A Wesley Production™ Flashback

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Armstrong SFB

Tranquility Colony

SD 2240.190

 

“Ensign Wesley, you're up on trans-atmospheric interface training tomorrow,” Lieutenant Styles said,

looking over the roster, before looking up. “Ensign Wesley?” He looked over towards the Orion, and

noticed her she wasn't paying attention...and in fact was busy watching one of the other female cadets.

“Ensign Wesley.” Nope, still didn't pull her eyes from Ensign Vergara. “ENSIGN WESLEY!”

 

Audraya's eyes snapped front, amid a smattering of chuckles. “Sir!”

 

“Thank you, Ensign, for allowing me to provide you with your assignment for tomorrow. You have

trans-atmospheric interface, with Lieutenant Commander Ichijo as your instructor. Report to Ready 2

at 0530 for your briefing.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

-=-=-

 

Audraya sat waiting in the Ready Room, alternately looking at the Dash 1 for the TF.5 she was taking

up and the clock. As she got up to pour her third cup of coffee, a voice called out “Too much coffee

can be a bad thing, Ensign. Especially confined in a fighter for an extended duration patrol.” Setting

the pot back on the burner, she turned. “Commander Hikaru Ichijo•. I'll be your instructor for today.”

 

“Sir.”

 

“Have a seat, Ensign.” Ichijo moved up to the podium. “We'll be doing trans-atmospheric insertions

today, over Barking Sands Range...” The rest of the briefing covered frequencies, velocities and

emergency procedures. “Any questions, Ensign?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“Good, then let's get to the hangar, and get aviating.”

 

The walkaround ensured that there were no panels hanging open, FOD* in the shuttered intakes of the

RR fusial turbine engines, and the craft was in serviceable order, before Audraya signed for it from the

crew chief. A direct descendant of the venerable MRCA**/Tornado from the late 20th Century, the TF.5

wouldn't look out of place in a Tornado squadron. Both Audraya and Hikaru climbed up, settled into

the ejection seats, and were strapped in by the crew chief and his assistant crew chief. With guidance

from the aircraft marshaller, Audraya fired up the turbines, lowered the canopy and began taxiing

towards the launch tubes.

 

“Pre-launch check. Wings,” Hikaru called over the intercom, beginning the “Before Launch Checklist”.

 

“Locked back. Flaps, slats and spoilers locked.”

 

“Life support”

 

“Operating, 100 percent.”

 

“Radios.”

 

“Set.”

 

“Navigation.”

 

“Set.”

 

“Tornado 57, stand by for launch.” Both Audraya and Hikaru saluted the launch control officer, who

then fired the maglev catapult, hurtling the fighter out into space.

 

The fighter climbed away from the lunar surface, zipping away from Moon at half the speed of light.

 

-=-

 

Approaching Barking Sands from the west, the cockpit of the fighter was filled with the unfiltered light

of the sun rising to the east. “Ok, what's our altitude?”

 

“Angels† 260, sir. Heading 106, relative to magnetic. 2 thousand kilometers downrange.”

 

“Ok, good. We'll be beginning our...” One, then another loud bang filled the cockpit, as the fighter

began yawing out of control, followed a loud crack. Master Caution and Master Alarm lights

illuminated both the HUD and panel, as klaxons replaced the subharmonic roar of the turbines.

 

As Audraya fought to regain control of the fighter, and not turn into a charbroiled Orion, the vernier

control jets began almost continuously, in conjunction with her stick inputs. “gotitgotitgotitgotit...don't

gotit...gotit...don'tgotit...gotit!

 

“Wings, full extension, and locked,” she began reciting the litany of the emergency checklist. Her left

hand left the useless throttles of the dead engines after pulling them to IDLE/CUTOFF, and pulled back

on the wing sweep lever, sweeping the wings out. “EPU...enabled. Life Support...checked.” Flames

began to lick around the transparent aluminum canopy as friction began to build. At the same time, the

fighter's control surfaces began to bite into the air, which was a good thing because “LOW FUEL”

began to flash on the HUD, even as the fighter still tumbled through the air.

 

Of course, the computer began up its litany of bitching “Overspeed/Stall. Overspeed/Stall.

Overspeed/Stall”, which proves that Bitching Betty will never die as long as there are fighters.

 

“Shut up, Betty,” Audraya growled, as she swept the wings back to an intermediate position. Her hand

then punched up 7700 in the transponder, to give air traffic control a warning that she was in an

emergency situation, and Honolulu Center on the radio.

 

As the air got denser, and the altimeter began to stop unwinding like a watch with a broken spring, the

fighter began to let aerodynamics take over, and began to glide. “Ok...three options. Glide to Barking

Sands, try to reach Hickam, or bail out...” A couple of quick calculations on her kneeboard, and a

decision was made. “Barking Sands is the best bet...if not, a dip in the Pacific, and hope sharks don't

enjoy Orions...

 

“Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. Honolulu Center, this is Starfleet 887, type Tornado TF 5, declaring an

emergency.”

 

The radio squawked to life. “Starfleet 887, this is Honolulu Center. We have you weak but readable.

State the nature of your emergency.”

 

“Center, 887. I have a dual engine failure, main power failure, and my instructor pilot may have

unknown injuries. Currently at Flight Level‡ 500, passing over Tern Island. Attempting to glide to a straight in

approach to Barking Sands.”

 

“887, Center. Copy. We have you at FL485, 73 km east of Necker Island. Barking Sands Tower and

Coast Guard notified of possible ejection or radio out approach. Come left to heading 045 degrees,

and cleared for straight in approach, Runway 6. Altimeter at Barking Sands 30.12, winds 270 at 6.”

 

“Come left to 045, cleared straight in Runway 6. 30.14, winds 270 at 6, Starfleet 887.”

 

“...ad ba...ec...” The radio died with a wash of static, as the HUD, panel and navigation lights went

dark, as the last of the hydrazine emptied into the emergency power unit, and the generator spun to a

halt.

 

“Zhennu. Fridj vith'ez zhennu,” she muttered in Low Kolari, as she trimmed the stabilators for 10

degrees down. “At least I still have my back up instruments, and hydraulics for the controls.”

 

 

As the sun lit up the darkened cockpit, she could finally see the runway lights and emergency beacons

at Barking Sands. “Two thousand feet. Assume the altimeter is still 30.14 and winds 270 at 6.

Crosswind landing, great.

 

“No flaps or slats. Full extension on the wings...check.” Her left hand pulled back on the wing lever,

before going to the manual gear handle. “Gear...down. I hope. No lights.

 

“1500...1000...500...400...300...200...100...runway threshold...” Already, the flashing lights of the

emergency vehicles could be seen in cockpit mirrors as she settled down onto the pavement, keeping

the nose up long enough to slough off speed and letting it come down on its own. “And brakes, brakes

brakes.” The Tornado settled down and slowed to a stop, with a little left steer to clear the runway.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

USS Comanche Creek

SD 2259.360, 0340 hrs

 

Her eyes snapped open. “Familiar ceiling,” she muttered, and looked to her right. Tifa's brown hair

was nestled up against her shoulder. “Its been years, since I had that dream. And to think, two chips of

paint from an old Soviet RORSAT, traveling at 28 thousand kilometers an hour didn't get swept aside

by the nav deflector and punched through both engines. At least Commander Ichijo was only knocked

out by the impact. I wonder where he is. Styles was an ass of a cadre member, but at least Ichijo tried

to make you feel more human.”

_____________________

• Hikaru Ichijo- Borrowed from Super Dimensional Fortress: Macross. Also known as Rick Hunter in Robotech:

Macross Saga, Sentinels and Shadow Chronicles.

* FOD- Foreign Object Damage, anything that can be ingested by the intakes and destroy the turbine engine. Otherwise

known as “How to bring down a multi-million dollar fighter with a 10 cent nut.”

** MRCA- The planning acronym for the multinational (Germany, Britain, Italy) Tornado program- Multi-Role Combat

Aircraft. Also known in the RAF as “Must Refurbish Canberra Again,” in case the Tornado program failed.

† Angels- Term meaning altitude in thousands of feet, used to limit altitude information, or with USN controllers

‡ Flight Level- Used when talking to Air Traffic Control, term meaning altitude in hundreds of feet, and begins at 18

thousand feet, pressure altitude (29.92 in/Hg).