Any Landing... 850 (New Vulcan Log)

[Crash Calestorm 0]

Please note the following log is set prior to our 01.07.13 Sim…

 

I didn't crash the plane. I simply relocated the aircraft with extreme prejudice, after a complete loss of lift and thrust functions! – H.M. "Howlin' Mad" Murdoc, The A-Team

 

January 9, 2261 (Stardate 2261.09)

USS Comanche Creek

New Vulcan Picket Patrol

 

You know, Naval flight instructors and Marine drill sergeants are pretty much cut from the same stripe; they ain’t exactly gentle. And Major William ‘Flip’ Fasjovik was no exception.

 

Fasjovik was blooded as a pilot in the Orion Cartel skirmishes, same as me. We’d never served together but had crossed paths at official functions over the years. He had applied for and been re-accepted to field combat duty following the Battle of Vulcan. Captain Wesley and me were pleased when he was assigned to the Comanche Creek as our new MARDET commander ‘cause they didn’t come any better than him.

 

I was piloting my usual Hornet 20 as I’d wanted to volunteer some time as a trainer. That was what an Exec did, right? Take part in crew training? Might as well make the best out of my current situation and get some flight time in a win-win situation. Fasjovik was piloting one of the Tomcats with ACAG* Honor-Scar on Wizzo* controls and we were taking the newbie dual-posting pilots from the Security and MARDET departments out one on one, scoring them on flight maneuvers.

 

The Majors voice boomed over the wireless communications: “Adamo! Last time I checked, the sheep farm was that way, so why in the name of all that is Holy are you taking your Hornet that way?! If you are directionally challenged, then we need to know about this now ‘cause a vacuum rider who can’t tell which way to go is probably a very bad career choice. Do you read me!?”

 

Oh, the other shave tails* ship-side were probably having a good time listening in on this broadcast and I could only guess at the post–flight discussion in the pilots Ready Room. Your peers were your best buds, but could also be the harshest critics. Today’s run had covered advanced approach maneuvers following training in the flight simulators. The trainees were thrown right into the cockpit and every single one of them wanted to succeed. They were a good group and we were lucky to have them assigned.

 

Anyway, it was time for me to call the day and return to the ship to handle those reports I’d been putting off.

 

I decreased my thrust ratio, keeping an eye on the gauge that tracked momentum and added extra thrust to the secondary jump jets to aid with the course correction; Hornet 20 responded smoothly to the course correction away from the training area. I got my bird re-oriented and headed towards the ‘Creek set off in the distance. As my vector approach closed the distance, the FOPS on duty pinged the ship to squad wireless reserved for the training exercises.

 

“How we doing today Crash?”

 

“Just a walk in the park El Tee.” I quipped. “These new pilots are keeping us busy.”

 

“Okay then, let’s get the ball rolling for your next career landing. Congratulations, Commander.”

 

I had to admit, 850 was a nice number. “Aye, and thanks Lieutenant. Let’s bring this bird in, easy easy.”

 

“Not a problem Sir. Training Hornet Twenty, you are cleared for approach to the Barn. Speed one five five, aft bay, hands on approach. Call the ball Shepherd Two.”

 

I glanced at my own cockpit display to confirm that I was heading in on the correct approach assignment to the hanger. “Copy, Shepherd Two has the ball.”

 

Out of habit, I allowed Twenty to drift slightly to the left and went into the maneuver. It wasn’t until I’d cleared the edge of the hanger projection pod that the bird was coming in too quick and I cut the thrust power but inertia had other ideas; the Hornet went into a forward free fall. The Hornets are good multi-role fighters, but could be a might more twitchy than the Tomcats and I had a flare out in the maneuvering thrusters as the systems reacted to the sudden change.

 

The LSO* on deck was signaling for me to pull up. Voices over the wireless became more urgent, the tone more demanding. My excitement level turned to fear, blood roaring in my ears as my pressure shot up.

 

In an effort to compensate, I ended up glancing off the bulkhead in a screech of metal on metal, sparks flying and splashing the canopy. The jolt from the impact bounced me down and the bottom of the bird hit the decking in another shower of sparks. My recovery effort was somewhat successful and the Hornet went airborne and sailed over and across the trap area. The nose of the bird ended up going down while the tail end shot upward in response to the last bouncing hit. All I could see out the canopy was the deck plating of the ‘Creek flight deck as the starfighter kept pitching downward. An alarm screamed that the internal hanger buffer feeds couldn’t get a lock on the pin-balling starfighter.

 

Time seemed to hover and I felt bile rise in my throat. I’m gonna flip, Oh God, I’m gonna flip end over end!

 

“Crash! Adjust your vector, use your thrusters to slow and abort! Abort! …now punch it!”

 

I reacted again to the orders, training and years of flight time in the cockpit kicking in, my reflexes responding before my brain got completely caught up. Next thing I knew, I was staring at the stars again with Hornet 20 going full bore away from the landing deck.

 

In a flash of metallic gray, Major Fasjovic shot his Tomcat into the flight path, giving me no choice but to cut engine thrust or slam head on into his aft section. He contacted me over the wireless and I have no idea what I just said to him, but I think it came out a little garbled…and possibly borderline panicked…maybe even a little pissed off as well…

 

“Easy and you’re good, Commander Calestorm. You stay on my wing and get turned back around. We’re going for the sheep farm again. Ease off your thrust and follow me back to the original approach vector….”

 

Standard protocol was to have a pilot do the landing until they got it right and it didn’t matter the rank or position. Problems happened in flight and you never knew when they were going to occur as it was something you couldn’t hope to map out. The longer the career, the more chances you took each time you went up in a bird for a flight. It was what it was.

 

With a shake of my head, I banished the lingering panic from the botched landing. “Aye, Major. Let’s do this. Tomcat 15 has the lead, Hornet 20 on your wing…”

 

(TBC In Sim)

 

Notes:

*ACAG – Acting Commander of the Aero Group

*WSO – Weapons System Officer/Electronic Countermeasures

*Shave Tail – nickname with roots in a Cavalry tradition practiced by the United States Army.

*FOPS – Flight Operations Officer

*LSO – Landing Signal Officer