by M. Alan Marr
“Correcting.” Chaz adds some foot pressure to the pedal and causes the aft end of the ship to whip around in lateral circles, adding even more instability to the flight. The floating virtual azimuth is a strange distraction. Chaz sees what is happening and begins talking to himself. “Tail rotor, tail rotor.”
The Flight Admiral and Field Marshal, still in the briefing room at Admiralty Headquarters, stand before the large wall display. Everyone at the table is also watching. The display is split, showing the simulation control room, the cockpit and canopy from a position above and behind the pilots, and finally, the forward vehicle view of the simulation itself. A smaller telemetry information window is inset at the bottom of the display. The training ship is now soaring back left, but rotating in a lateral spin in the other direction. Chaz over controls again, and the pitch of the ship begins to falter, creating a sort of figure-eight type of motion. The cockpit and forward views, combined with the lateral spin, is dizzying for the non-pilots in the briefing room to watch. Their expressions are both doubtful and uncomfortable. It is fairly obvious that the trainer’s instability is increasing, and Chaz is quickly losing control.
The display screen in the Forward Air Control room shows the Admiral and Field Marshal from about the shoulders up. The Field Marshal gives a dismissive shake of her head and speaks to the Admiral. “This isn’t going to work.”
The Admiral half nods and is about to agree, and then stops and fixates on the right side of the screen. Chaz has stabilized the training ship in a gentle hover.
The Field Marshal looks at the screen as well. “Replay cockpit imaging,” she orders, certain that Dev took control of the ship. She watches as a new display window opens and the video reverses to the point just before the ship stabilized. The replay shows Chaz struggling to regain control. The outside view is disorienting to watch as they swoosh left and right and every which way, but then it happens: Chaz coordinates all the controls and stabilizes into a hover. Dev, sitting with his hands in his lap the entire time, hadn’t touched a thing.
“I don’t believe it,” the Field Marshal comments. The replay window closes. The live image shows Chaz very lightly finessing the controls to position the ship back over the pad, where it ever so gently bobs, stable and on station.
In the cockpit, Chaz is focusing all his energies into keeping the ship exactly where he wants it to be. Just thinking about moving the ship just about makes it happen. Chaz doesn’t realize it, but his jaw is clenched, and his nostrils are flared as his breathing is long and deliberate.
The Admiral nods to the Forward Air Controller on the screen.
The FAC touches his communications ear-set. “Well done, Commander Ronaldi. Instructor Pilot, proceed to forward flight regime.”
“Instructor Pilot, aye,” Dev’s voice replies over the com line.
Inside the trainer, Dev issues his next instruction. “All right, Commander Chaz, we’re going to transition into forward flight. Advance your throttles slightly and take up a course four points to starboard.”
“Four points—” Chaz says with a definite edge in his voice.
“Forty-five degrees,” Dev calmly rephrases.
“Forty-five to starboard, okay.”
“Altitude your discretion.”
“Understood.”
Chaz gently increases his altitude with the gravity drive and advances the throttles a little. The training ship, although technically still suspended over the docking berth in the simulation bay, appears, sounds, and most importantly, feels to Chaz like he is swiftly flying across the landscape at about two thousand feet, only this time, very much in control. The azimuth around the ship disappears, but at present speed, the subtle ground level grid seems less of a distraction. The instruments are all registering numbers and flight data, but Chaz isn’t worrying about any of that just yet. He is also more relaxed now that he overcame the first hurdle. The engine noise is greater in flight than while hovering at idle, but the engine sounds are not unpleasant, and normal vocal levels are more than sufficient.
The operation of the trainer’s controls remind Chaz of the cyclic and collective on the helicopter he flew in the Navy; the cyclic controlling pitch and bank, and the collective controlling the vertical thrust of the rotor blades. Here, the zero-g and ventral thrust throttle-grips feel much like the collective did on the helicopter.
Straight and level flight is easy, but Chaz knows this is not the end of his examination under the microscope. The stable flight is almost as nerve-racking, though, because Chaz has no idea what’s coming next or what maneuvers he will be required to fly.
The monitoring personnel in the control room program the next series of topographical situations ahead of the trainer’s simulation course. One of the staffers nods to the FAC, who keys his com line.
“Instructor Pilot, proceed with close contact topographic flight.”
Inside the ship, Dev nods. “CCTF, aye.” He turns to Chaz. “Now, Commander, I want you to drop down to treetop level and follow the landscape and ground contours.”
Chaz is about to say what contours? since the landscape is flat, but he sees the grid ahead is no longer geometrically uniform. “Roger,” Chaz says with a smile, as he eases the nose down and soars toward the ground.
Chaz quickly reaches the end of the flat landscape and is now flying across large rolling hills that remind him of the Irish countryside. He guides the trainer closer to the ground and conducts a low-level exercise of following the exact curves of the topographical challenges ahead. As a Navy helicopter pilot, Chaz’s experience in low-level flying is impressive and comes in very handy. He uses both sets of controls to follow the rolling hills, directing the nose of the ship up and down, and uses the throttle grips to keep his altitude relative to the changing ground levels. The hills become more diverse ahead, requiring both vertical and lateral course changes. His abilities are rapidly becoming obvious, even to the Field Marshal.
One of the simulation staffers looks at a telemetry display and quietly comments to the staffer next to him. “He’s modulating the gravitational system with incredible accuracy. Earth doesn’t have that technology, does it?”
The other staffer replies just as quietly, “I don’t know.”
The Forward Air Controller, standing before a holographics table, looks at the topographic course and the large drop about to show up. He touches his ear-set. “Great Gorge approaching.”
Dev hears the advisory over the com channel and realizes the controller just tried to help Chaz out. “Okay, Commander, we’re coming up on a canyon with a very steep—drop!”
Chaz noses the fighter over and the ship dives. The acceleration is sudden, as is the sudden drop in g-forces.
“Whoa!” Chaz yells, but is all smiles. Dev is about to tell him to throttle back, but Chaz is doing so without needing to be prompted.
“Watch the floor of the canyon, it’s coming up fast.”
The speed at which they are headed toward the ground makes even the Admiral and Field Marshal flinch, along with everyone sitting at the briefing room table. Chaz eases the nose up and instinctively adds throttle. Chaz transitions out of the dive and is now swiftly flying across the canyon floor, over a winding whitewater river, at a much greater airspeed than before. Chaz soars through the canyon with grace, banking left and right. He noses the ship down again as they overfly a waterfall that would put Niagara to shame. The winding river leads out to the sea. The training ship is soon flying fast and low over open ocean, leaving a wedge of water dispersing in its wake turbulence. Chaz overflies several small islands so close, the palm trees snap forward and back like a hurricane just blasted by. This is really flying . . .
The Forward Air Controller looks at the screen. “Admiral, permission to proceed, sir?”
The Admiral gives a quick nod. The FAC keys the com line.
Inside the training ship, Dev and Chaz hear, “Instructor Pilot, brief for trans atmospheric operations.”
“All right,
Commander Chaz,” Dev says, “bring the nose up, add throttle, and begin a steady climb to orbit.”
“Yes, sir.” Chaz smiles. He raises the nose and advances the throttles half open. The ship soars into a wide upward arc, trailing condensation off the stabilizer blades. A wave front forms around the front of the ship as it easily breaks through the Tertian sound barrier.
“Check your velocity indicator, forward left on your instrument panel and canopy displays; you’ll notice our current speed is displayed in yellow.”
“I see it.”
“You’re in a steady climb, but your speed is currently below escape velocity. At your current throttle setting, we will eventually reach g-thrust limit; that is the altitude where the ship will stop climbing. Without further intervention, the ship will fall back toward the planet. I believe you call that condition a stall. But this is a TransAtmospheric flight trainer, so you have plenty of power available. Advance your throttles until the velocity readout changes from yellow to blue. That will indicate your minimum orbital speed vector for this planet.”
“I understand,” Chaz says. “Do I need to adjust the throttle grips?”
“The gravity thrusters are mainly used for low-level lift off and touchdown, and also during compression flight to regulate the gravity field around the ship. You will not need gravitational assist for this next series of maneuvers.”
“Pitch and power,” Chaz nods. “Understood.”
“Commander Ronaldi, climb into orbit,” the voice over the com channel orders. Chaz gently pulls the nose up and advances the throttles forward, until the speed readout increases and changes to blue. They are climbing almost vertically. Chaz is doing so because that is how Dev did it back on Lyra. Several shockwaves form and fall behind the accelerating ship. The blue sky ahead turns steadily darker. It appears to Chaz they must be getting close, when the FAC’s voice comes over the communication channel again. “Atmospheric boundary approaching in three . . . two . . . one.”
At the apex of the climb to orbit, Chaz rolls the ship over and levels out upside down and reduces the throttles slightly, checking to make sure the velocity readout still remains in the blue. They are now in orbit. All of the engine readouts turn blue, indicating they are in space. The engine vents have auto-sequenced to close.
Inside the trainer, Chaz feels strange. “Whoa—what is that?”
Dev quickly looks around at the displays, then at him. “What is what?”
“Something feels funny.”
Dev thinks. “Do you mean the zero-g?”
“That’s it, zero gravity,” Chaz says. “Wow, I didn’t expect that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not used to simulated zero-g.”
Dev chuckles. “The zero-g is real. Everything else is a simulation.”
“Instructor Pilot, conduct one orbit and a trans-atmospheric approach to full-stop landing.”
“Instructor Pilot, aye,” Dev replies. “Okay, Commander, roll the ship over. We’re going to make one accelerated orbit all the way around, followed by reentry and approach to a normal touchdown back on the pad.”
“Yes, sir.” Chaz looks at Trieste. It looks exactly like the real thing, but marked with the subtle thin green grid lines on its surface.
“Increase forward velocity. Maintain orbital altitude.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dev adds, “Maintaining altitude is going to require slight downward pressure on the stick, otherwise your thrust vector will propel the ship straight ahead, and you’ll depart orbit out into space. Visually, you can use the grid to monitor your stability; if you climb, the grid segments get smaller, descend and they get bigger. Lateral deviations are also fairly evident.”
“Okay.” Chaz momentarily banks left to see how the grid responds, then back to the right and maintains course. He nods. “Got it.”
“Maintain altitude for three-quarters of an orbit, then power back to idle. You’ll see the navigation cue on your canopy display, but I’ll step you through it. Once you encounter the atmospheric friction, allow planetary gravity to take hold and bring us down.”
Chaz throttles up, and the ship rapidly accelerates, leaving a luminous contrail behind. Trieste is a very large planet so, on Dev’s advice, Chaz opens the throttles even more. They enter the night side of the orbit, and Chaz can see the illumination of many cities on (simulated) Trieste through the clear, unpolluted air. He also notices the cockpit and canopy displays automatically adjusted for the reduced ambient light, maintaining a softer hued night-representation of the flight instruments. They reenter daylight quickly. As the trainer passes the edge of a large ocean, a small diamond symbol appears on the canopy display. Chaz realizes it must be his reentry corridor symbology.
“Your reentry target is that small diamond on your display. The reticle will expand out to the sides as you close on the reentry point.”
Chaz expertly flies toward his target, which begins to expand outward. The elongated diamond graphic expands into a perspective view triangle oriented slightly downward. Dev gives Chaz the cue to bring the throttles back as they near the corridor.
“Power to idle. A few degrees nose down,” Dev instructs. “You want to gently nudge the ship into the atmosphere. This is more art than science and comes from experience. You can use a quick burst or two from the thrust reversers to assist in your de-orbit so you don’t pass the reentry point. To engage the reversers, just move the throttles past the backstops. Your reversers are spring-loaded to idle. A couple of gentle bursts should do the trick. Once the atmospheric friction catches, gravity will do the rest.”
“Roger.”
As the ship closes in on the reentry point, the diamond graphic expands across the canopy display. The reentry corridor is coming up fast. Chaz pulls the throttles back and gives the ship two quick reverse thrusts. The ship begins to encounter reentry turbulence in the upper reaches of the atmosphere. The atmospheric drag takes hold of the ship and descent is initiated. The immediate recognition of gravity after the zero-g of orbit is sudden and unmistakable. The reentry is turbulent and bright with fire and plasma. All of the engine readings switch from blue (spaceflight) to green (atmospheric flight), and the gauges immediately start inching toward the yellow as heat starts building inside the engines.
Dev watches Chaz’s progress. “Excellent. As the heat of reentry diminishes, you’ll need to re-open the engine vents; the two switches at the base of the throttle quadrant.”
“I see them,” Chaz says. “But how will I know the heat’s diminishing?”
Dev jests, “When you don’t see any more flames.”
Outside the cockpit, the flames subside, and the fierce orange glow of reentry seems to disappear in jolts, along with the plasma streamers and turbulence. The engine readings are all up in the yellow and climbing toward the red. “Okay, I’m opening vents one and two.” Chaz scans the panel for the switches and is eyes front again, carefully, not wanting to lose control of the ship. He places his right hand on the switches, glances at them again, and then activates the vents. There is an audible whoosh as the vents open and the engines settle a bit. The engine readings are quickly back in the green.
“Very good,” Dev remarks. “Even though your engines were at idle, heat continued to build inside them. The atmospheric friction compounds that. Opening the vents allowed the engines to cool, and they are now fully available. Transition into forward flight again and track down to find your landing zone. Target speed is the sideways triangle on your velocity readout. Use the reversers as braking thrusters to maintain your speed profile.”
“Roger.”
From the briefing room, the Field Marshal speaks quietly to the Admiral. “Who or what is Roger?”
Inside the trainer, Dev programs the navigation display to plot a course to the simulated base area. “Navigational guidance is on the forward canopy.”
Chaz transitions from the initial glide of reentry to forward flight and sees his ship’s program
med course on the three-dimensional navigation display. He banks left slightly and sees how that translates to the little ship icon on the display. It appears his training ship is almost on course to the training base. The Forward Air Controller’s voice comes over the com line. “Training base one point to port. Target zone on navigation display, range three hundred miles and closing. Begin deceleration.” Chaz powers back on the throttles and continues toward the coordinates. “Two hundred miles and closing.” Chaz continues his descent toward the base and does a couple of quick reverse thrust bursts to bleed off speed. “One hundred miles.”
“I have the base in sight,” Chaz replies, picking out the speck that is the training base amongst the simulated landscape.
In the briefing room, the Field Marshal comments on this. “He has the base in sight? After seeing it only once for a few seconds?”
“He’s a pilot, Field Marshal,” the Admiral says evenly, not taking his eyes off the screen.
Dev purposely doesn’t offer any guidance to Chaz, who is running on instinct at this point as the trainer approaches the base.
“Fifty miles and closing.”
“Touchdown zone in sight,” Chaz reports, reducing his speed further. He notices Dev is conspicuously quiet. Chaz prompts him. “How should I approach?”
“Just fly like you did in the Navy,” Dev replies.
Chaz smiles defiantly. “Aye aye, sir,” he says and increases throttle.
The Field Marshal frowns. “He’s accelerating?”
Everyone in the briefing room watches as Chaz comes in fast, overflies the pad, and breaks off on a steep turn to the left. Chaz powers back to idle.
The Field Marshal glances at the Admiral. “What is he doing?”
Chaz makes another steep left turn.
“I’m not certain,” the Admiral replies, but continues watching as Chaz brings the ship around on yet another ninety-degree turn, and then once more to line up on final approach. Chaz adds slight reverse thrust to continue slowing down. “I believe that may be a standard procedure where he’s from.” The Admiral looks at the telemetry display of the trainer’s course. “That does not appear to be a random course.” The Admiral looks at the Forward Air Controller. “What did he just do?”