Pilatus

Another World's War

@Pilatus Well you might as well make it a real post now since it's there. Get wheels up, man.

@Massasauga

Yea, I was dead tired last night when I posted that. I Should be able to fix it later today.

Another World's War

Accidentally posted IC (sorry), meant to say I don't mind waiting for Sly to have a turn, Cecilia has only had one post thus far.

Another World's War

Keith positioned the crew ladder next to the plane as the rest of the fitters cleared out. There was no saluting or formality as the dust covers were removed and chocks pulled. Lonnie turned back from the top rung and watched the others taking off observing who was carrying what armaments- noticing both the A-6 and the F-16 carried bombs. There hadn’t been any mention of ground forces in the briefing. He looked down at Xi who shook his head. They both heard the MiG-23 take off from the old dirt strip but couldn’t get a look at what he was carrying from inside their hangar. He glanced back briefly at his own payload before stepping into the front seat. Two short range, R-73 Archers hung under each wing while the belly carried four of the long range R-33, each one a little over a quarter length of a telephone pole. He rarely carried the medium range option. The ‘Rill were usually too fast for them and he much preferred mixing it up with them.

The preflight checks were a matter of complete muscle-memory for the pair and once completed Lonnie released the parking brake as Keith guided them out of the hangar. The MiG’s characteristic howl from its broad engine outlets was unmistakable. Lonnie had never owned a fast car in his youth but as he taxied down the ramp the plane drew steady glances. He reckoned it to be something similar to what he’d seen in a few western movies. The MiG underneath him wasn’t designed as a pure fighter, but to Lonnie it was everything a fighter should be: big, fast, loud, and its only function was to shoot down other aircraft, none of that “multirole” business. The radar could target the Yerrill high-speed scouts while the massive engines gave him more than enough power to run down fighters.

“Don’t remember hearing any callsign for a tanker.” Xi said matter-of-factly.

“Yanks could have brought us some bloody gas upstairs instead of those damnfool bombs.” Lonnie said.

“It’s just their nature.” Xi replied. He shuffled through a few of the base frequencies listening to the various goings-on. Somewhere a backhoe had wrapped up a few feet of unmarked and hastily buried fiber-optic cable. Elsewhere a pallet of goods that were going back through the portal had apparently collapsed and would have to be restacked. It was all surprisingly normal for a base only just previously became operational on an alien world.

“Get us an unrestricted climb to 350.” Lonnie said. He was watching a C-17 on final that the controllers were working in before them as they taxied downwind. In the distance he could see another one behind it. “We’ll take Clembo up there with us. We don’t have the gas for formation flying with these bug-smashers.”

Xi put the request through and got an immediate affirmative as the transport pulled off and Lonnie nosed on to the numbers and lined up. “Ranger Three to Lead,” He said switching to the squad band. “We’re cleared for unrestricted climbout to FL350, we’ll take Ranger Five with us and head upstairs for the CAP.” It was a sensible request and he figured the Mig-23 likely had the only radar system with which their ship could communicate directly without need for the AWACS and it would be wasteful for the CO to keep his two fastest assets burning Kerosene in a low altitude holding pattern.

They were blazing towards V1 when Lonnie briefly glanced over to see the camouflaged Draken still sitting in the same place. He eased back on the column when Xi called for rotation and as was his custom pulled the gear up when the wheels were scantly off the runway- it just spoiled the look of the thing. He kept straight on the runway heading momentarily before increasing his hold on the controls. The MiG bit into the command and arced skyward in a trail of orange flame and rich exhaust.

Another World's War

Should I go ahead and give up on this one?

Another World's War

Posted.

Just so we're all on the same page. Here are a couple observations which may lead to continuity issues if we don't stay consistent:

There are presently (2) mentioned runways.
1. Improved Dirt Strip.
2. One fresh Concrete strip.

Are there any more firm details about the Expeditionary base that need to be fleshed out?

What's the current season? From what I've seen so far it looks like it's fairly warm early in the day. Maybe Avalon is in a form of late Spring or early Summer? Maybe it gets hotter/colder from here?

Random thoughts. It's late here.

Another World's War

“Look at that Xi, now you’ve gone and done it…” Lonnie said as the Bulgarian jumped to attention and barked out his credentials. He jabbed Xi with an elbow “You’ve offended him.” He grinned.

Xi looked on nonplussed with his mouth slightly agape as the man bowed and passed by.

“Bloody shifty lot the Bulgarians” Lonnie said leaning back, “Damn good waffles though.”

“I think that’s Belgium” Xi said.

“Is it? Whatever, they’re all communists, Order of Lenin and all that. Blast, I’m hungry.” He took off his hat and scratched at his head with the brim. He eyed the others: Four women and only the CO, Xi, himself and the Bulgarian. His glance was cold for a moment then lightened as they left the briefing. He winked at the light haired girl that had come in late as they filed out.

-----------------------

Lonnie enjoyed walking the flight line at any aerodrome his whole life. Some were busy while others were merely lackadaisical at best, but they were all captivating in a certain natural way to him. The concrete pad and tie-downs at the Expeditionary field were still fresh and unstained by weather, jet fuel, hot rubber and exhaust, but the smells were ever present with activity. No plant growth between the large tiles. It was all still very organized and tidy which was a new experience for him. The dirt crosswind strip was more to his past acclamations. However, the aircraft lineup was a different affair.

“Is this a squadron or an antique show?” Xi said flatly.

“Christ, I thought he was kidding about the MiG-23.” Lonnie said.

“There’s a Draken and an A-6.” Xi replied almost dumbfounded.

“I should guess that the ‘Rill will likely be so busy laughing they will make easy targets for you.” They continued walking down to a newly constructed Rubb hangar.

“I wonder if they do laugh or have any sense of humor.” Xi said.

“Maddening horde, all of them, I swear I could hear that flamer we put down over Taipei screaming some fowl utterance over the coms before I blew his bloody head off.” Lonnie said, “Then I laughed.”

They entered the open front of the hangar where the MiG was sitting surrounded by a team of fitters crawling under and below as large cables were connected and open panels were investigated. Various colored toolboxes, each the size of a small car lined the perimeter. An instant sonic wall of music blasted from a large stereo in the corner. Xi grimaced and nodded his head with the harsh beat of the music. This was expected. A very large black man approached the pair wearing a workman’s fatigues. His dreadlocks were tied down his back. He turned back and gave a sharp whistle with two fingers. The stereo was instantly restrained.

“Hallo, Keith” Lonnie said with a smirk, “I see you’ve made your presence known.”

The man grinned a bright white smile and spread his arms. His gape was as wide as his height, over six and half feet. “We are known.” He said proudly.

Keith had been Lonnie’s crew chief since he’d started on MiG-29’s with the Russian mercenary squadron Bratva. He was a massively built man requiring a special ordered uniform. Being only two years older than Lonnie, he had also escaped South Africa at a young age and shared the same hometown, Bloemfontein, south of Johannesburg. There was an instant connection when they’d first met. Lonnie wasn’t sure of the man’s actual name and it didn’t matter.

“Nothing out of sorts from the ferry flight?” They walked over to the machine and Lonnie ran a hand over the portside intake where Surtr sat with his sword.

“All good” Keith said firmly. He breathed in deeply as if sampling an exotic wine. “The air here is good, clean and new. She will run like the wind.”

They turned and looked briefly to the sound of bickering voices headed towards a Desert Falcon parked across the way.

“We have an interesting squadron.” Keith said. His face was suddenly reserved and his huge hands gripped the front pockets of his uniform.

“I think those are the ones that asked about ROE in the briefing.” Xi said watching them do their preflight checks.

“I don’t know about the rest of this lot or the sodding R-O-E” Lonnie said glancing back. The letters left his lips like a bitter medicine being spat out. “But I intend to wholesale slaughter as many as possible.”

Another World's War

If anyone's offended they are welcome to PM me. I've never heard of that and have several Chinese friends. Xi is a competent and clever back-seater on the MiG. He and Lonnie, as you will continue to see are quite a comic duo as well.

Another World's War

Beat you all to it.

Another World's War

The mess room wasn’t exactly a Spartan affair nor was it glamorous, at least by military standards, but it was fairly new construction after the Expeditionary had “landed” on Avalon. Lonnie and his back-seater, a young Chinaman named, Xi sat in a back corner watching the comings and goings of the morning. Neither one ate. Lonnie calmly sipped a mug of hot tea while Xi drank full black coffee. They had flown in the night before and neither had been in much spirit for adventure after ferrying the plane across, or rather through the portal. It had all felt rather unnatural to Lonnie and he was glad for once to put the wheels down.

“How do you drink that awful tosh?” Lonnie said flatly. He leaned back in his chair and scanned the room, mostly observing the more fit female denizens from just under the brim of his cap. He caught of whiff of the drink from Xi’s mug and curled his nose.

“Usually from a cup” Xi replied not looking up as he scanned over a few pages of documents. “Sometimes from a shoe… with Bailey’s.” He took another long sip.

Lonnie snorted and gave a slight smirk. “Well, Bailey’s or not, if that rot wrecks your gut upstairs I’m not pulling over… Tally-ho.”

Xi turned in his seat momentarily to view a group of young women entering the mess wearing what appeared to be civilian contract staff uniforms.

“Don’t stare lad.”

“Shut up.”

Xi’s wristwatch beeped once and he glanced down at the time. “Briefing’s on in ten.” He yawned and turned back.

“Don’t want to be tardy for our new Western warmasters do we?” Lonnie said already getting up. He gave a smug grin and a gentle nod to the group that had just entered. One waved back while the others giggled.

-------

The two took up a similar position in the briefing room watching the others file in. They were the first to arrive. Xi checked his watch again. “CO’s late.”

“Well I’m glad you’re on top of things this morning.” Lonnie said.

“Like you were in the mess just now?”

“Quite the reverse, I intend to be on the top of that situation later this evening.”

When the CO arrived in a disheveled hurry the two of them looked on unfazed. When he announced his nickname they both glanced back at each other. Since these were the names by which the man apparently wanted to be called Lonnie automatically began mentally cycling through “new” names that would be more suitable: Kincaide-Gatorade, Major LFB-Late for Briefing, he made a few mental entries to memory and congratulated himself on his quick wit satisfied to wait for whatever other gems could be yet revealed.

He took a few notes when the map went up. They had flown in during the night and he had no familiarity with the area. He jotted down a few of major landmarks, roads, rivers and their relation to the airfield. He looked over at Xi’s pad where he was comparing the planned route to the projected weather, particularly the high altitude winds where the MiG liked to make its trade. There was apparently a form of the jet stream on Avalon as well and Xi would set them up handsomely to lull about during the CAP and get the most out of their fuel tanks.

Xi’s hand went up at the call for questions, “Callsigns for the mission?”

Another World's War

Character Name: Lonnie Fall

Nickname/callsign: “Argo”

Age: 31

Nationality: British South African

Gender: Male

Bio: Lonnie was born the only child of British missionaries working in South Africa. His father was a pilot who flew small turbo-props for a larger international, Christian relief organization while his mother worked as a nurse and aid. However the increasing violence of the area caused them to flee while Lonnie was still at a very young age. They transferred to another charter working in New Dehli, Nepal, Bhutan, Bangladesh and India.

Lonnie’s father eventually gave up the mission work as more steady income was available from the various Himalayan tourist charter and cargo companies. It was in this atmosphere that he gained his first fascination and experience with flying as he rode the jumpseat in turbo DC-3’s and Twin Otters as his father navigated mountain passes and the rapidly changing conditions of mountain flying.

In this isolated world, Lonnie learned to fly young under his father’s tutelage and began making his own passenger and cargo runs daily after homeschooling sessions from his mother. The Dehavilland Beaver was his first steady mount and he regularly looked forward to the dirt strips and crosswind landings. He found that strangely he personally cared little for the cargo or even the passengers from time to time. It was a fault in himself that he kept isolated. Only the sound of engine and the challenge of the flight was what kept him rapt though his Christian upbringing taught him better.

Continued experience brought him up to true mountain flying and the turbo PC-6. He became a master of the passes as a teenager, but though he enjoyed the flying he continued to feel less satisfied with the work and went on through the few channels available to get into jets. The training took him away from home, but he found the complex systems more to his liking and enjoyed the added challenge of true instrument flying.

During the early outbreak of the Yerril war, Lonnie was flying a regular business charter across China and Southeast Asia ferrying businessmen and dignitaries in a Gulfstream G5. He was forced to evade a group of Yerril attackers and using every ounce of maneuverability the business jet could muster, sheer luck and heavy cloud cover, managed to land the over-stressed frame in Paro, Bhutan. One of the shaken, but grateful dignitaries on board insisted that his abilities were being wasted in private aviation and made the appropriate connections to have him absorbed into a Russian training squadron flying the Mig-29.

Lonnie was apprehensive at first. He had no experience in pure, high-performance aircraft, but the early war effort had claimed many of the Asian world’s most skilled pilots. He was neither intimidated nor afraid of the Yerril, but more concerned that he alone would not be the “best”. For the first time in his flying career he would encounter those that were just as good, if not better than he was at flying a plane.

Training was hasty and brutal at the hands of Russian instructors and he questioned whether or not he had made the right decision, but the flying was incredible. The Mig-29 was not nearly as sophisticated as the Gulfstream, but the speeds were blinding. It was a simple machine and they emphasized hit and run tactics using ambush and surprise. The Dicta Boelke was strictly enforced and they flew in flights of four.

The rugged cynicism of the commanders and his growing distance from home life had taken him far from his Christian roots as a missionary kid flying cargo runs after classes for extra spending money. His demeanor became grim and shaped by pulling the nose on Yerril at every opportunity. He came to enjoy slaughtering them and his squadron nicknamed the the Bratva or "Brotherhood" became increasingly notorious known primarily for their fast angular attacks and high ambushes out of the sunlight. In the last year of fighting before the Yerril were forced back through the portal, the squadron was consolidated and upgraded to Mig-31s to match their tactics.

In the formation of the Expeditionary units, Lonnie was selected to be pulled for various reasons both professional and political. As a quasi-mercenary his continued employment by the Russian and Chinese governments was considered a small blemish in need of remedy to Western selectors. He initially rejected the posting and threatened to return to the bush. The compromise was that he keep the Mig-31 and continue on through the portal, which was precisely what he wanted- to be the fastest man on the other side of the gate.

Personality: Lonnie's excitement for the military has faded and after years in the coalition forces he has become jaded. Not to be considered a stick in the mud by any means, he enjoys the same pursuits as most males of his age: women, alcohol, competition, but he has come to love war better. In short, the continuing conflict on the other side of the portal was the best thing that could have happened for him.

His humor is often dark and sarcastic and will play a large role in his seemingly terminal rank as merely a group CO when others of his age, qualifications and seat-time have moved on to division commander or higher. New pilot recruits often find him and his methods unusual, but his piloting experience invaluable. A senior officer once described him as, "a thoroughly unscrupulous young thug... he would be just as happy fighting for the Yerril against the Expeditionary."

Appearance: Lonnie stands about 5’11” and is of a well-built body type. He tries to work out fairly regularly and most people would comment that he takes decent care of himself. He has some visible muscle definition around his arms and midsection. Forearms are very taught from handling control surfaces for years. Women tend to notice that he has one green and one brown eye that are sullen from years of scanning horizons and squinting against the sun. There are already visible lines showing around the edges. Facial features are proportionally framed, but he has a slight hereditary crook in his nose. There’s often a layer of stubble every other day as daily shaving aggravates his nickel allergy. Hair is unkempt dirty-blonde and often tousled to one side or the other from a slight widow’s peak He only gets a haircut about every two to three months.

Personal Gear: Wears an old, very worn dark blue Dehavilland Canada baseball cap when he’s out of flying kit. One of the few things he holds on to religiously. Flight suit is the standard Russian grey/green g-suit and a powder blue helmet with the same artwork on the back as carried on the side of the plane along with various other decals from his travels.

Aircraft: MiG-31BSM

Aircraft Colours: Standard Russian Ghost-Grey with matte black around the cockpit and vertical stabilizers, dark grey nose cone. Number “85” in red on the side of the nose, heat baked paint from high-speed operations, faded Russian red star on the tail and Expeditionary markings, a grey/weathered image of the Norse god, Surtr, sitting on the sun holding a sword on the portside intake.

Character Theme: R.E.M. – The One I Love