Angie Shappelle was a petite brunette about 5’ 6”. There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. Angie filled out her flight suit quite well. As she came closer he caught a faint whiff of oranges and some other spice he couldn’t identify. He remembered her from transition training, but hoped she wouldn’t remember him right away. In their last meeting, Angie came to a sticky end. Luckily, she didn’t make the connection.
“Glad to meet you, LT Blake. Here, give me that rag. You missed a spot or two.” Angie took the towel and wiped up some of the celebration.
“Tell me about yourself, Blake. If you're going to watch my six, I’d better know a bit about you.”
“Not much to say. I grew up on Earth in North America. My folks are exoatmospheric electronic engineers. They designed most of the long-range data router stations that make communications in the Galactic Republic possible. They pioneered many of the Faster-Than-Light communications protocols that give us our near instantaneous comms. I followed in their footsteps for a while. I went to college and got my EE degree, but it just didn’t seem what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I applied to the Academy and was accepted. I graduated high enough in my class to get my choice of assignments, and I picked Fighter Force. I like being in charge of my own destiny.”
“Well, just remember that as my wingman, you are in charge of my destiny, too.”
Kelly said, “Don’t worry, I’ll cover your six for you.”
“You will, will you? See you tomorrow.” With that she grinned, turned, and swished her hips as she walked away. It was a nice six to watch.
CPT Willis said, “Come over here and meet 1LT Kanakis. John, This is Kelly Blake. He will be Angie’s wingman. John here is my wingman.”
1LT Kanakis was a little shorter than Kelly, but was broader in the shoulders. Kelly suspected he was a body builder. The sleeves of his flight suit seemed unusually tight on his arms.
“It’s great to have you aboard, Kelly. I was starting to feel outnumbered by all these women.”
CPT Willis sniffed and said, “Is that testosterone I’m smelling? It smells kind of fruity, doesn’t it?”
1LT Kanakis grabbed his chest like he’d been shot through the heart. “Ow! Cut down in my prime. That’s gonna leave a mark.”
CPT Willis walked off laughing, leaving the two of them together.
“Kelly, you can take off that stupid hat now. Once you get soaked you passed the initiation. Of course, you have to keep it in your cabin and take care of it until the next squab is initiated. There is one other requirement. As the junior lieutenant in the squadron, you have to wear it at any Squadron dining-ins until you can pass it off to the next newbie. Of course, embarked on the Bolivar, we probably won’t have any dining-ins. Lack of dining space and alcohol keeps those events to a minimum.” John raised his eyebrows, tilted his head, and shrugged his shoulders.
“You’re coming into a good unit. The old man is probably the finest fighter pilot in the Fighter Force. He’s not a stickler for military discipline, but it’s best not to push too far in that direction.”
Kelly’s stomach rumbled and he realized he hadn’t eaten since he came on board much earlier that day. He turned to LT Kanakis and said, “Hey John, I don’t mean to cut you off, but I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”
LT Kanakis looked at Kelly like he was seeing him for the first time and said, “Oh I’m sorry, grab the ancient ceremonial hat and follow me.”
They walked out of the wardroom into the passageway and turned right. The next large compartment down the passageway was one of the six dining rooms on the Bolivar, and the one most often used by the Carrier Fighter Wing.
“If you are hungry, this is the best dining room on the Bolivar. Our mess crew runs this facility and they tend to be a bit more creative in their menu than the other dining rooms. Of course, the downside of this is that the senior officers of the ship tend to favor us with their presence a lot. If you are a lot hungry, go to the steam table. They usually have a couple of plates to choose from.”
Kelly went to the steam table as John had suggested and found fried chicken and something that looked like a giant snail. He erred on the side of familiarity, chose the chicken, added a side of potatoes, and some sort of greens. LT Kanakis chose the giant snail-looking thing, corn and sauteed mushrooms. They both got tea at the drink counter and found a table.
“Kelly, you’re going to love the F-53. These are the models with extendable wings for atmospheric flight, as well as space flight. We don’t get much practice at atmospheric flight, though. I did it once when we passed through an uninhabited system a few months back. It felt funny after having done so much flying in open space. It took me a while to remember how to allow for crosswinds and gusts on landing.”
“These F-53s are great. The flight computer gives you so much added flexibility. The computer can take over some of the routine tasks, leaving you free to concentrate on critical tasks like combat, landings, and takeoffs. Mine has quite a personality. I call mine Ben. You can make yours anything you want-male, female, or machine voice. It’s just like having a copilot along with you. On long patrols, you can even turn over the flight controls to it and catch some sleep. Ben even watches my six for me. The sensor array gives him a much better view of the surroundings than me.”
“So, John, how are things here on the Bolivar? I’ve studied the schematics of the Lincoln class carriers, so I should be able to find my way around okay. How do the wing and the ship’s company get along? Are there any local customs I should know about? We learned Fleet protocols at the Academy, so you don’t need to cover the obvious things, but ship customs, taboos, and faux pas to avoid.”
“Well, there are two flag officers onboard the Bolivar. One flag officer is often one too many, but we get to live with two. The Battle Fleet Commander is Admiral Haddock-Halloway and the Fleet Air Commander is General Bugarov. I think we got both because this is the latest Lincoln class carrier and it was designed with an expanded flag country as a battle fleet flagship.”
“Admiral Haddock-Halloway is all right. He runs a taut ship and doesn’t tolerate any of the usual ships’ company versus fighter wing stuff. The general, on the other hand, is a piece of work. First off, she hates lieutenants. Speak to her only when spoken to and above all never contradict her. She thinks she's some sort of re- born Napoleon and her tactics are just as old. She keeps setting up these Fleet Fighter Force exercises that emulate Cannae, Hastings, and Pearl Harbor more than they do realistic scenarios. I don’t think she has ever had an original tactical concept pass between her ears.”
“She’s a stickler for military discipline. If you are the first to see her enter a fighter wing compartment, call the area to attention, unless the admiral or ship’s captain is already in the compartment. She even insists that ship’s company do the same. They hate it. The ship’s captain particularly hates it. He has instructed bridge personnel not to recognize her when she comes onto the bridge. She tried to dress him down for this and he reminded her that she was on his ship and if she had a problem with it to take it to the admiral. I heard a rumor that she did and was told that normal courtesies would be extended to her, but the captain was in charge of the ship and all personnel embarked upon her. She should concentrate on fleet fighter matters and leave the captain to run his ship as he saw fit.”
“She did not take that well. So she took it out on the carrier fighter wing, attempting to enforce her sense of military decorum on us. I think the ship’s company feels sorry for us. Things always tend to go a little wrong during her ceremonies. The lights will flicker on the flight deck or the public address system will go out. One time general quarters were called during the middle of a parade. Another time the ventilators on the flight deck kept switching on and off, causing the flags to blow one way then the next. She never did figure out that the airflow kept the flags blowing in her face. I think the captain figured out what was going on and put a stop to it, but occasionally something strange will still happen. You want to try some of my Super Cargo?”
Kelly looked at the giant snail thing he was eating and figured that must be what he was referring to. “Is that what that thing is called?”
“Sure, they taste better than they look. They grow these things on Rosencrantz in the Deneb system. They are quite a delicacy. They taste a little bit like Conch from Earth. Has a very buttery taste.”
“That’s okay. I think I’ll pass on the slug for the time being. I’ve traveled a lot with my folks and eaten a lot stranger food. I just wanted chicken tonight. So, tell me about CPT Willis. What is she like?”
“Janey, actually, you’d better not call her that unless you’d like to have your posterior handed back to you in pieces, is all right. She’s a pretty good pilot, is fair in her dealings with the flight, and she can be really funny after she’s had a few drinks. She’s only been a captain for a few months, so she isn’t too much of a stickler for military
