WP3025 Chpt 39

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==Chapter 39 - Winged Praxis (Battletech 3015 CYOA)==
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===Fun Training Flight===
Thistledown Spaceport Airspace
Salonika (Continent), Canopus IV
Magistracy of Canopus
29th June, 3015
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"...ahhhhhh!" yelled Nat as I eased the Gs from the Topper and got it into the climb I wanted, keeping it just subsonic by long habit. "I thought this thing could only do four and a half Gs!"
 
"Llora mas, bebe," I laughed. "I didn't even touch overthrust." I twitched my feet on the pedals, slewing the tail back and forth, riding the throttle fractionally back and forth to maintain .98 Mach. "Hang on." I shoved the stick to the side.
 
"For what?" he got out before the roll whipped him to the side, pressing his helmet and both hands against the canopy. "Hate you, Gid," he forced out as the maneuver pinned him there.
 
I quirked my lips as I watched the repeater symbology. The Topper was no T-38 when it came to roll rate, but it wasn't a cow like the heavyweight strike birds I had tried sims of. I threw the stick back the other way to cancel the roll abruptly before coming back to center, rewarded by a thump against the other side of the canopy followed by Romani cursing from my childhood friend. "And this is why we tighten our straps," I said.
 
"Pi mugo kar," he said as he cinched the straps tighter. "I thought you wanted to be a little loose to look around?"
 
"Not that loose," I said. "Give me a second." I toggled over to the ATC channel, checking my kneeboard for the flight ID. "Thistledown ATC, Thistledown ATC, Piper Tango Echo Two Niner Six Tac One. Requesting vector to an open chunk of sky to properly rage in, over."
 
<<"Piper Tango Echo Two Niner Six Tac One, ATC. Piper, am I speaking to Coyote Actual?">>
 
 I laughed. "That's a big affirm, ATC. Why, I didn't break Mach, did I?"
 
<<"Piper, ATC, negative." There was a pause. "Please tell me you aren't planning to skydive on the spaceport again, Colonel.">>
 
 "Well," I said, "I hadn't planned to." My mind went over the Topper's specs and what I had felt of its flight characteristics so far. "Might be doable, though."
 
Natan damn near sprained a shoulder trying to spin around to look at me like I was crazy. ATC came back, sounding frantic. <<"Please don't. The paperwork from near-crash incidents takes forever to fill out. Not to mention testing to make sure the ferrocrete isn't overstressed.">>
 
I rolled my eyes. There was no way Pursuer's torches had done anything close to the stress the lightest dropper would do on the most routine of launches or landings. "Fiiiiiine ATC, you can be a spoilsport. Piper is still waiting for a vector."
 
"Getting kinda high too," said Nat over the intercom. "Weren't we going to keep out of space?"
 
"We're fine," I said, bringing the throttle back to idle and letting the speed scrub off as we continued up ballistically. As the airspeed ticked down towards zero, I advanced the throttle again, giving myself 1.1 gravities of thrust, and stood the Topper on its torch.
 
The altimeter froze as I balanced us against Canopus's pull.
 
Natan whistled. "You know," said the Romani Cowboy, "you might almost be as good at this piloting stuff as you think you are."
 
I shifted my stick hand to the side, imparting a lazy roll as we hung above the clouds. <<"Hermano, you have no idea.">>
 
<<"Piper, ATC. You are cleared for exercise area Charlie Six, vector zero three zero. Upon entering Charlie Six, altitude, airspeed, and weapon restrictions are lifted, over.">>
 
 I looked down at one of my MFDs, designating a waypoint out beyond the mouth of the Bay of Altay in the middle of Charlie Six. "ATC, Piper copies all. Zero three zero to Charlie Six, then rage, over."
 
<<"Have a good flight, Piper. ATC out.">>
 
I kept us hanging there, skittering back and forth with bursts of the trainer's translation thrusters just to give my hands something to do.
 
"So, are we going to hang around all day, pretending to be Creation's brightest dreidel, or are we going to get going so you can really abuse a poor Mechwarrior?" asked Natan.
 
"Well, when you put it like that," I said, chopping the throttle. We floated up in the straps as the Topper lost the struggle with gravity and slid tail-first towards the planet below. I let the trainer do what it wanted to, going loose on the stick and pedals.
 
Wind buffeted us, and instead of going over to the left or right like I had expected, the Topper's nose went over the top, snapping back towards the ground as if I had yanked back on the stick for an inside loop.
 
The Topper wasn't done surprising me, as instead of settling nose low, the heavy nose came up just enough for the air to catch the lifting body's belly and put us into a falling leaf spin. I hummed in enjoyment.
 
 "I must have been powerful wicked in a past life," said Natan. "What are you playing at, Gid?"
 
"Oh, just seeing what she wants to do," I said, taking back control of the stick and pedals, stopping the rotation on zero three zero and smoothly powering out of the fall. "And what do you mean past life?"
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Above the Canopian oceans, I nodded. "Alright, Nat, you're up. Remember, don't push it into overthrust, and remember that while you've only got three Gs of thrust, that's eyeballs in and doesn't mean shit. It's going to the positive and negative Gs on the pitch axis that really get you, so go easy at first, and don't forget the anti-G strain Spuds taught you. 7Gs can knock a nugget right the hell out."
 
"How do I keep it out of overthrust?" he asked as he settled his hands and feet on the controls.
 
"Don't shove the throttle through the detents," I said, "and don't lift it, period."
 
"Got it."
 
"You have control," I said.
 
He immediately went to yank at the stick. I kept the controls centered, keeping the trainer level. "Don't you have a line?" I asked. "Also, easier than that. My straps are plenty tight."
 
"I have control." he said, sheepish.
 
I let go, and he pulled the nose up a bit, pushing the throttle forward. The Topper responded smoothly, and I turned to the weapons panel, snapping the safety shield up and putting the Topper in training mode, regating the switch so that it wouldn't shift in the slightest. Only then did I give more attention to the individual weapons.
 
Piper had set up this training bird with LRMs in the wing pods, along with its hardwired 3 cm beams. The nose AC2 was loaded with training rounds that matched the sort of ballistics you'd expect out of an aerospace Ack 10, which was a neat trick. It wouldn't prepare you for the recoil of the heavier gun, but honestly, that was less a concern for fighters than 'mechs. Besides, a Topper and a Slayer didn't fly the same, for all that they shared a thrust curve.
 
Natan rolled the fighter and pulled back on the stick, putting us into a banking turn. I could feel the sloppiness through the helmet and seat of my pants, but confirmed by looking at the symbology. "You want to coordinate your turns, Nat," I said, unbothered by the mild G load.
 
"What, pull and roll at the same time, or something?" he asked, voice tight with concentration.
 
"No," I said. "Well, sometimes, but that's not what I'm talking about. Look at your slip indicator as you make your next turn. Go ahead and step on the ball some to keep it centered."
 
"Huh?"
 
I sighed. "Tinnies. Put in some rudder pedal on the side the ball slips towards. Don't stomp on it, just enough to keep things aligned. Trust me, it'll feel better."
 
The Cowboy gave it a few more goes. "I feel like I'm back in an Agromech for the first time," he admitted. "Lots to keep track of."
 
"You remember being up inside your mother?" I asked with a laugh.
 
"Don't you dare, Gid." he said, seeing exactly where I was going with that joke. "And you know what I mean."
"Yeah yeah," I said as he continued to work his way through controlling the trainer. "There had to be something you didn't take right to. It's practice like everything else."
 
"Hey, I practice," he said. "It's not like I'm some sort of prodigy at everything."
 
"Shooting, riding, flirting..." I ticked off on my fingers. "The stock market, apparently. Need to ask you some investing questions, by the way."
 
"You do realize I lost all that money." he said.
 
"So you know what not to do," I said. "Prison breaks, turning Lyran scientists, jumping mechs…"
 
"Hey, you were far better with Pogo than me, Gid." he objected. "Remember how I faceplanted?"
 
I gave him a few moments of silence. "Nat, you have no idea how long I took to get as good at jumping as you saw me the first time, do you? People were complaining that my ass was making a permanent dent in the seat. You got the hang of it on like the third jump or so."
 
"Huh." He flew on for a bit, still trying to get the hang of a smooth coordinated turn.
 
"Try listening to the helmet more." I said. "It's not like a mech, it doesn't look for your balance. It's much more focused on telling you exactly what she's doing."
 
"Yeah, it's weird," he said. "Kinda feels like when I'm really switched on with Devil Cat."
 
"Don't focus on it too much," I said. "Just let it be there, let it tell you what's going on."
 
His flying got a little smoother, but I could tell he had a ways to go, even as he started to pull some harder maneuvers. I kept my hands resting lightly on the controls in case I had to recover for him, but he kept on this side of controlled flight. He pulled us into a loop. "I think I'm getting the hang of…"
 
He blacked out as he neglected his G-strain and the blood left his head. The Topper unloaded G and climbed on its back a ways before Nat shook himself awake.
 
"Wakey wakey," I razzed him. "Getting bored with flying?"
 
"I wasn't pulling more than 5 Gs." he protested.
 
"Doesn't matter," I said, "if you're not keeping the blood where it's supposed to be, 5 Gs sustained is plenty. Your brain runs out of the goodies it needs to keep going, and lights out."
 
"Yeah," he said. "I see what you mean."
 
"Bring us back wings and nose level," I said. "And you can recover some."
 
He did. "Man, I didn't even see that coming. I'd taken 5 just fine before."
 
"Gotta keep on top of it," I said. "Anyway, your first self-imposed GLOC. You're lucky you've fought under Tarot, or I'd Name you Looper for sure. Still might."
"Yeah, lucky," he said. "How'd you get Duster, anyway? I asked around, but never got a straight answer."
 
I laughed. "I was flying a low-level exercise and got a little enthusiastic," I said. "Skimmed right over a farm's quillar field. Let me tell you, fusion torch plus quillar does not make popcorn."
 
He laughed. "How low did you go?"
 
I thought back to getting screamed at by instructors after I landed. "I mighta had to pull some quillar stalks out of the leading edges," I admitted. "Ended up having to strip and redo the paint on the fighter all by myself."
 
"Kinda like when we let that old Range-bull get loose and he got into mom's garden?" asked Nat.
 
"Very similar experience," I said. "Except this time it was my fault, instead of yours."
 
"Hey!"
 
"How is she doing, anyway?" I asked.
 
"Mom?" he asked. "She's fine. Pissed I didn't come home after that scuffle with the Lyrans, but she got it when she saw why I headed down Canopus way. Don't be surprised if you get a message asking you to bring me on back to Cerillos from her." His voice went soft. "Y tu?"
 
My heart sank. "Aqui ando," I dissembled.
 
"Pull the other one, Gid."
 
I shook my head. "I try not to think about it," I admitted. "I've got no idea what happened to Eema, and everything's been needing my attention…" I paused and sighed. "I'm scared, Nat. I'm pretty sure she was on an op against the Capellans, but I really don't know anything more than that."
 
"We could try and rescue her," he said. "You've got the metal for that."
 
"But where would we go?" I asked. "We don't even know that she's alive."
 
He didn't say anything for a few moments. "You know that if we can, we're with you, right?"
 
I felt the traces of a smile force their way onto my lips. "Never doubted that for a second." I took a deep breath. "I have control," I said. "Let's work on your G-tolerance."
"You have control," he said. "Serves me right for trying to be a nice guyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"
Later, as the fuel meter approached bingo, and the training rounds were all expended, we flew back home. Nat would be spending a lot of time in the simulators, but he would be on my wing.
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===Mission Begins===
Dropship Queen Anne, Thistledown Spaceport
Salonika (Continent), Canopus IV
Magistracy of Canopus
30th June, 3015
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I drew in a deep breath and reached forward to the comms switch. My fingers hovered about it as I looked around at the bridge crew, seated at their stations, waiting for me to begin. Just perfect.
 
What in the hell was I doing here? Half of me was a psych student with a head stuffed full of what his memories said was a fictional history, and the other half of me might have been a pilot, but was never meant for command. Upon awakening, I'd been cashiered, shot, seduced, manipulated, married, hurt the person who mattered most to me again and again, lost my mother, and screwed up the course of history. A frantic thought scurrying across my mind insisted that someone, anyone other than me would be better standing where I was.
 
But I was here.
 
Diane gave me a gentle smile from the jumpseat she had commandeered as I took her old seat. I never knew what to say either, said her lips.
 
I closed my eyes and nodded. …but neither are you free to desist from it, I mouthed.
 
I would do what I could.
 
My fingers flipped the switch.
 
"Coyotes," I said. "They didn't cover this bit in that fancy Santa Fe school the League ended up sending me to or at least I never got it before they put boot to my backside and I got the chance to make this all happen with yall. So `scuse it if this isn't the proper way.
 
"We've got a job to do. There's a world infested with pirates, and we've been contracted to take care of them. I regret to inform you it is not Circinius. The Black Warriors will just have to wait for their whooping. Instead, we're going to Borgan's Rift. Nice little garden spot, just full of cities, full of how it used to be. There's plenty to find, and people come looking for it, trying to make an eagle and make life that little bit better. And then there's those who come looking for them, and keep us down in the dirt.
 
"They've got pirates, and they've got slavers. And we know how to deal with those. We're going to show them some Southwestern-style hospitality. We're going to put an end to this. Good Lord willing, we're going to make things better than they've been in decades. You've been training hard, and I know they're not going to expect what you bring to the field. Don't fight dumb. Don't fight fair. They aren't worth it. We're going to hammer them under and not even going to give them the chance to touch us.
 
"And when we do that, maybe, just maybe, one world will get the chance to make things better. And just as one is to the world, perhaps a world is to the Sphere entire.
 
"We are mercenaries. We are for ourselves and each other. But we are not only for that. We are citizens of the Sphere, and we have the chance to make it better. As a wise man once said: 'If not now, when?'"
 
I paused in front of the microphone, thinking. "Thank you all for joining me as we make our mark. It means more to me than you can know. Now," I said, gesturing to Sumire. "Aharai, Coyotes. Adelante!"
 
The deckplates vibrated beneath my feet as Colectivo Mercenario de Coyote lifted towards the stars on pillars of fusion flame. Towards the future.
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Book 1 Ends
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*;Notes from the Author : Okay, first things first. This story is NOT over. There's plenty left. But there's going to be some shifts incoming.First, this story began as a writing exercise in living in the Battletech universe, following (loosely) the constraints of Fitzgerald's CYOA prompt. It created something rather more social sci-fi oriented and non-traditional in story structure. (Also known as a rambling mess.) Well, with more than a novel's worth of words now down on the drive, it's time for a change. In this next book, things will cleave a little closer to a traditional story structure, as we get into a more traditional mercenary story. It's also time to get out of Gid's head for a while, and into the shoes of others.By which I mean, Book Two will be written not in first person present like Book One, but in third person limited with multiple viewpoints. There'll also be more blood and thunder, as might be expected from a mercenary story. With any luck, you'll enjoy it.In the short term, I'm going to be doing some editing on this massive agglomeration of words, and likely writing a few sidestories connected to events in Book One. Feel free to suggest ideas for scenes/perspectives that you'd like to see. Book Two will follow in due time.
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