Chapter Eight
Minerva lay on the cot in her Pouncers cargo bay eyes wide open. She had tossed and turned for the last hour. She just couldn't get her mind to settle. That wasn't uncommon lately. Tonight it bothered her more than usual. She decided not to fight it. She sprung aggressively from her back and swung her legs over the side of the cot - angry, frustrated. With one quick movement, she stood and folded the cot back against the Pouncers wall. Still fully dressed, she promptly excited her Pouncer and made her way towards the resource ship. A few bonfires still lite up the night as a few pilots still gathered here and there. Walking up the resource ships ramp, she navigated the entry level to the ships shower quarters. She decided to use her next day's ration of shower water early to try to wash off whatever thoughts were not letting her sleep. She preferred this time of night anyway. Shower quarters were always empty and allowed her the privacy she needed.
First kicking off her boots, she unbuckled her fatigue flight pants, let them fall to the ground, and then stepped out of them. Next she pried the damp brown halter top from her sweat sticky skin, pulled it over her head, and through it to the ground. Every day in this place was a humid one. After completing the same task with her sticky underwear, she stood there bare for a brief moment. The air inside the resource ship was just a little cooler and easy to breathe in. No sand. No humidity. With her eyes closed, she exhaled deeply and let her mind go blank. She scooped up her clothes and walked over to one of the ships cleaning cubes. Water couldn't be wasted on washing clothes and most pilots only had the one outfit they wore to this reality when the Go light came on back home. The cubes were a type of dry cleaning system. The pilots locked all their clothing in one of the cubes and let it cycle a number of infinitely reusable chemicals through them until they were clean. After securely locking her clothes in a cube and keying in the cycle, Minerva found a shower bay and entered her personal ID code on a touch screen panel inside it. Each pilot only had five minutes worth of daily shower. Once the pilot or personnel entered their code and turned on the water, the timer began. Temperature could be controlled by the same touch screen, one vertical bar for hot and one for cold. Minerva slid her fingers up the bars to a comfortable warm setting before turning on the water. As the warm water hit her skin, she allowed herself to relax. This was her time. After she washed herself clean and felt calm enough, she gradually turned the hot water down until only cold water remained. She let it cool her body for a minute then gradually turned the hot water back up to a comfortable temperature. She repeated the cycle one more time before settling it on a cooler setting. She let the temperature remain there until the individual shower cycle had run its course and automatically shut off.
Never long enough.
Minerva stepped out and decided to air dry for continued comfort. She sat in the middle of the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees and let the evaporating water cool her skin until she could feel herself becoming drowsy. She stood, gathered her items from the cube, got dressed and left the resource ship. No sooner than she reached the end of the ramp to the resource ship, the anxiety began to return. The shower was pointless. Abruptly she stopped. She simply stood and starred out into the darkness. There was nowhere to go. There was nothing to distract her. She knew she wouldn't get any sleep tonight. She stomped her way back to her Pouncer and decided on action that defeated the purpose of her walking way over to the resource ship to shower. She decided to work on her Pouncer. Climbing up one of the wings and into the cockpit, she plopped down in its seat and flicked the power on. Various lights and screens of her Pouncers dash blinked on all around her. With the speed of a pilot with three years of familiarity with the inside of a Pouncer, she fingered various displays and readings front, left, and right dash. She had done one immediately when they got back from their last mission, but she decided to run a diagnostic on her Pouncer again. She keyed in the diagnostic sequence and let it run its course. She watched the numbers dance up and down on the right console of the cockpit. They came back less than perfect, as she knew they would. All of these Pouncers had been through hell and back in the last few months. There had never been enough time to service them to one hundred percent, but the numbers weren't imperfect enough to cause the problem that caused her not to reach speed. Then what was it? She climbed out of the cockpit and began to check the intake vents, first the forward ones, then the ones on the inner body. She was just climbing over to the left side of her Pouncer when the voice shot up at her.
"You too! What the hell are you doing up there?" Nehemiah called out as he walked up, beer in hand. By his slight stagger and slur, she could tell the night hadn't ended early for him. "Hey. Hey, you left the party early, so I thought you was fast asleep by now?"
"I tried."
"But?"
"My Pouncer failed to pull the necessary power for the last run and that bothers me. I almost got myself shot down and Daniele killed. I've been flying these things for three years. I refuse to believe it was my lack of piloting that caused me to not to reach attack speed."
"What you still worrying about it for? The commander's not. It's simple. You gauge the attack distance and balance the power flow to the twins against vent intake and secondary thrust. It aint a perfect system. Sometimes we just don't get it right." Nehemiah said casually.
"I know that. I've done it a thousand times."
"Aint nothing to be ashamed of we've all failed speed before in the past."
"Not me Nehemiah! I get it right. That's what I do. I get it right. All the time. Anything else is unacceptable. Believe it or not, I'm one of the best pilots out here."
"We all know you are Mini,” he said sympathetically. “You've got nothing to prove to anyone out here…"
"I know I don't!" Minerva barked at Nehemiah.
"Alright, let me rephrase that for ya. You aint got nothing to prove to me out here." He said with a bit of bite to his tone.
"I'm sorry Nehemiah. Don’t mean to bark at you."
"I know you don't. That's why I'm worried about you because you are."
"I thought you said you weren’t worried about me. That you knew I was going to be alright…buddy." Minerva said as she jumped off her Pouncer and started for the back of it.
"That was in front of everyone else. You're a Pouncer pilot and every Pouncer pilot needs his pride. "Listen." Nehemiah began, but Minerva was busy squatting underneath her Pouncer trying to figure out what was wrong with it and not her. "Hey! You listening to me!" Minerva was busy. "Minerva, stand the fuck up!"
"What Nehemiah! What the fucking what!"
"Look around," he said with outstretched arms. He spun around in a slightly drunken stupor. "Look the fuck around. Take it all in - Nothing. There's nothing here. We left home, we're losing our friends and we aint going back. We aint never going back. You think you's the only one that's feeling it?"
"This?" She stretched her arms out. "This aint shit. I knew what I was coming to. You wouldn't understand what I'm feeling right now." She charged him.
"Nah I understand. We all feel this shit. It's deep. It hurts. It's fucking scary as shit. But, we're Pouncer pilots huh. We won't say shit. Never speak of death cause it don't exist until it happens. Come on finish this shit with me. There aint nothing wrong…"
"Cause we're here to make it right." Minerva finished the phrase for him."
"That's right. You know the creed very well. Probably just as good as all of us out here. Into the pits of hell sista!" He said then took a swig. That was the full Pouncer pilot creed:
"Never speak of death, cause it don't exist until it happens.
There aint nothing wrong, because we're here to make it right.
Today, we fly into the pits of hell!
If this be our end,
then that be our destiny!
The creed they all took to heart, lived, and died by. The words reined her in a little.
"But Minerva, it's gotta come out
. It's gotta come out some way. Rikki's got her way with people. I got this," he said as he held up the beer bottle. Minerva smiled. "Thor's got his good looks. I'm sure he's got a mirror in his cockpit to cheer him up when he's feeling it." Minerva laughed audibly. "My brotha…"
"Your Brother?"
"Yeah my brotha's too tight in the ass to be worried about death but anywho, I digress." Minerva was laughing hard. "You know everybody's got something. Even the commander. The commander's got his command…"
Minerva's laugh and smiled immediately vanished. "Yeah everybody's got something. I had something." She spat out then went back to her Pouncer. Nehemiah stood confused. He didn't know what he just said that changed her demeanor so quickly. He almost had her out of her funk.
"Hey," he stumbled over to her, reached down, and lightly grabbed her arm. "Hey, stand up. Come here Minerva. What I'm saying is everybody's gotta find something. You gotta find something and this aint it. It's late. We got a early start in the morning. Get some sleep." He gently pleaded with her. Slowly Minerva gave in. She knew he was right.
"Alright. I'll try."
"There you go! Now you're making sense." Nehemiah said enthusiastically. "Now I can finish this beer and get some sleep myself without worrying myself sick about ya" He began to walk away. Minerva was smiling again. "Sweet dreams and shit," he said, raising the almost empty beer bottle in the air as he stumbled away. Minerva watched him stumble off with a smile.
"Hey Nehemiah!"
"Yeah!" he said spinning around, almost tripping over his feet.
"Into the pits of hell."
"Into the pits of hell Mini."
From the shadow of a wing, six Pouncers away, Daniel watched. He watched Minerva leave to go to the resource ship. He watched her return, still wearing the heaviness of her thoughts. He watched her busy herself with her Pouncer, and he listened to the whole conversation between her and Nehemiah. From the shadow of a wing six Pouncers away, Daniel agreed with Minerva that Nehemiah didn't know what she was really feeling. Daniel did. He laughed to himself when Nehemiah offered that he had his command to take his mind off the reality of things, and his smile vanished just as quickly when Minerva responded. From the shadow of a wing, six Pouncers away, Daniel wrestled with emotions with Minerva. He considered going over to talk to her to see if there could be some semblance of an unheated conversation. If perhaps he could use words to try to temper the ravenous emotions he knew Minerva had been feeling since they arrived, but he knew better. He was a man who would acknowledge the truth as soon as it presented itself. That is part of what made him a good commander. It didn't help in other situations. But, he was a Pouncer pilot commander and within him lived the Pouncer pilot creed as well. The creed that guided them, that they all took to heart, lived, and died by:
"Never speak of death, cause it don't exist until it happens.
There aint nothing wrong, because we're here to make it right.
Into the pits of hell!
If this be our end,
then that be our destiny! "
Sometimes that creed extended further then battles and a pilot's cockpit. Sometimes it guided decisions that had nothing to do with a Pouncer at all. He decided to let her sleep.
Crest and Shield Book 2: an O R D E R mini Page 8
