STF

Main Sim - Fighter Recon/Combat Aerospace Patrol

Posted Jan. 19, 2022, 12:55 a.m. by Lieutenant Junior Grade Farren "Gypsy" Adama (Pilot) (Sam Haynes)

Posted by Gamemaster Matrix (Gamemaster) in Main Sim - Fighter Recon/Combat Aerospace Patrol

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Farren “Gypsy” Adama (Pilot) in Main Sim - Fighter Recon/Combat Aerospace Patrol

Posted by Lieutenant Maria Beckett (Chief of Security) in Main Sim - Fighter Recon/Combat Aerospace Patrol
Posted by… suppressed (18) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Adama lay under the the number two Cutlass-class interceptor, head and shoulders buried inside. “Alright try it now,” she called out loud. A second later a few pieces of gear lit up, and a couple of servos clicked, actuating, but then simply hummed in annoyance. “Off!” The equipment died again.

Next to her NC/C Edison grumbled. “well, you were right. The feed mechanism is hanging up.” He shook his head with a sigh.

“Of course I’m right. We depend on this stuff to do our job and to make sure people don’t get killed. How long–“
=^=Beckett to Adama and fighter group, report to squad room immediately.=^=

=^=Affirm=^= She said with a sigh. “I wish…” She trailed off, cleaning her hands up.

NC/C nodded. “Somewhere else, you feel hampered.” Reaching out he fist-bumped her shoulder. “Go on. Don’t keep the boss lady waiting.”

Grumbling, the only real fighter jock aboard shrimped out from under the fighter. “How fast can you fix her>”
“We’ll have her combat worthy by the time you’re ready to break for vacuum.”

“Good,” she said with a nod, then shifted to her feet. Glancing down at herself brought out a grimace. She wasn’t exactly presentable, and she didn’t want to be this dirty going into her flight bag. Grumbling she made for the lockers and quickly stepped into the sonic shower, then back out, tossed on a clean set of gear including flight suit and headed for the squad room. It wasn’t very big, with only a handful of chairs and with enough desk space for each to be able to make notes, or rest a cup of coffee on comfortably. There was a lectern/podium with a large display behind it that practically covered the wall. Overall it was just a meeting space for the squadron and it’s people for briefings a rally point for people to gather.

The junior lieutenant took a seat near the front after turning on the display. For the moment it showed flight status for the various fighters and singleships, along with various navigational data.

Lt j.g. Farren Adama, Pilot

Lt. j.g. Farren, Pilot

A few moments after Farren stepped into the squad room, she was followed in by one of the newest pilots. Ensign Tak had signed on at the most recent stop-over to the station, and the process of adapting one of the vessels for her use had been a headache and a half. Mostly due to their large tail, which made the basic seating structure of the fighter inoperable. They’d done it though.

Tak looked around quietly, considering her options before coming over and rotating the seat adjacent to Farren’s seat so that it was sideways before sitting down. They were a little short, although not shorter than one might imagine a shorter human to naturally be. The real difference was the covering of soft brown fur all over their body, as well as the aforementioned thick tail that was obviously adapted for aquatic locomotion.

Ens. Tak, Sci/Pilot

It was only a minute later that Aidan came jogging into the squad room. Nodding to Tak and Adama, he slid into a seat in the second row. As the display came up, he pulled a PaDD out of his pocket for any notes he wanted to take.

Ens Harmon - Sec/Pilot

From the other end of the room a door swished open admitting a woman of average height with inky black hair pulled into a tight bun and piercing blue eyes and a firm set to her jaw, lieutenant pips on her collar. Ensign Harmon would recognize his Chief of course. Tak, she’d not had a chance to meet with yet. And Adama. Well… Adama.

The lieutenant, junior grade, next to Tak snapped to her feet, standing at attention.

Before she could get that far, the security chief waved her off. “We’re in a hurry no time for formalities.” Reaching over she keyed up the display. A planet popped into view, along with a display of the Memorial. “We’re in parking orbit over the planet Eridion. We’re on an investigation run, so we’re sending a reconnaissance sortie down.” A blinking dot appeared on the surface of the planet, which then was tagged with a label for the abandoned base and the view drew in quickly, then showed the approximate location of a heat source, suggesting some kind of micro-climate or power source. “Atmospheric disturbances are playing hell with the sensor systems. We can transport down to the base proper. But nobody’s been here for seventy years. Or at least nobody is supposed to be here.”

“In short, we’re dispatching two fighters to cut down through the atmosphere. Once you are on-station, you will conduct an aerial reccy over both of these areas, and then orbit on station to provide combat aerospace patrol for the ground team once they are inserted. That likely includes me. If you shoot me, I will haunt you for the rest of your lives. I want guns overhead, not on my head.”

She paused for a moment. “Gypsy, I’m sending you as flight lead for this as you’re our best pilot. Pick your wing for the sortie. I’ll be on the Bridge for the time being. Any questions?”

Lt Beckett, CoS

“Yeah, I got one question,” Farren said, crossing her arms. “How do I get out of this chicken-$#!t outfit,” she joked. In truth the idea of getting to get out into a fighter again was nothing but bliss. Though she would have preferred to be on a legitimate carrier, with y’know… full squadrons. Or on a base.

Maria shook her head. “You stow that crap, sailor. Get it together and get out there. Good hunting. Dismissed.” Turning on her heel, she was already gone, heading back for the bridge.

Lt Beckett, CoS/CAG

Glancing over at Tak and Harmon. “I don’t have time for a deathmatch or rock paper scissors.” Reaching out she held up a coin. “Heads, I take Harmon. Tails I take Tak.” Sticking it over her thumb, she sent it spinning in the air, caught it, slapped it down. Tails. One more time, she repeated it. Tails. “Well shoot. Looks like it’s gonna be ‘Tails.’ You’re with me. Better luck next time ‘Heads’.”

With that she turned and took off at a jog for the hangar.

Lt Farren “Gypsy” Adama, Pilot/Flight Lead

“Uh huh, do I need to start bringing my own coin with that kind of results,” Aidan said with a small grin. “Try not to fall asleep while you are circling overhead, while some of us will be getting some real work done Lieutenant.”

With a laugh, Aidan headed out to double check his gear for a potential ground mission.

Tak wasn’t sure if they liked the tone Farren took on when the coin flip assigned her to be the wing. Perhaps it was just a lack of familiarity? They hoped so as she slid off their chair and scampered after Farren, tail dragging across the floor and leaving a slightly damp trail.

When the reached the Hangar, Tak glanced around in search of their fighter and spotted it, running over and clambering into the pilot’s seat. It was, thankfully, adjusted to them, a gouge in the seat for her tail along with a careful waterproofing of all controls. She reached up and began to activate the controls, happily hearing the small fighter warm up as the hatch closed. Remembering to put on the headset, they slipped it over their head. It, like everything else, was built adjusted to her requirements. They felt kinda bad, having caused all this extra work. Hopefully they’d prove it was worth it.

=^=Fighter 3 to Fighter 1, do we have better callsigns than that?=^=

Tak, Pilot

Ens Harmon - Sec/Pilot

As they made their way onto the flight deck, the cluster of Cutlass-class fighters crouched like a Federation combination of Vietnam Era fighter and a bird, waiting to strike through the heavens like a spear. Wasting no time, Farren climbed into her rig and strapped in.

=^=Lieutenant Becket is One. I’m Two. Callsign is Gypsy=^= As she spoke she gestured to the left side of her plane. Emblazoned on the side was her name, rank, and callsign. One could see the remnants of the Red Lions Fighter Squadron livery from when she’d been aboard the U.S.S. Olinski. =^=For now you’re Tails until we find something better.=^=

Tak smiled slightly, looking at the numbers on the fighter. Theirs had been blank. =^=Tails works.=^=

Clearing her throat she contacted the flightboss. =^=Recon Two and Three requesting hands-off launch clearance.=^=

=^=Recon, go for hands-off launch on your mark.=^=

There wasn’t a lot of time for hand-holding at the moment, due to such a short time for getting everyone checked out. But at least Basic Flight Maneuvers (BFM) covered standard proceedures for landing and taking off. Including letting the ship’s systems take them out of the bay instead of doing it by hand. She could, of course, but for now, with an unproven wingmate, this was the safest way. Safe was best. As soon as Tak indicated they were ready for launch, they’d be put into the queue and spit out the front of the Memorial’s through-deck forward-to-aft flight deck.

Gypsy gave her own indicator, and a second later the fighter lifted smooth as glass off the deck, made a sharp turn and took a much faster run at the containment field at the far end than a typical shuttle would. So they’d gotten the catapult routine installed. The G-forces slammed her back into the seat at a steady three G’s for a couple seconds, then … space. Engines kicked over and she was free, and on her own, for the moment. An ear to ear grin plastered itself across her face. Out here, nothing could touch her. Or at least that’s how she felt.

Tak grimaced into the G’s as they launched, relaxing again once they were free in space. They could have sat like this for hours. Alone in the nothing. Their eyes closed for a moment, then they opened again, focusing on flight.

One hand on the ‘Manual Steering Column’ - what a joke of a name - she wiggled the stick a little, waggling her wings. Response was right where it should be. =^=Recon 3, form up with me for de-orbit. Shields up. We’re gonna take it kind of steep so we don’t bounce off the atmosphere. We’ll take it slow, since we don’t have to be ballistic. Might get a bit choppy, the weather’s kinda nasty.=^=

Tak followed alongside, trying to remember everything from flight training. Everything was the same as home, except for the interface. They could get used to this. =^=Copy, Recon 2. I’ll keep by your left wing.=^=

As soon as Tak had caught up, Farren nosed her fighter down, and projected her course to take them out of the clouds just short of the base to the east. A few taps of buttons sent the course vectors to her wingmate. =^=Recon Two to Memorial. We’re starting our run. Will report back when we’re out of shadow.=^= Unless they went at a snail’s pace, they’d still have to deal with the forces of re-entry. Shields or not, it would create a shell of plasma around the fighters that would make it hard to communicate with their mother ship.

=^=You ready, Tails?=^=

=^=Ready as ever, Gypsy.=^=

Goosing the throttle, Gypsy’s fighter began to practically fall toward the white marble below. Here went nothing…

((OOC: Lol, I used an online coin flipper. Those were the results. What you see is what you get.))

Lt Farren “Gypsy” Adama, Pilot

As the fighters left the hangar, the dark of space overtook them, spotted only by the bright white snowy surface of Eridion. Not much hit the sensors as they went. The planet was cold, approximately -30° C. The wind moved fast, 156 kph, in a swirling snowstorm. It was something like a snow hurricane. The station was a network of five small metallic structures. The largest one in the middle had a small power signature inside. There were warm caverns beneath the station and for several kilometers in very direction.

-GM

Tak took a breath, reminding themself not to hold it as they dove into atmo. Praying that these fighters were as good for atmospheric flight as they were for space flight.

The ball of plasma surrounded their fighters and they were radio silence, all they could do was watch the attitude control and keep on target.

Tak, Pilot

The two fighters arrowed down and atmosphere began to buffet and scrabble at the shields, before the pressure stripped off electrons with the friction and air became plasma as it ionized. The fighters shuddered hard as they came in, faster than anything made in the early days of Earth spaceflight. But the inertial dampers did their job, lest the ships shake themselves apart, or the pilots experience truly crushing G-forces. It was enough to let them feel the flight. Or at least Gypsy had hers tuned just a little low. Otherwise, even with the vibration and shaking she’d have barely noticed. She didn’t want to be asleep. Instead, a feral grin plastered itself across her face. No, this was a kick ass ride. Express elevator to Hell, going down.**

Lt Farren, Pilot

It was that moment a voice would come over the comm it was the captain =^= Bridge to Recon Flight report hows it looking so far?”=^=

Tralla

The voice came through crackling and broken but understandable. The fighters were still shuddering but not as bad and the ionization had begun to fade after a few minutes of freefall. They were coming out of shadow. =^=Dunno, -ap. – just –t here,=^= Gypsy reported back. Her voice was torn and distorted through the interference. But they were slowing down, dumping energy. Shifting nose down Farren adjusted the shields. The base was ahead and they were closing fast. =^=Okay, let’s stay frosty. Let’s come in east and flyover heading west.=^=

As the last of the ionization cleared Farren cleared her throat. =^=De-orbit complete. We’re in the Ay-Oh (A.O.) now. Feeding telemetry back to you…now.=^= As she spoke she began feeding the sensor data from her fighter into a carrier channel that would punch through the weather and let the Memorial see everything their fighters saw.

From the ground, far overhead as the fighters transitioned from supersonic to subsonic flight still thirty thousand feet, each one would let off a BOOM-BOOM sky-cracking double-sonic boom within seconds of each other. The shockwaves crashed through the ice hurricane.

In the heavens the deck was approaching fast, but not too fast now as they were down to atmospheric speeds, though it was hard to see with white out conditions. =^=Watch your altimeter. When we get to the deck we may have to switch to Vee Eff Arr (VFR).=^= Visual Flight Rules. =^=We’ll try to image with thermal and infrared though and cut through this crap though.=^=

Lt Farren

Further imaging showed no one in the base, but a reasonable amount of residual heat. It seemed as though it had been occupied within the last day or so. There was no clear sign of where the people had gone or how they had gotten there.

-GM

Tak focused on the flight, following after Farren quietly. =^=I’m not picking up any life signs below,=^= they spoke, frowning slightly. =^=Wasn’t the base supposed to be occupied?=^=

Tak, Pilot

=^=Starfleet pulled out some seventy years ago. But now it seems something’s been turned on, and there’s a distress call going out.=^= She let out a forceful sigh. =^=Okay, Tails, keep on my wing. We’re gonna orbit for a bit, low and slow.=^= Banking right, Gypsy turned north to begin a long loop around the compound, sweeping the area with sensors and scanners but also keeping an eye on the ground. It was hard to see though as it was nearly whiteout conditions. With her viewscreen set to thermal though, there was a dull warm spot beneath the snow.

=^=Recon to Memorial, we’re on station at Angels one.=^= In pilot speak, they were a thousand feet off the ground. =^=Looks quiet from the outside. No contacts. As far as I can tell you’re good to touch down for a closer look. The storm is a little rough, but either coming straight down on it, or punching under the edge or through the eye should be okay. No further recommendations. If you’ve got anything you’d like us to do or check out…=^=

The air currents whipping about the fighters buffeted them, but with the powerful engines, modest shields, and good inertial dampers, they cut through the wailing, moaning winds and blistering driven snow without too much concern, for now.

Lt Farren, Adama “Gypsy” - Recon 2

The reply came back quite quickly =^=”Good work so far Recon Keep an Eye out”=^=

Tralla

It had been a few minutes since the away team had transported down when a familiar voice crackled over the comms, cutting through the ionization from the massive blizzard tearing at the atmosphere. =^=Lieutenant Becket to Recon. Anything going on out there?=^= There was a note of boredom as well as … nervousness, maybe?

Lt Beckett, COS

Their patrol had taken them a ways away from the base, circling and criss-crossing the space around and over it, taking scan after scan on the ground and in the skies. So far things had been quiet. =All quiet so far, bosslady.=^= Pressing her fighter into another long , looping turn, the horizon went vertical and began sliding in her view. She barely felt it thanks to the inertial dampers. It wasn’t a hard bank at all. In truth she was enjoying the flight, but there was a growing, nagging feeling, like they were standing in the middle of a trap. A little trickle of sweat had formed at the small of her back, and her grip on the controls had unconsciously tightened over the last few minutes. But for all intents and purposes, everything seemed just fine. Perhaps that only made it worse.

The compound slid into her tactical view, though it was almost over the horizon. She was on a bearing that would take her back there in less than a minute. Fidgeting in her seat, she reached out and flipped through her screens, checking weapons status and stores, fuel, defensive systems status, data link to the Memorial, anything she could pick up from the base and the away team.

It was a little unnerving. She fought back the urge to call up to Mazie, if nothing else to have someone check her work. Was Mazie really a ‘someone’ though? If an android could be, and a hologram could be, she certainly counted, Adama conceded.

=^=If I see something, I’ll say something, Chief.=^=

It was the best she could do anyway, and that was her job in the first place. To call out any potential activity and give the ground team warning, and then if it prooved hostile, handle it wit predjudice, whether on the ground or in the skies. Not that she thought anybody would mess with the ground pounders with two attack craft on station with a show of force ready to go at any moment.

Lt j.g. Farren, Adama - Recon Lead

When they got close to the compound, they saw movement in two of the buildings, on either side of the camp. The only life signs present were in the building to the fighter wing’s left.

-GM

Farren blinked then dialed up the inertial dampers. Cutting thrust, she used the reaction and attitude control system to swap nose for tail in the sace of maybet twenty meters at her speed. At those speeds, without the dampers, she’d have been spaghetti sauce on the inside of the cockpit. Hovering the fighter she pulled up the overlay of the area and pinged the comm badges for the away team showing which building they were in. Her eyes and scanners swept the area.

=^=Tails, swing around and keep cover. I think we have contact.=^=

=^=Gypsy to Beckett, possible contact… this grid. Marking for your HUDs now.=^= Reaching out she placed a waypoint/marker in the overlay, giving them a pointof reference in the three dimensional battlespace. Scanning, scanning…

Lt. j.g. Farren, Adama - Recon Lead


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