The Conversation

After seeing the coffin securely framed and strapped into its’ place, Marisol hurried to the engine room. Things were as she’d left them; the main drive was spinning happily on its’ gimbals. A quick check of the gauges read green across the board for upthrust. The hull oscillated slightly as power was applied to the atmo engines, whose high pitched keening could be heard evenly left and right.

She tapped the old keyboard at the mechanic’s workstation. A rounded screen came alive with a half dozen columns, number sequences that glowed green as they reported slight variations in the drive train’s overall performance. That odd imbalance in the three phase power output was vexing, but as a quick study of the distribution schematic pointed toward non critical spaces like the infirmary and its’ adjoining lounge, she again chose to sleuth that particular mystery upon their arrival.

A squeal of microphone feedback made her flinch, before Keller’s voice rattled the tinny speaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain Speaking..." He made his rambling way through admonishments regarding the cargo bay and the Drog Kyri, the widow Schnabel and her husband, along with a few other jewels about refueling and sandwiches. Marisol only half listened, choosing as her focus the much more interesting dialogue between Lunar Veil and her pilot.

A soft rumble filtered back, the sound of heavy mechanical systems at work. “The VTOL rotation,” she whispered of the two electric motors whose chain linkages and shafts were even now turning the atmo engine mounts for a vertical takeoff. She could feel their motion, rising through the balls of her feet. The mechanic laid a hand upon the worktop, closing her eyes as the spinning turbines were throttled up to a full roar. “Hi,” Marisol whispered to Lunar Veil as she lifted off her struts. “Tell me about yourself.”

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