Trimaran carrier USS Kandahar - Off of Midway Atoll - June 3, 1942
His head was still hurting, and a mix of nausea and vertigo coursing through him, despite his cybernetic inserts' best abilities to counter them with a rich cocktail of medicinal chemicals. David O'Neil, or "Starbuck" as he calls himself being a huge Battlestar Galactica fanatic, was still reeling from the effects of the transition that happened a day before, and the battle that followed soon after. 'Fucking Christ, that was nasty!' he thought. At least the V3D device he had on his head was keeping his mind in check, somewhat. He was playing Star Wars - Fleet Commander, a game which came out in 2019. He love Sci-fi with-
His flexipad beeped, indicating an incoming message.
He paused his game and took the device off his head, before gathering himself. He taps the button on the screen of the flexipad and looks at it - A Video message, from his superior officer. If they were wasting such precious bandwidth in this gray world of piston engined-planes and dirty oil warships, it must be important.
"Excuse me, Colonel, Admiral Spruance would like to speak with you."
"Send him in." David said.
The flexipad link cut to black, and seconds later, Admiral Spruance of the "contemporary" US Navy walks through the door. David stands up and briskly salutes him, which was returned.
"Colonel David O'Neil." Spruance began, with a mix of feelings showing on his face. "I hear you were a great combat pilot back in your world."
"That's right, sir." David responds. "Been a Marine pilot since 2017."
Spruance nodded. "Still shaken up about yesterday?" he asks, noting the sickening look on David's face.
"Aye, sir. That was some fucked up business, if you don't mind the language."
David recalls the battle that immediately followed the Transition. He remembers the shocked look on his face as if he saw it himself, and he could swear that the contemporary sailors were just as shocked as he was. He was immediately thrown out of the realm of memory by Spruance.
"I've talked with Admiral Kolhammer about the whole fiasco yesterday. He says he doesn't know how it happened. I assume you are out of luck as well?"
"Sir, I think I might be able to shed some light, though I can't be entirely sure until we Twenty-Firsts are in agreement about what happened." David said.
Spruance looked on, taking in the man's words.
"I believe that some shady characters on that research vessel were experimenting with the military applications of wormholes, when some sort of catastrophic malfunction occurred. I can remember seeing a blinding... purplish-pink flash, before everything went black. I can only say that whatever they were doing over there, they must have ripped the very fabric of time. We had a massive fleet at our disposal, and now there's so few of us left, and I believe that the rest of the Multinational fleet are scattered across the globe, some ending up at the earth's core, some in deep space, some... probably fused to a mountain on an island somewhere in the Pacific."
Spruance was moderately confused. Still, it seemed to be the only explanation for the fiasco that was Midway. The Japanese carrier group had already retreated in lieu of what happened. Suddenly, Davids magic screen beeped.
"Oh what now?" David asks, irritated that someone is intruding on the meeting. He taps the screen of his flexipad, revealing a live message, listed PRIORITY 1.
"David, you're needed in the hangar and on your plane! We've got bogeys inbound, and a lot of them! Big Eye shows piston-engined planes with red circles on their wings, and plenty of munitions to sink the Contemporary US fleet!"
"Japs!" Spruance cursed. The word hit David like a sledgehammer to the chest.
"I'm on my way! Have the catapult ready for launch!"
David cut the link, and looked up at Spruance. There was no time to lose, and the enemy will be above them at any moment. The buzz of the Metal Storm CIWS systems and Laser Pods was shortly followed by the red alert siren.
"All hands, man your battlestations! Enemy planes approaching! This is no drill!" the PA system aboard the Kandahar announced.
David's wife, a Navy Security Officer, would have retreated below decks by now. His headache and nausea were replaced by nervousness and excitement, as Adrenaline flowed through his body. As he was getting suited up, he heard the woosh of a SAM launch, followed by a low, dull pop, likely a Japanese plane being blown out of the sky at long range. With his flight suit on and helmet in hand, he rushes to his plane, an F-22N Sea Raptor. He climbs up into the cockpit and straps himself in, before starting up his engines and taxiing to the elevator.
"Starbuck, this is Flight Ops, begin taxiing to Catapult 3."
"Copy that!" David replies. On the deck, David's F-22 taxis to Catapult 3, and is hastily hooked up. After hookup, the catapult's Fuel-Air mix ignites, throwing the plane in the air. "Starbuck. Turn left, vector 1-7-0, and increase speed for intercept." the Flight Ops officer orders.
"Roger." David replies before throttling up. His Raptor's twin jet engines push him towards Mach 1, cruising speed for the F-22. "Targets identified, Flight Ops. We've got Vals and Kates, with Zeros as escort." a fellow Raptor pilot calls out.
"Copy that, Fury. All planes, you are weapons free! Take them down!" Flight Ops declares. The battle begins.
"Got a lock... Fox 2!" David announces as he launches an AIM-9X Sidewinder missile. The missile tracks the target and hits home on a Kate, sending it into a burning death spiral towards the Pacific. The lopsided battle begins to even out as blue F4F Wildcats from Spruance's Carrier Wing on the Enterprise merges with the dizzying spectacle.
"This is Flight Ops, Wildcats from the Enterprise have joined the fray. Be careful of what you shoot at. The Wildcats should be designated as FRIENDLY on your IFF, but no promises. We're sending you a package that should minimize the chance of a missile lock with any contemporary US aircraft in the AO." the Flight Ops officer announces.
"Package received. Lock-on on 'temp US aircraft is confirmed disabled." David announces. However, his threat warnings blare. Some Japanese prick is targeting him. His plane is much faster, but that can be just as deadly. David looks up, and his HMD acknowledges the threat. "Scumbag." He says, before jerking his stick back. The Raptor flips nose-first into Cobra, and he pulls the trigger. Tracers fly out of the Vulcan Cannon. The maneuver worked, as the Zero that was targeting him gets shredded like Swiss Cheese. Oil flies out of the Zero, as it breaks up into many parts. He could swear he saw a hint of a red cloud where the cockpit was...
"Starbuck bagged another one!" Fury announced. David looked as another Zero was claimed by a Hellcat in front of him. "One less to worry about!" the Hellcat pilot announced. "This is Ops, we report that 20% of the enemy air power in the AO has been neutralized. Ah damn! One of the destroyers just took a direct hit! Vals just took her out, we've got Kates coming in too! Metal Storm is reacting to the threat bubble!"
"Starbuck, this is Fury, we should assist the fleet!" Fury announces. "I read you!" David replies. The two pull hard turns, heading back to the fleet. A couple F-35B Lightning II's stayed behind with the Hellcats against the largest pocket of enemy planes, where their VTOL capability could be beneficial against the slower Zero fighters.
It was looking pretty bad. Jessica Hernandez, or Fury, could tell the Kates were too close for comfort. The Kandahar had planes in storage other than carrier-borne aircraft: A few USAF B-1R Lancers and F-15SE+ Silent Eagles, a Thrust Vectoring/Supercruise upgrade of the original Silent Eagle, and plenty of ammo and aviation fuel. The question of the effectiveness of these particular items was now moot due to the lack of Twenty-First Century airfields, but the technological value of these items was enough that losing a single plane would be a strategic failure for the United States. This was only a fraction of the problem though, as Kandahar could defend itself against torpedo strikes. It was the Contemporary US fleet that was under the biggest threat from the Japanese planes. Jessica could see that Kandahar's laser weapons and Metal Storm pods were making work of the hostiles as they enter range, but it isn't enough with how far they are spread out. She and Starbuck enter range, and get multi-locks on them. The missile bays on the bottom of the two Raptors open up, revealing AIM-120 Sparrow Missiles calibrated for multi-lock attacks. The locks count up. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6... They both launch their missiles, and they arc forward, wiping out the most troublesome Kates. "Fury to Flight Ops, targets neutralized." Jessica announces.
"Out fucking standing, you two! You work well as a team! Reaper and Ridgeback flights have confirmed that enemy planes in their area have been neutralized as well. You're clear to return."
"Starbuck Acknowledges, Flight Ops. Beginning landing now." David Maneuvers his plane around, popping his spoilers and speed brakes. He goes through his landing checks, and is ready. He touches down and, with a violent lurch, catches the arrestor cable. "Starbuck, landing confirmed. Fury, you are clear."
"Copy, Flight Ops!" Just like David, Fury follows the same procedure, and lands perfectly. She was taxiing to the elevator, when Flight Ops alerts her to something.
"Fury, this is Flight Ops, we have an emergency landing! Get out of the way!" She manages to get to a safe spot when a Wildcat from theEnterprise crash lands on the deck. There is a burning wreck, but thank god the conventional planes are on the deck. The F-35Bs were about to land when they were waved off due to the issue, to land on the Enterprise. After reaching the elevator and the 2 Raptors were stowed below deck, Jessica and David meet each other face to face. Jessica's flexipad beeps, and she reads what it is.
"Admiral Spruance wants us in CIC, Colonel."
"Best not keep him waiting then." David replies.
As they walk through the corridors to CIC, they are interrupted by a medical unit heading for the sick bay passes them. "COMING THROUGH! MAKE WAY!" the senior medical officer announces, as they rush the...
"Was that the 'temp that crashed on deck?" David asks, shocked by what he saw. The medical patient was, in fact, the pilot of the Wildcat that made the crash landing on the Kandahar's flight deck. He was covered in second and third-degree burns from the fireball. If it weren't for today's- rather, 21st Century medical technology, the pilot would not survive his ordeal. "Poor man." Jessica said, shedding a tear. Their journey to the CIC was uneventful afterwards.
USS Kandahar - Combat Information Center - June 3, 1942
Spruance was still admiring the glowing panels and movie screens in the CIC. Other than those features, it looked like any modern day ship, like the USS South Dakota, with exposed piping and electrical wires. He was mostly astonished with the maneuver that the marine pilot pulled off. He never saw anything like it. He turns around to see the two pilots he asked for walk in, who salute him. He returns the salute, before speaking.
"Amazing flying, you two. Tell me, David. How did you pull off that maneuver?" he asks while pointing at the video screen, showing the impressive skill.
"That's the advantage of Thrust Vectoring technology, sir. Sadly that maneuver, called a Cobra, was first performed by a Russian." David said. Spruance bit his lip at the thought of a Soviet pulling off a maneuver like that. It didn't seem possible with any piston-driven fighter that he knows of.
"Still," he starts, "it was amazing. That skill would probably be worth the Medal of Honor, if not the DFC or Silver Star. How would the two of you like to come aboard the Enterprise for dinner with a few of my men?" The two pilots looked at each other, with a hidden look of surprise and excitement on their faces, before returning their gaze to Spruance.
"We'd be happy to attend, sir." David answers.
"Looks like I have to get my dress and make-up ready for the evening, then." the other pilot says, with a feminine voice that catches Spruance off guard.
"You're a..." he says, stumbling on his words.
"Woman, yes. Lieutenant Jessica Hernandez, United States Navy." She says, a friendly, yet professional greeting.
Jessica could see the shock on Spruance's face. She thought he would be used to female servicemen by now, unless it was the fact that she was a pilot that threw him off. "I'll be getting ready, then. I'll see you tonight, sir." she says, saluting. David could only look at the two of them.
"Eh... women. I have a wife aboard, she's a naval security officer... she can be a bit of a nutjob when you least expect it, whether she's high on a medicinal cocktail of morphine and penicillin, or all-in-all silly while off duty and in my bunk. At least that doesn't hamper her duties, much like the Blood Fairy that we just spoke to." He sees Spruance go beet red. "Yea... she's sexy in her own way, but when she goes up against a squadron of Sukhoi Su-27s, she can be a little scary sometimes... at least that's what I heard from members of the Ridgeback and Reaper flights, the F-35B VTOL planes that landed on your carrier, say." He sees Spruance's color return, with a quizzical look.
"What's "veetall?" he asks.
"VTOL?" David asks. "It stands for "Vertical Takeoff and Landing." The F-35B's have servos on the rear exhaust duct that channel the powerful jet engine's thrust downward towards the deck, and a lift fan in the center behind the cockpit. These devices allow those VTOL birds to takeoff vertically, land vertically, and even hover in midair. The Harrier that the Brits used in the 1960's used the VTOL concept." He could see that Spruance was interested in the sound of a plane hovering in place. "If you're interested, sir. the Hawker-Siddley Harrier blueprints are on Fleetnet. You might be able to pull off mass production of it by 1946, assuming the war doesn't end before then." David looks at his watch, before being handed a letter, a traditional PAPER letter. How he hated these for the fact that they are messy, but at least it saves on precious Terabytes in his flexipad's lattice memory. "Looks like I have to leave. I'll see you tonight." he says with a salute, before turning down the hall. The moment he reaches his dorm room, he opens the letter.
It reads: David, you're lucky that your plane didn't end up in a fireball. You took some damage to your number 2 engine. We have enough spare compressor blades to repair the damage, but under the circumstances, it will take at least a week. Next time you see Spruance, let him know that your bird won't fly for a while. Also make sure that it is perfectly maintained BEFORE you sortie.
-Mitch, Sr. Mechanic