Red, and White... But no Blue

Posted on Thu Jun 23rd, 2022 @ 6:39pm by Lieutenant Colonel Jonathon Raynor & Major Alexander Preston

Mission: Jumping Right In
Location: Hanger 1 - McMurdo Station
1413 words - 2.8 OF Standard Post Measure

Klaxon red lights flashed and a horn blew intermittently as the massive hanger doors started to creep open, warning the staff and crew to keep clear of moving hanger doors. After five seconds of the warnings went by before the hanger doors split down the middle and a gust of arctic breeze rushed through the opening. It would have cut through the clothes and send chills through a person if they weren't wearing thick enough layers.

Standing in the crowd of base personnel, Lieutenant Colonel Jonathon Raynor held his coat close to his chest as he crossed his arms over his chest and watched as the loadmasters and crew chiefs prepped their vehicles to head out to the recently landed aircraft. But he wasn't there for the show or the supplies they had prepped in place. He was there for the person. So when the people started to unload, he started to slowly walk with security forces and military police personnel. Security check was normal, but all that had already been on that plan were triple-checked. So this was just to make sure people weren't an actual threat, and who they were supposed to be with the paperwork that they had with them versus what the base had.

"I'm looking for a Major Preston!" John called out as he came closer and saw that some of the personnel had been verified.

Shifting his ruck up further on his back, the Major had been in the middle of thanking a fairly confused-looking Senior Airman who'd just had one of the most polite interactions, as well as some of the least wrinkled paper he'd been handed in a while. In triplicate. This was a result less of the Major's own desire for order, and more the Canadian Government's love of beaurocracy when it came to the Canadian Armed Forces. He knew, somewhere in a file, were no less than two copies of that same paperwork, as well as a digital one backed up on an air-gapped server somewhere. Meanwhile, they were only just getting new jets. Looking up at the sound of his name, he looked for the source through the crowd before locking onto a USAF Lieutenant Colonel shouting above the general din. Nodding to the Airman, he settled the bag and started his approach towards the man.

"Leftenant Colonel, Major Preston," he replied, popping a quick and courteous salute at the other man. It was a weird operation between different nations and their armed forces, where some expected the salute to a higher-ranked officer, and others didn't. CAF 201-2-24-a was pretty clear on the matter however, so in that, the Major obliged. "What can I do for you sir?"

"Yeah..." the colonel returned the salute almost to lazy, as he wasn't used to saluting on a flightline or even really caring to salute in general. As a US Air Force pilot, it was not something they drove. At least not most air crew. It was formal and tradition, but even less of a desire to do in day to day for Raynor as it was more about the job and the people than normal traditions. He looked the Officer over and huffed as he was jealous at other nations and their relaxed facial regulations. But what could he do about it.

"I came up to meet you in person, to escorted you personally. Kind of am the acting Operations Commander you could say," he continued before waving at the young Airman. "I'll take him from here. Thank ya, sir."

With that, the two, moved through the crowd and into the massive hanger where inside, they saw some of the repaired and operating alien crafts they had at their disposal. "Hope ya don't mind, typically new arrivals go through customs and in processing. But you can do that later. Thought a fellow fighter pilot may want to see these up in person. Not sure if you had the chance to over your career."

"Negative, I was on the other side of the country watching from afar when Toronto was hit. I ended up part of the defensive line over Manitoba in case the threat spread, but this," he gestured to the surrounding area, "Made sure it wasn't necessary. So I have read the reports, and the brief ahead of time. Goa'uld Death Glider, right?" he said nodding to one of the craft. "And that's a Tel'tak, over there." Alexander had done his reading, and knew the rough data. His degree was, after all, in aerospace engineering, so between the pilot and engineer parts of his brain, he wanted to sit his fingers in one. "Probably the part I am looking forward to most, other than stepping through the big metal ring I suppose."

"Same here," the colonel agreed as he walked slowly up closer to the glider. " Have you been cleared for training on these things? If so, we may get added to the rotation of pilots flying cargo back and forth from that mining station."

With a shake of his head, the Major replied "Nope. I want to get some stick time I am hoping while I am here, though from what I understand the reason I was selected was for my experience as an engineer, not a pilot. Want to see me take these apart in the field. That said," he nodded towards the cockpit, "If you get me seated and type certified, I am not going to object."

A slight smirk grew on the Colonel's face before he waved for the Major to follow him. They went to the security check area and headed past the main elevators that would have taken them to the sublevels of the base. They came up on a couple crew chief.

"Hey Colonel. Ready to go?" The seasoned sergeant asked as he looked between the officers.

"Yeah, take us out."

"I thought you may want to take a little joy ride and got clearance ahead of time. We are going to take one of the gliders for a spin. Give you a first-hand feel and look at it in action," John responded before they stepped out of the side and jumped into a van already running, with another enlisted in the driver's seat. "You can leave your gear in the van. They will watch it. Plus I promised to take them up some time in them."

The joy ride was short before they rolled up to a new craft to which was in line with another three exactly the same, designed fighter craft. It was a slick, human-designed fighter craft which seemed to imitate the alien death gliders. With the wings folded down and forward, the fighter-interceptor looked like no other fighter in the world.

"Pretty sexy looking, huh?" John smirked as he looked over at his Canadian counterpart.

For a moment it was as if the Colonel and everyone else stopped existing. In that moment, the engineer took over, and the Major leaned down to look through the various segments, his fingers tracing over parts and pieces. It was a masterpiece of engineering, little pieces that seemed to be fitted through a mechanical construction process he didn't immediately recognize. "I heard rumours," he muttered to himself as he traced a mechanical line into a system that seemed entirely foreign to him. "Some kind of high altitude combat fighter using reverse-engineered technology. Though, those look like SABRE engines so... exo-atmospheric?" THe question was asked back towards the group, but not really at the group in question.

"Wings are terrible for overall combat," he noted, "I have long since theorized that the Goa'uld Death Gliders suffered heavily from low level combat effectiveness, and would actually be terrible to do a strafing run in. I'd have-" he paused, and for a moment blushed before composing himself. "Old habits die hard," he noted with an embarrassed chuckle. "I have notes, if you're ever curious, on how humans should have designed our first combat craft to fight in space, though I imagine they'll get boring eventually. Is this what we're going up in?"

"For this joy ride, yes. The death Gliders are good and while we don't have your newly designed fighter, we are taking the flight in this. I have been fully qualified and can qualify you on it," John remarked as he walked up after starting to put some of his gear on. "Gear up, we will start up preflight."


~ Fade ~