Jackknife 27
Chapter 27 Delivery
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Cray could not believe he was arguing with a computer. Especially one that wanted to be called by a first name. Cray treated it like any other person, ignored its wishes and called it Computer.
“Computer, can you shut off these warning systems?”
“I am sorry, I cannot shut off fundamental safety systems. That would be against protocol.”
“I think we are past the worrying about protocol here. Don’t you have a catastrophe mode or something?”
“I am sorry, I do not have a catastrophe mode in my programming.”
“Lucky you. Guess we do this the old fashioned way.”
“I am not familiar with the old fashioned way. Could you explain further.”
“Oh, I’m going to do better than that. I’m going to show you.”
“Please refrain from any unsafe driving practices.”
“Now that brings back memories.”
Cray reminisced as he worked the wall panel screws. It was the day Master Sergeant Mitchell started teaching Cray important lessons using unsafe driving practices.
The driving students, young commissioned officers, were attending their regular afternoon class. Cray was off duty and assisting Master Sergeant Mitchell, which meant listening to his stories and doing whatever he was told to do.
The subject of the day for the driver students was how to handle slippages, skids, water planing, and such. The Master Sergeant was disturbed that the training was all from books and simulators. Nothing was real. The only situation he would let the situation pass without comment was rollovers, because it was too hard and expensive to fix the vehicles.
He’d get really worked up some days and that day was worse than most.
“Just think about it,” the Master Sergeant said, “The best they can do is tell these boys to avoid getting into the bad situations. Like life goes around and gives people choices.
“Sometimes you don’t get to choose battles where there are no slippery roads, there is no hurry, and you never over steer or hit a pothole that rips the steering wheel from your grip.
“How are you going to know how to handle a skid until you’re in one? And how are you going to get in one if you can’t make it happen?
“Oh sure, they have simulators now but that’s no replacement for sitting in the middle of thirty tons of steel, telling it what to do.
“And skidding is the easy one. An early step. They won’t even mention jackknifing until the very end and half the lesson is avoiding one. So I ask you again, how can you learn to handle a jackknife if you don’t know how to cause one?
“You’ve got that look on your face again Corporal Scott. Go on now. Ask.”
Cray knew he was in trouble when Master Sergeant used his full title.
“What is a jackknife, Master Sergeant?”
The Master Sergeant laughed. Full on deep belly laugh.
It was a long time before he let Cray try. Cray had to over steer, under steer, slip, slide and skid to Master Sergeant’s satisfaction before learning the jackknife. Cray learned why. It is not as easy as it looks.
Cray tried and tried, but couldn’t make it happen. He got frustrated enough on his last attempt of the day to go a little too fast, cranked the wheel and braked a little too hard. Suddenly the world slipped out of his control. He froze. Almost didn’t snap out of it soon enough. But he got it under control.
Master Sergeant even praised him.
“That was one nasty jackknife. Thought you were going to lose it. That one was good enough for a nickname.”
Cray begged him not to give him another nickname. Cray-Cray, short for Crazy Cray, was the current worst. Anything with jack in it would open a whole new level of ridicule.
Cray returned to the present. He grabbed a bundle of wires he suspected went through the computer.
“Well, here goes nothing.”
Cray heaved on the bundle and the thin wires came snapping out of the control panel clips. Two good tugs and it was all clear. The warning lights all blinked on and off in unison three times and turned off.
“I’ve lost contact with all of the truck’s systems. Please notify maintenance.”
“I have something to do first.”
“Repairs to the truck are of the highest priority. “
“Delivering the cargo and truck are higher priority at the moment.”
“The truck cannot be safely operated without properly functioning safety systems.”
“Oh it can be safely operated, the question is will it be safely operated.”
“I implore you to operate the truck in a safe manner at all times.”
“Do you know how hard it is to put a truck in a skid with anti locking brakes?”
“That is the purpose of the anti locking brake system.”
“O.K., all set, let’s go find the director.”
Cray put the truck in drive and started down the blue lined VIP lane. It ran the length of the facility, past buildings and docks, and led to an area at one end of the facility enclosed in double chain link fencing. Here was the real fortress. A guard house sat in the center of the entrance and exit lanes much like the front gate.
Cray pulled up to the guard house and waited, security pass from the front gate guard house plainly visible.
“May I have your name and purpose of your visit?”
“My name is Cray Scott. I have a delivery for Mr. Malvorn.”
Cray handed over the manifest, the guard took it and returned to the guard house, punched in some information to a PC and made a phone call. After a few nods he hung up the phone, gathered the manifest and brought it back to Cray.
“Mr. Malvorn is currently occupied with visitors. Please make an appointment.”
“Oh I have an appointment. It is called a contract. And I’m here to make good on my part of the deal.
“Say, you’re looking a little ill, you might want to go get checked at medical. Like now.”
Cray put it in gear and made a wide U-turn around the guard house. He paced off enough distance to gain the speed he would need, and made another U-turn.
A call came into the guard house. Cray noticed and backed up a few more feet.
“Activate Metis and shut him down. Show him whose truck it is. Show him who’s boss,” said a voice on the other end of the line.
The guard started typing on the PC, quickly becoming frantic.
“Sir, the computer is not responding.”
“Use the emergency override. Quickly!” said the voice.
“I’m trying sir. There’s no response.”
“Uh-oh,” said Cray to himself sarcastically and dropped the shifter into the lowest drive.
Rhea was too polite to roar, but he could let them hear her hit all the gears on the way in.
He stepped on the accelerator. The lowest gears cycled up quickly. He shifted up one. The cycling up took scantly longer. He shifted into drive. Rhea lurched forward.
“Well so much for toying with him. Open the gates. Now,” said the voice.
The guard acted quickly, but it was going to be close.
Cray had the same thought, it was going to be close, but slowing down now was the same as surrender. He blew through the open gates, threading the needle, and started the over steer as soon as he dared. There was little room for error.
He reversed the over steer, stood on the brakes and pulled up hard on the emergency brake. The physics were in motion, it was up to the tires to slide and not buckle, putting the cab and trailers in a crescent shape at the foot of the fortress’s stairs.
Against all odds, it worked. It was his best jackknife yet. Master Sergeant would be proud.
Cray exited the cab slowly, post adrenaline tremors rippling through his being, inside and out. He felt like an empty shell, not a tough guy negotiator. Fake it til you make it, as Ian would say.
He carried a copy of his contract, the keys to the She Beast and his luggage of dirty laundry. Let them search that bag, he thought.
The large double doors at the entrance did not have a bell or knockers as far as Cray could see so he tried one door. It was open. He let himself in.
A man and a woman in matching dark gray suits, earphones and sunglasses, stood within the giant foyer, seemingly waiting for his entrance.
Behind each curved staircases rose to an open mezzanine floor. Standing front and center at the railing was a man dressed in black. Jacket, turtleneck, slacks, all in stark contrast to his pale complexion and shock of black hair.
The man in black spoke, his voice amplified by the marble walls and flooring.
“That will be far enough. You’ve made your point Greenhalt.”
Cray was too tired to make up a snappy reply. Instead, he held up his copy of the Silver Label contract.
“My name is Cray Scott. I have a delivery for you, as per our contract. I’m here to collect.”
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