HALL OF CONSPIRACIES RAVEN HANGAR
Isabel Kalishnikov
I climbed onto the flight deck and slid into the pilot’s seat. I couldn’t reach the flight pedals on the floor. I couldn’t see over the dash. The seat was too far back. I wanted to move it. But the seat was in a fixed position.
I’m a tiny woman. It doesn’t take that much to push the blood into my brain. So I can constrict myself by sitting upright more. Plus, I’m probably the shortest pilot. I need to see over the dash panel.
“Ready when you are,” he spoke through my helmet.“Testing greater primaries.” I flipped the switch. I could feel the servomotors moving the flaps. It was a shrill whine sounded distantly from the corner of the wing.
“Good,” he replied. “Next.”
“Secondary primaries,” I flipped the switch and lower whine sounded.
“Good. Next.”
“Secondary thruster nozzles,” I clicked propulsion control.
“Whoa!” he shouted into my ear. “Are the safeties on?”
“Of course they’re on. I’m not actually gonna’ fire them up.”
“Uhh, you need to make sure you call that out, okay? That’s a safety check.” “Okay, okay.” I rolled my eyes. He was right, of course. But, again with the rookie treatment. “All propulsion safeties are on. You’re not going to make me read each one out, are you?”
“It’s fine as long as you can tell me they’re all functioning. I just don’t want to get disintegrated today.”
“That’s fair,” I replied. We went through the rest of the preflight. We tested the positioning gyros. I think that preflight was important. Not just for checking the RavenClaw. But also for checking each other out. I had no idea whether WarChild was meant to be a temporary assignment or permenent. My last co-pilot was a disaster. And so was the one before that.
My first copilot was brilliant. Too brilliant. She got promoted quickly. The day RoseMark got reassigned, the trajectory of my career stalled for a few years. Two crummy copilots and a lay-off. At age 12, I was beginning to think the best days of my career were over.
And from out of nowhere, comes this assignment to the Raven Division. Pilot, of a Raven. Just out of nowhere. I had applied almost a whole Martian year ago. 600 days ago. Now suddenly, I was tapped for the program. It seemed strange. But I know better than to be curious in the face of good fortune. Why be curious? This is the opportunity I thought would never happen.
When all the preflight ritual was complete, WarChild and I left the hangar to get our flight suits on. There wasn’t any time to go and hang out in the pilot’s lounge. Everyone calls it The Swamp. It was a place where pilots could look over flight parameters, relax or do any number of things pilots do between routine missions. Well, I prefer to be on the flight deck of the Raven. Who knows if my assignment to the RavenClaw is temporary. I might just be filling in. Like WarChild, maybe I’m only going to become a B-alternative. It’s important to bring myself down a few notches.
Stop being so excited, Bangway. You’re only setting yourself up for disappointment if you think this is permanent.
No hanging out in the Swamp. It’s back to the flight deck of the RavenClaw for us. That walk to the RavenClaw will be a memory I’ll carry with me into the afterlife. I tried to walk confidently. It felt like every pair of eyes and camera was on me. My new flight helmet tucked under my arm. The flight crew was going over the flaps and foils. They started turning and watching us walk up to the vehicle. This was my crowning moment.
…Until I tripped over a hangar cleat, dropping my helmet. I quickly scooped it up and got to my feet as if it didn’t happen.
WarChild shook his head. “That’s fabulous. Dropping your helmet is bad luck, you know.” “You better hope not,” I mumbled. As we began to make our way up the rear ramp, blue vest personel attended to our suits, checking our cords as we walked. We climbed up onto the flight deck level. The gray vests were unplugging their personal pads from the flight consoles.
“All presets are entered according to pilot specs,” reported the first gray vest.
“Okay,” responded the blue vest. “Pilots are getting settled in.” I took my seat. My blue vest took out his socket wrench and loosened up the seat rivets. He pulled it forward. Then he asked me how it felt.
“I would like it upright more. I like sitting up.” He shrugged and adjusted the bolts on two other points in the seat. Then he pulled the air hose out of the headrest of my seat and plugged it into the back of my helmet. He felt under the jawline of my helmet for any tears to the air hose.
“Okay,” he said to me, “Say your vowels please.”
“A,E, I, O, U.”
“Now, give me a foo fighter.”
I took a deep breath and then pushed as much air as possible into the mask. “Foo, foo, foo fighter.” “Your air mix looks good,” Blue Vest said. He unplugged his reader from my console. “Double check. All straps look good. All tags are pulled.”
Then, he kissed my helmet. Startled, I smacked him away. “Hey!” “It’s for good luck,” WarChild snapped. “And considering you dropped your helmet, we definitely need to break even before we get out of the hangar. Don’t screw with pilot superstition. Especially on your first flight.”
The other Blue Vest unplugged his reader from WarChild’s console and then kissed his helmet.
Oops.We plugged into our flight chairs. I checked all feeds and connections. All electronic systems looked good. All monitors and displays were illuminated and positive.
“Tower check,” WarChild called.
Roger, RVN 07. You are good. Countdown 10 minutes.
“Copy that,” he replied. Then he sighed.
Now, the long 10 minutes. For a couple of those minutes, neither of us spoke. I closed off my open mic from the tower. “I didn’t mean to come off as bully back there.”
For a moment WarChild said nothing. Finally, “Copy that.”
After a couple more moments I said “This is a very big flight for me. I need you on my side.”
“It’s a two-way street, sister.” His answer was quicker this time.
“Good. Then, I think we’ll play nice together.”
To my surprise, he chuckled. It sounded sincere.
RVN 07, rotate right and wait for further instructions.
“Copy that, Tower,” WarChild replied. And to me, “Okay, BangWay. Let’s play nice.” We watched as TarFace’s Raven slowly taxied to the edge of the launch pad. The launch pad tilted the RavenBlade so that it was facing down towards the ground. Xitris clouds began to drift out of the bottom of the vehicle. I could hear the whine of its boosters as the afterburners heated up.
“Launch check complete. Call.”
RVN 09, you are on ten count. Five, four, three, two, one. Launch. The launch pad tilted forward and RavenBlade jumped off the launch pad. It roared mightily. Forward, it leaped into the lunar night. A swirling cloud of xitris reverberated throughout the hangar.
RVN 07, taxi to position 1B and wait for final count.
“Copy that, Tower.” I eased the vehicle forward. We floated to the white square. My heart was pulling from my chest, urging to go into the night after the RavenBlade. The hydralics under the pad began to whine and the pad tilted. Once the magnetic launcher throws us off, we’d already be angled for our SkyQuest boosters to give us lift. The RavenClaw was facing down- 30 stories down. The first time sitting like this, it was completely unsettling. I did another scan of all my pre-flight readings. Everything looked good. All systems were green.
RVN 07, standby for magnetic pad check. “Launch check complete, Tower.” WarChild clicked his voice into just my helmet. “If you don’t bring me back in one piece, we’re definitely not going to be friends.”
“Don’t make any grand promises,” I replied.
RVN 07, you are in ten count. I eased the SkyQuest Drive. The boosters began to scream. Flight displays began to glow. The handles began to shake with tension. I took a deep breath into my lungs.
Five, four, three…
Abort, abort, abort!
Another voice interrupted.
“Abort!” shouted WarChild.
“Powering down SkyQuest,” I yelled as I exhaled forcefully. “Okay! We’re down, we’re down. What just happened?”
...To Be Continued in Before the Rookie Test Flight, Part 2
This is a short science fiction story from the sci fi cartoon series Ravens of Mars. All content copyright D.S. Meyers 2016. www.RavensofMars.com
I’m a tiny woman. It doesn’t take that much to push the blood into my brain. So I can constrict myself by sitting upright more. Plus, I’m probably the shortest pilot. I need to see over the dash panel.
“Ready when you are,” he spoke through my helmet.“Testing greater primaries.” I flipped the switch. I could feel the servomotors moving the flaps. It was a shrill whine sounded distantly from the corner of the wing.
“Good,” he replied. “Next.”
“Secondary primaries,” I flipped the switch and lower whine sounded.
“Good. Next.”
“Secondary thruster nozzles,” I clicked propulsion control.
“Whoa!” he shouted into my ear. “Are the safeties on?”
“Of course they’re on. I’m not actually gonna’ fire them up.”
“Uhh, you need to make sure you call that out, okay? That’s a safety check.” “Okay, okay.” I rolled my eyes. He was right, of course. But, again with the rookie treatment. “All propulsion safeties are on. You’re not going to make me read each one out, are you?”
“It’s fine as long as you can tell me they’re all functioning. I just don’t want to get disintegrated today.”
“That’s fair,” I replied. We went through the rest of the preflight. We tested the positioning gyros. I think that preflight was important. Not just for checking the RavenClaw. But also for checking each other out. I had no idea whether WarChild was meant to be a temporary assignment or permenent. My last co-pilot was a disaster. And so was the one before that.
My first copilot was brilliant. Too brilliant. She got promoted quickly. The day RoseMark got reassigned, the trajectory of my career stalled for a few years. Two crummy copilots and a lay-off. At age 12, I was beginning to think the best days of my career were over.
And from out of nowhere, comes this assignment to the Raven Division. Pilot, of a Raven. Just out of nowhere. I had applied almost a whole Martian year ago. 600 days ago. Now suddenly, I was tapped for the program. It seemed strange. But I know better than to be curious in the face of good fortune. Why be curious? This is the opportunity I thought would never happen.
When all the preflight ritual was complete, WarChild and I left the hangar to get our flight suits on. There wasn’t any time to go and hang out in the pilot’s lounge. Everyone calls it The Swamp. It was a place where pilots could look over flight parameters, relax or do any number of things pilots do between routine missions. Well, I prefer to be on the flight deck of the Raven. Who knows if my assignment to the RavenClaw is temporary. I might just be filling in. Like WarChild, maybe I’m only going to become a B-alternative. It’s important to bring myself down a few notches.
Stop being so excited, Bangway. You’re only setting yourself up for disappointment if you think this is permanent.
No hanging out in the Swamp. It’s back to the flight deck of the RavenClaw for us. That walk to the RavenClaw will be a memory I’ll carry with me into the afterlife. I tried to walk confidently. It felt like every pair of eyes and camera was on me. My new flight helmet tucked under my arm. The flight crew was going over the flaps and foils. They started turning and watching us walk up to the vehicle. This was my crowning moment.
…Until I tripped over a hangar cleat, dropping my helmet. I quickly scooped it up and got to my feet as if it didn’t happen.
WarChild shook his head. “That’s fabulous. Dropping your helmet is bad luck, you know.” “You better hope not,” I mumbled. As we began to make our way up the rear ramp, blue vest personel attended to our suits, checking our cords as we walked. We climbed up onto the flight deck level. The gray vests were unplugging their personal pads from the flight consoles.
“All presets are entered according to pilot specs,” reported the first gray vest.
“Okay,” responded the blue vest. “Pilots are getting settled in.” I took my seat. My blue vest took out his socket wrench and loosened up the seat rivets. He pulled it forward. Then he asked me how it felt.
“I would like it upright more. I like sitting up.” He shrugged and adjusted the bolts on two other points in the seat. Then he pulled the air hose out of the headrest of my seat and plugged it into the back of my helmet. He felt under the jawline of my helmet for any tears to the air hose.
“Okay,” he said to me, “Say your vowels please.”
“A,E, I, O, U.”
“Now, give me a foo fighter.”
I took a deep breath and then pushed as much air as possible into the mask. “Foo, foo, foo fighter.” “Your air mix looks good,” Blue Vest said. He unplugged his reader from my console. “Double check. All straps look good. All tags are pulled.”
Then, he kissed my helmet. Startled, I smacked him away. “Hey!” “It’s for good luck,” WarChild snapped. “And considering you dropped your helmet, we definitely need to break even before we get out of the hangar. Don’t screw with pilot superstition. Especially on your first flight.”
The other Blue Vest unplugged his reader from WarChild’s console and then kissed his helmet.
Oops.We plugged into our flight chairs. I checked all feeds and connections. All electronic systems looked good. All monitors and displays were illuminated and positive.
“Tower check,” WarChild called.
Roger, RVN 07. You are good. Countdown 10 minutes.
“Copy that,” he replied. Then he sighed.
Now, the long 10 minutes. For a couple of those minutes, neither of us spoke. I closed off my open mic from the tower. “I didn’t mean to come off as bully back there.”
For a moment WarChild said nothing. Finally, “Copy that.”
After a couple more moments I said “This is a very big flight for me. I need you on my side.”
“It’s a two-way street, sister.” His answer was quicker this time.
“Good. Then, I think we’ll play nice together.”
To my surprise, he chuckled. It sounded sincere.
RVN 07, rotate right and wait for further instructions.
“Copy that, Tower,” WarChild replied. And to me, “Okay, BangWay. Let’s play nice.” We watched as TarFace’s Raven slowly taxied to the edge of the launch pad. The launch pad tilted the RavenBlade so that it was facing down towards the ground. Xitris clouds began to drift out of the bottom of the vehicle. I could hear the whine of its boosters as the afterburners heated up.
“Launch check complete. Call.”
RVN 09, you are on ten count. Five, four, three, two, one. Launch. The launch pad tilted forward and RavenBlade jumped off the launch pad. It roared mightily. Forward, it leaped into the lunar night. A swirling cloud of xitris reverberated throughout the hangar.
RVN 07, taxi to position 1B and wait for final count.
“Copy that, Tower.” I eased the vehicle forward. We floated to the white square. My heart was pulling from my chest, urging to go into the night after the RavenBlade. The hydralics under the pad began to whine and the pad tilted. Once the magnetic launcher throws us off, we’d already be angled for our SkyQuest boosters to give us lift. The RavenClaw was facing down- 30 stories down. The first time sitting like this, it was completely unsettling. I did another scan of all my pre-flight readings. Everything looked good. All systems were green.
RVN 07, standby for magnetic pad check. “Launch check complete, Tower.” WarChild clicked his voice into just my helmet. “If you don’t bring me back in one piece, we’re definitely not going to be friends.”
“Don’t make any grand promises,” I replied.
RVN 07, you are in ten count. I eased the SkyQuest Drive. The boosters began to scream. Flight displays began to glow. The handles began to shake with tension. I took a deep breath into my lungs.
Five, four, three…
Abort, abort, abort!
Another voice interrupted.
“Abort!” shouted WarChild.
“Powering down SkyQuest,” I yelled as I exhaled forcefully. “Okay! We’re down, we’re down. What just happened?”
...To Be Continued in Before the Rookie Test Flight, Part 2
This is a short science fiction story from the sci fi cartoon series Ravens of Mars. All content copyright D.S. Meyers 2016. www.RavensofMars.com
