which she and I went over the logic behind the maneuver and how best to execute it, you could see the doubt on everyone’s faces. I did my best to keep a confident attitude but no sane pilot could miss how dangerous the tactics were.
Katya would be Second Lead, her wingman Condor. My wingman would be one of the FNG’s, Kelli. I picked her after seeing how everyone reacted to the new tactics. If anyone seemed hesitant, I didn’t want them along this time. I could see nothing but eager anticipation in Flame’s eyes so she was an easy pick.
Heading out to the flight line at just after sunrise the air was still and the waves offshore were glassy. My Swift was sitting on its skids with several ground crew pulling external power and refueling lines from underneath it. My crew chief was a young kid whom I recognized from the transport that brought me to Kew. He was not the one who puked, thankfully. He handed me the checklist on his reader for my approval. There were so many check points on a modern starfighter I had to trust him that he’d checked them all before flight. The best I could do was walk around and observe for myself the condition of the fighter.
I took the reader and did my walk around as he climbed up on the fuselage to get the cockpit ready. I always started at the nose and walked counter clockwise around the bird, running my hands over the leading edge, checking for any signs of leaks or obvious damage. I virtually never found anything but if I didn’t at least look, I’d feel like it was my fault for not seeing the obvious while still on the ground. All pilots did some version of a walk around no matter what they flew. It was tradition and, to be honest, a bit of self-reassurance.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary I came back around under the nose and signed off on the preflight. As I climbed up the ladder on the side I handed him back his reader. He noted my approval and pocketed the reader.
I swung my legs over the cockpit side and eased down in the seat. The Swift cockpit was larger than most starfighters with plenty of elbow room. The crew chief helped me into the harness and made sure they were tight before handing me my helmet. Once you were strapped in you had to have someone help you hook up your oxygen and communication lines. He patted the top of my helmet and gave me a thumbs up, indicating everything was secured and he was getting clear.
I proceeded to run through my checklist as fresh air came through my mask. It was always cool and smelled like rubber and sweat, no matter how well it was cleaned. All the preflight instrument checks went without a hitch. I waited patiently for the crew chief's signal to light the main engine. Finally he wound his right hand around in a tight circle and I lit the fire. Swifts were the largest starfighters in the inventory. The model I was flying was an E which meant it had an extended area behind the cockpit that added about a meter to the length. Combined with the swept back, flat wings it made this starfighter the largest bird in the Alliance Fleet inventory. But I liked the added length because it made the fighter more stable in the air and gave me extra rounds for my cannons and better avionics. It was worth the price in weight and lack of speed.
As the engine idled and pressure stabilized I worked the controls using the two handed joystick. Again, everything worked as expected. She was ready to launch.
I signaled ready to the crew chief and he moved back into his launching position.
The other pilots began to check in with their call signs and status.
“Karvuk, ready.”
“Flame-on!”
“Condor, good to go.”
“Control this is Rocket One, ready for launch.”
I waited for the others to respond and they did, one after another until we had a go for all four fighters.
“Rocket One, Control. No winds, altimeter 224. No weather from here to target. Clear for direct launch. Happy hunting.”
“Roger Control. Thanks.”
I signaled launch to
Katya would be Second Lead, her wingman Condor. My wingman would be one of the FNG’s, Kelli. I picked her after seeing how everyone reacted to the new tactics. If anyone seemed hesitant, I didn’t want them along this time. I could see nothing but eager anticipation in Flame’s eyes so she was an easy pick.
Heading out to the flight line at just after sunrise the air was still and the waves offshore were glassy. My Swift was sitting on its skids with several ground crew pulling external power and refueling lines from underneath it. My crew chief was a young kid whom I recognized from the transport that brought me to Kew. He was not the one who puked, thankfully. He handed me the checklist on his reader for my approval. There were so many check points on a modern starfighter I had to trust him that he’d checked them all before flight. The best I could do was walk around and observe for myself the condition of the fighter.
I took the reader and did my walk around as he climbed up on the fuselage to get the cockpit ready. I always started at the nose and walked counter clockwise around the bird, running my hands over the leading edge, checking for any signs of leaks or obvious damage. I virtually never found anything but if I didn’t at least look, I’d feel like it was my fault for not seeing the obvious while still on the ground. All pilots did some version of a walk around no matter what they flew. It was tradition and, to be honest, a bit of self-reassurance.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary I came back around under the nose and signed off on the preflight. As I climbed up the ladder on the side I handed him back his reader. He noted my approval and pocketed the reader.
I swung my legs over the cockpit side and eased down in the seat. The Swift cockpit was larger than most starfighters with plenty of elbow room. The crew chief helped me into the harness and made sure they were tight before handing me my helmet. Once you were strapped in you had to have someone help you hook up your oxygen and communication lines. He patted the top of my helmet and gave me a thumbs up, indicating everything was secured and he was getting clear.
I proceeded to run through my checklist as fresh air came through my mask. It was always cool and smelled like rubber and sweat, no matter how well it was cleaned. All the preflight instrument checks went without a hitch. I waited patiently for the crew chief's signal to light the main engine. Finally he wound his right hand around in a tight circle and I lit the fire. Swifts were the largest starfighters in the inventory. The model I was flying was an E which meant it had an extended area behind the cockpit that added about a meter to the length. Combined with the swept back, flat wings it made this starfighter the largest bird in the Alliance Fleet inventory. But I liked the added length because it made the fighter more stable in the air and gave me extra rounds for my cannons and better avionics. It was worth the price in weight and lack of speed.
As the engine idled and pressure stabilized I worked the controls using the two handed joystick. Again, everything worked as expected. She was ready to launch.
I signaled ready to the crew chief and he moved back into his launching position.
The other pilots began to check in with their call signs and status.
“Karvuk, ready.”
“Flame-on!”
“Condor, good to go.”
“Control this is Rocket One, ready for launch.”
I waited for the others to respond and they did, one after another until we had a go for all four fighters.
“Rocket One, Control. No winds, altimeter 224. No weather from here to target. Clear for direct launch. Happy hunting.”
“Roger Control. Thanks.”
I signaled launch to
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