CAP: Changing Flights
Posted on Fri 18th May, 2018 @ 1:43am by 2nd Lieutenant Gavin Hawke
Edited on on Mon 18th Jun, 2018 @ 11:34pm
1,097 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
Brushfires
Location: Space
Timeline: MD 13 0935hrs
Launch had been precisely at 0930 and the pair of Raptors began flying toward their patrol path. Mustang checked his flight parameters as he left the base behind. Some distance from the base, he checked in with the AWACS.
"Control this is Lancelot-13 and Lancelot-14 moving into our patrol pattern. We will be in our start position at ten hundred, looking to be right on schedule." This was Ryder's fifth patrol, and he was getting into the rhythm of the flights. The mechanics of flying patrols was not hard. He was always alert while flying, and he liked the expectant vigilance required for the CAPs.
"Roger that, Lancelot 13 and 14. Fair sailing," AWACS control acknowledged.
Arrow 5 hung in the shadow far below the ring of SB 109. "Sweeps are clear?" Captain Beck asked the warrant officer seated at the console.
"Sweeps are clear," Nordstrom replied. "Maybe we should shorten the cycle, with all the talk of pirates lately."
Beck thought it over briefly and nodded, "Make it 15 second intervals," she ordered. "You know, if you have a suggestion, you can just tell me," she grinned. "We've been together long enough that I know when you think I'm not doing the job right, anyway."
Helena looked up from the console briefly, just long enough to wink. "You do the job right, not always as I would do it, but that's why you wear the pretty bars and get the big credits." She looked down at her board again.
Time ticked by slowly, Rebecca thinking her own thoughts as she kept watch on her boards. She had Helena up front and eight bored marines in the back seats. She glanced over her shoulder at the Marines, keeping combat silence. That was their job, and she thought one or two might be feeling pretty bored, in spite of the stoic looks they returned.
She faced forward again, and leaned back. Those Lancelots now. That was the job she trained to do, so why wasn't she out there with them? Why was she sitting here, taking up space in a stealth transport?
Lancelot-11 checked the time, ten hundred on the dot, and sighed; his time in the black was almost over. "Lancelot-11 and Lancelot-12 are relieved. Lancelot-13 and Lancelot-14, the watch is now yours."
Ranulf enjoyed being in the black, because it was like being completely alive. There was something about the vastness and so many stars that made his mind feel expanded.
"Let's go, Ghost. Time to make our final loop and join the landing pattern." Duffy Brant, Lancelot-12 and call sign Ghost, wagged his wings as he followed the leader back toward the base. He would be glad to go back to the barn today. It had been a long patrol or felt like it, at least.
"Lancelot-13 and Lancelot-14, we are in position and we have the watch. You are relieved." Ryder had a brief thrill even though this was his fifth patrol. Just the idea it was Cowboy and him out here, all alone against whatever might threaten the base, was so cool! The idea of being the first responder was a mental high needing no explanation with other fighter pilots.
"Mustang, why do you sound so blasted happy? It's going to be another four empty hours out here, looking at empty space." Gavin Hawke, call sign Cowboy and designated Lancelot-14, stayed alert, eyes on his sensor feeds. He found patrols boring. He dreamed of space full of roaring engines and a giant furball of fighters dancing and shooting, like some old video. He never would understand how Ryder could be so excited about the remote possibility of action.
"Cowboy, you have no imagination. Keep an eye on your sensors and let's go check the usual places. I heard there was no traffic today, not even a freighter to escort." Ryder MacCloud, call sign Mustang and designated Lancelot-13, banked into a turn to check the first of the dark spaces on the route they were assigned. They were several hours away from the base at impulse speed, having drawn the deeper patrol duty today.
"Control, this is Lancelot-13 and Lancelot-14, we are on watch and in our patrol pattern. We will check in on the hour, unless you find us something to look into sooner." Ryder knew sometimes Control would send them to investigate nothing to check their response time. He sort of enjoyed those tests, as they made the patrol seem like something useful.
Beck and her people were more than two hours into their shift. It was boring, but she always shared shifts with her people. Asking someone to do something she wasn't willing to do, especially if it were something boring, was not part of her nature. She yawned and stretched, shaking her head to become more alert. A brief red light lit her board.
"Nordstrom, did you get a blip?"
"Yes, Ma'am! Tracking back now," Nordstrom replied.
Suddenly everyone in the transport was on high alert. It can't be a bird, Rebecca thought with amusement.
"There it is again," Helena said, with suppressed excitement. "I almost have a source. It's outgoing, Ma'am."
"Stay on it. I want to know point of origin. I'm plotting exit vector," the captain said. A few seconds elapsed. Come on, sweetheart, Rebecca thought. Once more, come to Mama. But their luck was out, and there was no further signal.
"Sorry, Ma'am. I can't pinpoint closer than 3 decks on either side, but it's somewhere in or near Tivoli Gardens, I'd bet my socks on it," her techy Master Warrant Officer said.
"No one wants your socks," Beck answered absently, trying to decide the next step. "See if you can find that transmission in the files, and get it to decryption, if you do."
After a moment, she contacted the fighters. "Lancelot 13, Lancelot 14. Captain Beck here. We have a gig for you. Tight beam transmission heading your way on Vector zero nine zero mark one two five. Keep an eye out for possible receiver. Out."
"Lancelot-13, message received. We are about ten minutes from that position. On our way, Control." Mustang wagged his wings at his wingman before making an easy turn and accelerating toward the search coordinates received. "I told her ten minutes, Cowboy, so keep up. I do not want to look like a nugget, even if we both are that."
"Speak for yourself, I was never a nugget." Hawke laughed as he stayed on Mustang's starboard wing. Cowboy never even considered this would be anything but a ghost signal.
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