeshift blanket to catch some shut eye until the next shift.

"Soon, old lady. You'll be flying soon."

Meallan drank his beer following Sinclair's cheer, feeling the stress and pressure off his body once again. These moments were common in his life, the end of a project. Yet, as always, he knew it was far from over. There are always improvements. There is always space for evolution. Machines, as opposite to their makers, have an infinite capacity to evolve. And as he savored his beer, the report on the old lady's status was hitting the Commodore's desk by now.

"To the Hellbound. Here's to more 20 years of.. ""

He looked at Sinclair, and remembered the long and bloody history of the ship. His beer clanked with hers and he gulped it as she waited for the end of that sentence.

"Whatever."

Meallan finally replied after letting go a satisfied sigh, caused by the cold beer. Suddenly the whole viewport room shook. The engine was turned on, and whatever space dust accumulated on top of the Hellbound was shaken out of its hull, like a giant waking up from its slumber. Meallan and Sinclair stood still, drinking in silence and watching as it finally departed the Southampton Shipyard.