The younger mare blinked, then shoved the binoculars into a protective bin bolted to the trusswork and shut the lid with a hoof. "Uh, yeah." She skittered around the breech of the gun and settled her barrel and belly on the cradle mounted to the carriage's right side. One forehoof struck at a big toggle, unlocking the gun; the other landed near, but not on, the trigger pedal. Her hind hooves briefly danced left and right on the checkered deck plating. The long, slender tube obediently swung back and forth. "Gun unlocked. Traverse good." She shifted her weight to force the gun up and down slightly. "Elevation good." Her head ducked for a look through the spiderweb sight. "Sights clear."