//------------------------------// // Chapter 59 // Story: Hegira: Eternal Delta // by Guardian_Gryphon //------------------------------// Earth Calendar: 2117 Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact) April 7th, Gregorian Calendar Fyrenn grimaced, and poured an extra measure of strength into his right foreleg. The additional pressure caused the cutting device to squeal in protest. A shower of sparks blew back against his right claw, but he ignored the pinpricks of hot light, concentrating on the seam he was attempting to separate from the main airframe. At last, with a hiss and a resounding snap, the object came free. Fyrenn shut off the plasma torch, and set it aside carefully. He grasped the avionics package firmly with both claws, and gave it a harsh yank, separating it entirely from its housing frame. He turned away from the fighter's nose to find himself face to face with General Lantry. He carefully laid the electronics module to rest, and sighed, leaning against the object for a brief respite. Lantry surveyed the hangar deck with a long, meandering gaze, and exhaled slowly in awe. Both SeaHawks had been moved into the central space, and suspended on maintenance gantries. Both aircraft were missing dozens of exterior panels. Work crews swarmed over the exterior of the jets, welding, cutting, removing, and adding components as necessary. The entire chamber was filled with the sounds of heavy machinery. Sparks flew from several places at any given moment, whizzing outwards with surprising velocity, before falling gracefully to extinguish themselves on the deck, like glowing snowflakes. The General shook his head, and sighed. "How much longer?" Fyrenn shrugged both wings, then set about replacing the nose panel he had been working behind. As he spoke, he carefully secured the initial locking tabs, then cast about for the six heavy duty clamping bolts used to keep the object in place during flight. "Thirty, maybe forty minutes. The major structural work is done, and the build teams have already finished the dazzle-canisters. There are a few loose bits to tie off, and some last minute adjustments to the cockpit still left to be done." As he finished cinching down the last bolt, the red Gryphon jerked his head towards the rear of the aircraft. "Oh... And the two troublemakers back there wanted to put their own finishing touch on as well." Lantry narrowed his eyes, and strode towards the rear of the aircraft, carefully maneuvering between a series of tool carts, and disassembled flight control modules. The General found Stan and Skye braced against the rear tailfin, holding a stencil firmly in place. Skye had a paint sprayer suspended in her magic field, and was steadily making a series of sweeping passes across the length of the stencil's cutout. The General folded his arms, and raised an eyebrow. "You two couldn't find something more useful to do?" Stan snorted, and rolled his eyes. "Nah. You wouldn't believe how stingy these flyboy types are. If you can't tell the difference between a vertical stabilizer, and an aileron, they don't want you within twenty feet of their tools." Skye stuck out her tongue briefly, and juked the sprayer briefly to cover for a bald patch, before releasing the trigger, and nodding in satisfaction. "Besides; This is, apparently, aviation tradition." Lantry gestured with one hand, and sighed. The two Ponies pulled back, bringing the stencil with them, and revealing the entirety of the three-toned design beneath. The emblem consisted of two Gryphons, back to back, one red, one blue. Each held a stylized lightning bolt in one claw, as if ready to hurl it down upon some unseen enemy. The General snorted, and glowered disapprovingly down at the Equines. "Fyrenn will have your heads." Stan waved one hoof absently, and grinned. "Nah. Apparently he has a model of some antique warbird, and of all things they called it a 'lightning.' We thought he'd appreciate the reference." The two Ponies jumped reflexively as Fyrenn stepped up behind them, his voice the first and only obvious indication of his otherwise silent arrival. "He does appreciate the reference, though he doubts Neyla will appreciate being drawn in solid blue." Skye rolled her eyes, and snorted. "It isn't our fault that her markings are so complicated!" Before Fyrenn could phrase a worthwhile retort, the ship vibrated gently. The oscillation was accompanied by an ominously loud rumbling noise, and the creak of damaged structural beams as compression waves traveled through them. Stan whistled, and blanched. "That one was a lot closer..." Fyrenn's eyes narrowed, and he strode back towards the cockpit, shouting to make himself heard to the entire hangar. "Let's pick up the pace! One final effort! Close it all up! Get those hardpoints ready for the ordinance, and put the loaders on-deck! Get the fueling lines ready!" "Lower! Six inches! Four... Two... LOCK!" The supervisor waved his arms in an 'x' pattern, and nodded. "Cut the cables, and secure the braces!" He turned to Mr. Utah, and nodded slowly, gesturing over his shoulder with one thumb as technicians swarmed over the exterior of the final cylinder. "The array is in place. We've got to run a calibration pass, and finish tying off the mains to the platform's own fusion core. After that, we'll be ready for a first attempt." Mr. Utah stared out at the immense array of devices, and smiled slightly. The cylindrical field manipulators were arranged symmetrically around the platform's central electromagnetic field generator coil. Each cylinder was held in place by a locking mechanism at its lower end, which was in turn welded directly to the platform's truss network. Mr. Utah sighed, and privately wished for another pack of cigarettes. Rather than voicing his complaint, he did his best to remain composed, and pragmatic. "How long to completion?" The supervisor waggled one hand, and inclined his head. "Forty, maybe fifty five minutes. Depends on the calibration run really. No more than fifty five." Mr. Utah nodded slowly, and gestured for the man to resume his work. As the activity on the platform came to a crescendo, Mr. Utah glanced across the intervening space to the barrier itself. He had never been quite so close before, and he found it even more hateful from a relatively close vantage point. He glowered, and narrowed his eyes. "Soon." Fyrenn exhaled slowly, and brushed one claw lovingly along the rim of the cockpit. He shook his head slowly, and thumped the side of his helmet with his right claw to ensure it was tightly secured. Neyla placed a claw on his right shoulder, yanking him forcefully from his musings. He glanced over his shoulder, and the Gryphoness smiled slightly. "You really are enjoying this on some level. In spite of everything." Fyrenn nodded slowly, and chuckled, tapping the side of the jet with one index talon. "I've wanted to fly a combat fighter ever since I can remember understanding the concept of an airplane in the first place. Forgive me if I can't withhold my enthusiasm." Neyla released her comforting hold on Fyrenn's shoulder, and glanced back at the sweep of the jet's right wing, shaking her head slowly and flattening her ears. "When you first described these craft to me, I never for a moment dreamed that I would fly in one. I'll admit; I am looking forward to it." A loud clank put an abrupt end to the moment. Both Gryphons glanced up sharply, to see that the drone craft had been fully sealed into the starboard launch tube. The deck crew were jogging back down the length of the hangar already, eyes fixed on the second SeaHawk. The refueling team had already finished their work, and the weapons handlers were finishing final checks on the craft's guns. In the interest of weight, the only objects mounted to the vehicle's external hardpoints were the home-made 'dazzle canisters' Fyrenn had concocted. With no missiles, the SeaHawk would be relying entirely on twin thirty five millimeter railgun autocannons, internally mounted at the frontal joints of the wings, for offensive armament. Fyrenn gestured up to the cockpit, and grinned slightly. "Ladies first." He extended both forelegs to offer Neyla something to brace against as she scrambled up the side of the nose, and into the cockpit space. The Gryphoness turned, and offered her claws to Fyrenn. The red Gryphon locked his claws with Neyla's, and allowed her to provide hoisting force, while he used his wings and back paws to guide the remainder of his weight upwards. He pushed up and over the lip, into the cockpit, and turned in time to see Lantry, Kephic, Varan, Skye, and Stan arriving from the nearest corridor. As Fyrenn did his best to seat himself on the floor of the cockpit, he threw off a mock salute with his right claw, and grinned once more. "I feel like a kid on Christmas morning." Varan narrowed his eyes, and snorted. "Return safely. I do not entirely trust this craft, given that it was designed by flightless prey simians." Lantry exhaled, and rubbed the back of his neck absently. "Flightless prey simians who made it to the moon less than a century after they figured out powered flight in the first place." Kephic inclined his head, and smirked. "He has a point there." Neyla nodded, and allowed herself a small, almost melancholy smile. "Don't worry. I will make sure he doesn't do anything unnecessarily foolish." Fyrenn smiled down at Skye and Carradan, then winked. "Hold the ship together. And absolutely no gossip about this..." The red Gryphon gestured to the blue feather tucked into his crest, and glared sternly down at the Equines. "I will find out, and then believe-you-me, you will regret it." Stan returned the wink, and chuckled. His tone strongly indicated that there was little, or no veracity behind his words. "Sure thing." Skye inclined her head, and smiled. "No problem. You two lovebirds have fun." Fyrenn glanced back at Neyla, and the Gryphoness shook her head slowly, speaking in a mock stage whisper. "You were right. Stan is a bad influence." Fyrenn chuckled, and rapped one fisted claw against the side of the cockpit. "Close us up. Before I climb out of here and smack their heads together." Neyla nodded, and shifted her hindquarters to secure a more comfortable position. She pulled down the makeshift retention harness, and clicked all five restraint points into place. As the Gryphoness worked, Fyrenn performed a similar task on his own safety belts. Though hodge-podged together from other restraint harnesses, the system was as well fitted as it could be, given the short amount of time the team had been given to improvise something that would fit a Gryphon. Fyrenn flexed his wings slightly, noting that some of the cushioning from the removed seats had been used to build small braces to keep the Gryphons' wings from abrading against the hard metal of the consoles, bulkheads, and dividers. Neyla flipped several switches on her panel, bringing both her controls, and Fyrenn's to life. She took a moment to familiarize herself with the console, calling up her visual memory of the brief half hour she'd spent with the manual, then nodded curtly. "Sealing the canopy." The Gryphoness pushed down on a large yellow physical toggle to her right, and the SeaHawk's canopy rotated into a closed position, letting out a hiss and a small whine as magnetic pressure seals produced an airtight environment. The SeaHawk jolted slightly as a maintenance tug latched onto the front wheel strut, and began pulling the craft towards the port launch tube loading door. Neyla exhaled slowly, and shook her head. "This is the second... No, third time we've crammed ourselves into some Human contraption recently as part of one of your feather-brained 'plans.' I'm beginning to think you have an obsession of some kind." Fyrenn chuckled, and glanced into his rear view mirrors, catching the Gryphoness' gaze momentarily. "You're only just *beginning* to think I have an obsession? Either you're slower on the uptake than you've led me to believe... Or you're just trying to be nice. And it would be the fourth time for me." He sighed, and began configuring his panel, moving quickly and methodically through the engine start checklist. As he pressed switches, and tapped away at his console's central touchscreen, his mind raced. Nevertheless, he mustered enough spare brain power to carry on the conversation quietly. "You realize we're not likely to survive this. Right?" He glanced back up at his rear view mirror, and again made eye contact with Neyla as he continued. "This thing is slow, heavy, and fairly large compared to a fast strike attack fighter. There are two of them, fully armed, with support from an arsenal ship. We aren't likely to last more than a few seconds after we deploy those canisters. Presuming we even get that far." Neyla nodded slowly, and kept her eyes firmly locked with Fyrenn's. Her tone was firm, and her manner resolute. "If I am going to die? I have decided I would like nothing better than to die with you, in the fire of battle. If that should happen hurtling along in this ridiculous metal airship? So be it. Though if anyone could bring this craft through this trial intact? It would be us. Of that I have no doubt." Fyrenn shook his head, and frowned. "Whatever it is you see in me? I'm not quite sure it's there. But I'm glad to have you with me. If Dad could've met you? He would have said there was no one better for me to fly with." The SeaHawk jolted momentarily as it passed over a lip in the decking, and into the launch tube itself. The tug cut loose and pulled away, while a magnetic latch was secured to the front wheel strut by two airmen. As soon as the technicians were clear, the maglatch drew the aircraft fully into the tube. Fyrenn glanced over his right shoulder, and watched as the rear pressure hatch moved steadily, and inexorably towards its closed position. As soon as the immense portal was closed, and sealed, a voice came on the comms. "Lightning One; launch tube is sealed. Commence your engine startup sequence." Fyrenn flicked two switches on his console, and nodded. "Begin engine start checklist. Verify connection to external APU." Neyla nodded, and peered down at her console. "Verified." "Setting throttle in cutoff position. Toggle igniters to 'start' mode." Fyrenn reached to his left, and pushed the throttle lever forward from the reverse setting until it encountered a soft deadzone, just before the one percent forward notch. Neyla reached up to a panel suspended over her head, and flicked two switches to the left, dislodging their cover hats deftly in the process. "Igniters in 'start' mode." The red Gryphon glanced down at his instruments, and quickly verified that no warnings had crossed the panel. "Activate starter motors, full spin." The Gryphoness turned two knob-like structures on her right panel all the way to their stops, then pressed a series of icons on her touchscreen. A subtle whine began to fill the cockpit, and the SeaHawk began to vibrate ever so slightly. "Starter motors on." Fyrenn grinned, and inhaled. "Close front intakes, and configure engines for internal oxidation. LOX pumps one and two to 'standby-on' position, prime inlet injectors." Neyla tapped away at her touchscreen once more, then depressed two large red buttons on her left side panel. Another quiet whine joined the first, along with a series of quiet hissing sounds to the rear. The Gryphoness nodded as graphs and indicators filled her screen. "Front intakes closed, hard seal confirmed. LOX pumps at 'standby-on,' flow to inlet injectors is within specified tolerances." Fyrenn nodded slowly, and gripped the control column firmly with his right claw. "Set LOX auto-injection start for twenty five thousand RPM." Neyla tapped three keys on her touchscreen, and glanced up at Fyrenn's rear view mirrors to make eye contact. "Set. Twenty five thousand RPM. Starter is at ten thousand RPM and climbing." Fyrenn tapped his mic, and glanced right out of the cockpit. He could just make out the catapult operator, sequestered behind a five inch thick, four inch high slit of pressure-proof plexiglass, in his own special compartment adjacent to the launch tube. "Shooter, Lightning One; Entering final pre-launch check phase." "Roger Lightning One. Board is green, lift-lock released, capacitors charged. Bridge and airboss have asked me to advise you that everything else is prepped, and mission clock is being synced to your count. Give the word when ready." Fyrenn nodded, and tossed Neyla another glance in his rearview mirrors. "Control surface check. Left side?" The red Gryphon waggled the stick left, depressed the left side rudder pedal, and pushed the flaps switch back a notch. Neyla twisted as far left as she could to get a solid view of the aircraft's wing. She nodded as she watched the ailerons, left rudder, and flaps move smoothly. "Left side functioning smoothly." The red Gryphon reversed his actions, and raised an eyebrow. "Right side?" Neyla twisted her head around to the other side, and nodded. "Right side is functioning as well." Fyrenn chuckled as the SeaHawk jolted sharply. An ear-piercing whine blasted forth from the engine nozzles as the main jet engine caught, sucking in oxidizer from the meager sea-launch supply reservoir tucked between the engines. The starter motor cut automatically. The red Gryphon pushed the throttle lever out of cut off and up to the five percent mark, filling the launch tube with a cacophonous polyphonic roar that spoke to the immense power contained in the fighter's powerplant. The smell of jet fuel began seeping into the cockpit through the internal void spaces of the airframe. "This is where it gets *fun.* You ever been this close to one of these engines?" Neyla shook her head, and tried to muster a faint smile. "Not really, no." Fyrenn grinned. "Well you're going to *love* this. Set targeting computers for payload dispersion configuration. Toggle HUD to sea-launch mode. Switch master arm to 'standby-test.' " Neyla swiftly began flicking switches, and tapping at her touchscreen. Fyrenn reached out and lifted the hat covers over his master arm switch, before swiftly toggling it to 'standby-test.' Both he and Neyla had to set their master arm to the same setting to trigger an actual change. "Targeting computers, such as they are, are configured for payload dispersion. Switching HUD to sea-launch mode. Master arm switch to 'standby test' setting." Fyrenn nodded, and flicked open the trigger cover on his control stick. "Testing guns..." He pulled back on the trigger, and noted a satisfying thrum as the railguns spun up in their housings. "Good spin, good discharge on capacitors, green lights on loading mechanisms. Pre-launch checks complete. Reset master arm to standby-active." The red Gryphon smiled, and took hold of the throttle quadrant with his left claw. "As the saying goes; Let's rock and roll!" Neyla snorted, and smiled. "Why do I feel as though you've been waiting to say that for a long time?" Fyrenn nodded, and began pushing the throttle slowly forward. "Oh, you have *no* idea." The SeaHawk began to shake, as if a storm had brewed up in the rear compartment. The cockpit, and the launch chamber, became a nearly unbearable orchestra of thunderous raw power. Fyrenn tapped his mic, and glanced right once more to the shooter's redoubt. "Shooter, Lightning One; Advise bridge that we are going into launch countdown. Ten seconds from this mark." The man nodded, and held up one hand with his index finger and thumb curved together in an 'ok' sign. "On your signal Lightning One. Good luck and Godspeed." Fyrenn nodded, and pressed the throttle the rest of the way forward. He offered Neyla one last glance in the rear view, and exhaled slowly. "Do or die... Just like always." Neyla nodded, and braced herself calmly. "Is there any other way?" The red Gryphon smirked, and released the control stick just long enough to make a forward swishing motion with his right foreleg. The shooter nodded, and Fyrenn barely had time to put his right claw on the control stick again, before the world went topsy turvy. All at once, the magnetic catapult shot forward, dragging the craft with it towards the seemingly solid and fatal forward bulkhead. In the blink of an eye, the launch door irised open like the shutter of a camera, allowing the SeaHawk to escape with just inches to spare. Propelled by a combination of the catapult, the pressure of the chamber's air bubble, and her own immense engines, the fighter shot out into the ocean at nearly the half the speed of sound. Fyrenn pulled back hard on the stick, and rammed the throttle all the way into the afterburn position. The air bubble around the craft instantly formed into a supercavitating pocket, and the SeaHawk quickly began to accelerate towards Mach one. The angle of the climb, combined with the rate of acceleration, pushed the G-meter on Fyrenn's console into the low fifties almost instantly. He reached out with one claw and flicked a switch to silence the caution alarm. He glanced at his HUD, and inhaled. "The clock is running!" "Mission clock is running! Burst transmission is out!" The LADAR operator clutched his headset, then swiveled in his seat. "Lightning One and Lightning Two are confirmed away!" The TAO nodded, and offered Lantry a sideways glance as he spoke. "Crash dive! Break to port and accelerate at full military thrust!" The helmsman nodded, and rammed a series of control levers forward, spinning the lateral directional control wheel firmly. "Crash dive, aye! Coming port forty degrees and accelerating to flank speed!" The bridge lighting went red abruptly, and alarms began to sound throughout the ship. Having learned their lesson previously, Skye, Carradan, and Lantry were all firmly strapped into spare officer seats behind the holotank. The Battleship pitched forward sharply, and a strong acceleration force pushed the officers back firmly into their seats. "We have inbound ordinance! Four torpedoes, six mines, and two depth charges! Our hull is being painted by targeting lasers!" The LADAR officer squinted up into his display bank, and blanched reflexively. The TAO cinched the straps on his chair absently, eyes locked firmly on the tactical display projected onto the forward windows. "Activate the wild weasel. Initiate slow starboard spin on our central axis and bring the nose up seven degrees." Structural buttresses groaned as the ship began to rotate, pushing back against the drag forces of the ocean with the immense force of her thruster banks. The comms officer tapped at his display, and glanced briefly over his shoulder. "CIC reports wild weasel is active." "Cut engines to one fourth thrust, and rig the ship for a total non-emission state." The acting Captain inhaled sharply, and riveted his eyes to the infographic depicting the incoming warheads. If even half of the ordinance struck the North Carolina at such depth, in such a damaged condition, the vessel would likely implode from the stress. The helmsman grit his teeth, and pulled back firmly on the throttle quadrant. "One fourth thrust, aye." The LADAR officer began swiftly flicking a bank of physical switches beside his central console, and nodded. "All active and passive emissions are secured. We are now blind, and silent." Carradan clenched his teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut, murmuring fervently under his breath as he did so. "This is the *last* time I volunteer to be bait. The *last* time." The ship rocked violently, and a bedlam of noise pierced the hull, filling the bridge with a roar akin to that of a firestorm. For a moment, Lantry firmly believed the armor had been breached, and that the ship was imploding. Miraculously, however, the North Carolina settled. Stan opened one eye and perked his ears just in time to hear the LADAR officer's report. "Miss! All torpedoes struck the decoy craft! Other munitions went off by proximity detonation, best estimate two thousand yards to starboard!" The comms officer peered into his scope, then leaned back, looking visibly relieved. "Damage reports indicate nothing worse than minor structural rippling. No serious casualties." The TAO narrowed his eyes, and pointed directly ahead with one finger. "Half thrust, bring us up and around in a wide spiral. Put all weapon crews on deck and place targeting systems in passive-standby. I want every ounce of firepower we have loaded, and ready for bear." "GIVE ME A STATUS REPORT! NOW!!" Minos pierced the main bank of windows with a hateful expression, as if the pure force of his vitriol would force Agincourt's weapons to strike their target with added lethality. The ship's executive officer moved to stand behind the LADAR operator, quickly perusing the information streaming across the panel. He turned, and nodded slowly to Minos. "Telemetry confirms detonations, and the North Carolina's signature is no longer present. Total kill is the most likely scenario, with mission-kill an absolute given." The ECM operator leaned in towards one of her scopes, then nodded slowly. "Frequency rotation complete. The Retribution, and the platform, are operating blind." The LADAR operator shook his head, and gestured towards his screen. "There is definitely something else down there, sirs." Minos, the ship's Captain, and the executive officer, all leaned in around the display panel, as the LADAR operator pointed towards a series of indicator symbols. "It's a small, fast moving object, with a large trailing heat signature. If it were any smaller I'd say it was a stray torpedo, but it looks to be much larger than that, relatively speaking." Minos narrowed his eyes, and stabbed his index finger towards the object's LADAR track, before turning to stare out the front window bank once more. "It's an aircraft. And it just became our primary target. Reallocate all tracking AI, and spin up missile tubes. Launch everything we have left in the torpedo racks and toss the remaining depth charges for good measure!" Minos crossed his arms, and grit his teeth, muttering darkly under his breath as a sheet of rain swept across the front of the ship, heralding the arrival of an enormous thunderhead. "Not this time my fine feathered friend. You've over-reached, and I'm going to make you suffer for it." "At this point, they must have acquired us." Fyrenn nodded, and inhaled deeply, tapping the rudder pedals lightly to adjust his course by a nearly imperceptible margin. He glanced at Neyla's troubled expression in his bank of mirrors, then fixed his eyes on the murky blue-green expanse beyond the canopy. "Probably. But we have to push it to the last possible second. We can't afford to waste LOX, not even two second's worth." Neyla shook her head slowly, and ruffled her wings slightly to relieve some of the pressure on her shoulders. "You're suggesting that we simply guess? This deep underwater the stripped down electronics package won't be able to reliably warn us that we've been fired upon." Fyrenn raised an eyebrow, and flexed his right claw around the control column, loosening the knuckle joints. "I never once said this was a perfect plan. Some things you just have to make up as you go." He grinned slightly, and rolled his shoulders to reseat his wings against the cushion pads, as he finished the thought. "And wasn't it you that said 'The Hunt is nine tenths instinct?' " Neyla inclined her head, then sighed and settled her gaze on the inscrutable depths of the ocean. The passage of the water outside was punctuated only by the streamers of bubbles issuing forth from the sides of the supercavitation pocket. After several moments, the Gryphoness spoke once more. "It may be true that subtlety isn't one of your strengths... But perhaps that works in our favor. And to be honest, I wouldn't change it if I could." Fyrenn kept his eyes riveted to the canopy, but allowed himself a slight smile as he responded. "Just think of all the nifty free rides you've gotten as a result. Who doesn't enjoy being able to brag about driving a tank down main street?" Neyla snorted, and grinned. "Well, never let it be said we passed up an opportunity to scrape the paint off expensive military hardware." The red Gryphon's smile widened, and he chuckled quietly. "Think of it as an investment. Great yarns we can tell our grandkids around the hearth in another couple-hundred years or so." The Gryphoness' eyes brightened noticeably, but before she could open her beak, Fyrenn's eyes narrowed, and he rammed the stick to the right. The SeaHawk's vectored thrust deformed the air pocket encasing it, altering its trajectory substantially. The G-meter spiked into the mid sixties as the craft rolled right, and a trail of gasses and bubbles shot past a mere fifteen inches from the canopy. "We're in the soup now! Lean out the LOX injection ratio as far as it will go without inducing cutoff! This will be about as close as we can push it!" As Neyla carefully adjusted the LOX to fuel ratio, Fyrenn pushed the SeaHawk into a series of tight, dizzying spins and loops. The aircraft shook violently as a depth charge detonated a mere three hundred yards behind. The pressure wave threatened momentarily to collapse the super cavitation bubble, and Fyrenn briefly wondered exactly how many giblets he and Neyla would be shredded into by the force of the deceleration. "Go full lean!" The Gryphoness shook her head, and winced as Fyrenn performed a particularly harsh barrel roll to avoid an inbound torpedo. "We're already thirty percent below the rated redline!" Fyrenn grit his beak, and tightened his grip on both the control stick, and the throttle. He juked the rudder pedals briefly before reiterating his point. "Doesn't matter! We're down to fumes with the oxidizer, go full lean now! Bare minimum!" He pulled the throttle back to the fifty percent mark as Neyla swiftly tweaked the appropriate sliders on her panel. Her eyes widened, and she exhaled sharply as she noticed the distinct decrease of the engine noise. "I hesitate to even ask." Fyrenn flattened his ears, and began massaging the stick and rudder pedals to generate a series of somewhat gentler, less fuel-intense maneuvers. "I'm counting on our existing momentum, and our natural buoyancy. We can't afford to hit the surface below a certain speed, or we'll fail to go airborne. If we starve the engines before that point, we'll be doubly screwed. We have to nail the switch to external air the first time. No do-overs." The red Gryphon winced, and flexed his left claw in preparation for a carefully timed burst of acceleration. He made eye contact with Neyla for the briefest of moments, before speaking once more. "Talon on the switch. Don't wait for my signal. The second the inlets are open, I'm going to push to afterburn. We'll pull some very, very harsh negative Gs, and then we'll be all of twenty feet off the deck until the last possible second." Neyla nodded, and placed one claw firmly on the panel responsible for engine inlet controls. The cockpit grew slightly lighter as the distance to the surface became short enough for light to seep down. Fyrenn grit his beak once more, and inhaled deeply. "Alright. Let's quit this submarine crap, and go flying."