“Sounds like a good idea. In the meantime you might want to put someone else in charge of the new hires.” Captain Valance said, walking towards the pair.
“You mean recruits, don't you Captain?” Ashley asked with a wry grin. She knew she wouldn't be unfairly treated for the damage to the Cold Reaver, though she still looked nervous.
“Right. What took a bite out of the Reaver?” he asked as he took another look at the large gunship.
“Eden Fleet hit the planet just as we were getting ready to go. Finn's doing the damage assessment. He says it's going to be out of commission for at least a few days, most likely more unless the whole deck crew gets on it.”
“More like a month! Next time try landing it ass first! You might not hit every critical system on your way in!” Paula shouted from across the deck from where she was checking one of the engines.
“And it had to happen while Paula's on deck.” Ashley said, shaking her head. “She started screaming before I touched down.”
Captain Valance couldn't help but laugh. “It took me a while to understand, but Angelo's quality control, Paula's the one who keeps things on schedule. Still, there's something to learn from this. We need someone to take control of the SSG, start screening mission crew so we have a good rotation of officers for the Reaver and the Samson.”
“I'll start making that a priority,” Stephanie nodded. “Security aboard ship is under control for the moment and I'm sure Frost would be fine with qualifying a few people for tactical.”
“I'll give you a list of the pilots I've screened,” Ashley added. “Is it true that the Samson's almost ready Captain?”
“Should be all set for a shakedown. I never thought I'd get the chance to see her in such good condition, or with the improvements I had planned, but then I didn't expect to be Captain on a close combat carrier either.”
“Good point. By the way, where did the threads come from?” Ashley asked, pulling the thick material on the arm of his long coat.
“There are suits ready for both of you in the materialization compartment. Only for senior officers. A little something Laura and I put together.”
“Can't wait,” Ashley said as she started for the lift.
“Captain, your ride's ready whenever you are.” Paula called out, gesturing to an open hatchway in the floor beside the wall of the hangar. The passages were made for several pilots to climb down at a time, it led to a sub-deck for managing and loading fighters into drop chutes, where fighters were launched from the ventral side of the ship.
“I want to see that ship looking brand new by the time I get back. Get the whole deck on it if you have to,” he ordered, pointing to the Cold Reaver.
“Like new, my ass! We'd have to start rebuilding using ergranian on that kind of schedule.”
“The reactors are generating ergranian, go ahead and get some from Liam. Add the Triton's stealth treatment to its hull while you're at it.”
Paula didn't reply, she just threw up her hands and continued her inspection.
“Heading out Captain?” Ashley asked as she turned back to him.
He unslung a survival package hanging from the inside rear of his long coat and held it in his hand. It included emergency power cells, food, water, a compressed bed roll, an extra medical kit and several other critical items. “Just going for a ride, picking up a few wayward crew members.”
“I'd give my next leave to go along,” Ashley begged.
“Sorry Ash, I'm taking this one solo.”
“Good hunting sir,” Stephanie wished him. “Are you sure I can't convince you to take an escort?”
“What could go wrong?” Jake grinned wryly as he took the open lift down.
“Good hunting,” Ashley added.
The lift plate lowered Jake into one of the small airlocks reserved for pilots entering the pre-launch area. The gravity lessened by three quarters and as soon as he sealed his vacsuit the air was evacuated from the small compartment. The hatchway opened and he pushed off, bounding down the catwalk past empty sockets for fighters and small gunships. He stopped at the socket marked with his new call sign; Hitman and looked behind him in time to see his Uriel fighter being drawn along the ceiling. “We loaded her up like you requested.” Chief Angelo Vercelli told him over his communicator as the fighter was turned so its nose was pointed towards its socket and the punter launch doors.
Jake looked the bottom of the black and crimson fighter over carefully, pulled on the four engine pods he could reach and checked the cargo hatches along the bottom. “Two racks of scrambler missiles, a pair of turreted particle guns and two pulse cannons with a wormhole kit, extra fusion reactor and a rescue compartment,” Jake verified as he received the loadout information on his command and control unit. The fighter was turned around so he could inspect it from the top and the canopy opened.
“That's right. Still can't believe the Sol Defence folks have this listed as a fighter. She's a small gunship. How did you do on the qualifier, if you don't mind me asking sir?”
Jake couldn't help but chuckle as he double checked the nose armour. “You know you're supposed to check that when a pilot takes their first flight.”
“Aye, but being the Captain…”
“Well, keep this to yourself but I had to go through the primary qualifier twice. I failed the first time because I didn't bother taking the tutorials or practising in a sim. Thought just because I could fly the Samson and most other standard birds I'd be fine to pass in one of these.”
“That's a lesson most of the pilots are learning. Just goes to show, Sol Def does things differently.”
“And so do we,” Jake replied. Satisfied that his fighter was ready and in good order, he took hold of the handle in the cockpit's upper seat and pulled himself inside. “Looks like everything checks out.”
“I'd hope so, you should have seen the care people put into her when they found out that this was going to be your personal bird.”
Jake closed the canopy and settled into the seat, watching the systems come online and begin their own internal check. “I hope they work just as hard on every one. Last thing I want to see are pilots dying because someone missed a bolt.”
“Don't worry. Fabrication is doing better every day. If you can get us some heavy scrap we'll have a full squadron of varied role fighters in six weeks, maybe less if we can find more people to work down there.”
“I'm just glad we have more pilots than we do fighters. Keep them training together while I'm away, I want them to feel right at home by the time they sit in one of these for the first time.”
“Don't worry, I've dealt with green fighter jocks. Between me and everyone else pushing these people they'll be a fighting squadron like you've never seen before you know it.”
The automated calibration systems checked his body type, eye line and within moments the fighter was ready to react to his actions through the manual flight controls, eye movements and general body motions. Older fighters had pedals, extra hand controls and even neural links. While Sol System Defence combat vessels had all but the neural links, the control systems could be calibrated to respond to more subtle movements, and getting used to having that kind of control, to maintaining that kind of discipline took time and patience. While a pedal and flight stick movement may send the fighter rolling to the side, the turn of the pilot's head and shift of his shoulders could aim the guns, designate a missile target and get lesser utilized engine pods turned in the right direction for the next manoeuvre. At the same time the systems in the cockpit could also determine the difference between a head motion meant to change the focus of the weapons suite and one that was the result of a sneeze.
The cockpit formed to him and jacked into his vacsuit as the clamps lowered the fighter into its punter socket. Emergency ejection systems sealed onto his boots, waist and shoulders, also providing firm anchoring restraints so he wouldn't jostle around in the cockpit as he manoeuvred. He watched as the thick armoured launch doors in front of him were quickly drawn inside and moved to the left and right. The bright nebula outside bathed the nose of the fighter and the empty seat just below and in front in golden light. I wish Minh were here. He'd probably spend so much time in the cockpit that we'd never see him aboard Triton, but I'm sure he'd be in his glory.