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Leaving the lockers open, Jack crossed to the drinks machine and ordered some tea, then returned to contemplate the weapons with his mug. It was not a bad arsenal; indeed it was far more than he had any right to expect, and though the weapons were old, they were not particularly worn, and he wondered if they had been the weapons provided to Roth during her initial fitting out.
No, he decided. That couldn’t be accurate. There were simply too many arms for a transport on routine duty. It was only as he lay down to sleep that night that it occurred to him that not only was Roth equipped with too many weapons, but her built-in arms lockers were abnormally large.
During the night, the thought evaporated, however, and with the arrival of the remainder of the Roth’s crew and her departure from dry dock, her small arms fell far from the front of her skipper’s mind. Shortly before noon, with a dispatch that made her officers stretch their eyes, the ordinance team had unlocked her mounted guns, leaving Roth ready to depart for the Achilles system. She approached the interlocking station, battening her hatches, securing all loose equipment, and generally preparing for the jump to hyperspace. Her mood lighting pulsed violet, casting and hiding ethereal shadows. Midshipman Kinskey stood at the christmas tree on the bridge, watching the indicators turn green one by one. “Sir,” he said at last, “christmas tree is green across the board.”
“Very good,” said the skipper. “Sparks, get the token.”
“Token received, sir,”
“Radar, are we steady on the gate?”
“Steady, aye, steady, sir.”
“Withdraw the array.”
“Standby . . .. Array is secured, sir.”
“Helm, ahead one quarter. Take us in.”
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