And here is the reason I reposted 2-5, because I finaly finished TotW 2-6!
As allways, C&C is not only desired, but almost BEGGED for.... ^_^
--
Starrngr -- Ranger HQ
HTTP://home.talkcity.com/TheSanitarium/Da_Muck/
"You wear a Hawaiian shirt and bring your music on a RUN? No wonder they
call you Howling Mad..." -- Doc' (As Rabid).
-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
-- File: totw2_6f.txt
Even though these things give you about as much legal coverage
as a G-string on a stripper, I am going to include it anyways.
Most of the characters in this story are the property of Harmony
Gold, and a whole lot of other companies who's names escape me at the
moment, and are used without their permission. However, since this
is a not for profit undertaking, I dont think its neccecary to worry
about it. At any rate, I'm so broke suing would be a waste of time.
The few original charecters in here are mine, so please ask before
using them in a fic of your own.
Comments and Criticisms welcome: E-Mail Starrngr@aol.com.
Flames will be promptly filed in file 13 and ignored. Previous
parts of this story can be found at: Ranger HQ:
HTTP://home.talkcity.com/TheSanitarium/Da_Muck/Libr/wndr/
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Tales of the Wanderer: Book 2: Wandering Ace Chapter 6: Turnabout
Rick Hunter fixed his new pilot with a look most often
associated with someone who has found their pet cat had left half a
mouse on their pillow... again. "Tell me this again, from the top?"
"I'm your new training and safety officer, Sir," Micheal
replied. "Capt. Micheal 'Muck' Thunders, USAF."
"Right." Rick was clearly unconvinced, but motioned for Muck
to continue.
"Captain Gloval requested a ground attack specialist to train
your people in ways to successfully attack Zentraedi ships. They
sent me."
"So, why were you in the hospital that day?"
"I had a small accident when I arrived on board. The doctors
just returned me to flight status," Muck replied, smothering
a grin. He'd always believed misdirection was better than an
outright lie. Plus, it was much easier to keep one's facts straight
that way.
Rick wasn't very happy about this turn of events, but didn't
have a good enough reason to ground his new pilot, given the chronic
shortage of able pilots. "That was quite a show you put on in the
simulator yesterday. Mind telling me why they all thought you were
a civilian?"
"I wouldn't know sir. Probably because I was in civvies,
sir. Anything else, sir?" Micheal replied in his best new recruit
voice.
Rick gave him a cold look. "You're records impressive enough,
but you're not qualified in carrier operations. You'll be qualifying
tomorrow. You'll ride in the backseat with me for five traps. Then
we switch seats and you make 5 traps before making 5 solo traps.
Once you've qualified, you'll be making two four-hour hops a day, in
between your other duties. Any questions?"
"No Sir!"
"Be in Skull's ready room at 08:00. Dismissed," Rick snapped,
and Micheal made an about face and beat feet. Rick sighed to himself
and turned back to the dossier in front of him when the hatch to his
quarters chimed again. "Enter," he called with a sigh and the hatch
slid back open to admit Max Sterling, who was looking back over his
shoulder with a look of bemusement.
"Hey, skipper? Isn't that the guy that almost got ya in the
simulator yesterday?" Max asked, turning his attention back to his
CO.
Rick sighed and leaned back in his chair. "More like he would
have if you hadn't nailed him with that missile spread. Nice
shooting, by the way," he admitted.
Max rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "Aww, I
wouldn't have gotten him if he hadn't been fixated on you, boss. So,
they've bumped him out of flight school already?"
Rick sighed. "Nope, he never was IN flight training.
Apparently, he's our new TSO, on loan from the air force."
"Why?" Max wondered aloud.
"He's a ground attack specialist. Apparently, Gloval asked for
one to come up with a way for us to take out enemy ships with the
Veritechs."
Max replied with a low whistle. "Risky, but if he's as good at
attack missions as he was in the simulator, we might just have a
chance. Is he checked out yet?"
"Except for carrier ops. I'll qual him myself tomorrow."
Max stared at Rick for a moment. "Fifteen traps in one day?
Remind me not to get on your bad side!"
Rick sighed. "It's not that, Max. We're fighting for everyone
in Macross City here. If he can't take the stress I need to know as
soon as possible."
Max shook his head at that. "Why'd they wait so long?"
Rick sighed. "They just cleared him for flight duty. Said he
had an accident right after he came aboard."
Max snapped his fingers. "That's right, he did. He managed
to come racing down the hanger deck of Prometheus and piled into a
plane tractor." Rick stared open mouthed at Max, who suddenly
blushed. "It was the day you flew Minmei to visit her folks. Ben
and I had just come back from patrol and..."
* * * * * * * * *
Micheal 'Muck' Thunders was already suited up, a cup of coffee
in his hand, when Rick arrived in the Skull's ready room. Quietly,
he remained standing, though he came to attention as the rest of the
squadron took seats and the general noise level dropped dramatically
as Rick started to address the squadron. "All right people. We're
on Bar-cap today from 12:00 to 15:00. Until then, We're the alert-15
squadron (1). If you need anything, take it up with Max. I'll be
unavailable for most of the day." Rick then pointed to the Muck.
"This is Capt. 'Muck' Thunders, our new TSO. I'll be qualifying
him for carrier ops today, which is why I'll be unavailable.
Any questions?" With no questions, Rick got ready to step down.
"All right. Max has your plane assignments," Rick finished, and
turned the podium over to Max.
Micheal handed Rick a sheaf of paper as Rick walked up. "Flight
plan and plane report, skipper. We're assigned trainer 201 and a
'Kid Driver' call sign."
Rick nodded non-committaly as he looked through the
documentation. "You filled out this flight plan yourself?"
"With Lt. Sterling's help, sir."
Rick nodded, then signed the papers. "Ok then, 'Muck'. Let's
get you qualified, then..."
* * * * * * * * *
"Kid Driver 201, Turn final and call the ball."
"201. 1-D manual Ball, fuel 7(2)," Muck reported as the
Veritech turned towards the Prometheus' flight deck.
In the back seat of the two-seat training bird, Rick shifted
slightly to relieve the stiffness in his backside as he continued
to monitor their approach. He was glad that this was his final trap
in the backseat; he was also certain that Muck wasn't looking forward
to having to make 5 more solo traps. Still, Muck was sliding towards
his fifth trap aboard Prometheus with the same precision as his first
when the wave-off call came over the radio.
"201, Wave-off, wave-off, wave-off!" the LSO called even as the
'ball' was replaced with a red X of lights. Rick grabbed for the
controls, but Muck was already reacting. Kid Driver 201 was very
close to the deck; too close, in Rick's opinion, for a normal
wave-off. Muck seemed to sense that as well; instead of trying to
pull up he increased the throttles to full power. Momentum kept Kid
Driver 201 headed for the deck, but the added thrust carried it clear
of the arresting gear before touching down; 201 roared down the deck
and back out into space.
"201 has bolted and is clear of the deck," Muck radioed back to
approach control. "Request vector to marshal (3). Oh, and the
skipper would probably like to know why the deck went foul so close
to a trap."
"How'd ya guess?" Rick chortled over the inter-phone.
"Cause I wanna know too, Skipper," Muck replied in the same
laconic drawl he had used since taking the front seat, unaffected
by the wave-off.
"Kid Driver 201, Mother. Vector to marshal one five zero by one
nine zero, 20 miles. Say fuel," Approach Control called over the
radio, breaking into the conversation.
"Mother, Kid Driver 201. Fuel 6.5, coming to one five zero by
one nine zero. Any word on the deck yet?"
"Negative, 201. XO wants you on button one though."
"Roger that, 201 is off button nine for button one. 201 out."
A very irate Lisa Hayes appeared on the center screen in both
cockpits as soon as Muck switched comm channels. She didn't even
wait for Muck to call in... all in all a very bad sign in Rick's
opinion.
"What the deuce did you think you were doing, 201?" Lisa
demanded. "You were waved-off. That means pull up and return to
marshal for another approach, mister!"
"Negative, Ma'am. I was past commit, and if I had tried a
normal wave off I probably would have caught a wire and had a mid-air
engagement," Muck replied calmly. Sitting in the back seat, Rick
didn't know if he should try and step in and defend his new pilot,
or hope to stay out of the crossfire; the look on Lisa's face was one
that had skewered HIM more than once.
"And if the deck was foul because a piece of gear had rolled
into the way, you would have wrecked that plane!" Lisa's gaze
shifted slightly and Rick suddenly knew what was next. "I expected
better out of a pilot you were checking out, Commander." Lisa's
tone was that one normally used when talking to a child who should
know better, but decided to do something wrong anyway.
"He made the right choice, Lisa," Rick sighed, knowing that
sooner or later he was going to hear about this, quite extensively.
"He shouldn't have been waved off that close to begin with, but he
reacted almost as well as I would have."
Lisa's cheeks reddened, but Rick didn't know if it was out of
shame or anger. "All right, Hunter. But I want to talk to you after
your done," she snapped before cutting the circuit.
"Mother, Kid Driver 201 off button one for button nine, Out,"
Muck sighed over the radio...
* * * * * * * * *
Rick followed Muck out of the cockpit of 201 while the plane
crew refueled it. Slapping the older pilot on the shoulder, Rick hid
his own stiffness at being in the cockpit and smiled. "Ready for
your solo traps, Muck?"
Muck reached for the ceiling in a long stretch before answering.
"Of course, skipper. Can't let you RDF types think the USAF is a
bunch of wimps, after all," he replied with a smile.
"We'll try not to hold your mud mover past against you," Rick
replied, the twinkle in his eye betraying that he was teasing Muck.
"Nice reaction on that wave-off too. Not SOP, but you were right
about it being your only choice. Where'd a mud mover like you learn
that?"
"Promise not to laugh me out of the wing, skipper?"
"Only if you stop dodging the issue and tell me."
"Ireaditinabookonce," Muck mumbled.
"You What?" Rick demanded, totally surprised by the revelation.
"I read it in a book. The Intruders, by Steven Koontz. Same
thing happened to the hero, only he pulled a normal wave off and
hooked a wire mid air." Muck's embarrassment blazed across his
cheeks as his hands pantomimed what had happened to that unfortunate,
forcing Rick to smile and let his new pilot off the hook.
"You did good anyway. Now get up there and get those last 5
traps, Muck. I'll monitor you from the bridge."
"Aye aye, skipper. And good luck with the XO..." Muck replied.
Rick rolled his eyes at that before turning away.
* * * * * * * * *
The look in Lisa's eyes when she turned after he announced
himself only confirmed Rick's apprehensions. It was a look he
remembered all to well from his first ill advised comment about
sourpusses, a certain embarrassing, yet totally innocent, accident
during his first leave... and more times after that than he cared
to remember!
"Well, Commander? I'm waiting..." Lisa demanded in a rather
astringent tone.
"Jeez, Commander! His reactions were spot-on. If he'd tried
a normal wave off that close in, he probably would have caught a wire
in flight and damaged the plane," Rick sighed, wondering how many
times he was going to have to repeat himself on this one.
"And totally ignored standard procedures in doing so! I wonder
what hot shot CAG told him to do that!" Lisa replied hotly.
"I didn't have a thing to do with it, Lisa! I was in the
back-seat, and he reacted before I could even touch the controls,
let alone tell him what to do!" Without realizing it, Rick began
to match Lisa in tone and volume. "And in this case, the book is
wrong!"
"What do you mean, the book is wrong! Those procedures
were developed by the best minds on earth to insure your safety!"
"And they most certainly didn't take into account landing on a
carrier in space! Heck, the carriers weren't even part of the SDF-1
originally, and 'the book' has never been updated to cover space
carrier operations!"
As the argument continued to build, the normal operation
of the bridge began to stop and center on Rick and Lisa, forcing
Gloval to step in. Coughing loudly enough to interrupt whatever
Lisa was about to say, he drew the attention of both combatants.
"Commanders, please. While this discussion might be important,
it's disrupting what needs to be done. I'm certain we can handle
things for a few minutes while you two finish this discussion
off the bridge." At that, Lisa's cheeks reddened as she hung her
head in embarrassment.
"Go on, Lisa," Claudia encouraged gently. "We can handle it."
"That's right ma'am," the ever-irrepressible Sammy added. "But
it's almost impossible to keep track of everything over all the
shouting."
Only Vanessa's attention was not on the pair. Instead, she
leaned closer to her comm console. "Kid Driver 201, say again."
The voice coming over the speaker distracted Lisa for a moment.
"Prometheus control, Kid Driver 201. Request permission to start
engines and push."
"Roger, 201. You're cleared to start engines. Follow your
handler to the elevator, then to cat one for launch," Vanessa replied
calmly. Lisa fixed Rick with a hard look, then grabbed him by the
elbow and dragged him off the bridge, waiting until the bridge hatch
closed before resuming their 'discussion'.
"You're sending him back out? So soon?" Lisa asked with a
troubled expression. While not a flight officer herself, she still
knew that most pilots only made 5 traps a day during flight quals.
"Uh huh. He still needs five solo traps to finish his quals.
Why, is there a problem?"
"Don't you think that's excessively risky to both pilot and
plane?"
"Not really... but its no picnic out there in a fighter, Lisa.
If he can't handle the stress, I need to know before he gets someone
hurt. If he can handle this, he can handle anything the Zentraedi
throw at us."
"That's still no reason to risk the resource he represents,
Hunter!"
"Jeez, Lisa! What are you getting so worked up about? He's
only a ground attack pilot... they're a dime a dozen back on earth!"
"Not this one. Hunter, there is something about your new pilot
I think you should know..."
* * * * * * * * *
Muck had just gotten out of the shower and was trying to work
up the energy needed to pull on his uniform when Max stuck his head
into the locker room. "Hey, Muck. The skipper wants to see you in
his cabin, ASAP... And he's not in a good mood."
"Oh man... wonder what I did now," Muck sighed. "OK. Thanks,
Max. Tell him I'll be there as soon as I get my uniform on." Max
nodded and ducked back out as Muck reached into his locker.
Five minutes later, Muck was standing at attention in front of a
clearly upset Rick Hunter. Rick eyed him up and down before
speaking. "I just got done with a very interesting conversation
with Commander Hayes, 'Captain' Thunders. In light of that, is there
anything in here that you would like to explain?" Rick tapped Muck's
service record in emphasis.
"Is there anything specific you would like to know, skipper?"
Muck replied, eyeing Max cautiously.
"How about you take it from the top. And don't worry about Lt.
Sterling. As my XO, he has the right to know everything I know."
"Well sir... Basically, that service record there is accurate.
They just changed a few dates to cover the fact that my active duty
was 10 years ago and several dimensions away."
"Why? And why wasn't I told?"
"Because it was easier than creating a whole new fake history
for me, skipper. As far as your not being told right away, you'd
have to ask the Captain or the XO, sir."
At that Rick sighed and relented slightly. "Ok, at ease. You
do realize this sounds like something out of a 'B' movie, don't you?"
"How do you think I feel, Skipper? It's not only a 'B' movie,
but nobody ever bothered to give me a copy of the script!"
Max grinned at Muck's pained expression, and that was what
finally swayed Rick. Chucking the service record back onto his desk
Rick sighed. "So, what am I supposed to do with you? Let you run
the air group through me like a puppet on a string?"
"No sir. I'm supposed to be just another pilot under your
command... except that I've got more ground target and anti-ship
experience than anyone else aboard."
"Which is why you're supposedly the TSO?"
"Right, sir."
"Can the sirs... at least in private, OK Muck?"
"You got it, Skipper."
"I wouldn't mind seeing a bit of proof you're really who and
what they say you are..." Rick noted, leaning back in his chair.
"Well, Fred's still locked up off the Prometheus hanger deck.
I can introduce you to him if the Captain okays it."
"Why does the Captain need to okay it?" Rick pried.
"Because otherwise I won't be allowed in... I don't think anyone
in high command trusts me, really."
"Huh. Can't say as I blame them, Muck. Anyway, Skull's got the
early patrol tomorrow, and you're with Max and I. Get out of here
and get some rest."
"Aye aye, Skipper." With that, Muck turned and exited the
cabin. Max waited till the hatch closed before continuing the
conversation.
"Two days ago, he'd never even been in a Veritech, and now
you're putting him in with us? Talk about throwing him in with the
sharks, Rick!"
"He can handle it... if what Lisa told me is true. Did ya look
at those landing tapes like I asked, Max?"
"Yup. If he wasn't a ground attack pilot, I'd say dub him
Iceman. He's almost as good in the cockpit as I am."
"What about the wave off?"
"Someone noticed a kink in the number three arresting cable at
the last second... they were afraid it was gonna part if you hooked
it. And that close in, he reacted the way I would have... and he
doesn't have near the hours in type as you and I do..."
"Would you believe he got the idea from a book?"
"You're kidding, right?"
"Nope. He told me as much. Said the hero pulled a standard
wave off in the book and hooked a wire mid-air."
Max whistled at that. "Good way to bend an airframe. Still,
that doesn't explain how he got so good so fast with a V-tech."
"I asked Lisa about that. She said Lang looked at his synchro
rate from that day in the simulator and freaked. Something about
his almost literally becoming one with his plane."
Max looked off into space for a moment before replying. "If
that's true, then he might be almost as good as we are. Only one way
to prove it, though..."
"Yup, and if the Zentraedi accommodate us, we'll know by the
time we get back tomorrow. Go get some rest, Max..."
* * * * * * * * *
"Skull, Strike. Bogeys bearing 307 by 310 range blue(4).
Intercept and identify," came the voice over the radio, shifting
Rick's brain out of autopilot.
"Raja, Strike." Rick replied before switching to the squadron
net. "On your toes, skulls. Customers at 307 by 310. Max, you and
two flight with me. Muck, take three flight and the high cover
slot." Two almost bored rajas echoed over the radio as Skull
squadron turned and blue thruster flares filled space. As they did,
four of the fighters maneuvered slightly to the rear and 'above'
the rest.
"One, Two, Judy. I make it 36, even mix of pods, heavies,
and tri's.(5)"
"Raja, two. Break. Strike, Skull. Judy on bandits, engaging.
Break. Three, keep those fighters off of us while we take out the
rest." Rick's voice remained calm, even as the adrenaline began to
flow.
"Raja, One," by comparison, though, Muck's voice sounded almost
machine like. "Three-two, pincer right on my break call." In 12
cockpits, tracking rings turned red as the Veritechs entered range
and their missiles acquired the targets. "Three flight, fire and
break," Muck called as missiles erupted from the lead fighters.
As the missiles drove in on their targets, the dozen
tri-thruster fighters surged forward in an attempt to intercept
the oncoming missiles and fighters. Space began to blossom with the
spherical flashes of missile detonations, and then the Veritechs
were amongst them. Plasma guns and lasers began to fire, only to
fall silent as the four birds of Three flight slashed in from both
sides. The tri thrusters pitched up to engage, and the others were
past, and space became a swirl of mecha and fired ammunition.
Pods and fighters jinked and banked, maneuvering for position;
a twisting, turning affair that invariably ended with one of the
combatants exploding in a fireball.
The comm channels fell silent, as the combat became a knife
fight, with little time to think and no time to pass instructions
over the radio. Ranges and reaction times were to short for
missiles, and the Veritechs fought on with gun and laser.
The battlepod Rick was chasing went up in a ball of flame, and
he checked his radar for the next. Not seeing any, he opened his
comm channel. "Strike, Skull one. Bogey dope."
"Skull one, Strike. Clear scope," came the reply. "Report
status."
"Wait one, Strike. Break. Skull one to skulls, fence check."
"Skull 12, 2 missiles, no damage."
"Skull 14, 3 missiles, right engine at 75."
"Two flight, one EV, two damaged, winchester missiles"
"Three flight, 3 damaged, 4 missiles"
"Strike, Skull. Two down, one EV. 6 damaged. 12 to winchester"
"Raja Skull. Ghostrider is ETA 15. RTB once relieved on
station."
"Raja, strike. Skull out."
++++++++++
(1) Bar-Cap: Barrier Combat Air Patrol. The unit patrols at a set
distance from the ship to intercept attackers.
Alert-15: The squadron is ready to launch in 15 minutes or less.
(2) More carrier jargon for you. This gives the controller all the
important info he needs... Type of plane (VF-1d), the pilot can see
the visual approach cues (or 'Ball'), is in manual control of the
plane, and has 7000 pounds of fuel on board.
(3) Marshal: A certain point in the recovery pattern where planes
wait for their turn to make their landing approach to the carrier.
(4) Range (color): A way of reporting range without giving away
critical information. Blue=150 miles, Green=100, Yellow=50,
and Red=25. Also roughly equivalent to the areas of each Bar-cap
assignment.
(5) Shorthand for various types of Zentraedi mecha. Pods are
standard battlepods, heavies carry two heavy missiles on top, and
Tri's are the tri thruster fighter mecha.