CHAPTER 18Carter killed the torch. Inches from his darkened faceplate, the spot of incandescence began to fade. He knew the weld was good, but he could not be sure how it would stand up to strain. The metal had changed in subtle ways—heat retention was different than it had been, the flux was hard to manipulate—but the new bonds should hold the gun.
“Stan?” Max Ovidio called from where he crouched at the far side of the turret. “Like to check this?”
He had finished the mount that would hold the thin cover. Carter doubted the covers would be used—the effort was not worth the reward and the guns would ride naked on their mounts. He was casual in his inspection.
“It’ll do. How about the lock?”
“Finished. The outer panel just needed replacing, and we fixed the inner before coming out.” Ovi
