by Rick Lakin
Jeff’s eyes got bigger. “Your sister is Jennifer Gallagher? We read a rumor on Brillian.com that Anthen Kelrithian had…”
“He’s my dad.”
“You were born on Xaphnore.” Jeff stared incredulously. “You’re an alien.”
“Only half,” Kalinda said. “And my distant ancestors came from Earth. Can you keep it a secret?”
“Sure. You don’t look…,” Jeff said.
A man interrupted. “Who’s your friend, Jeff?”
“Hi, Dad, this is Kalinda. She’s an…,” Jeff stuttered, “a brillian just like me.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “You flew in on Brilliant?”
“Yes, Mr. Rodriquez. My dad works at Tovar Studios.”
“Did you two touch pads?” his father said. “Your friend might want to come down and see the beach at Coronado.”
“Thank you, sir. That would be nice.”
“I’ve got to meet your grandmother. Do you see the big blue plane over there?”
Jeff nodded, and Kalinda looked.
“That’s Fat Albert. That’s your next ride,” Jeff Senior said. He looked at Kalinda. “Are you riding Fat Albert, too?”
“Yes, sir,” Kalinda said.
“I’ll see you two at the VIP Lunch. Don’t be late, Jeff. You know your grandma.”
As they walked toward the C-130, Kalinda and Jeff pulled out their devices and touched them.
“You’ve got a HoloPad?” Jeff asked.
“My grandfather gave me one. Who’s your avatar?”
“Darth Vader.”
“He was Luke Skywalker’s father,” Kalinda said. “My te’pa showed me that movie when we were patrolling Tau Ceti?”
“You’ve been to Tau Ceti?” Jeff asked. “Isn’t that far away?”
“Three-point-six-five parsecs. A little less than twelve light years.”
“Wow,” Jeff said. “Who’s your avatar?”
“A friend I used to know named Bralen.”
“Your boyfriend?” Jeff asked.
Kalinda took a defensive posture. “We served Tal'qid together. He was once a champion on Xaphnore.”
“He defeated you?”
“Yes, but then I beat him five times…until he chose to fight with weapons.”
“Don't you use eskrima sticks or nun chucks.”
“Weapons do not solve disputes. They only lead to bigger weapons.”
“Do you miss your home?”
“I spent most of my time in space with my te’pa.”
“Your parents are divorced?”
“My te’ma is dead.”
“Sorry. That’s tough.”
“She died saving our planet.” Kalinda gazed up at a point in the blue sky. “She was my teacher.”
“What are you looking at?”
“My home.”
“It’s daytime with a blue sky. How can you tell?”
“Don’t you know where your home is?”
Kalinda saw the confusion. “Yes, but…”
They walked toward the Blue Angels’ C-130.
19
Anthen watched Kalinda approach the ramp of the C-130. His daughter was engaged in deep conversation with a dark-haired Hispanic boy about her age. She was an inch taller, but he could tell that the boy appeared to possess physical strength similar to that of his daughter. They were so engrossed that they almost ran into him.
“You found a friend.” Both turned their heads quickly and stopped.
“Te’pa, this is Jeff Rodriguez. He was on my last tour of Brilliant. He does martial arts, too. Jeff, this is my te’pa, Anthen.”
Jeff froze in shock. “Anthen Kelrithian…Did you really get captured by the Hoclarth?”
“He’s a brillian, Dad.”
“Nice to meet you, son. Let’s take a plane ride.”
Fat Albert was a C-130U painted in Blue Angels blue and gold. The giant aircraft, which transported spare parts and ground crew from air show to air show, was flown by a crew of seven Marines.
They boarded the aircraft and went to the cargo net seats near the fuselage. “Is your dad in the Marines?” Anthen asked.
“Nope, my mom is a helicopter pilot on the USS Oprah Winfrey in the Persian Gulf,” Jeff said. “And my grandmother is giving a speech today.”
“So is my father,” Anthen said. “Who’s your grandmother?”
Jeff perked up and became formal. “Ramona Curtwell, the junior senator from the state of South Dakota.” He relaxed. “That’s how I’m supposed to introduce her.”
Anthen looked intense. “I've heard a lot about her.” Navvy and the senator on the same dais. Wow, the sparks will fly.
“Isn’t the Winfrey the brand new fusion powered carrier,” Kalinda said.
“Yep. It’s got sixteen fusion reactors for propulsion plus a bunch of others for weapons and hotel loads.”
“You know a lot.”
“I rode a Tiger Cruise on her first deployment,” Jeff said. “I got to ride with my mom from Hawaii to San Diego.”
“I practiced on the simulator for this aircraft when I heard I was going to ride it.”
“Practiced?” Jeff looked skeptical.
“Okay, I did twelve hours on the simulator on steveLearn.”
“You’ve got a steveLearn?”
“Yeah, on Brilliant,” Kalinda said. “My dad will install one in the beach house when he finishes buying it. I learned to surf there.”
“Must be nice. I can almost stand up on my friend’s board a Coronado Beach.”
“I’m surfing tomorrow at Oceanside.”
“Isn’t that beach closed for the tournament this week?”
“Um…” She averted her eyes.
“Spill.”
“I’m in the Pro-Am event with Bondi Cooper.”
“Way cool,” Jeff said. “How did you meet her?”
“She showed up at my beach one day. I guess her cousin is the lifeguard.”
“D’you think you have a chance?”
“Dunno.”
“Maybe I can come and watch.”
“That’d be cool.”
The Marines got Fat Albert in the air. When they were feet wet over the Pacific, a gunnery sergeant spoke up, “May I have your attention please? One of the first uses for the C-130 was as the Vomit Comet for the Mercury Astronauts. We're going to give you the experience of weightlessness for twenty-five seconds. The pilots are going to fly a few parabolas. If you're queasy, please remain strapped in, but if you would like, you can unstrap now and gather on the center ramp.”
All of the youngsters and one ninety-four-year-old Afghanistan veteran gathered near the center-line.
“Have you ever worked out weightless?” Kalinda asked.
“Duh, no,” Jeff said.
“It’s a great way to improve your balance. Watch.”
They felt heavier as Fat Albert pitched up and then Kalinda and Jeff rose from the padded deck as the aircraft went ballistic. Facing Jeff, Kalinda began some intricate moves with punches, spins, and kicks that Jeff never saw before. She remained vertical and finished facing Jeff. As the plane dove, they felt two Gs at the trough of the waveform.
“You try it this time.”
Jeff faced her as Fat Albert began the climb. When the aircraft went parabolic, he started his moves. Intricate punches, kicks, and spins took him in three directions at once. He wound up upside down facing away from Kalinda. He landed on his back when the C-130 Hercules went over the top and began the climb.
“Nice moves.”
“Thanks, but you’re right about the balance thing. You’re scary good.”
“Thanks.”
After enjoying the experience as vigorously as the youngsters, the grizzled veteran calmly returned to his seat as did everyone else.
The gunny spoke up again. “We’ll now take volunteers up to the cockpit in groups of three.” Jeff and Kalinda were in the second group along with the old veteran.
The co-pilot welcomed them an
d pointed out the various controls and then asked if there were any questions.
The old veteran spoke up. “Why is this model of the Hercules designated C-130U instead of the next letter in the alphabet?”
Jeff answered, “This aircraft has Scott Reactors using soft containment fusion. All fusion-powered military ships and aircraft have the letter U designation.”
“This C-130 has seven reactors, one for each engine, two for avionics, and one for special payloads,” Kalinda said.
“You three sound pretty knowledgeable,” Major Imani Williams, the aircraft commander said. “Have any of you flown an aircraft?”
“I did three tours flying C-130s in and out of Kandahar,” the old veteran said. “I once landed and took off from the USS Eisenhower off the coast of Pakistan.”
“I read about that,” Bill said. “How did you take off?”
“That was easy. The captain gave us fifty knots over the bow, and we were airborne with fifty yards to spare,” the veteran said. “But it was a real bitch landing on a carrier heavy without a tail hook.”
“Thanks for your service, sir,” Major Williams said. “How about you, young man?”
“My mom has let me take the right seat in an SH-5 Sea Queen helicopter several times,” Jeff said. “She’s in the Persian Gulf on the Winfrey.”
“Kalinda, I spoke with your father. You two have come a long way. What’s your experience?” Major Williams said.
“I piloted the Patrol Ship Mendex, ma’am,” Kalinda said, “and StarCruiser Brilliant.”
“Is that a video game?” the co-pilot asked.
“No, sir. It’s a vessel of the Hoclarth Alliance. My te’pa was Predex.”
“It still sounds like a video game,” the co-pilot said, “unless you're an alien.” He laughed.
Jeff held her back when she looked like she was going after him.
“Sorry, Kalinda,” the major said. “If my partner had spoken to your father, he would know your father was a starship commander and you’re a human just like the rest of us,” the major said.
Properly dressed down, the captain monitored his instruments.
The major turned to the three observers. “Who would like to fly Fat Albert?”
Jeff and Kalinda raised their hands. “I’ve spent enough time in the left seat of a Herc,” said the old veteran. “Let the kids have a chance.”
“Who goes first?” the pilot said. “I know Kalinda’s name. Who are you?”
“My name is Jeff, sir,” Jeff said.
He turned to Kalinda. “Rock-paper-scissors?”
“Two out of three,” Kalinda said.
The two faced each other.
“Rock Paper Scissors.” Jeff picked paper, Kalinda picked rock. Jeff won.
“Rock Paper Scissors.” Jeff picked paper again and Kalinda picked scissors. Kalinda won.
“Rock Paper Scissors.” Jeff picked scissors. Kalinda picked rock. Kalinda won.
“Captain, you are relieved,” the major said.
Kalinda got strapped in. Without prompting, she adjusted the wheel and rudder controls for her height, a recent feature of this model. Then she put on the headset.
“Should I explain the controls?” the major asked. “It looks like you’ve done this.”
“I spent twelve hours in a steveLearn simulator for this aircraft,” Kalinda said.
“Okay, it is time to head south back to Miramar. Perform a standard rate right turn to reverse course.”
“Standard right turn, aye, ma’am.”
The pilot was impressed as Kalinda smoothly coordinated the wheel and rudder pedals into a right turn without any change in altitude. Sixty seconds later the aircraft was steady after a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn.
“Very nicely done.” The major operated the throttle and a switch. “You just lost number four.” The aircraft began to yaw to the right.
Kalinda operated a switch to feather the propeller, raised power on engines two and three and applied left rudder. She looked out to the right to verify that engine four was feathered. “Major, the aircraft is stable. Please call up the procedure for the loss of an engine.”
“Not necessary,” the pilot said. “You performed all of the immediate actions as well as any seasoned pilot. I’ve got the aircraft. Let’s give Jeff a shot.”
As Jeff strapped in, Major Williams restarted engine four. Jeff did a pretty good job on the turn, but the pilot walked him through the loss of engine one.
20
The Star Squad gathered behind Hangar Seven where they kept the MV-27 Raptors. A gunnery sergeant took them a short walk toward the Aircraft museum. Through the fence, they saw aircraft over a century old.
Their destination was a fifteen-foot structure that looked like a rail gun with an aircraft seat at the bottom.
“If I could have your attention, I'm Master Sergeant Fred Jackson. You may address me as Top. The F-52 that you will be riding in has a zero-zero egress system,” Master Sergeant Jackson said. “Whether you're at fifty thousand feet or stopped on the ground, this seat will take you, and the parts held close to your body safely out of your aircraft. That means you must keep your legs tucked and your arms close to your body so that they’ll accompany you on your trip back to Earth.”
Two minutes later, Tayla was strapped in with a flight helmet on her head. The seat was attached to a fifteen-foot tall rail. She did not look happy.
“Young lady, when I say the words, 'Eject, eject, eject,' lock your head back, tuck your legs and pull the two actuators by your side. Are you ready?”
Tayla nodded.
“Eject, Eject, Eject,” the senior chief said.
No one in the room heard the second word because the compressed air sound of a cherry bomb erupted below Tayla and by the third word, Tayla was twelve feet up the rail.
“Very good. Who’s next?”
Riley, Jennifer, and David each took their turns on the trainer.
“Be aware of your situation in the air,” the senior chief said. “If your aircraft has a casualty and your pilot decides that it is not going to return you to the ground safely, he or she will pull the ejection handles, and you will depart the aircraft one-tenth of a second before the pilot. This is not a courtesy. It's so that the fire that lights under your ass doesn't fry the pilot first. Good luck and enjoy your hop with the Blue Angels, the United States Navy Flight Demonstration Team.”
They said thanks and shook hands.
“Now, go out and meet the Blue Angels pilots on the flight line.”
The four went through the hangar out into the San Diego sun and walked toward the six pilots in royal blue and gold flight suits with whom they were going to fly on the hop.
A short blond pilot stepped forward. “I'm Commander Jon Lathrop, call sign Munchkin. I'm the Blue Angels commander, and I will be flying Blue Angels One. We'll fly out to sea in the diamond formation and then separate and give your crew some stick time. Riley, you will ride on Blue Angels Four.”
“I’m Lieutenant Frank Weisser, call sign Walleye,” the pilot said. “Welcome aboard.”
“Thanks much,” Riley said. “My call sign is StarDancer.”
“What’s your billet on Brilliant?” Walleye said.
“I’m the ship’s engineer,” Riley said.
“Doesn’t Brilliant have a soft containment fusion power plant like our Bobcats?”
“Yes, sir. It's a slightly different design and a different provenance. Admiral Kelrithian designed Brilliant in an alternate timeline, but I’ve made some improvements to our power plant.”
“I expect the F-52 power plant is much different than yours.”
“Mostly in size. Scaling down the cooling system was difficult. The manufacturer had some issues with the prototype,” Riley said. “I consulted with the engineers to fix them. I hold three patents on the propulsion plant of your aircraft.”
“What do you do in your spare time?”
Riley didn’t recognize the sarcasm. “My girlfr
iend and I are SoCal Salsa champs.”
“Tayla, you will fly with our number one solo in Blue Angel Five.”
A tall stunningly handsome African-American stepped up. “Hi, Tayla. I’m Lieutenant Commander Erik Doyle, call sign Popeye. Do you have a call sign?”
“My friends and fans call me Ayiiia,” Tayla said as she blushed. “I’m Brilliant’s Communications Officer.”
“That’s the name of a character in Galaxy Warrior.”
She blinked her eyes, flirting with the pilot. “What a coincidence. That happens to be the character I play in the movie Galaxy Warrior.”
She caught a mean look from Riley.
“David, you will fly with Blue Angel Three,” Munchkin said.
“Lieutenant Ryan Chamberlain, call sign Droopy. I hear you fly the left seat on Brilliant.”
“Yes sir. I’ve been the pilot since I turned eighteen.”
“Have you flown anything like the Bobcat?” Droopy said.
“Only on the steveLearn simulator,” David said. “But my dad and I designed a Tomcat interface for close range combat. I can fly Brilliant like an F-14 in close quarters.”
“You played the pilot in the last two movies. What’s your call sign?”
“StarPilot.” David used “moviestar” but changed it after receiving some good-natured ribbing from his squad mates.
“Jennifer, you will be with our Marine representative on Blue Angel Two.”
“We met earlier,” Jennifer said. “Show me the way, Fifi.”
“Your pilots will help you get aboard your aircraft,” Munchkin said. “Joining us will be Blue Angel Six, Lieutenant Bill Meyers call sign Artoo. Artoo and I will record the action.”
As they walked toward their Bobcat, “You are First Officer of Brilliant?” Fifi said.
“Yes, Ma'am. I handle operations and tactics. And I fill in as the pilot when David is unavailable.”
“You landed Brilliant on top of the hospital?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I watched on TV. That was nice flying. What d’you know about the Bobcat?”
“I've read all of the manuals, and I have twenty-five hours on our simulator.”
