The Army Of Light (Kestrel Saga) Read Online Free PDF Page A

computer
confirmed exactly what Shawn thought the problem was, but also gave him a new
one to be concerned about: one of the hover thrusters was fluctuating and would
soon fail. If that happened, the remaining thrusters wouldn’t be able to hold
the craft aloft. A small light on the right of the control panel illuminated,
informing Shawn that the computer wished to speak to him. He could only image
what kind of berating it would give him over their current condition.
         So much for remaining calm.
        
Outside the craft, Trent continued waiving Shawn into the hangar despite the
look of concern he gave the sputtering thruster. Trent knew that if they didn’t
get the ship in the right spot now, they might not get another chance. From
above, Shawn watched as Trent leaned to the right, staring disapprovingly at
the half extended strut that was probably leaking fluid all over the hangar
floor. Trent shook his head in disgust, then directed his full attention to
making sure the ship was still centered. The ventral thruster was failing fast,
causing  Sylvia’s Delight  to dip down and drag the starboard
strut across the hangar floor, which in turn caused a jarring squeal that
echoed off the hangar walls.
        
Trent threw his arms up, waving them back and forth rapidly over his head
in the universal sign for the captain to stop his forward momentum. Shawn only
hoped the ship was where they needed it to be as he throttled back on the
thrusters. The ship slowly came to a halt precisely over the predefined center
of the building, then began to drift toward the hangar
floor. With one bad strut, the ship listed several feet to port, putting the
ship off kilter as the remaining three pads made solid contact. Once Shawn was
satisfied the ship was immobile, he began shutting down all of the thrusters
and internal systems. When the final computer powered down a few moments later,
and the drone of the engines spun down to near silence, he opened the small
hatch aft of the control deck and exited the ship.
        
The two men walked towards the damaged landing gear and began inspecting the
area. As soon as Trent caught sight of the full extent of the damage, he let
out an exasperated sigh. The entire cylindrical strut, which extended out from
the underside of the vessel, was coated in a film of viscous black grease.
        
“Looks like the internal seals went out,” he said as he kneeled and wiped a finger
across the struts otherwise smooth surface, scooping up a gob of the dark
material and rubbing it between his finger and thumb. “We’ve got a spare in the
back I can slap on. It should do the trick.”
        
“It’s nice to know we have parts to fix something around here.”
        
Trent nodded in agreement. “It won’t help her fly, but at least she’ll be
level.”
         “How much time?”
        
Trent rocked his head from side to side as he contemplated the answer. “We’ll
need to put the ship up on her mag-jacks, but it won’t take much longer than
that. Two hours, I’d say. Maybe a little more to get it all squared away.”
        
“Good,” Shawn replied with a nod and leaned down next to his mechanic. “What
about the gauges? I had to fly her in by feel alone. I’m not getting anything
from the instrument panel at all.”
        
Trent knew that there was nothing worse for a pilot than flying blind.
“It’s probably electrical. You know how this damn sand can muck up things.”
Trent waved a hand contemptuously at the distant beach beyond the hangar,
causing some strut grease to fling off of his fingers and land near Shawn’s
feet. “Sorry.”
        
“Right,” Shawn replied with a soft smile. There was hardly a time when Shawn
could remember seeing Trent entirely clean and presentable. However, it’d never
bothered him. Trent was as fine a mechanic as Shawn had ever known. If that
meant Shawn had to accept Trent as being covered head to toe in grease