The Adventure Begins

Posted on Wed Jun 23rd, 2021 @ 7:20pm by Captain Temperance Harding & Lieutenant Scott Mitchell "Ghost"

Mission: Mission 0: Have Wings, Will Fly
Location: Captain's Ready Room
Timeline: Currnet

ON

Scott stood waiting for the hatch of the transport that had brought him aboard to open as his earlier conversation with Sydney kept replaying itself over and over in his head. He had broken the news to her a few weeks ago that he had taken what was now his current assignment which meant he would once again be heading out into deep space for a longer period of time than he had with his previous assignment and she was not happy to say the least about being so far away from each other. The tone sounding the opening of the hatch snapped Scott out of his thoughts and back to the task at hand. Mentally, he shifted gears from civilian life and thinking about Sydney back into the all too familiar and comfortable life that was being a combat pilot.

As Scott made his way through the corridors of the Endurance, he unconsciously pulled a pack of gum out of his bag and tossed a piece into his mouth. It was a habit his grandfather had taught him when he was a kid on how to deal with stress when flying, plus it helped with popping one's ears once your back on the ground. Scott navigated the corridors to the hatch that was designated as his quarters and stepped through the hissing doors. He tossed his bag down on one of the chairs, looked around for a second then turned and walked back out the door. He proceeded to make his way to introduce himself to the Captain before anything else. 'Better to go ahead and get this over with so I can get to work,' he thought to himself. Once outside the door to the ready room, Scott took a deep breath and pressed the chime.

The notification icon blinked in the corner of her screen. Temperance glanced at it, and raised an eyebrow. This was the crew assignment that most interested her. A former combat pilot herself - she still had the metal wings on a plaque - she was looking forward to meeting whoever who be taking command of the Squadron. The chime sounded, and Temperance took a moment, before answering. "Come."

The door hissed open with the customary swoosh as Scott made his way into the room. Coming to attention a few feet from the Captain's desk, Scott's eyes came to rest on his new commanding officer. "Ma'am, Lieutenant Scott Mitchell reporting for duty."

"At ease, Lieutenant." Her voice carried a soft accent of her home, and she even mispronounced the rank, instead sounding it like 'left-tenant'. "Please, have a seat. Would you care for a drink?"

"Thank you Ma'am," Scott's rough Texas accent slipped out, something he had tried extremely hard to mask. He took the aforementioned seat the Captain had offered before nodding, "A cup of coffee would be great." His eyes traveled across the room, curious as he always was, before they fell on a model starfighter on the Captain's desk. He peered closer and recognized the design. Scott was instantly excited, "Is that a Gryphon Mk. II?" he asked excitedly.

Retrieving the man's coffee, Temperance returned to the table, setting the drink down. "It is." A small plate on the base bore the moniker 'Strike Cats' as well as her personal call-sign, 'Panther'. "I started out in the Starfighter Corps. Made it up to Squadron Commander, before I had an accident, and lost my official flight status."

Scott nodded as he sipped his coffee, "I don't know what I would do if they took my wings from me. Probably retire." His thoughts went back to his time flying along the Cardassian border, things were so much simpler there. "Well Commander, what do you need from me? I'm an open book."

"I considered retiring. Truth be told, I can't stand doing nothing. Got retrained for Command, now I get to watch the birds fly." It wasn't quite the same as piloting one, but it was as close as she'd damn well get. "Well, Lieutenant, your Starfleet records gives me the clinical details... but I am curious about the person who'll be leading my Air Wing. What made you wanna fly?"

"It's in my blood." Scott smiled as he took another sip of the steaming hot beverage in front of him. "My Grandfather was a pilot, he flew everything from an Excelsior Class down to a Peregrine. My dad is a ship designer currently stationed at the Jupiter Fleet Yards." Leaning back into his chair and making himself comfortable, Scott's demeanor began to relax, "My family spent a lot of time on my Grandfather's farm when I was growing up, well, everyone else spent time ON the farm. I was almost always above it with my grandfather. When we weren't flying, my dad, grandfather and I were working on restoring on old replica biplane my grandfather had found somewhere."

Temperance nodded, her eyes glancing through the service record. "Makes sense, the early years can indeed define our lives." She was looking for something, to find out more about the man, beyond the snippets of CO assessments... ah. There. "Ghost? How'd you get that? If I may ask."

Scott chuckled at the memory. "It was when I was assigned to the 101st, we were providing cover for a Marine detachment that was moving into neutralize a pirate cell that had been plaguing the sector for about six months. My flight was the first wave in and it was our job to keep their patrol crafts busy so the other flights could escort the Marines in and provide air cover as needed." Scott sat sat his drink down and leaned back into his chair crossing his legs before continuing, "My flight began engaging their patrols, driving them further and further away from the approach vector when all of a sudden alarms start going off that I'm on the receiving end of a target lock." Scott raised his hands extending his little finger and thumb so they resembled the shape of fighter craft. "Two of their fighters had snuck in behind us and decided I was gonna be their first meal, so I kicked the engines into full impulse, rolled ninety degrees starboard and pulled the stick with everything I had."

Scott's hands moved to imitate what he was describing, "I did a quick scan of what was ahead of me and noticed I wasn't far from one of the planet's moons and figured I could use that to at least buy some time to figure out my next move. I did a quick boost with the afterburners to create some distance between us before starting my accelerated orbit of the small moon. Now one thing my grandfather taught me about dogfighting was that when you're in a turning fight with the enemy on your tail, you just have to turn a little tighter than him, so with that in mind I started to use what little gravity the moon had to help accelerate me away from the enemy while also keeping me out of their crosshairs. Now the downside to this is that my orbit was decaying extremely fast, from what I could calculate I had maybe two more rotations before I wouldn't be able to pull out. I decided the best thing to do was the craziest thing to do, I slammed my throttle back, used the moon's gravity to bleed my speed, popped my nose so I went into a cobra, and as soon as the enemy passed I cut power to everything. Completely disappeared from every sensor in the combat area."

Temperance listened, caught in the exhilaration of the moment. Her gaze unfocused slightly as the images formed in her mind. One pilot to another, she could track his path as clearly as a sensor lock. "Turned into a hole in space. Not a bad move. I'll have to remember that sometime." She doubted she'd ever get to use it, but it was always good to keep such ideas in the back of one's mind.

"Till you realize you've also disappeared from friendly sensors as well." Scott chuckled in amusement. "That was not a fun conversation to have with my squadron commander when I got back to base." He sat his now empty cup back on the saucer that was positioned on the table in front of him and pulled himself out of the chair, "Well Captain I think I've taken up enough of your time." He offered a hand as he rose.

Taking the hand, Temperance nodded as they shook. "A pleasure, Lieutenant. I look forward to seeing you in action."

OFF