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FredM

Flight Log - Patrick McQueen

Major Patrick McQueen

Flight Log - 0511.21

 

 

The hum of the engine on full burn was something most pilots became familiar with very quickly. While each fighter design, and in some cases each unit itself, had a unique pitch...it was a familiar sound that often provided a certain level of comfort to those controlling the craft. As Patrick McQueen glanced ahead of him, the horizon of the moon filled half of his view. Continuing his plotted course, he guided the ship to continue it's approach to the other side of the planetoid...and presumably the source of the pinging they had detected earlier.

 

His craft was not exactly what one would call spacious. Since their initial introduction over seventy years ago during the Federation-Klingon War, fighters were not designed for comfort nor looks. They're entire length was comparable to about half of a standard shuttle, with most of the rear starboard and port wings taken up with engine components. The cockpit itself was somewhat typical of designs found throughout the galaxy. One status display monitor could be found above the pilot's left knee, with another on the right showing sensor telemetry and other important data as needed. Either side of the compartment was filled with a thin line of control consoles that controlled most regulated features of the craft, often only utilized during an emergency.

 

The nose of the craft contained the entire was dedicated to the photon launching system. The magazine itself actually ran back along either side of the cockpit, a design error that had since been fixed by UFP engineers but remained in about half of the ships in use by the NFA. Meanwhile, phaser arrays lined both wings of the craft providing a fill two hundred and ten degree firing arc. This had also been improved with later designs, adding a second phaser bank to the rear allowing for almost three hundred degrees of coverage.

 

The mental review of what Patrick McQueen was actually flying came to an abrupt end by an alarm erupting from one of his consoles. The message was simple...there were twenty small "some things" ahead. Now in situations like this, with only three fighters even within a three minute emergency range, one often hopes that the odd meteor shower has entered the system without making a reservation. It had actually happened once...but only once. "Can you identify them?", someone screamed over the channel.

 

As the Major opened his mouth to respond, his sensors updated again...detecting forty of the objects. That count was almost immediately changed to show sixty, then eighty of the small items. As if the Almighty knew what he was praying for, and out of smite had decided to be mean, the sensors then confirmed the objects were fighters of an unknown configuration. As the computer started to try and identify the craft, McQueen came to a startling realization. "This was not in my contract," he muttered after clearing his throat. Truth be told, he had never signed up to be in a three vs eighty fight. It simply wasn't right...

 

Again, the Great One of the galaxy must have heard this thought and laughed. Sensors updated to detect a large vessel, gaining more information than before and starting an odd series of computer checks at the bottom of the telemetry screen. Truth be told, Patrick had never seen the system react this way. Initially he had feared some sort of jamming had taken place, but looking at the readings he was slightly curious. The craft itself was almost twice the size of a Galaxy Carrier, holding a very peculiar design. The sensors showed the ship was large enough to account for one hundred and twenty decks. The design featured a massive central body with three pylons out in front of the craft and two each side. The two pylons on either side seemed to curve slightly towards the center, creating what might be considered a half moon...or a long bladed weapon or some sort.

 

"Classification: Enemy Combatant - Klingon Empiral Navy," the computer started to blink at the bottom of the sensor screen. At this, McQueen actually slapped his hand against the panel. "Piece of junk has a screw loose...that's not possible," he yelled...afterwards hoping his mic had been off. It was true...the last Klingon ship, a D-8 Heavy Cruiser called the Vox, had been destroyed in 2310. It had marked the last of what resistance there had been by the Klingons, marking the end of the military's ability to fight. That was over seventy years ago...

 

As he quickly changed his heading and started to push the limit of his craft back to the Reaent, an interesting question entered his mind. Why was space black anyway?

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