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Saber in the Sky - Part III
Posted By: mplacki<mplacki@yahoo.com>
Date: 26 July 2005, 10:42 pm
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0900 Hours, July 18, 2552 (Military Calendar) /
UNSC Leviathan, military staging area above Sigma Octanus IV
Admiral Stanforth smiled at the eleven men and women standing at attention around the conference table and returned their salutes. "At ease," he said, gesturing for them to take a seat. "I'm sure you all want to know exactly why you're here and why you were pulled here from your respective squadrons." He saw several people around the table nod their heads in agreement.
"As I'm sure you all know, we are not doing very well against the Covenant. Their technology is light-years ahead of ours, and they can hold their own against us even when they're outnumbered three to one. To add to the problem, surrender is an unacceptable alternative to them, and even when they don't have a prayer of a chance of winning they fight to the death."
"The Spartans and the Marines can beat them in any engagement on the ground. But those split-lipped cowards run into orbit every time they get beaten, and glass the planet." He stopped to let the bitterness that had suddenly filled his voice subside before continuing. "And there's nothing we can do to stop them. Don't let the victory here at Sigma Octanus fool you – if they really wanted, they could glass this planet just as easily as any other planet they've hit."
"We think we've found a way to stop them. At the very least, we have a way to slow them down. And it relies on you."
Stanforth paused, and was pleased to see several of the pilots sit up a bit straighter, listening with interest. He glanced around the room, and looked at Jordan.
"What do you know about project Mjolnir, Commander?" he asked.
"Mjolnir was the code name for the armor developed for the Spartan II soldiers," Jordan answered. "It was designed to be able to withstand an extreme amount of punishment, and had shielding systems built in to protect the wearer."
"Correct," replied Stanforth. "I am sure that everyone in this room is aware that we have tried very hard to adapt the Mjolnir shielding to our capital ships. Unfortunately, the ships are just too big, and we don't have a sufficient understanding of the technology involved to be able to design effective shielding systems for them."
"However," continued Stanforth, emphasizing the word, "we do have some good news." He pushed a button on the edge of the table, and a holographic projector lit up in the middle of it, showing a revolving three-dimensional image of a C-709 Longsword interceptor. "The big cruisers might be too big to fit shields on, but the same doesn't apply to something as small as a Longsword."
There was an audible gasp from several people around the table, followed by a stunned silence. Bobby spoke up first.
"You mean that we're going to be issued shielded Longsword fighters?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes. And that's not the only improvement they have," Stanforth answered smugly. "There has been a minor breakthrough in Slipspace technology – we've been able to build Shaw-Fujikawa Slipspace drives that can work on a Longsword, despite their low mass. The fusion drive engines have also been custom-designed for these particular Longswords. Each drive can provide up to 150 percent of its rated power capacity for a ninety-second period without sustaining damage. In addition, each ship has been equipped with a standard military-grade AI, so you don't need an additional navigation officer. By removing all of the different parts usually needed for your co-pilots, such as the control stations and whatnot, we've managed to make these Longswords 100 kilograms lighter than their standard counterparts."
Stanforth paused to let those words sink in. "Those upgrades, combined with the virtually unlimited combinations of armaments that can be mounted on the Longswords, mean that you will be able to function as a stand-alone unit, without need for heavier backup from a capital ship. Each one of you has been handpicked based on the leadership qualities, piloting expertise, and strategic skills you possess. By putting you together, our goal is to have an operational Longsword squadron that is just as effective and versatile in space as the Spartan IIs are on the ground."
"Any questions?"
Jordan raised his hand. "I was just curious, sir; how much power can these shields deflect, and how long do they take to recharge in a combat situation?"
"The shields take roughly 90 seconds to reach their full charge," Stanforth replied. "According to the tests we've run, they're capable of holding up against several salvos from the standard-issue plasma cannons on the Seraph-class starfighters. They're not nearly powerful enough to withstand a direct hit from a plasma torpedo, however, so you still need to be careful around Covenant cruisers." He paused. "Anything else?"
Nobody raised their hand.
"Very well," continued Stanforth. "Now, may I introduce your squadron leader and commanding officer, Captain Richard Deckard."
Everyone rose and saluted as Deckard stepped forward. He looked to be about forty, with grizzled brown hair and equally hard brown eyes. He returned the pilots salutes, and nodded at them to sit down.
"First of all, I would like to congratulate you all on being here. You are all here because you have shown yourselves to be the finest pilots the UNSC has to offer. You have every right to be extremely proud of your accomplishments so far."
"Having said that, you are all in a very dangerous position. Your missions will be the most deadly assignments ever given to a fighter squadron in the UNSC. They will also be among the most important. Many of them will qualify as suicide missions – although I will do my utmost to ensure that they do not turn out that way. You will be expected to complete those missions, because if you don't, there is nobody else out there who can."
He looked at the pilots before him, waiting to see if any of them had anything to say. Nobody did, so he continued on.
"Now, I'd like to get down to squadron business. First of all, our squadron callsign is "Saber", and we'll be known as Saber Squadron among the UNSC armed forces."
"Second are your wingman assignments. I've paired everyone in the squadron up by seniority, so that less experienced pilots have someone to learn from and rely on. Obviously, I'll be Saber one; Lieutenant Gordon, you'll be flying with me." Bobby nodded. "Saber three will be Lieutenant Harper, and your wingman will be Lieutenant Sander." Kelly smiled and shook hands with the woman sitting next to her, Aliesha Sander. "The four of us will make up One Flight. Commander O'Brien, you'll be leading Two Flight – your wingman will be Mr. Hendrick, and Ms. Lovell and Ms. Hall will round out the rest of your group." David shook hands with the other three pilots, who introduced themselves as Kevin Hendrick, Kat Lovell, and Jennifer Hall. "Commander McKell, you have Three Flight – that will consist of you, Mr. Marshal, Mr. Parker, and Mr. Cormack." Jordan nodded at his three pilots – Travis Marshal, Greg Parker, and Tony Cormack.
"Next up is what you've all been waiting for; follow me, and I'll show you to your ships, and introduce you to your new co-pilots."
The pilots fell into step behind Captain Deckard, each wearing an identical grin of anticipation as they headed toward the hangars.
Jordan examined the Longsword in front of him closely. At first glance, it looked just like any other Longsword fighter in the fleet, with the small exception of the red stripes painted along the fuselage; on closer inspection, however, he noticed several small but significant changes. The cooling ducts for the engines were much larger, for a start; a surprisingly slim version of a Shaw-Fujikawa Slipspace drive was slung underneath.
"Commander McKell!" called Deckard.
"Yes, sir?"
Captain Deckard passed him a plastic card. "Temporary key for your Longsword," he explained. "This is only to be used until you set a password for it and have it hardwired into the ship's systems by the techs."
Jordan nodded. "Thank you, sir." He turned back to the boarding ramp on his Longsword and immediately spotted a slot with a flashing green LED nearby. He slid the card into it, then stepped back as the ramp lowered for him.
"Sir?"
Jordan turned around and saw one of the ship's techs standing behind him. "I'm supposed to give you a tour of the ship and rundown of the upgrades and features on it. Captain Deckard mentioned that, right?"
"Yeah, he did." Gesturing inside, Jordan added, "Lead the way."
'Tour' was a slight over-exaggeration; considering that the entire Longsword was originally designed for only two people, there wasn't very much that needed to be introduced. After an obligatory (but thankfully brief) tutorial on activating the shielding systems and using the Slipspace drives, Jordan followed the tech up to a console where his co-pilot would usually sit. The tech punched a button, and a holo-projector swirled to life. With it came a blue-green image of a man. He looked well-built, with short hair cut military-style; he looked very much like a Marine.
"This is Revs," said the tech. "He'll be your new co-pilot."
"Nice to meet you, Commander," said Revs, with an energetic nod. "I've read your record, and I'm impressed. I've been looking forward to working with you."
"Thanks," replied Jordan. "I'll hope I'll enjoy flying with you."
Just then, the radio in the Longsword squawked; a few seconds later, Captain Deckard's voice came through.
"O.K. Sabers, by now you should be almost through getting to know your new ships. Get comfortable, and make sure the techs get clear; we're going to be taking these birds out for a test flight."
"Is this going to be a live-fire exercise, sir?" asked David.
"Negative – this is just for you to get a feel for them on a real flight. We will be splitting into teams for a mock-up dogfight later on, though."
"Copy that."
The tech who had been helping Jordan tossed him a salute and jogged off the ramp, closing it behind him.
A few seconds later, Deckard's voice came through the radio again. "Control, this is Saber Lead, requesting permission for liftoff."
"Permission granted, Saber lead; lift in five minutes. Commence warm-up procedures and await further instructions."
"Roger that, awaiting further instructions. Commencing warm-up procedures."
Jordan flicked the engine-prestart switches and sat back to wait. He glanced at the control panels, looking for anything that might be out of place or could signal a potential problem.
"Saber squadron, this is Control. Lift in two, hangar is clear. Bring all main systems online now."
"Copy that, Control," replied Deckard. "Bringing main systems online."
Jordan flicked the engine starters and heard a deep, reassuring hum as the engines came online. He double-checked and triple-checked the gauges, and watched the different needles climb to their respective zones.
"Excited?" asked Revs.
Jordon threw him a skeptical look. "Wouldn't you be?"
"Of course. I'm looking forward to this as much as you are."
"Thirty seconds to lift, Saber squadron; release docking clamps, prepare to fire maneuvering jets."
The ship shuddered slightly as the docking clamps released; a few seconds later, the Longsword's belly jets lifted it off the deck.
"Roger that, docking clamps released. Maneuvering jets ready."
"Five to lift. Venting hangar atmosphere, prepare to exit the hanger."
"Copy, Control."
Jordan gently pulled his control stick to the left, and the Longsword swiveled around to face the hangar doors.
"Saber lead, your squadron is clear. Proceed out of the hangar at will. Have a good flight, and come back safe."
"Will do, Control; see you in a bit."
The Longsword's engines flared to life; Jordan glanced at the eleven fighters alongside him, then pushed the throttle forward. The starfighter zoomed gracefully out of the hangar and arced up toward the stars.
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