Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
April 7th, Gregorian Calendar
"Lightning One, North Carolina..."
Fyrenn had to actively restrain himself to keep from shouting into the microphone. He had first asked for an update on Stan, and the assault party, nearly fifteen minutes prior. He held his tongue, allowing Neyla to take the call in order to spare the ship's radio officer an earful.
The Gryphoness' tone betrayed a sense of impatience to Fyrenn, but it was well in check, and imperceptible to the Battleship's communications officer.
"North Carolina, Lightning One; Ready for status update."
"Lightning One; I've been asked to inform you that Mr. Carradan is safe. He sustained moderate injuries in the course of defending the ship, and he is slated for transfer to a dirt-side medical facility, but he is stable, conscious, and asking for information about your situation."
Neyla smiled slightly, and tapped her microphone transmit key.
"North Carolina, please let him know that we're safe. Keep the Appalachian appraised of his destination and travel information, tell him we'll catch up with him as soon as we can."
Fyrenn's impatience quickly got the better of him. Before Neyla could say anything else, and before the voice at the other end of the line could even acknowledge her requests, the red Gryphon interjected forcefully.
"Do you have any information on the platform assault team?"
A brief, but telling pause ensued, after which the radio officer's voice lost all semblance of forced professionalism. To Fyrenn, the man simply sounded exhausted and dejected.
"Negative Lightning One. They haven't reported back."
The red Gryphon closed his eyes momentarily, forcing himself to swallow the torrent of rising emotions that the words had set free. He kept his beak firmly shut, allowing Neyla to finish the call.
"Understood. Keep us apprised of the situation."
Several minutes of silence passed. Fyrenn spent the majority of the time staring out at the horizon, doing his best to resist the urge to contact the Battleship once more and pointlessly demand more information.
As the SeaHawk passed out of the trailing edge of the squall, and into calmer air, Neyla glanced down at her telemetry readouts. The Gryphoness raised an eyebrow, and broke the silence at last.
"We just dropped under five percent fuel."
Fyrenn nodded, and exhaled slowly before responding.
"If you want to get out now, I have absolutely no objection. Now that we're clear of the hard radiation? I'm only doing this so I have something difficult to concentrate on."
Neyla snorted, and shook her head. Her tone made it clear that she was dealing with the same struggle to maintain calm, deep down.
"And miss your showboating? Hardly."
The Gryphoness glanced at her main panel once more, before speaking again with a much more focused tone.
"I have the carrier's transceiver. Direction one eight seven true, range thirty two miles."
Fyrenn pressed the right rudder pedal down slightly, pushed the control column forward a half inch, and pulled back slightly on the throttle.
"Alright. We should contact the carrier and declare our position and ETA, then we can run a quick check on all systems. Especially the damaged ones."
"Crew overboard! Starboard side!"
Batting away a particularly noxious waft of smoke, the lieutenant rushed to the railing of the Battleship's fore deck, and peered over the side. It barely took the woman a second to realize that, what had first looked like a group of sailors in the water, was something altogether different.
The objects rose from the sea on twin bursts of air, showering the surrounding deck plating with small droplets of water. As the drenched forms of a speckled Gryphon, a tan Unicorn, and a golden Gryphon came to rest on the deck, the lieutenant stood, mouth agape.
Kephic released Skye from an underslung carry-hold, and the little Pony promptly began to shiver violently, teeth chattering as if in time to an unseen drum. Varan inclined his head towards the stunned officer, and voiced an explanation in the simplest terms he could articulate.
"We were concerned about radiation. The ocean afforded the best protection given the circumstances."
The golden Gryphon paused, then jerked his head first towards Skye, then at the nearest hatchway.
"I believe Skye would appreciate a blanket, and something hot to drink."
To her credit, the lieutenant immediately turned to shepherd the Unicorn away towards the island structure. In spite of her continued state of shock, the officer didn't even pause to look back.
Kephic snorted, and shook himself violently to remove the outermost layer of droplets from his feathers. He stretched, speaking around a reflexive yawn in the process.
"Well from the lieutenant's expression, you'd think they had no idea we could swim."
Varan dipped his head, and sighed.
"One might think."
The speckled Gryphon inhaled slowly, and carefully refolded his wings into a more comfortable position, before speaking again.
"We'd best find out what sort of trouble Stan got up to."
Varan dipped his head once more, and blinked.
"You look after Stan. I will see to Skye. I doubt that a warm dry place and a hot drink will be enough to restore her peace."
"Appalachian, this is Lightning One; Descending through angels three, distance four point two miles, requesting landing clearance and information."
Fyrenn paused to await a response, and double checked his own visual reference. The light carrier was easily visible thanks to the clearer weather in the region, and the red Gryphon found that he could make out the individual components of the capture bar, and the optical landing system.
The Carrier's Airboss came back over the headset, bringing both Gryphons' thoughts back on track.
"Lightning One, Airboss; Carrier has turned to heading one five niner for landing operations. Standard approach pattern, Cleared to trap. No other traffic at this time. Switching you to the LSO."
Fyrenn glanced back over his shoulder at Neyla, and nodded.
"Here we go. Descending to eight hundred. Hook down, master arm to off, and safe position."
Neyla bent over her panel and lifted a large yellow and black cover, deftly toggling the large lever beneath.
"Hook down."
The Gryphoness reached over and reset the master arm switches, double checking the status lights to ensure the fighter's weapon systems were offline, and secured.
"Master arm off, safe."
Both Gryphons glanced to the left side of the canopy, and down, as the jet passed the carrier on the vessel's starboard side. Fyrenn pushed the jet into a dive-turn, and deployed spoilers with the flick of a talon.
As the SeaHawk shed both speed, and altitude, the LSO's voice sprang from the headset intercom.
"Lightning One, LSO; Be advised we have a pitching deck, and a mild crosswind from the southeast at four knots. What is your aircraft status?"
Fyrenn traded a brief, amused glanced with Neyla, before reactivating his headset.
"LSO, Lightning One; We lost our right fuel tank, and we're sucking on fumes. Our aircraft is in a stripped condition. No auto-throttle or digital landing system interface present. We have to do this manually, on optics alone, if we're doing it at all."
A few moments of silence passed, during which Fyrenn brought the SeaHawk down towards six hundred feet, and brought the craft into a wide one hundred eighty degree turn. As he carefully manipulated the stick and throttle, he continued calling off pre-landing procedures.
"Gear down. Flaps down."
Neyla nodded, and pulled back on a large orange toggle on the right side of her console. As the wheels deployed, accompanied by the whine of hydraulic rams, Fyrenn pushed the flaps to their maximum deployed setting, and pulled the throttle back to one third thrust.
"Gear down."
The Gryphoness glanced up as she spoke, and Fyrenn nodded into his rearview mirror.
"Flaps at full."
The SeaHawk pulled level on the carrier's port side as the LSO's voice came back on the comm.
"Lightning One, to be honest, I'd rather see you ditch the plane than risk a ramp strike. I'll give you one shot at this. If I wave you off, go to full power, come port of the carrier, take it out four miles, and ditch. Understand?"
Fyrenn tapped his mic, and glanced to the left side of the canopy. In spite of the late afternoon lightning conditions, he could easily make out the LSO's face, and even see his lips purse as the response reached him.
"Understood. We don't have enough fuel for a second pass anyhow. No unnecessary risks."
The red Gryphon glanced over his shoulder, and knit his brow, opening his beak only once he was sure that he was off comm.
"How fast do you think you could cut yourself out of your harness, and bail?"
Neyla glanced down at the cinches encircling her chest and shoulders, then back up with a steely determined expression, matched by her tone.
"As quickly as needs-be."
Fyrenn nodded, and leaned back, gripping a large pair of caution-striped levers behind his head.
"I'm going to lose the canopy then. If I say go, you go. You don't wait for me, you don't hesitate, you bail. You let *me* worry about me, and the aircraft."
As if to lend emphasis to his imperative, Fyrenn pulled down hard on the latches. The canopy blew away from the fighter, propelled by eight tiny symmetrical ejection charges. For the Gryphons, the change in cockpit conditions was relatively minor.
Both regularly flew at similar speeds without the benefit of a cabin, or windscreen in the first place. Fyrenn called out over his shoulder, increasing the volume of his voice to ensure Neyla heard.
"Final landing checklist!"
The Gryphoness nodded, and began calling out the pre-memorized set of instructions.
"Retract spoilers!"
Fyrenn reached for the appropriate lever, and pressed it into the locked retracted position, before calling out completion.
"Retracted, locked!"
The pattern repeated itself in a swift, well oiled sequence that most career aviators would have envied.
"Confirm master arm secure!"
"Master arm secured, and safe!"
"Confirm hook down!"
"Confirmed, down and locked!"
"Confirm flaps deployed!"
"Confirmed, full notch!"
"Confirm gear down!"
"Confirmed. Three solid green lights!"
"Set throttle to quarter thrust and secure afterburners in safe-mode!"
Fyrenn pulled back gently on the throttle once more, and flicked two red toggles on the inner surface of the lever's connecting shaft.
"Quarter thrust. Descending through flight level six hundred now. Afterburners secured and safed!"
He pushed the stick left and forward, gently depressing the left side rudder pedal simultaneously, holding the turn silently for a long moment, the wind whipping playfully at his ears and crest.
At last, the Appalachian swung into view dead ahead, and only a few hundred feet below. Fyrenn pulled the SeaHawk back into a level flight configuration, and clicked his headset mic twice to alert the LSO.
"Lightning One, you are in the groove. Looking good so far. Keep that pitching deck in mind, and don't let the crosswind sneak up on you. Call the ball when ready."
Fyrenn exhaled slowly, and focused every neuron in his brain on the tiny postage stamp of steel and concrete beneath him.
"Appalachian; Two-oh-one, SeaHawk; Ball! Point Nine four! Manual!"
"Roger Ball."
As the carrier deck rose swiftly to meet the bottom of the fighter, an insistent alert tone began to sound from Neyla's panel. Fyrenn flicked one ear backward to take in the bad news as he fought the subtleties of the crosswind, crabbing the fighter slightly to the left.
"That's a compressor stall warning light!"
"Two-oh-one, you're starting to fall below the glide path. Give it some power!"
Fyrenn continued to allow the SeaHawk to plummet, only slightly increasing the throttle, his eyes practically welded to the deck and the meatball apparatus.
"Corrections look good. Hold that line, and then add power at fifty feet!"
He waited until the last possible moment, pitched the nose up slightly, and rammed the throttle quadrant home to its maximum setting. For almost two seconds, the engines managed to deliver full thrust.
The SeaHawk leapt upwards from the margins, into the optimal portion of the glidepath. The tail hook snagged the first spur of the torsion bar.
Both engines coughed, and died as the nose wheel came down hard, and the magnetic landing retention system kicked in. Fyrenn and Neyla were briefly thrown against their safety harnesses as the craft jerked to a stop.
And then just as violently as it had begun, it was over. A small drone tug pulled up to the jet's front wheel and latched on, as flight deck crew swarmed the rear of the craft, letting off a smattering of applause, and disengaging the tail hook, checking to ensure there were no latent hazards in the process, such as unknown fuel leaks.
Neyla snorted as Fyrenn sat back, and sighed in relief. The Gryphoness sliced her way carefully out of her seat harness, and rose to look over the canopy divider into Fyrenn's face.
"You know, there are some who would have called that pointless effort and stress."
Fyrenn opened his eyes, and smiled, pointing to the blue feather tucked into his crest.
"Some, yes. But they obviously don't fly as often as we do."
Neyla smirked, and raised one eyebrow.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to realize that little gold wings on a jacket don't hold a candle to the real thing."
Fyrenn mimicked the Gryphoness' gesture, raising one eyebrow as he spoke in a humorously nonchalant tone.
"I had that figured out the first time I ever spread my own two wings. That being said? I always did want to get a shot at doing this. Just once."
The Gryphoness chuckled, and took a mock swipe at the top of Fyrenn's head. He ducked halfheartedly, but Neyla's claw still ruffled his ears as it passed.
"I was wrong; You do have some vague conception of subtlety after all. Just... Not *much.*"
Fyrenn smirked as he cut away his harness with one talon, and vaulted to the deck. He stretched both wings, and all fours legs in turn as the deck crew pulled the SeaHawk away towards a clear elevator pad.
"You should be aware, if you really want to delve into any sort of relationship, that this is just about as subtle as I get."
Before Neyla could verbally riposte, an officer came dashing across the deck from the direction of the island structure. The woman pulled up short, and paused, confused as to whether or not she should offer a salute.
Fyrenn's expression was powerful enough to break her stupor almost instantly. There was no anger, nor frustration on the Gryphon's face. Just simple, but painfully heartfelt concern.
"Sir! Ma'am! I just came from CIC. There's a message for you from the North Carolina."
Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
April 8th, Gregorian Calendar
"Ya know, you really ought to go on and get some shut eye. It's after one in the morning."
Stan brought his head up from its bed of pillows, and fixed his gaze on Skye as he spoke. The Unicorn rolled her eyes, sighed, and sat back shaking her head slowly.
"Not just yet."
Kephic yawned, and stretched his wings. The action underscored the cramped nature of the hospital room, as each wingtip brushed up against an opposite wall. The space barely had room for Stan, his bed, and Kephic. Varan and Skye were crammed into opposite corners. Space had ultimately been freed by removing all non-essential furniture and equipment into the corridor.
Carradan had put up a valiant struggle, desperately vying for the freedom to be dismissed with a clean bill of health. Ultimately it had all been in vain, thanks to Doctor Chandler. The North Carolina's CMO had put the Pegasus on the first VTOL out carrying non-critical patients, with orders to deliver him to Naval Medical Center Portsmouth.
Though Stan and his companions had arrived several hours after the main casualties, the center was still on high alert by the time the Pegasus had been assigned a room. The buzz of urgent activity had stretched on long into the night, finally fading around eleven.
The Gryphons both knew that meant that the battle had taken a severe toll on the ships' crews, but they elected not to say anything. By unspoken agreement, they had both decided not to mention anything that might unnecessarily remind Skye of the death she had so recently witnessed.
Varan reached up to the back of his neck and massaged a sore cluster of muscles. His exhaustion manifested as a subtle, but noticeable change in the cadence of his words.
"When everyone has arrived safely, then we will worry about sleep."
As if in response to the words, a loud knock issued from the door. Kephic leaned over and pressed the access control, allowing the frosted glass and steel panel to slide back. Instantly, a russet and blue blur whipped past, bounding up onto the bed and smothering Stan in a feathery embrace.
Carradan coughed, wheezed, and barely managed to force out a desperate request for air.
"Mmmph! A little less squeeze kiddo..."
Alyra sat back, and blushed slightly.
"Sorry. They told us you'd been injured, but they didn't say much more than that."
Hutch waved from his position in the hallway. Beside him, Sildinar had taken up a seated position. The roan Gryphon inclined his head, and offered Stan a reassuring smile. Mercifully, neither seemed interested in adding to the over congestion in Stan's room.
Hutch chuckled, and shook his head.
"In her defense, they were pretty non-specific. I'd be more upset if they weren't so badly swamped. You guys took a heck of a thrashing out there."
Kephic blinked and turned to stare out the window, muttering under his breath.
"That's certainly an understatement."
The General nodded, and exhaled slowly before responding.
"We can discuss the specifics of casualties later. This is probably not the best time, or place."
Kephic glanced back to the door, and smiled slightly as he returned the nod in silence. Alyra leapt from the bed, and loped gracefully back to the corridor, glancing up at Sildinar as she sat back on her haunches.
The roan Gryphon chuckled, and reached behind his back, producing Fyrenn's sword from a standard issue utility scabbard, and passing it to the fledgling. Stan's eyes widened, and he leaned forward.
"How the heck did you get that past hospital security?"
Hutch snorted, and pinched the bridge of his nose. The exhalation turned into a wry chuckle as he attempted to answer the question with a straight face, failing miserably.
"Oh security wanted her to check it in at the front desk... She told them it was her father's, and that she would not part with it under any circumstances. The look she gave that Corpsman was downright terrifying."
"I suppose her father is already rubbing off on her."
Hutch and Sildinar turned in response to Neyla's words, just in time to see Alyra canon the Gryphoness, and Fyrenn. The fledgling pulled both Neyla and Fyrenn into a hug with her wings, squeezing their necks together, and bringing the blade of the sword perilously close to Fyrenn's beak.
Alyra released the pair, and sat back, holding up the sword with both claws. Fyrenn reached out and took the weapon, smiling in spite of the circumstances.
"Thank you for looking after it. I think it served you better than it could have served me, this go-round."
The fledgling pressed forward again, nuzzling up into the hollow of Fyrenn's neck. As Fyrenn sheltered his daughter with his right wing, she mumbled into the fur and feathers of his neck, her voice cracking slightly with emotion.
"I'm so glad you're safe!"
Fyrenn passed the sword back to Sildinar, and pulled Alyra into a full embrace with both forelegs, pressing his beak up against her left wing.
"Oh come now. You knew I'd be back in one piece. I'd never die without my sword in my claws."
Alyra sat back, and narrowed her eyes, flattening her ears against the side of her head in a sign of mild exasperation.
"Well next time, I'm going with you, just to be sure."
Neyla smirked, and pulled Alyra close with both wings. The fledgling giggled in spite of herself as Neyla set about preening the younger Gryphoness' primaries into a more presentable state. Neyla sat back, and spoke as she evaluated her work, allowing Alyra to nestle between her left wing and her side.
"I could certainly use some help ensuring he behaves himself in future."
Fyrenn raised an eyebrow, and snorted.
"No collusion, please. Each of you is a clawfull enough on your own."
The red Gryphon turned to enter the room proper, shaking his head slowly. Kephic, Skye, and Varan dutifully vacated to provide space for the new arrivals. Hutch and Sildinar followed Fyrenn, taking up positions around Stan's bed.
Fyrenn spoke first, suppressing a reflexive chuckle as he did so.
"You look terrible. It's something of an improvement."
Carradan rolled his eyes, and grunted.
"Har de har har. Nurse says I can leave tomorrow... But I'll do anything if you'll break me outta here tonight. The food is deeeeesGUSting!"
Hutch winced, and nodded.
"I empathize."
Sildinar chuckled, and leveled one index talon at the Pegasus.
"You could take it as an opportunity to cut back a little."
Fyrenn shook his head, and smiled.
"That's just not his style."
The red Gryphon paused, glanced at the hallway out of the corner of his eye, then lowered his tone to keep the conversation within the bounds of the room.
"They told us about Lantry, but they didn't say how it happened..."
Stan nodded, and his face fell. He lowered his tone as well, and leaned forward to bring his muzzle closer to the group.
"Those three didn't say much, but Kephic told me that he fell on a grenade to save Skye. She saw it happen. I think she's good 'n shook up by it, though I'll bet she'll be alright given enough time. It don't think it's really hit the rest of us yet."
Sildinar inclined his head, and sighed.
"Well, you are all exhausted. Seldom does the full emotional impact of a battle settle until at least one night's sleep has passed."
Hutch gestured with one thumb towards Skye, who was slumped dejectedly against the opposite wall of the corridor.
"She's gonna need some help handling this. Everyone does the first time they lose someone that way."
Fyrenn, and the remainder of the group watched in silence as Alyra made her way across the hall, and draped one wing comfortingly over Skye's shoulders.
Sildinar smiled, and nodded slowly.
"She has a wonderful family. I think she will have all the help she needs."