Flight Check
Just a bit of random existentialism, feel free to left click away.... :)
Pilot Nine surveyed the crate he'd been assigned and as his steel gray eyes roamed over its less than aesthetic features he pondered the fact that the old girl had been built before he was born which was a very long time ago. As he ran his hands over the rivets in front of the intake he realized he hadn't flown anything other than his desk in years, but they needed pilots, it was going to take everything they had to repulse Ming the Merciless' assault so he and this flying brick here would be needed this evening. Struts, tires, cowling, all looked good and she was buttoned up for flight. Ground crews log had everything in the black, who was he kidding, this baby was going up even if it had a red X and probably wasn't coming back.
He gave a wry laugh at himself when he realized that he'd groaned as he stood to peer into engine two's intake, nope, no birds had nested since the cover was removed. Finishing his walkaround he shook the crew chief's hand and clapped him on his shoulder, something he'd never done before and it was meant for him and every other crew member who'd ever prepared a ship for him for they always brought him back in one piece, something he'd always been grateful for, but never had relayed.
After ascending the ladder and climbing in, somewhere in the back of his mind Pilot Nine registered the engine noise around him, every spaceship, jet, hell, crop duster on the planet was firing up right now creating a cacophony that built to a solid and sustained crescendo that may have well been French Horns and drums as it made the blood boil and synapses fire once more.
Preflight done, engines fired, flight controlls, check. He indicated chocks out and noticed that his hands were shaking as he raised them for the chief to see, they'll calm at takeoff, they always did, once the chief reemerged and began to marshal it was brakes off and they began to roll. The Sargeant gave his sharpest salute and Nine didn't need to hear him to know he'd yelled 'give 'em hell' as he did so. Nine returned the salute and moved to launch. Give 'em hell, the SSF-4 had the flight characteristics of a Sherman Tank, but three times the fire power, he'd give 'em hell indeed.
Flight Check
Just a bit of random existentialism, feel free to left click away.... :)
Pilot Nine surveyed the crate he'd been assigned and as his steel gray eyes roamed over its less than aesthetic features he pondered the fact that the old girl had been built before he was born which was a very long time ago. As he ran his hands over the rivets in front of the intake he realized he hadn't flown anything other than his desk in years, but they needed pilots, it was going to take everything they had to repulse Ming the Merciless' assault so he and this flying brick here would be needed this evening. Struts, tires, cowling, all looked good and she was buttoned up for flight. Ground crews log had everything in the black, who was he kidding, this baby was going up even if it had a red X and probably wasn't coming back.
He gave a wry laugh at himself when he realized that he'd groaned as he stood to peer into engine two's intake, nope, no birds had nested since the cover was removed. Finishing his walkaround he shook the crew chief's hand and clapped him on his shoulder, something he'd never done before and it was meant for him and every other crew member who'd ever prepared a ship for him for they always brought him back in one piece, something he'd always been grateful for, but never had relayed.
After ascending the ladder and climbing in, somewhere in the back of his mind Pilot Nine registered the engine noise around him, every spaceship, jet, hell, crop duster on the planet was firing up right now creating a cacophony that built to a solid and sustained crescendo that may have well been French Horns and drums as it made the blood boil and synapses fire once more.
Preflight done, engines fired, flight controlls, check. He indicated chocks out and noticed that his hands were shaking as he raised them for the chief to see, they'll calm at takeoff, they always did, once the chief reemerged and began to marshal it was brakes off and they began to roll. The Sargeant gave his sharpest salute and Nine didn't need to hear him to know he'd yelled 'give 'em hell' as he did so. Nine returned the salute and moved to launch. Give 'em hell, the SSF-4 had the flight characteristics of a Sherman Tank, but three times the fire power, he'd give 'em hell indeed.