Nob Akimoto
Rear Admiral
Non-standard piece of fiction I guess, in that it doesn't involve things blowing up. More of a teaser than an actual chapter.
The setting is 2670, about 10 months after the Treaty of Torgo. The title is taken from the poem "High Flight."
"Ceres Unlimited Confederation Championship Aerospace Race" is simply what I thought the TC equivilant of the Reno Unlimited would be called.
Without further delay:
"Well, tomorrow's the big day, isn't it...." Looking up from her console, Lauren Tateyama stated matter of factly, running her palms along the cockpit support struts. The modified durasteel frame was cool to the touch, sending a delicious shiver of anticipation up her spine as she gazed out from her vantage point, her mind replacing the drab-grey hangar wall with the asteroid field she would be racing through in less than eighteen hours.
She looked back at the man perched atop the fuselage of her F-44G Rapier-II, flashing a grin before slipping out of the cockpit, landing with a feline grace on the concrete floor. Lauren stretched leisurely, basking in the glow of the moment as she circled around her Rapier, running her hand along the belly of the fighter.
She resisted the urge to giggle, the light-hearted butterflies before the impending race a stark contrast to the nerve-wracking anxiety Lauren had felt before each sortie during the war. In a way, she thought to herself, the giggle escaping her lips despite her best effort to keep it constrained, it was like falling in love for the first time.
"Careful, Lauren. we don't have time to find another pilot," Chuckling with amusement, Christopher Ashanti glanced down at the pilot, throwing the last of his diagnostic equipment into his toolbox before climbing down carefully from the fighter.
He looked up at the sleek starfighter, smiling warmly as he felt his heart swell with pride at all the work he and Lauren had done to the airframe over the last eight months. This particular Rapier had been one of the first fighters sent to the scrap-yard after Confed force reductions after the Treaty of Torgo, the two of them taking out a loan against their Space Force pensions to save the fighter from break-up. The fighter had certainly seen better days at the time, having taken a glancing missile hit during the Battle of Hyperion, with shrapnel shredded engines and a non-functional armanent.
At first prospects of repairing the worn war-mount had seemed glum, with the almost immediate economic instabilities the post-war environment created, no one was willing to finance a civilian racing conversion of a damaged fighter. Yet through a combination of perserverience and dumb luck, the ex-majors had found a willing sponser in S.D. Tucker Acrobatics and Racing, a traditional civilian aviation group. Eight months of toil, thousands of man-hours, scrounging and gallons of coffee later, their F-44 based racer Flash-I was finally ready to make its debut at the Ceres Unlimited Confederation Championship Aerospace Race.
Taking a step back, the two admired the blue-grey paintjob of the fighter. They had chosen the name "Flash" as a homage to a Lieutenant Jace "Flash" Dillion, one of the more colorful characters Lauren had encountered in her short stint as a TCN R&D test pilot. Much like the pilot it was named for, Flash was a bit eccentric, bearing little resemblence to the well-mannered dogfighter which it had been during the war.
Over-sized Tangent engines from a surplus Sabre were the most distinguishing feature, having been installed through a combination of air-frame tinkering, swearing and lots of mechanical short-cuts that would drive any formally trained TCN engineer mad. All the weapon mounts and capacitators had been removed to save on weight, while canards from the older F-44A had been bolted onto the fuselage, according to Christopher to give Flash "racing lines." The armored cockpit block had been replaced from the lighter clear canopy from an Arrow, giving the overall appearance of a lighter, more agile craft.
In initial trials, Lauren had managed to coax a clean five-fifty klicks per second, easily faster than even the Epee and Ferret based racers which had won the previous year's competition. Now it was time for the pair to try out their dream-machine in an actual race.
The pair took one last look at the fighter, grinning widely, before leaving the hangar, turning out the light on their way out.
The setting is 2670, about 10 months after the Treaty of Torgo. The title is taken from the poem "High Flight."
"Ceres Unlimited Confederation Championship Aerospace Race" is simply what I thought the TC equivilant of the Reno Unlimited would be called.
Without further delay:
"Well, tomorrow's the big day, isn't it...." Looking up from her console, Lauren Tateyama stated matter of factly, running her palms along the cockpit support struts. The modified durasteel frame was cool to the touch, sending a delicious shiver of anticipation up her spine as she gazed out from her vantage point, her mind replacing the drab-grey hangar wall with the asteroid field she would be racing through in less than eighteen hours.
She looked back at the man perched atop the fuselage of her F-44G Rapier-II, flashing a grin before slipping out of the cockpit, landing with a feline grace on the concrete floor. Lauren stretched leisurely, basking in the glow of the moment as she circled around her Rapier, running her hand along the belly of the fighter.
She resisted the urge to giggle, the light-hearted butterflies before the impending race a stark contrast to the nerve-wracking anxiety Lauren had felt before each sortie during the war. In a way, she thought to herself, the giggle escaping her lips despite her best effort to keep it constrained, it was like falling in love for the first time.
"Careful, Lauren. we don't have time to find another pilot," Chuckling with amusement, Christopher Ashanti glanced down at the pilot, throwing the last of his diagnostic equipment into his toolbox before climbing down carefully from the fighter.
He looked up at the sleek starfighter, smiling warmly as he felt his heart swell with pride at all the work he and Lauren had done to the airframe over the last eight months. This particular Rapier had been one of the first fighters sent to the scrap-yard after Confed force reductions after the Treaty of Torgo, the two of them taking out a loan against their Space Force pensions to save the fighter from break-up. The fighter had certainly seen better days at the time, having taken a glancing missile hit during the Battle of Hyperion, with shrapnel shredded engines and a non-functional armanent.
At first prospects of repairing the worn war-mount had seemed glum, with the almost immediate economic instabilities the post-war environment created, no one was willing to finance a civilian racing conversion of a damaged fighter. Yet through a combination of perserverience and dumb luck, the ex-majors had found a willing sponser in S.D. Tucker Acrobatics and Racing, a traditional civilian aviation group. Eight months of toil, thousands of man-hours, scrounging and gallons of coffee later, their F-44 based racer Flash-I was finally ready to make its debut at the Ceres Unlimited Confederation Championship Aerospace Race.
Taking a step back, the two admired the blue-grey paintjob of the fighter. They had chosen the name "Flash" as a homage to a Lieutenant Jace "Flash" Dillion, one of the more colorful characters Lauren had encountered in her short stint as a TCN R&D test pilot. Much like the pilot it was named for, Flash was a bit eccentric, bearing little resemblence to the well-mannered dogfighter which it had been during the war.
Over-sized Tangent engines from a surplus Sabre were the most distinguishing feature, having been installed through a combination of air-frame tinkering, swearing and lots of mechanical short-cuts that would drive any formally trained TCN engineer mad. All the weapon mounts and capacitators had been removed to save on weight, while canards from the older F-44A had been bolted onto the fuselage, according to Christopher to give Flash "racing lines." The armored cockpit block had been replaced from the lighter clear canopy from an Arrow, giving the overall appearance of a lighter, more agile craft.
In initial trials, Lauren had managed to coax a clean five-fifty klicks per second, easily faster than even the Epee and Ferret based racers which had won the previous year's competition. Now it was time for the pair to try out their dream-machine in an actual race.
The pair took one last look at the fighter, grinning widely, before leaving the hangar, turning out the light on their way out.
