| Mashed Spuds |
| Summary: | Ensign Hathor has a meltdown during her flight quals. Evan, Jayden and Allie are there to witness it. |
| Date: | 15 Jul 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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| Flight Simulation |
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| A training room specifically dedicated to honing aerial skills, this area is equipped with several flight simulator pods that allow the pilots to practice maneuvers and tactics without being in a real live plane. The Viper-pods are installed on one side of the room with a little space between them, an attempt to provide a realistic feel for close-range wing training, while a smaller number of Raptor sim-pods are installed on the opposite side of the room from the Vipers. A central computer terminal and overhead display screen sits at the head of the room, where one can input exercises and data to be run in the sims, scroll through score records, and control the training modules. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #139 |
After offering to help out where she can where the Petrels go, Alessandra has offered to run a certain copper-tressed Ensign through her paces in the simulators. A slot had been scheduled for them which means the room itself is pretty empty, the only ones currently to be found is Alessandra and the tech.
Wearing a baggy flight suit and carrying her helmet under her arm, Davis takes one last breath outside the simulator bay before stepping inside. She marches up to Alessandra, posting before her with a salute and a quick pivot. "Sir! Ensign Hathor, ready to qualify!" she announces, the crisp formality in her voice reduced to something of an urgent cough.
The sim operator simply smirks upon hearing Davis' proclamation, the very same statement that has Alessandra looking a bit bemused. "Whether you qualify or not remains to be seen, Ensign Hathor. If you're ready, please enter the simulator and we'll get the program set up while you do the pre-flight." Yes, even pretend flying requires that protocol is followed. Turning to the one in charge of getting everything she starts to talk to him about which simulation she'd like to have ran for Davis.
Davis takes the comment without flinching. "Aye-Aye, Lieutenant," is her only response. Climbing into the awaiting Viper pod. "Madam," she calls out, halfway into the simulator. "Don't forget I qualify under VSP-series readiness standards, not VF-series. I'm not that hardcore," she adds softly, slipping into her seat.
"Ensign, this is a time of war and, because of such, I will be running you through our sim standards. If you feel that this is too harsh then you're more than welcome to take it up with Captain Sitka." The sim's screen lights up, the layout being of the Mk II which she'll find to be familiar as it's the exact same model of Viper the Petrels have been flying forever. The hiss of a voice comes over, the LT addressing Davis even as the faux starfield begins to come up into view. "Remember, Ensign. This is not time for slacking off, nor is it time for special treatment and prima dona behavior. You can't hack it or expect to be treated like a pretty sparkle princess…" Clearing her throat, Allie pauses before adding dryly, "That behavior can very easily get people killed. Yourself or others."
"Aye-Aye," the Ensign responds, this time less firmly. To herself she breathes, "It can't be that much different." Her breath hitches at the reminder over the intercom, but Davis finds herself reading through the checklist as she throws switches. "Comms query. External inspection OK, Flight controls OK, Tanks filled Roger, Canopy locks and bolts set to safe Roger, Seat motors OK, Weapons safe Roger, Weapons safe Roger." Little differences fill her routine, like the lingo and the repetition. "Area clear, Comms up Roger. Tacom and Satnav OK, Arming canopy bolts, escape seat, Roger. Engine systems in the green - you can tell this is a sim," she murmurs, breaking the toneless rote repetition. "Weapons armed, weapons armed, Roger. Area clear, blast doors open, HUD and TacNav are Go. Flaps Fifteen Engines Eighty-Five. Spuds to tower, assuming launch position and awaiting flag from LSO. Cold shot set." She gives one last look around, waiting for… whatever. There's no more checklist left.
Alessandra nods. "Alright, Spuds. You got that part down pat. Thank you for the flight check." Comms click off as she smirks, watching the room and then the monitor which shows an internal view of the mockpit. "Let's give her simulation six-four-two. Should give her a run for her cubits without being too difficult." There's a clicking of keys and then the games begin, so to speak. "Spuds, command," Allie says to the pilot once again, doing her part to add to the 'realism' even though it's not exactly necessary. "Run your DRADIS at passive, keep your eye out for enemy contacts, over." Of course, the passive sweep won't do Spuds a bit of good as the 'enemy' already knows she's there.
"Quiet CAP, Roger," she restates, not speaking again until the shuddering of simulated launch settles. Mouth dry already, Davis bites her drink tube only to get air. Cursing under her breath at the oversight, she runs through her list of preconceptions. Contact won't be for another fifteen minutes, to lull her into a false sense of security. It will not come from dead ahead, but may come from below. Preparing for that, she decides to set herself on a course and then quickly twist her craft around, letting momentum fly her backwards. If done quickly enough, the test proctor won't recognize the change in bearing for what it is.
If done too quickly, she finds out, a lot of numbers start changing. Bearing cycles rapidly as the Viper spins like a top, while her input monitors flash all kinds of colours on what should be just a simple circuit flight. Likewise, Davis' vitals start to move upward in stress.
"Easy there, Spuds. No need to force it, hmm?" The readout on the sim operator's monitor has Alessandra frowning deeply, this not a pleasing chain of events to say the least. "Alright. This is going to be a single target simulation this time. Not wanting to do more than see how you handle yourself." Not exactly SOP but Allie isn't seeking to bust Davis' proverbial balls just yet. Best to ease her into things seeing as how it wasn't all that long ago that she was released from medical. It is a matter of seconds before a single red blip comes up on Davis' DRADIS, a single Raider inbound at around 2 o'clock, hot and heavy.
"All part of the plan," Davis huffs through clenched teeth. The board settles down, her spin in one axis only and resolving as she reports, "Cerberus I have positive DRADIS contact bearing…" That part is mumbled, she's still wobbling too much to give a good number. "… Am moving to engage." With that she kicks in the throttle. Though she hasn't gotten it flying steady, it's enough to be going in the right direction. The wobble could prove to be effective evasive maneuvers.
"Speak up, Hathor," comes the quick reprimand, Alessandra dropping the pretendy-funtime act of being Cerberus Actual to remind her to do so. "Can't save your ass if you call for help during the middle of a furball unless you take that tater out of your frakking mouth!" Even as she says this the Raider is screaming steadily closer, now opening fire upon the Viper.
Davis stays focused, shifting the rear of her Viper so the engine thrust pushes her, not just maneuvering thrusters. On the other hand it's a hard maneuver, and she's fighting G-forces as well as a knock against the canopy. "Taking fire," she growls, giving the thrust-rudder another kick and squeezing her stick as the reticle passes by the Raider.
Evandreus thud-step-step, thud-step-steps— thud-step-thud-steps on into the sims, picking up speed to something like a regular walking speed, then, once he's over the threshold, he picks up his cane and tosses it from one hand to the other, noting that some of the sims are already in use. He walks with surprising steadiness to the side of a Raptor sim, then leans in to call over the sim-to-sim comms, "You guys up for a third?" he asks of the ones already in there.
The Raider flies past in a close approximation of the Viper and has to bank hard to avoid a collusion, the enemy fighter pulling to the left. It makes having to pull a helluva maneuver needed but it pulls it off, barely, and turns back around to open fire again. The comms are open to the operations side of things as well and Allie's voice comes up, a giggle sounding. "Oh hey, Evan. Running Tater's quals but hey, if you'd like to join her, sure." There's only the one target right now but that can change with just a simple command, making it easy to allow others to join in.
Jayden enters the sims in the exact same second as Evan leans over the Raptor sim. He's not looking for time behind a cockpit right now, instead, he's just leans close to the hatch and watches the on-going training.
Davis' reply is a seething growl into the VOX. It might at first not sound like anything but motor noises from the sim, but the wet his as she pauses for breath before continuing the noise again gives it away as biological. The Viper's munitions count plummets, her KEWs continuing to fire as she twists and turns to bring her Viper to bear on the Raider… And it doesn't take long to become clear that it's the Viper she's bringing on target, not her guns.
Evandreus turns and slides his ass into the sim, letting his four-footed cane stand outside without him, drawing his legs inside. It's his first time back in the sims since he was tucked away in the s'bay, but— at least he's just driving a bus, not doing anything as physically rigorous as flying viper. He flips through the programs until he sees the one listed as running, then pops off a request to Duckie's machine for permission to 'green up.' "Wanna see how she runs under suppression?" he asks. "I can try to figure out where I left my ECM pants, if you want."
Jayden is content to just hang back in the shadows. Having just hopped off his viper, doesn't make him eager to slide into a simulated one.
The green to go is given and the Raptor pod is good to 'fly', it being set for him to work his magic. "Sounds good to me," Lucky answers him while waving to Jayden from his hiding place, Echo given a quick smile before she's back to business. "Alright, Spuds. You're going to have a Bunny-boy holding your hand. Stick by the Raptor. Remember the number one rule to combat. Do not get stupid…" That being a rule Allie made up but it's something she learned the hard way and is wanting to pass on to the younger pilot. "Restart the scenerio, bring in a Raptor," she murmurs to the tech who is quick to nod and change the settings.
Evandreus exists. In the imaginary sim-world, that is. Raptor-506 pops complacently into existence, and Evan sets a direct course for the ass-end of any-ol'-where. In a hyper-dramatized voice, thick with a Virgan accent nowhere near his own, he comes back over comms sounding like a fellow from an old radio play. "Help me, Viper-541! I've got a Raptorful of fluffy puppies, and if we don't get to the orphanage by midnight, the children will have -no presents- for Saturnalia," he drones out comically.
There is no response from Davis on the open channel, or rather no change in response. Just the snarl in her throat as she charges down the Raider. When the scenario is quickly reset the sudden disappearance of the Raider has her twisting her Viper in a futile effort to find it Her guns spew electronically refreshed virtual bullets for the six seconds or so of continuous fire that the fighter's stores can carry. Some of those seconds bring the Raptor across her nose.
Alessandra watches with a large amount of dissatisfaction in her expression and soon, with a feral snarl to match that of Hathor, she snaps at the Ensign while mentally wincing at the thought of all those poor little fuzzy puppies gunned down by a spazzy rook. "Spuds, calm the frak down! How the…screw this. Bunny, looks like our little tater has shit herself. Shiv will not be happy to hear that one of his pilots needs a diaper when she gets out in frakking combat." Not pleasant to say and probably twice as much for that to be heard, the harsh assessment leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Still, it's a good lesson for her, this giving Allie a chance to toughen up.
Evandreus watches the spiral of bullets flailing like water from an unmanned hose into space on the screen. It's almost pretty, it is. And surely Spudly knows what she'sHOLYFRAK she's shooting at him. His Raptor takes some superficial damage before he pivots the bearings on the y-axis and jams his boat back south of carom and out of the line of fire. "Hey— hey, you okay there, Sparkles? You with us?" Good cop to Allie's bad cop.
Like an unbalanced bottle rocket the Viper skitters off to chase phantoms. Behind the grinding noise that grows more raw by the second, a pilot's ear could hear synthetic click the weapons computer produces to tell the pilot they're out of ammunition. Tick, tick, tick, like a metronome, repeating at the same interval each time. She hasn't let go of the trigger.
"Frak me…turn it off." Allie casts an apologetic look to Bunny, albeit unseen as he's inside the mocked-up Raptor, this perhaps one of the shortest simulations ever…not counting the time Lasher took her out with a single shot, of course. "Come on, Davis," she says then, her voice a tad gentler and a lot more sympathetic than before. "Get out of there and take a breather."
And yes, the sims are shut down now.
Evandreus is out of sim space almost as soon as he was in it. Getting out of the machine, physically, of course, takes a little bit more effort. An arm's out first, and he shifts some of his weight over top of the cane, grabbing its handle and leaning on it as he crawls out.
There is no response from the Viper box. No canopy opens, no voice comes out on the comms. Just that mad-dog growl and the thuning of the control stick against its housing, a sound normally lost in the cacophony of audio cues in an aerospace fighter.
Alessandra pinches the bridge of her nose, the attempt to stave off the pounding headache made a second too late. "Bunny, can you go and make sure Davis is alright, please?" With her level of irritation pegged at the redline right now, there's no way she can be nice and calm which is what the Ensign needs right now, those qualities ones Evan-bunbun has in spades. "I guess I'll have to let Shiv know," she concludes, that being spoken to herself.
Evan, nice; Evan, calm. These are things that he's good at. Usually. He ambles over, having attained a genial facility with his cane, or else having regained enough strength walking up and down the stairs that heading across a room no longer presents much of an issue. "You got it." A tender tapping on the canopy. A silent peek in the window.
Davis is in there, flying in a simulation all her own. At the same time, the other hand cycles through the manual controls in the Viper simulator. She's rebooting each of the systems, a sign that somewhere she's conscious of what is, or isn't, happening.
Standing up, Lucky goes to check on her, parking herself just next to the Raptor flyer. "Think we should summon a medic," she asks him quietly; there is none of the gruffness to be found. "I don't know what happened. Had the Raider programmed in…nothing outside of the norm. wonder what the frak happened to her." Pausing, she pushes her nose against the mockpit's canopy, trying to get a better look inside. "Did I break her?"