Port Gun Control
His headset crackled to sudden life, a brief flash of static followed by a single command uttered in a voice completely, chillingly devoid of humanity.
He looked at his fellow gunners and found his own confusion mirrored on their faces behind the HUD -visors that they wore. He wasn’t going crazy. Only commands from the C.I.C. came through directly to the gun-control operators. Captain Hendricks, seated behind them, filtered through the rest of the comm-traffic.
“Not sure what that was. Keep your guns primed,” Hendricks said sharply, turning to consult his console.
He ran his targeting system checklist for the fifth time. One by one, the indicators lit up green. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Phelps’ board was green too.
Suddenly, his HUD -visor scrolled a list of firing solutions, trajectories and target information. What target!?
And then, It was there. Inside him. He fell back, ripped off his helmet and clawed at the thing that had suddenly appeared behind his eyes.