Pilots Old, Pilots New

Posted on Mon Sep 9th, 2024 @ 1:17pm by Ensign Jacqueline Brown & Captain Temperance Harding

Mission: Lower Decks
Location: USS Endurance, Flight Deck Ops

ON

With the upgrades taking place on the Endurance - an onboarding of newer craft for the Air Wing for one - Harding wanted to exist in her old world for a time. Although she no longer held active flight status, she still considered herself a pilot. Her leather jacket bore the patch of her old squadron - the Shadow Hunters. The embroidered name patch had the wings of a Starfleet combat pilot. Her callsign was even displayed under her name. "Panther".

The enlisted technicians and NCO specialists who ran the place seemed comfortable with her presence. She had been one of them at one point. Harding was lost in her own thoughts, memories, musings. She was brought back to the present by a noise in the corner of the room. Turning, the Captain saw an officer - an Ensign - in the corner. It took a second for the name to click into place. Harding headed over to the new arrival. "Ms. Brown. Welcome aboard the Endurance, I'm Captain Temperance Harding."

A combination of Jackie's rank, position, and the timing of her final assignment meant that she had taken a regular shuttle to the Endurance instead of flying one of the fighters onboard. It wasn't unexpected, but it meant she had arrived in the main shuttlebay. Eager to see the Flight Deck, she hadn't even stopped at her assigned quarters before coming up here. It did feel a little awkward to stand off in a corner with her bag slung over her shoulder, but Jackie thought she was being pretty unobtrusive . . . until she heard her name and saw the captain of the ship coming towards her.

"Ma'am!" Jackie said, straightening. "Glad to be here, ma'am." She couldn't help but stare a little at the captain's jacket. Jackie hadn't thought to do any research on her upcoming assignment - an oversight that now made her feel quite foolish. "You're a fighter pilot, ma'am?"

Harding indicated the door of the Ops center, the Wing's briefing room would be much more comfortable for a conversation. "I was." She answered, as they crossed the hall, and entered the adjacent room. There were about half a dozen rows of eight seats, split by an aisle down the middle. Taking an aisle seat in the front row, Harding waved the Ensign into a seat as well.

"I was a Squadron CO, back on the Illustrious..." her mind sifted for the knowledge. That was... eleven years ago I was grounded." She made a face at the revelation. Had it really been a decade? It felt much more recent, and also so far away. "Medical issue, following an accident."

Jackie tried not to wince as she sat down, but inwardly she cringed. One of the worst things for a pilot - especially a fighter pilot - was medical disqualification. To be master of your craft one day and restricted from flying the next was torture. Jackie's own experience had briefly felt like that, but there was a big difference between a few weeks and over a decade.

"What did you fly back then?" she asked.

"I flew the old Razor interceptors." The smile on her face was almost wistful. "One seat. No rear weapons. Those were the days. Course, sooner or later, shit will go wrong."

Jackie hesitated. "Do you mind if I ask what happened in your accident?" She didn't know if she was pushing the bounds of propriety by asking.

Harding stared at the lectern for a few seconds. “Honestly? Everything went wrong. It's a good lesson, you don't always have time. It was a basic patrol. One of my fuel cells ruptured. That started a system cascade.”

The Captain shook her head. “The microburst Warpcore started to lose containment. When I say fast, I mean ten to twelve seconds from the fuel cell rupture to the containment failure. The Illustrious was only just asking for a SitRep when I had to eject.”

She could still remember the sheer panic, knowing just how imminent death was.

“The canopy blew, the seat ejected, and the shielding system activated. That's when the micro core went. You ever seen a matter/anti-matter explosion with your own eyes?”

"No," Jackie said, shaking her head. "Haven't had the opportunity, I guess."

Harding looked across the room at the younger pilot. “Don't. I was half blind when I was beamed in, barely conscious. The docs managed to repair the iris, fix the major stuff.”

That's when her voice shifted. Not so much anger, as resentment. “The retina was scarred, seared by the sheer light. The tiny, hair-size blood vessels were irreparable. My vision is … good enough for what I do, but I’ll never fly a combat mission again.”

It was with an effort that Jackie refrained from asking if there was nothing else the doctors could do. Even this early in her own career, Jackie knew that she would do anything to keep flying her starfighter. If Harding said her vision couldn't be brought back up to the requirements for flying fighters, it must be true.

"I'm sorry," Jackie said. "I know it probably doesn't mean much, but . . . I'm glad I'll at least be able to serve under someone who understands what it's like to fly."

"I appreciate that, Ms. Brown." Harding had to smile. "Though that's more Starfleet regs than anything else. A Starship with a Wing sized fighter detachment is to be captained by a qualified Combat Flight officer. I may not be allowed to fly, but I can still wear the wings." She suddenly shifted gears. "You know your Wizzo, yet?" She referred to the Weapons Systems Officer, who has the back seat on two-seat fighters.

"Actually, I haven't been able to check assignments yet," Jackie admitted. In truth, she was a little nervous about who she'd get paired with. It was critical to be able to have a close connection, for safety as well as efficiency, but you never knew how personalities would meld or clash.

Harding's brow furrowed slightly in concern. "Is it a technical issue with your access? Or a ... personnel issue with someone in particular?" As Captain, she was able to smooth over a lot of wrinkles, in the name of keeping her crew happy.

Jackie felt her face grow warm. "Sorry," she said, "I should have been more clear. I didn't take the time to check yet." Way to look more like a rookie, she thought to herself.

Harding's expression turned into a sympathetic smile. "First assignment nerves? That's okay. I still remember my first day on my first assignment out of the Academy. Arrive on board, find your cabin, meet your bunk-mate - we have two to a room for the junior officer quarters. Then, you meet your Flight Leader, meet your wingman, and your Wizzo."

"It doesn't get easy, or simple. What I can promise you, is no one on board will treat you unfairly. If they do, action will be taken. Your wingman for almost all standard ops will be a junior Lieutenant. Eighteen months ago, they were you. So they should remember what it was like. Your Plane Captain is a Petty Officer, assigned to look after your fighter while it's on board. They'll also look after you, to a degree. Your Flight CO, Squadron CO, and CAG... they're all there to get the best from you. Trust the system."

"Right, trust the system," Jackie repeated, nodding. "Got it." In spite of the assurance, she felt a little more nervous than before. She'd already messed up once. What if she did it out here, on a real assignment? But she couldn't let herself worry about that right now. Slowly, Jackie stood. "I suppose I'd better get to finding my cabin, then."

Harding gave the young woman a nod. "Good luck, Ensign."

OFF

Captain Temperance Harding
Commanding Officer

Ensign Jackie Brown
Fighter Pilot
First Squadron, CVF-79