“Come on J-Pop, we’ve only got an hour until dark,” The Captain said as he walked towards the city of Nuevo-Kansas.
“It’s not even twilight,” I said falling in and matching his long stride.
“Not night like the dark following twilight,” he said pointing out the sun high in the sky, “Dark as in radio silence. Our communications are all bounced off of the plant or the protein Station. Remember, there are no permanent structures on Nafaka and no communications satellites either. Oh, you’ll have line of sight radio contact, but you might as well just yell for all the good that’ll do you.”
“So we need to radio in before the radios go dark, Sir,” I stated.
“Now you’ve got it,” he agreed than corrected me, “We’re bush pilots here on Nafaka. Unless there are enlisted crew around, you can drop the Sir.”
We reached a long shed and now I could make out spots of rust on the metal.
“These could use a layer of paint,” I suggested as I gestured to the rust streak that ran down almost to the ground.
“Another edit from the Galactic Council. No toxic chemicals like those found in paint,” He said as we came to the far side of the shed, “Ah, here she is, just where I left her.”
She was a gray old beast. Six blades, a cargo hold for six people, and a vertical tail rotor for stability. I’d never seen one or flown a helicopter.
“You’re up,” he said as we climbed onto the cargo area, “I need a few more hours of shut eye.”
“But Sir, what about the call to base?” I stammered, “And, I’ve never actually flown a helicopter. Two hundred hours in the simulator but no real control time.”
“Nobody has real time when they get here,” he said as he stretched his legs out while tilting his cover down over his eyes, “Radio’s set, just call Dunya. Tell her we’re on the way.”
“Just like that?” I asked, “What about a check ride?”
“This is your check ride,” he replied in a lazy manner, “If you don’t crash and kill us, you’ll be certified. Heading is south. Call Dunya and don’t call me unless, well, just don’t call me.”
I believe he was already asleep when I climbed into the single seat cockpit. The ship board computer took a couple of minutes to awaken. It was an old model, like the bird, but once I entered my data, it lit up the control panels.
“Javelin flight to Dunya,” I called then repeated, “Javelin flight to Dunya.”
“You’re not Javelin so I assume you’re Piran,” a female voice come back to me, “You headed my way?”
“Rodger that base,” I reported.
“Is Javelin asleep yet?” she asked.
“I can reach the Captain if you need him,” I said, not knowing who I was speaking with, and not wanting to get Captain Gesina in trouble.
“No need Piran. Say what’s your call sign?” she inquired.
Her voice was rough for a woman but it wasn’t unpleasant.
“Call sign J-Pop,” I replied.
“Alright, J-Pop, your heading is south,” she stated, “about four hours of flight time from Kansas to Base. Got that?”
“Rodger Base, see you in four hours,” I replied while throwing the power switch.
The big blades creeped around above the helicopter. I could see the furthest portion of each blade as they circled. Soon the speed increased and the tips of the blades merged into an opaque circle. I gripped the control column and pulled back on the collective. The tail of the copter began to edge to the side but a press of a pedal steadied the ship.
There was only one way to get really good at flying. I applied power and pressed forward. The nose dropped slightly as the tail rose then it gained altitude. The way to get good at flying was to fly.
Below me a hundred long metal sheds sprawled out creating the city of Nuevo-Kansas. Semi-trucks pulling grain haulers nosed in and out of the maze of streets. As I left the city behind, the horizon was filled with a sea of grain. Harvesters left flattened stumps as they chewed into the tall stacks. Following the wide machines, trucks collected the bounty. Some were waiting while others sped away towards Nuevo-Kansas. Separate areas of activity appeared as I flew by, high above the grain collectors.
My first impression of planet Nafaka. It was a beautiful place. Below me were golden fields, above me was a clear blue sky. I tested the controls by dipping, weaving and making a few sharp turns. Javelin never made an appearance or called me on the intercom.
Two and a half hours into the flight, clouds began to form overhead, and the bird was getting pushed sideways by the wind. I eased up until the copter was just above the fluffy white.
At three and a half hours into the flight, I dipped her back into the clouds. The world had gone gray and, rain pelted the windshield. Winds rocked the copter and it was a fight to hold my heading.
“Monsoon season,” a voice mumbled from behind me, “You alright?”
“I’m fine Captain,” I said with a grin although he couldn’t see my face, “We’re about a half hour out from base.”
“Sweet, call me if you need me,” he said, “You should be within hailing distance.”
I turned my head but Captain Gesina was gone. Back to finish his beauty rest I guessed.
“Dunya, J-Pop are you up?” I asked.
Before I could repeat the call, Dunya replied, “I read you J-Pop. Any trouble?”
“We’re about twenty minutes out,” I reported, “Any specific landing instructions?”
“Winds are steady out of the west,” she related, “The landing lights are on. Anywhere within the lights is cleared for landing, understood?”
“Rodger, west winds and inside the lights for landing,” I repeated.
“See you soon,” she replied in a very unmilitary like manner.
The relaxed attitude of the 49th so far was a little unnerving. In flight school and on Navy ships the pilots were held to exact speech and language usage. Even the Merchant Fleet had tighter standards then the 49th Air Wing detachment. I couldn’t help but equate the loose feel with unprofessionalism. It bothered me.
I consulted the computer and adjusted my heading to line up with the base. Somewhere to my front beyond the sheets of rain and in the dim light of late afternoon resided a landing pad. Reducing power, I dropped lower searching for the lights.
“Not too low,” Captain Gesina said once again from behind me, “You’re out of the grain sector and we’ve got tall trees around the base.”
I pulled us up while leaning forward to see out of the windshield. Suddenly, sets of bright spots broke through the gloom. As we drew closer, the sets separated into individual lights. I aimed for the center and pointed the copter’s nose into the west wind. The bird settled and, with only a slight bump that might have been due to the wind, or to pilot error, we landed.
“Check ride complete,” Javelin announced, “You’re one hundred percent cleared for duty.”
He didn’t wait for me. I saw him run from our copter through the rain and into a shed. After shutting down the engine, I unstrapped the harness and almost collapsed. My legs were cramping and I was light headed. It took me a few minutes to massage the feeling back into my legs and to recover from the dizzy spell. I hadn’t realized how tired I was and it had only been four hours of flight time. It was going to take some time to acclimate to Nafaka. I didn’t realize it then, but there was no time for recuperation in the 49th Air Wing.
After grabbing my travel bag, I jumped out of the helicopter. I was about to run to the shed and officially report in. Besides, I was ready for some sack time. My progress was blocked by two crewmen in rain slicks.
“How’d she fly, Sir?” one asked as the other brushed by me on his way into the cargo area.
“It felt good and I saw no warning lights,” I reported.
“Good Sir, you’d better get out of the rain,” he said as he too climbed in leaving me dripping in the down pour.
The shed turned out to be a long building with steel flooring. Just in
side was a radio area and a striking woman. She had huge brown eyes and long lashes that waved when she blinked. She was tall, only a little shorter than me, and her raven hair was longer than standard.
“Senior Chief Leni Dunya,” she said with a crisp salute.
I returned the salute and introduced myself, “Lieutenant Phelan Piran pleased to meet you Senior Chief. Thank you for the assist.”
“No problem, Sir. How did the bird fly?” she asked.
“It was perfect,” I replied.
“Javelin, she’s good to go,” Dunya shouted over her shoulder, “The boys are refueling her.”
“Excellent, give me five to freshen up,” Gesina’s voice came from down a narrow corridor.
“You want to get some sleep J-Pop?” Senior Chief Dunya asked, “Or get some chow?”
“Food first then I’d like to have a look around,” I replied.
“That’s fine Sir, but you have a flight at first light and I’ll need to brief you,” she said, “so figure a wakeup call at 0300 hours.”
“Where’s the ward room?” I asked expecting directions to the Officer’s dining facilities.
“Javelin slept all the way back didn’t he, J-Pop?” she asked and the eye lashes teased by hiding her eyes for a second.
“The Captain was available for consultation,” I stated, again trying to protect my superior officer.
“I did sleep all the way,” Gesina interrupted us as he stepped out of a doorway just behind the radio area. In his hand was an overnight bag. “It felt good too. Dunya, fill in Lieutenant Piran would you. I need to pre-flight the bird”
Before I could speak, he was out the door leaving me with the beautiful Senior Chief. Oops, wrong thinking.
“J-Pop, the mess hall is two buildings over,” she directed pointing to the door and moving a long finger to the right. “Your room is down the hall. Third door on the left. It’s not much but, you wouldn’t be seeing much of it.”
“Hold on, the food can wait,” I said realizing I needed more of a framework about my new assignment, “Tell me about the 49th’s mission on Nafaka.”
Chapter 47
She walked over to a big map that was mounted on the wall across from the radio station. I absolutely will not mention her hips swayed when she walked and her whole body flowed as she crossed the room. No, I won’t mention Senior Chief Leni Dunya was a Realm class beauty. Also, she was a Senior Chief in the Navy with expertise in a wide range of categories. Most of them were displayed in the forty-minute lecture she delivered to me on my first day with the 49th Air Wing.
The map displayed our Area of Operation. The AOR spanned from the high ranch lands to the north, ran down through the grain fields with our base being just south of the center. South of the base was the vegetable zone, moving further south the fruit area and finally, a short distance below the planet’s equator, the fisheries. From North to South the AOR was 14 hours flying time long and 16 hours of flying time wide. The real measurements weren’t important. No matter the distance, we had to service the Area of Operation with just four helicopters and four pilots.
Missions ranged from mail runs, to ferrying Nafaka rangers, to emergency flights, to transporting heads of towns and cities to meetings. Almost anything the workers on Nafaka needed that entailed flying.
“So J-Pop, you’ll need a travel bag with shaving gear and at least two changes of clothes,” Chief Dunya said as she concluded the professional briefing, “You’ll return to base twice a week for a maintenance check and a pilot’s review.”
“Where’s my room, again?” I asked.
She pointed a long finger towards my quarters.
0300 hours was about two hours before sunrise this time of year on Nafaka. That’s what the mess man explained as he slopped scrambled eggs onto the metal tray. It’s going to be a dreary day as the clouds were moving in early today. He finished the lecture as I finished with the serving line. I ate quickly and hiked to the maintenance shed.
“Morning Sir,” a mechanic greeted me as I strolled around a helicopter, “If you’re Lieutenant Piran? This one’s yours.”
It was the only helicopter in sight so I’d assumed it was mine.
“What shape is she in?” I asked noting a couple of repaired sections on her skin.
“She’s air worthy,” he replied, “We’ve replaced the blades and patched the places where the tree branches ripped her open.”
“Do you know what happened to her?” I asked. I patted one of the patches as if I could test the strength of the rivets by touch.
“No Sir. I fix them,” he said, “You fly them. Everything else is waiting for one or the other.”
I looked up for him but he’d already moved to the other side of the ship. After inspecting the engine housing and the blades, and satisfying myself that visually it was air worthy, I headed for the headquarters building.
The radio room was crowded. Four mechanics were standing in the narrow area and Chief Dunya was busy being an NCO.
“I have seen worse maintenance reports, but I made an attempt to forget them,” She said looking each of the mechanics in the eyes, “I can’t forget these sorry excuses for reports. You see, these, I have to sign off on and I don’t sign off on sorry excuses for anything. If you want extra duty, you don’t have to screw up my reports. I’ll gladly hand out extra duty for free. Now get out of my office.”
It wasn’t technically her office, but like good NCOs everywhere, anywhere they were directing the work of the military was their office. A battle field fighting hole, the cargo bay of a shuttle, the hallway outside the restroom, virtually anywhere a Navy Chief went was their office.
The mechanics scrambled to get away from Dunya and they fled out the door. She turned to me.
“Lieutenant Piran, ready for your first mission?” she asked.
“Yes ma’am,” I said forgetting that I was an officer for a second.
She gave me a sideways look and proceeded to brief me on the mission.
The sun was failing in its attempt to break through the heavy cloud cover when I lifted off. My mission consisted of an easy hop south to the vegetable landing zone. A small town had grown around the launch point and they had mail. Two hours later, I landed and went into the LZ office.
“Morning Lieutenant,” the man behind the counter greeted me, “What can I do for you today.”
“Fuel and mail for further south,” I replied.
Another man stuck his head out of a doorway in the back of the room. He eyed me pretty hard and fixated on the Lieutenant bars on my flight suit. After a few seconds, he disappeared from view.
“I’ve got a crew topping you off,” the counterman promised, “The mail will be loaded when you get back.”
“Get back?” I asked.
The man from the doorway stepped into the room. He too was wearing double silver bars.
“I’m Lieutenant Domiziano of the Nafaka Regional Authority,” he announced pointing to the insignia on his collar, “I need a ride to the west end of my area.”
“And why do you need a ride?” I asked, “What’s the mission?”
“You must be new,” he said puffing out his chest, “I’m a Lieutenant in the Nafaka Regional Authority and what I say is law in my area. I don’t need to answer or explain to you.”
“I am afraid you do, Domiziano,” I replied taking the opposite posture by leaning on the counter.
“I need to take a lady to see her Mother,” he said.
“And who is this lady?” I asked.
“My girlfriend,” he admitted.
“Sorry, but I’m on a tight schedule. I expect the mail to be on the copter when I leave,” I informed the counterman, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
The mail was there and the tanks were topped off. As I lifted off, I realized why Captain Gesina recommended me for promotion. I confirmed it two hours later at the fruit LZ.
As I climbed out of the pilot’s seat, I came face to face with a large man. He pointed at h
is collar.
“I am Lieutenant Ferre Anika of the Nafaka Regional Authority,” he stated, “I will be riding with you to the fishery.”
“I am sorry Lieutenant Anika but I’m heading back to base after this stop,” I said.
“That’s not going to happen. I’m needed at the fishery by tomorrow evening?” he replied.
“Let me guess, a card game?” I asked, “I like poker.”
“It is a poker game,” he boasted, “and you’re invited.”
“Sorry Lieutenant but I’m on a tight schedule,” I said handing a mail bag to a worker and exchanging it for another, “Tight schedule, like I said.”
I wasn’t clairvoyant. Two decks of cards were laying on top of his travel bag and he had a wad of Pesetas sticking out of his top pocket. He could still make the game if he left first thing in the morning. While the drive would be longer and rougher then flying with me, he’d be there in time to lose the money, no problem.
Now I knew, my being promoted to Lieutenant was a defensive strategy, because all of the local Nafaka Regional Authority officials were themselves Lieutenants. It would be hard for a Warrant Officer, an Ensign or even a Lieutenant Junior Grade to refuse the NRA requests. Being their equal, it was easier to deny them the use of the helicopter.
“Base to J-Pop, base to J-Pop,” the call came in before I lifted off.
“Go Dunya,” I replied.
“I have an emergency,” she replied, “In a hamlet located two hours east of the vegetable LZ. We have two injured Park Rangers. Render any medical you can and get them to the LZ.”
Each Landing Zone had a doctor on staff. If the local MD couldn’t treat the sick or injured, they would be lifted off to plant Station. I powered up, lifted off and turned northeast.
One hour and forty-eight minutes later, I activated my search system. As I closed in on the area, the system scanned for any emergency signals. The computer found the signal from the injured Park Rangers and I adjusted course to vector with it.
Galactic Council Realm 1: On Station Page 25
