Guinevere Jocks

[LeftEar JoNs 0]

05.07.08

USS Excalibur NCC-2004C

“Guinevere Jocks”

 

After having the ship temporarily delayed in a sector of space which was a violent waypoint for various realities as they overlapped and wreaked havoc with the current timeline and universe, it was nice to get back to some semblance of normality.

 

Well, perhaps I should rephrase that another way: that return to normal was provided that you were not on a quest to locate the Founders and a blood cult and your current lead was an ancient and reclusive species known to you only as the Satarimi, had run into a snobby Vorta who had delusions of galactic power or conquest, and had a Captain who did not excel at the making friends part of Diplomacy 101. It was only a matter of time before the Excalibur found herself being shot at again, so I was going to make the best out of this lull that I could.

 

Epsilon squad needed to be rebuilt and I had given my word to Lieutenant Ramson that I would help her with that to the best of my piloting ability, and perhaps a little bit more. I must confess that the idea of teaching fighter jocks again has a lot of personal appeal for me, even if they are green.

 

I was mainly puttering around the small auxiliary office set just off the main hanger deck that had been scrounged up by the chief of the deck. It was sparse, and simple; a desk, a small shelf storage area, and a locker where my personal flight equipment could be stored when I wasn’t helping with the jock training. And for the time being I’d be dividing my time between the flight deck and my executive officer duties while the Epsilon’s were brought back to working flight status, which I was hoping would be sooner rather then later.

 

“Commander JoNs?”

 

Lieutenant Sorvas politely stood in the doorway. He was a senior Lancelot fighter pilot from one of the other squads temporarily assigned to me on detached duty as an aide. The Vulcan officer had more of a sense of humor then I did, so that was saying something. He wore his midnight black hair in a severe crew cut, earning him the call sign of Slick. He, like myself, was outfitted in the black jumpsuit of an Excalibur pilot.

 

“Aye Lieutenant?”

 

“The two Guinevere Heavy Bomber replacement candidates are on the deck and at attention, awaiting your assignment orders.”

 

“Thank you Lieutenant. I’ll be out shortly.”

 

Within a couple of minutes I found myself striding across the hanger deck to the area that had been set aside for the pre training debriefings or post mission debriefings (or bawling out, depending on how badly the junior pilots had mucked up). I knew visually what those crewmen working the hanger deck were seeing – a large panther like feline, brown mane cut in a high and tight, brown fur glossy in the overhead lighting, hind claws clicking on the steel decking, one fore paw gripping a flight helmet with my call sign and old squadron name still embossed on the surface, tail lashing ominously. And with the scarred left ear tip and jaw line, that just added to the mystique. I was the epitome of confidence from the tip of my ears to the tips of my hind claws.

 

In reality? I had butterflies doing the tango in my gut.

 

It never failed. No matter how many times I flew a fighter in my career, how many training missions I either participated in or spearheaded, I always got a little sick to my stomach thanks to nerves just prior to any sort of flight hop. Once I was in planetary atmo or out in the black of space? Not a problem. Until then, I just kept as focused as I could and willed myself not to yak on the decking.

 

I came to a stop in front of the two flight candidates that we’d be working with for the day, and Slick took over for the introductions at that point.

 

“Attention!”

 

Everyone was already at attention, but why ruin the mood to point that out? Tradition, indeed.

 

“Ensign Zachary Lee, Ensign Valerie Edmonson, welcome to flight training. May I present senior Instructor Commander MVess JoNs, call sign Left Ear. Commander JoNs, allow me to introduce you to our most recent flight candidates, Ensigns Lee and Edmonson.”

 

I raised my voice at that moment, picking up right where he had left off. “And this gentleman is my aide Lieutenant Sorvas, call sign Slick.”

 

I swished my tail once before I continued speaking to Lee and Edmonson. “You’ll be training in the Guinevere Heavy Fighters. Edmonson, you’ll be training as the lead pilot. Lee, you’ll be taking on the co-pilot and gunner position. We only have a short while to get Epsilon squad back up and running to full capacity, so the harder we work, the sooner Lieutenant Ramson has her division back up to snuff.”

 

I moved closer to the two young ensigns, because I wanted this next bit of conversation to be safe from any prying ears. “With all that said, I want you both to make this your posting. What happened to our Epsilon pilots was horrible … no one deserves to die that way, with every single drop of blood sucked from their bodies. And don’t either of you youngsters try and deny that the rumors are not flying left and right. I’ve gotten wind of the ghost stories making the rounds on the lower decks …”

 

Edmonson and Lee exchanged a fast look between them.

 

“… you two are here to do a job. Don’t let the ghosts of our dead pilots stop you from making this assignment your own. Understand me?”

 

I waited until I got a chorus of ‘aye sirs’ before continuing. ”Questions? Edmonson?”

 

The tall blond looked right at me; I liked the directness of her stare, and I could tell right away she had eyes like a hawk. “Sir, we won’t be Lancelot pilots?” The look on Ensign Lee’s face showed me that he too echoed the question.

I felt a small smile quirk up the corner of my muzzle. “We can’t all fly the sports shuttle. I’ll admit, the Lancelot fighters are sleek, fast, and pretty. But we need heavy bomber pilots as well, and you two are it. I checked your files, and Edmonson, you have a flight background in the Runabout program, and Lee? You have past experience with the Type 11 Shuttles and the Adventure class long range scouts? Well, that’s the kind of background and skills that we need, and you two were culled from the auxiliary flight pool, and here we are.”

 

I let the silence stretch for a few seconds before nodding to Slick; the Vulcan pilot lifted an eyebrow in confirmation and then started speaking to the flight cadets. “It is now time to go to work. You have been assigned to training simulators one and two, and we will be engaging in the basics of low atmosphere recon, enabling you to acquaint yourselves more fully with the Guinevere class’s maneuvering capabilities and general systems. Let’s move.”

 

I started walking off the flight deck and in the direction of the secondary simulator area which contained the instructor level mock cockpit.

 

“Commander?”

 

I turned around and regarded Lee with some curiosity.

 

“… you won’t be joining us in the virtual exercise?”

 

I felt a slow, borderline feral smile worked its way across my muzzle. They were so cute at this age. “Joining you? Ensign Lee, I’ll be the one attempting to shoot your tail off. Stay sharp.”

 

And there were no more butterflies. In my case that is.