by Chris Hechtl
“Oh, lovely. First time using a drive …” a pilot stage whispered.
Jerrica scowled. “Don't worry about it. It is out of your hands anyway. Focus on what affects you. Let the ship people do their jobs.”
“Not a fat lot what you can do about it anyway, mate,” Mick said from the back, smirking and shaking his bald head.
“Definitely not,” Milkman echoed.
“Gee, thanks,” the recruit said, looking over his shoulder to the veteran pilots.
Jerrica waved to them to be quiet.
“We've got some working-up exercises scheduled for a couple of days while the engineers get the kinks out and the brass gets the nerve up to try the jump.” She stood, rubbing the small of her back. “If I know the skipper, and by now I do, we're going to be in for a lot of working-up exercises. That means for you, turn arounds, and a lot of sim action. Forget about sleeping until we get into hyper.”
“Lovely,” Mick sighed. But they could tell he was faking the fatalistic voice, even he was looking forward to stick time. Milkman feigned a yawn. Jerrica snorted at them.
“You two are full of shit,” she sent to them over the pilot chat link. Then she returned her attention to the class as Mick sent her back a heart and kissy face. She had a hard time not snorting or turning a glower her way as she tried to focus on her brief.
“Just remember, we've got the three landing decks, the main one and the two under it on the keel. But you can't do a touch and go or a bolter, so get it right the first time. Screw up and you'll destroy the ship. Or they'll make you brake and the ship will come to you. That'll pretty much toast your career,” Jerrica warned, glaring at the group. A few had the sense to gulp and take her seriously. “There are a lot of people waiting in line behind you, eager for their shot, so don't blow it.”
“Way to deal with the pressure,” Mick sighed softly.
Hurranna flicked her ears in amusement.
== ^ ==
Jane grimaced as she heard Chief Gray grumbling again in the mess. His talk of a cursed ship had been taken to heart by a few of the crew after their latest series of mishaps. Fortunately, none had proven fatal. There had been some accidents though, and a few personnel had ended up in stasis to be shipped back in a medivac to the Annex for repair or even regeneration. She felt her mind scurry away from such abhorrent thoughts. Pilots hated to think about their own mortality or getting sick.
Things were slowly returning to what had to be normal, of that she had no doubt. She'd heard stories of other ships after all, and when the ship went an entire shift without a problem, it was indeed a minor triumph to celebrate. But when such things became routine … only then would it truly be normal she reminded herself.
Splitting the Second Squadron into two squadrons had turned into all sorts of headaches. They couldn't just bump the bombers into Third Squadron since it already existed. So, they had to stand up an entirely new command, Fifth Squadron. Once they had the paperwork on their end sent off to the powers that be to mull over, Jerrica had waited a day before she'd authorized the crews to make the changes under her own authority. It took time to get the paperwork sorted out and approved, she knew that. Some things moved glacially slow, even when it was a no brainer.
It meant that First Lieutenant Ferris Dorniger, call sign Paperboy (we deliver), was only the acting squadron commander. Since he's been the assistant squadron commander of Second Squadron, it wasn't that big a change. He had a few teething issues with the other squadron commanders but came into his own once the ship settled down and regular exercises commenced.
Getting the marines integrated was a problem. There was no call for their craft. The skipper attempted to use them a few times, but the deck BOSS wasn't too happy about pulling them down, let alone all of them at once. That meant the marines drew a lot of time as LSO or in maintenance unit Jerrica grudgingly allowed them to borrow her craft, the double ought buck OO to take turns flying during exercises.
Touch and go on the dorsal hull allowed the pilots to get honed in on how to approach the ship at various speeds and under different conditions. Lines had been painted on the upper hull to mark the wire for judging. Getting the craft down without hitting too hard took a deft hand and practice. Fortunately, there were no deck strikes or other mishaps. She was proud of her score, though she knew she could do better.
As the crew and pilots went through their working-up exercises a few would take the time on their one off day to note the news and see the changes to the star system's civilization and to the navy. The admiral's return had revitalized the navy, renewed its sense of self-worth and accomplishment. The occasional commissioning of a new ship was celebrated news in the mess.
As the pace picked up, so did the regular convoys to Agnosta, Gaston, and then to the other star systems.
Now they had something else to do, a new routine to get used to. She'd learned how to handle jump space. Boredom was a pain in the ass, but better to be bored then busy for a brief spat of excitement before the lights went out for good. She treasured the times she fought in simulated combat but dreaded the real thing and what it would do to her friends, her heart, and quite possibly herself.
Two days ago they'd received a new mission, convoy escort with the ships that made the regular run between Pyrax and Agnosta. Other ships were handling escort duty up and down the chain between Agnosta and Antigua.
Their first jump had everyone nervous for the past day until Chief Oddie had announced they were good, everything was green.
To combat boredom and to have a bit of fun, the XO organized the hyper dogs to roust out those who had not joined their ranks and induct them the following morning. Poseidon had ruled the ship for a brief time as they ran the uninitiated through various, sometimes hilarious but grouse tasks.
She was very much aware that she and the marines were prime targets for the hyper dogs. Fortunately, she like many of them had carefully preserved their certificates getting out of the sights of their fellows. In Deja's case he might have enjoyed the slick comfort of the tube, but Jane for one didn't have any intention of doing it ever. Hurranna seemed quite pleased and quite vocal about her trip to Agnosta which got everyone off her back and probably saved her a lot of fur and clean-up time Jane thought.
Much to Hurranna and Jane's amusement, Kedson had never been out of the star system so he'd gotten tapped to be initiated by Jerrica as well as the XO. “You are enjoying this entirely too much for my benefit,” he said sourly, glaring at both ladies after his recent spelunking for Poseidon's orbs. He wiped at tomato juice and grease on his chin. It didn't help, more dribbled down from his head before he shook himself. Those nearby laughed as they fended off the splatter. A towel was thrown over his head to stop the mess from getting out of hand.
“Yup,” Hurranna replied with a shit eating grin as he pulled the towel off. Jane couldn't help but giggle at Milkman's expression.
His sudden devilish gleam got her to back up, but the bulkhead behind her blocked her retreat. He just had to give them a hug while slathered in motor oil and tomato juice. The lady's screeches of dismay had just about everyone laughing.
== ^ ==
Convoy runs became their new routine for several months. It was annoying to have a spat of space time every four weeks, but they had to put up with it. The one spot of good news was each time they came to Pyrax there was something new to see as the star system's industrial potential was kicking into action and usually someone was moving on as they were promoted and a fresh face to get used to and break in.
The good news was, each time they went into hyper the hangar and flight decks turned into hot bunks and rec areas for the crew. Suddenly people had more space to spread out and relax. Since the flight wing couldn't fly their craft in hyper anyway, it was great, when they were allowed to use the hammocks and beds that was. Usually the CAG had them running sims and classrooms or the plane chiefs had the pilots and crews running PMCS, or Preventive Maintenance Checks and Services.
On their third return to Pyrax they were rotated in as convoy escort to Gaston. Captain Nax made it clear the ship and its company was going to be used to show the flag to the people there, so they had to be on their best behavior. It meant backbreaking work in GI parties cleaning the ship from stem to stern. Once they were in real space, the pilots practiced maneuvers while everyone else got spiffed up. The ship's groomer was kept rather busy with long lines outside her small compartment.
They put on a show when they entered orbit of the planet. The natives were suitably impressed according to the media reports Orville picked up and piped in to the mess and wardroom. Local government officials and some media outlets were given tours of the ship while the skipper and CAG allowed small liberty parties to rotate down to the planet.
Jane enjoyed a look at the ground, even if she had to do it in uniform. Pilots hated their regular uniform; they'd much rather wear their baggy coveralls or flight suits. Even a skinsuit was preferable to being dolled up in a dress uniform. She was very much aware of her rank and sex so she kept to protocol and stayed with the group at all times, even when visiting the head. She also made certain not to overindulge in the bars they frequented despite offers from local males to buy her a drink.
== ^ ==
Fresh orders took them off convoy escort duty when they returned to Pyrax. The last convoy to come in from Agnosta carried with it a super-secret cargo—one no one found out about until it was announced over the Fleet news network shortly after the ships docked with the Annex. The ansible was the toast of the star system once it came online, quickly followed by toasts to Admiral Irons and the New Federation.
The senior staff of Kittyhawk was surprised when they were told the fresh orders came from the admiral direct through the ansible. They had a limited liberty in Pyrax as the ship took on stores before they were to be sent off to B101a1 and then on to B100 omega with the Arboth class destroyer Tempest and a trio of freighters to watch back door. A small freighter tagged along with a small bandwidth ansible in her cargo bay while two more were loaded up with supplies intended for the marines and natives on Hidoshi's World.
== ^ ==
Fighter pilots had specialized implant packages to go with their chosen duty. The implant packages were upgrades they received when they underwent and passed the early stages of flight training. Jerrica of course knew this; she also knew why even if she wasn't certain she liked the idea. She'd had two pilots down for problems with stuck valves, and that didn't bode well for the wing's health over a long period of time.
Each of the pilots had a series of valves and tiny heart/lung pumps grown or implanted into their circulatory system to shut off blood flow to their limbs when the fighter was under gravitational bleed that the small inertial sump couldn't handle. Usually that happened during extreme maneuvers or when the craft was boosting for prolonged periods. The restriction of blood flow meant more blood flow and pressure going to the brain, which kept them from blacking out.
The marine pilots lacked the implants so they had to put up with G suits. They still did their jobs however, which was to their credit. She wondered briefly how long it would take before they too were given the implants. Hopefully soon she thought.
All of the pilots took turns as the ship's LSO, Landing Systems Officer, but the shuttle pilot marines frequently got the short end of the stick due to their lack of fighter craft. That was until their latest brainstorm.
Just before they were due to leave the star system, Deja hit on an idea to practice a breach. He pitched the idea to Jerrica first in an email and then in a formal request. She called him in and listened to his dog and pony show before she tentatively signed off on the concept and then passed her recommendation on to the skipper.
The captain had taken a day or two to consult with the chief engineer and BOSS before he'd reluctantly agreed. All hands were on deck to watch as Deja took his assault shuttle group out, turned around, and then he brought his in to pretend a ramming into the open main hangar bay. Breath was instinctively caught as they saw his speed; he was above the red line but on target for a simulated assault.
Just as he entered the shadow of the ship's forward edge, his forward OMS pods could be seen burning bright blue to slow the craft down. He couldn't use his grav emitters since it would have torn Kitty apart.
His assault shuttle pierced the inner line at the yellow striped danger mark then paused. OMS flares spat to correct the craft's forward motion then daintily set her down to a landing there with her stern still sticking out of the hangar bay. Her stern OMS kicked a bit to keep her up as a quartet of marines, they called it a fire team she reminded herself, from the Kittyhawk's compliment piled out between her catamaran bow and followed taped lines and a virtual map to simulate the rest of the boarding exercise. It sucked that they didn't have many marines to do the full exercise.
“So, that's the best we can do for a real world exercise?” the skipper asked dubiously. He watched the marines go through the motions in the hangar bay before they returned to their parasite craft.
“These damn things are just too damned destructive to do it any other way, sir. I know the powers that be need every hull, but eventually they are going to need to do real world exercises just to get a feel for it, both them and the troops involved, sir,” Jerrica said as she lifted her chin to Deja's shuttle. He pulled the shuttle out neatly then another shuttle came in to replace him. It was a little more shaky on the approach and she nervously held her breath until the front landing gear bounced and then held firm onto the hangar deck. Marines came out and followed the same routine.
“Yeah,” the skipper drawled, “definitely need a better method of practicing this.”
“They've done so much sim time I thought they'd puke. Honestly I don't see why they are here, sir. They need those shuttles on other craft. We don't even have the marine troops to support them!”
The skipper nodded thoughtfully. “I'll make a few calls. I'm not sure …”
“I don't want to lose them, sir,” Jerrica said hastily.
“Make up my mind, Commander,” the captain said, eying her.
“Sorry, sir. What I meant to say is, I don't want to lose the pilots. They are good at their job.”
“Job …”
“They are damn good pilots, sir. They have a different background which makes for good practice in fighter combat. A bit of variation in approach and method is a good thing, sir. They frequently think outside the box that we've grown too used to seeing.”
“I see. They qualified?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir, everyone who qualed on the fighters did it on their own initiative and time too.” He nodded silently in reply to that endorsement. “I understand the marines here are going to serve as a nucleus for future marine craft. Possibly for training, but also for their own fighter wings.” Out of the corner of her eye she noted the second craft's lock close and the ship back out. She seemed to drop her tail and kick off and away, unlike Deja's neat maneuver. She made a mental note to have a chat with the pilots later.
“I see.” The captain tapped his jaw and then nodded. “I'll look into it.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jerrica said as Deja's shuttle lined up to make its second approach, this time with the copilot in command.
The only reason Deja had the stick the first time was to prove it could be done. He had made it clear to all involved that he wanted first shot. It had been apparent to the CAG that it hadn't been to garner honor or to show off. It had been to take the initial risk upon himself. She had to admit she liked that about the selkie.
She just wished they'd tried the stunt on Tempest or another craft, or he'd had his brainstorm before they'd offloaded the other four assault shuttles.
== ^ ==
Deja seemed to be settling in nicely Hurranna noted. Their promotions to warrant rank had finally come through, she was now officially a WO1 while he was a WO2. She didn't mind being in his squadron, and the fact that she was his XO and his assistant squadron c
ommander didn't hurt her chances of future promotion as long as she didn't screw anything up. She didn't like the extra paperwork involved, but she didn't mind the respect she'd earned.
They had the occasional issue with hardware as well as issues with people. Squabbles between air wing, maintenance, and ship crew were normal. They tried to keep it low key. She'd learned from her run-in with Milkman to keep things in the family and not let it get to the old lady if she could help it.
Before their next deployment, the powers that be traded four of the assault shuttles in for four Cobra fighters. Deja, Hurranna, and two other pilots who had qualed as fighter pilots would man them while their copilots would take their shuttles back to the Annex for reassignment. Most likely they would be shipped to Agnosta to perform their duties there.
They were promised additional Cobras to replace the last two shuttles. But the timetable was open ended, and since they were about to deploy, it was a problem that wasn't going to be solved until they either returned to port or received a resupply in B100 omega. Until they showed, up they would have a few new faces to rotate on the shuttles to train them. So even though the bay was getting a little less crowded, the pilot's ready room, locker room, and barracks were still going to be as crowded as ever.
“Kind of silly to be flying assault shuttles from a carrier,” Kedson said as the last shuttle left.
“The navy wanted them to practice. They'll go on to train new pilots at the MAWTS-1 facility once it is up or pilot the shuttles that will be stored on the marine transport craft.”
“Luxury liners compared to old Kitty,” Kedson said, shaking his head. He eyed Hurranna. “Sure you don't want to go?”
“Why, hopeful to get rid of me?” she pretended to lick her shoulder. “I like it where I am just fine, thank you.”