<strong>Cabel Bellar<br/>Port Flight Deck<br/>Battlestar <em>Ares</em></strong><br/><br/>The Viper looked to be in good condition overall.  Except for its weapons.<br/><br/>Cabel grunted as he shifted his weight, taking the pressure off of his bad leg, and leaned underneath the spacecraft's fuselage with one hand propped on the wing.  The cannon nestled between the body and the wing was painted matte black, long and slender, with a bulb at the rear end that transitioned into the Viper's interior.  To the casual eye, the vacuum/atmosphere flechette interceptor cannon (VAFIC) appeared intact and in good repair, but Cabel's trained gaze immediately spotted two problems.<br/><br/>"The casing's been damaged here, obstructing the ammunition feed," he said, pointing at the offending dent.  He shot a glance at the small group of flight crew clustered around him, some curious, others concerned.  A tall man in a pilot's jumpsuit stood farther back, but he afforded Cabel more attention than anyone else present.  After all, it had been his ass on the line in the black when the prototype malfunctioned.  Cabel drew his finger along the invisible seam where weapon met ship.  "Not to mention the VAFIC isn't oriented correctly."<br/><br/>He leaned back, grabbing his cane from where it had been lying on the wing, and turned a disapproving glare on the crewmembers.  Some of them had more experience working with Vipers than he did, but none knew the VAFIC better.  He'd designed the damned thing.  "It wasn't secured to Viper properly.  I bet the cannon warped in the tube, which pinched the feed.  If there hadn't been the failsafe, well, the cannon probably would have exploded as soon as the trigger was pulled."  The pilot, Mako, winced at that last bit.<br/><br/>As the senior crewman sent one of her men running to find the maintenance register, Cabel pulled his sunglasses out of their pocket and limped away.  His job was done, for now anyway.  He'd been so close to a perfect shakedown.  The VAFIC had been performing beautifully, with nary a glitch the entire cruise, and now this!  He flicked the arms of the sunglasses apart and slipped them on.  At least the error wasn't in the weapon, but in the people who had handled it.  Wouldn't make much difference when the time to sell came; the fleet was very picky about what weaponry they used.  It was a very competitive business, weapons manufacruing.  Cabel wouldn't be the least bit surprised if the powers that be decided to mothball the project just because of this incident.<br/><br/>"Gods be damned, only the best," he muttered under his breath, limping across the flight deck.  His leg was like fire today, his gait even more pronounced than usual.  He turned to look at Mako and the flight crew crawling over the Viper, detaching the VAFIC from it's nest under the wing.  It was only one of fifty prototypes on board, and the first to be damaged, but--<br/><br/><em>"All hands, all hands, set condition Two throughout the ship.  Send the word for the XO and CAG to report to CIC immediately.  This is not, I repeat, not a drill."</em><br/><br/>That caught his attention.  The flight deck seemed to pause, and a gentle hum of worried conversation appeared.  A few curt shouts from the senior crew put that to rest, and suddenly everything was in motion.  A klaxon went off, signalling that they were about to launch craft.  The Viper with his VAFIC was promptly abandoned, its crew reassigned to more urgent matters.<br/><br/>The buzz of activity wasn't unusual, but the fact that they were now under Condition II dropped a lump of anxiety in his stomach.  They wouldn't set that unless they were at risk of coming under attack.  Real attack.  But by who?  It could be terrorists, or...  Frak!<br/><br/>Either way, Cabel knew he would just be in the way on the flight deck.  Ignoring the pain, he hitched his cane and scurried off deck.  The best thing he could do in this situation was stay out of the way.  He would head to his cabin, which was on the other side of the ship.  A lengthy walk.  Cabel kept to the side of the corridors, gritting his teeth and wishing he knew more.