Another Pilot Added to the Fold

Posted on Mon 23rd Apr, 2018 @ 7:09pm by Lieutenant Colonel Brooklyn Wellington
Edited on on Fri 4th May, 2018 @ 1:11am

1,168 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Brushfires
Location: CAG Office; Starbase Vanguard
Timeline: MD2 morning directly after meeting the Gunny

ON:

Ranulf was eager to get started and he stopped at the clerk's desk. "Captain MacBain here to report in to Colonel Wellington. Would you please announce me?" He stood at attention, more than a little bit excited about the concept he might finally face an enemy in space. He had received the promotion with his orders to report and was uncertain what the rank might mean. If he was a Captain, then he wondered what rank his Squadron leader would be? He was curious if there were more senior officers aboard the station. Lots of questions on his mind.

Rose looked at the man and smiled. "Ah, sure thing, Sir." She stood and entered the CAG's Office, stopping at the doorway. "Ma'am, there's a Captain MacBain here."

"Send him in, lieutenant," Wellington replied.

Rose nodded and turned back to the Captain with her usual friendly smile. "Colonel Wellington is ready, sir."

"Thanks, Lieutenant." She had pretty eyes. He was going to have to find out if she had a significant other. He was not interested in a steady girlfriend, but he did enjoy having someone to hang out with. He walked into the office, coming to attention. "Captain MacBain at your service, Ma'am." He smiled slightly, "I came in ahead of schedule on a patrol ship. I'm eager to get started here."

"At ease, Captain. Have a seat," she gestured to the seat in front of her desk.

"Thank you, Colonel. I just arrived and I know I'm a few days ahead of schedule." He took the seat offered and continued speaking. "I was just talking to the Gunny about readiness and maintenance, but I guess you want to know who I am."

He was nervous. There were only two fighter pilots on Bergen, so this was a big step. "I was on USS Bergen for the last three years. I haven't been in combat, but I have flown and navigated through some of the meanest nebulae. I have high confidence in my abilities as a pilot, Ma'am. Before Bergen I was accepted into the post-graduate advanced combat training unit. Before I became a pilot I was a scout/sniper. I have seen action, and I came up through the ranks." Ranulf smiled, "Any questions, Ma'am? I am pretty much an open book."

"That's impressive, Captain," Wellington said as she brought up MacBain's bio on her terminal. With the end of the Dominion War, there were fewer and fewer combat experienced pilots in Starfleet--a fact that made her feel old. "Why did you become a fighter pilot in the first place?"

Ranulf just smiled, He had never lied about anything and was not about to start now. "I Like to fly, I am very good at it, I am a top gunner, I like to be dependent on myself, and a fighter is the best ride. I like to be alone, and I like being in space. Which makes my Raptor the best ride in the Galaxy." He knew the score and he knew one of his instructors, one he had beaten in mock combat, had written he had an attitude. He lost the smile.

"I keep my wingman in mind at all times. This squadron leader job I will learn. I imagine we will log a lot of hours training, 'til we are all used to each other." He believed in training, it kept you sharp and, when you trained together, you learned the other person's habits. When the chips were down, that made all the difference in the world. "I won't let the people under my care down, Colonel."

Wellington nodded. "That's good to hear, Captain. I actually do have an order for you that came down from the base commander. Somebody has been supplying the local pirates with the latest generation cloaking technology, so I'm increasing all CAP around the base. I want you to specifically be on the look out for any anomalies, no matter how minor."

This assignment sort of made sense now, to some extent; one thing he knew about was space anomalies. Having flown around, through, and been part of the team studying them for the last three years, he could almost see turbulence in space. "I will add spotting anomalies into the training schedule, as soon as I get checked in. I have heard a little about pirates, but nothing too solid. Is there an organization of them or just free lance? Also is there a ship graveyard nearby? I just flew in, and have not even taken the time to familiarize myself here yet. I am three days early, I thought that might help me get into things."

Ranulf smiled, "I am anxious to get into this new job." If pirates were in the system they would need a place to hide, ship graveyards were a logical place to start, if there was one here. Most bases accumulated derelicts. Many were kept to be salvaged by legal salvage. The promise of tech and other cargoes of value, though, brought many unsavory types. He realized he was speculating without any evidence. Best to stay focused, especially for this first meeting. "Colonel, how many patrols a day are you wanting?"

Wellington wasn't one to take risks. "At the moment, we're going on a 24-hour CAP of at least two fighters and a runabout acting as a mobile AWACS platform to give us a more through scan of the areas, with one fighter ready in alert status, should you run into trouble."

Ranulf made some notes and nodded. Two out every four hours meant half the squadron was flying every day. That was a lot of hours. "Doesn't the base have a Wallace or a Hornet? Seems those would be better than a runabout." He was thinking the added firepower and the duration would make those a much better control platform than a runabout. He had another thought besides. "Sorry, Colonel, but who is manning the control runabouts?" Maybe they had marines from other units handling the runabouts to keep the CAP responsibility in house.

"We'll be using Marine from the transport squadron, 'Mud Movers', for those missions and, if needed, activate Starfleet reserves. It may be a lot of flight hours but the security of this station is of the utmost importance."

"Yes, Ma'am, is there anything else I need to know?" Short curt answers normally meant you were wasting someone's time, so he was thinking it was time to go. He felt it unwise to ask any more questions. He would simply assume the Colonel had taken into account the strain on airframes with so many hours. Just like in the old wet navy days, they had used prop planes to help hold a carrier in position, knowing it was shortening the engine life. He waited to stand, just in case she did indeed have anything else to share.

"Not at this time. Dismissed, Captain," Wellington commanded as she watched the man come to attention and exit the office.

 

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