Wheee. More. MORE I TELL YOU.
Loose itmes throughout the small shuttle rattled on everything, in time with the engines and power generators of the ship. It certainly broke the silence there would have been if it was a newer ship. If anything, the only thing that broke the monotony of the rattling ws the occasional ping from the range scanners.
The seat creaked on it's pivot as Ashton leaned back, stretching his arms high over his head, his light grey eyes staring through the wide veiwport at the expanse of near blackness before him. He pushed himself out of the chair and stepped behind it, ducking through the hatch and into the small cargo area behind the pilot's cabin.
"Computer, bring up files and schmatics of the IGF Fleet battlecruiser Seattle," his voiced rang. It echoed slightly in the near-empty chamber. "As well, bring up profiles and all records of drop-military personnel currently onboard the Seattle."
He knelt down in front of a heavy case strapped to the bulkhead, preventing it from sliding around so much. He pulled on the release, starting to undo the strap, tugging enough slack to let the case move freely. The latches on the case popped, allowing access to the contents easily, and it was opened. An older military rifle and two matching handguns lay inside the force-molded styrofoam. He nodded to himself and then opened the upper portion of the case, revealing two ammo boxes for the rifle, and 10 small clips for the handguns.
"Database assembly for requested items completed," sang a feminine, if not monotone voice. The computer's. "Would you like to save compiled information?"
Ashton closed the case and pushed himself to his feet, moving the case back to the bulkhead. He pulled on the strap, tightening it once more, and then made his way back to the pilot's cabin. The pilot's chair squeaked as it was turned, and groaned when he sat down again.
"Yes," he replied, beginning to go over the assembled database. "Save information under the filename 'Team Stats.' And keep the files opened. Computer, estimated time until arrival at the Seattle?"
"New ETA for arrival is approximately one hour, thirty minutes, and counting down," said the female voice before adding, "Docking procedures will begin in one hour, tweny minutes, allowing a ten minute window for decceleration and manuvering into docking bay."
Ashton nodded to himself, leaning back in the pilot's seat again.
"Thank you," he said, reading over the files presented before him. "Just barely enough time to get refamiliarized with that tub of old hardware."