"Headlong Into Battle"

[STSF Jumper 0]

Note: Log concept credit goes to Lieutenant Commander Kallah Ramson, Excalibur 310th CAG.

 

Flashback (takes place prior to the 11.02.08 Sim)

Excalibur Hanger Deck

 

The Lancelot pilots scheduled for the next round of flight training before the Excalibur crossed into Blood Cult space were whooping it up and hollering back and forth with good natured jokes, ribbing one another and telling some off color jokes. The men, women and other beings were all gathered around one of the top flight Lancelot starfighters, their black jumpsuits in stark contrast to the gleaming silver white metal of the fighter jet.

 

This camaraderie was essential to any and all flight wings in order for a mission or any training mission to succeed. It was not an easy job, that of the pilot, and therefore they tended to blow off steam in order to psych themselves up. All of the Excalibur pilots of the 310th Wing were the elite experts at their aviation craft.

 

Yet, there was one lone pilot who watched the minor celebration and posturing from the shadows, yearning to be one of the elite Lance pilots once again. The cards of fate held other plans for Jumper Honor-Scar however, and her life path was leading elsewhere. On some personal level, she accepted this and moved forward with her life.

 

It was hard at times though, to turn the other cheek.

 

“You miss piloting a Lancelot?”

 

A tawny furred ear flipped backward towards the speaker, but the feline didn’t turn her head to directly address Ensign David “Drop Down” Two-Feathers.

 

“Yeah, I miss it. But, I also know that support pilots are needed, big time.”

 

Honor-Scar now turned around slightly to look at David, who leaned casually against the nearby bulkhead. “Besides, when the Lance hot shots bail out of their bird, someone has to go get ‘em and haul ‘em back to the Excal. And that’s us. I should know, I had to bail out a couple times myself and I can’t tell you how happy I was when that Type 6 or Type 9 Search and Rescue Shuttle came hovering on over to me.”

 

The six foot, light skinned human with some Native American heritage in his blood line smiled, showing his smooth and straight teeth. “Well, I wouldn’t know about that considering I’ve always been a support pilot. Eh, I’m still glad to have you on board. And I won’t hold it against you that you used to be a Lancelot pilot.”

 

Two-Feathers hadn’t really pried into the Caitian felines past, but he knew enough about her to know she came from a rough background anyway and within the last six months had been taken off the Lancelot rotation back on her previous assignment and assigned as a support pilot permanently due to her rough and ready personality and decisions.

 

Jumper chuckled, a good natured sound, and was about to make some more small talk with the man when a lewd whistle interrupted their conversation. Both human and feline turned their heads towards the distant gathered Lancelot pilots.

 

“Yo! Jumper! Heard you got busted down to second string pilot! Slacker!”

 

Honor-Scar was fast. But Two-Feathers was faster, this time at least; he had started moving before the big mouth pilot over by the bawdy group had finished her statement to the feline and David was already in the position to intercept the tetchy feline pilot when she started to break into a run for the other pilot.

 

With an effort, the tall human male managed to wrangle and corral the hissing and spitting Jumper, manhandling the young female cat over towards the section of the hanger deck to where their assigned training shuttles awaited them and away from the hastily averted scuffle.

 

“Leave it go! It doesn’t matter, and you can’t help if a junior pilot leaves their common courtesy at the turbo lift entrance. C’mon Jumper … they’re just razzing on ya!“

 

Current Time (takes place during the 11.02.08 Sim)

Blood Cult Space

310th Wing Mobilized

 

Blood Cult fighter ships and Excalibur Lancelot fighters engaged in a deadly dance within the confines of the asteroid field. The Excalibur itself held station keeping just within the outer confines of the field, with the Guinevere Heavy Bombers forming a protective phalanx around the big warship. The shuttles assigned to search and rescue were along the back defensive line behind the bomber craft, waiting to zoom into battle if needed to locate and rescue any downed pilots who survived the blossoming melee of fighter to fighter dog fighting. The training drills had decidedly been canceled, and the 310th had been mobilized for battle by the commander of the air group, Kallah Ramson.

 

Now, the collective deck crews, officers, and pilots of the Excalibur were tangling with a nasty group of beings calling themselves the Blood Cult of Iyves, and the skirmish had already gone pitched.

 

A salvo of enemy torpedoes came screaming towards the defensive line, causing the Gwens and Shuttles in the direct line of fire to haul rear end this way and that way in order to avoid the deadly ordnance spray; various versions of the loop de loop were observed by the outbound bridge sensors as the bomber and shuttles re-oriented themselves back into position. The Excalibur shot off a round of answering torpedoes, the warships tactical gunners careful not to wing any of their own fighters currently skirmishing with the Cult fighter jets.

 

A bold and brazen Cult fighter zoomed full on into the rear defensive line, letting loose with an energy salvo from forward energy cannons before pulling away and going back towards the front line of battle before any of the Excalibur defensive fighters and shuttles could get off a pot shot.

 

Jumper Honor-Scar, still miffed over the earlier razzing on the hanger deck, channeled her aggression into a devil may care action, jigging the control stick and console of her Type 9 shuttle and jetting off in pursuit as the Cult fighter attempted to evade the rear defensive line.

 

>>>>> Excalibur 310th Flight Squadron <<<<<

>>>>> Internal Assignment Roster <<<<<

>>>>> Data Stream Update <<<<<

 

Pilot: Ensign Honor-Scar (Jumper)

Vehicle: SAR Type 9 Shuttle, Red Squad 411

Operation Assignment: Drag Duty

Assigned Location: Defensive Formation, Rear Defensive Line

Current Location: = = Off Vector = = Front Line = = Off Vector = = Rescue Run Not Confirmed = =

 

>>>>> Tactical Cycle Data Resetting <<<<<

 

The Type 9 Shuttle rolled and banked, and an answering stream of red fire exploded from twin mounted phaser banks. Jumper stayed on the retreating raider, zooming past the rear line and eventually overtaking the front line Lancelot fighters at one point in the process of her seat of the pants antics. Mindful of both her fellow squad mates and the looming ‘Roids within the field, the feline pilot stayed as close as she could to her established pell mell course, zooming out of the way when needed and altering her course vector on the fly – there was no logical courses when dealing with large rocky asteroids and zooming fighter craft. The adrenaline rush coursed through her body, heightening her already sharp senses and enabling her to react accordingly to any obstacles and hazards that appeared in her flight path. The gleaming silver white of the shuttle was a streak against the black of space as the vehicle closed the distance between itself and the retreating Cult fighter.

 

Two hits out of the full salvo spread struck the enemy fighter on what looked like a rear aft deflector, singing his (or her) tail a bit. Satisfied with the resulting display of fireworks as the deflector grid sputtered and sparked with the inflicted damage, Honor-Scar banked her SAR Shuttle and made a beeline back towards the rear line of defensive fighters and search shuttles. A maniacally happy smile plastered on her muzzle, and she let loose with a quick victory war whoop over the general pilot comm lines.

 

The internal tracking console inset into her cockpit control board suddenly pinged with a signal, and the tawny furred feline stopped her celebrations and glanced over to the monitor; a grid image popped of Lancelot 210 popped up on the tactical readout, showing that the left rear engine was sputtering and rapidly loosing power. The visual readings showed that the internal cockpit still had air pressure, and the structure of the fighter was still intact, so this was a good thing. Jumper assumed the Lancelot had either been clipped by enemy fire or clipped an asteroid during evasive maneuvers; the close quarters within this asteroid field was murder, even for the best of the 310th pilots. The hapless pilot had sent out a low burst distress signal intended to be received by the Excalibur rescue shuttles posted to the defensive line.

 

With her current “out of bounds” positioning, the feline pilot was within interception range to the location of the sputtering Lancelot fighter. Honor-Scar activated her helmet to helmet wireless, comming the three other utility support pilots assigned to search and rescue detail as well as Excalibur command, the CAG, and the rest of the squad pilots. “Jumper, SAR Shuttle Red 411, over. Confirming rescue tracking signal and going pursuit vector and vertical, it’s a tractor and tow job. Repeat, Jumper is on the falling Lance ball. This is Jumper, SAR Red 411, to Lancelot Red 50. Signal received, I’m coming to get you. Jumper out.”

 

Altering her course and entering in the command codes to release her engines to full burn, Jumper dove headlong into one of the fighter to fighter hotspots, intent on tracking and rescuing the fallen Lancelot fighter and its stranded pilot.

[STSF Jumper 0]

Current Time (takes place during the 11.02.08 Sim) (Part 2)

Blood Cult Space

310th Wing Mobilized

 

The aero battle continued to rage, with Cult fighters and Excalibur fighters exchanging fire and maneuvers as each side tried to get the upper hand in the battle of the aviators. Likewise, the Excalibur exchanged ordnance fire with the Blood Cult Raider ships, as each opposing side attempted to get the upper tactical hand for the larger battle currently raging.

 

Ensign Honor-Scar jetted across the black of space, intent on getting to her target Lancelot fighter before the poor pilot got blitzed by some errant fire, either friendly or hostile. Soon, she zoomed up beside the compromised Lancelot, getting her Type 9 shuttle into the necessary position in order to lock the tractor beam onto the hull and start towing the bird back to the Excalibur.

 

“Lancelot Red 50, this is SAR Shuttle Red 411. I have you on my vector, and I am inbound and down. Sit tight, Jumper over.”

 

The relieved voice of Vortex, the fighter pilot who had been assigned to Lancelot Red 50 for the skirmish and battle, came over the pilot to pilot wireless communications line. “SAR Red 411, this is Lancelot Red 50. Nice to hear your purring voice, I thought someone would take a little longer to get out toward this sector of the skirmish, over.”

 

A fanged grin lightened Jumper’s leonine features, and she looked mischievous behind the orange hued faceplate visor of her helmet. “Yeah, well, let’s just say I was already in the neighborhood and leave it at that Fifty.”

 

Within a few minutes, SAR Shuttle 411 had tractored Lancelot 50 and started heading back to the Excalibur. But, the trip was definitely not the scenic route: both hostile and friendly fire peppered the black, and the feline pilot had to think and react quickly in order to keep her shuttle and her tractored charge out of the way of the various zooming fighter craft going this way and that way. After what seemed like an eternity but in reality had only lasted a few Jumper had just made it to the rear defensive line manned by the Gwen bombers, and allowed herself to relax just a little.

 

However, the tactical tracking program running on one of the inset consoles of her pilot control board had just enough time to register an incoming bogey heading right at the Type 9 before the impact occurred. The resulting jolt just about knocked her fangs out, and at the very least was responsible for her helmet slamming into the cockpit bulkhead. The inertial dampeners where not happy, no they were not.

 

Jumper took a few seconds to cuss out the flying piece of metal debris - and feel some sadness, because the scanners had identified it as the detached wing of a Lancelot – before turning her attention back to Lancelot 50. “Yo! Lancelot 50, you still with me Vortex, Jumper over.”

 

Vortex’s voice crackled over the helmet to helmet wireless. “Jumper, Vortex over. Yeah, I’m still with you, but call ahead for some transporter assistance; that last jolt knocked out what remains of my life support. The cockpit is compromised beyond the safety parameters, repeat, cockpit is compromised, over.”

 

The tawny furred Caitian pilot wasted no time with contacting the Excalibur for assistance. “This is Jumper, SAR Shuttle 411. I am towing Lancelot Red 50. Fifty is compromised, repeat, compromised, I’m requesting transporter assistance and intervention, transmitting Lancelot transponder coding now, over.”

 

She proceeded to jig her control stick and enter in some commands on the control board in order to enter the shuttle into a defensive pattern around Lancelot Red 50. The feline pilot cut the main comm line and contacted her fellow pilot again over the helmet wireless. “Okay Vortex, I’m cutting the tractor beam line but staying with you until the transport tech grabs an opening on the queue and beams you back to the Excalibur, Jumper out.”