Ando
Chapter 7
The swirling blue-white mass of Ando lay directly below the four ships as they rapidly descended from space into the layers of atmosphere.
Odds calmly guided the other three pilots, talking them through readings and coordinates exactly as Chance would have done. "Entering planetary troposphere at my mark... Mark." The white light of the comm, signaling an open channel between all four ships, had by now burned itself into his retinas.
"Copy that," acknowledged Dart, Catcher and Travis, one after another.
The modified pirate raider gave a slight lurch, then began to shudder almost imperceptibly as the ship nosed its way into the lowest layer of planetary atmo; the layer of weather.
The transparisteel viewport flashed a warning white before the viewport's polarizer automatically darkened to spare the pilot's eyes from unfiltered radiation. Odds' sighed with relief. His eyes were tired enough, squinting against the sun and the glare off the sea and ice was an added strain he could not endure.
Odds did take a moment, though, to admire the sight. They'd come in on the day-side of the planet, so the sun was at their backs and the terminus between night and day was highlighted to the point of unreal clarity and starkness. Briefly, the fleet of ships was halved, caught exactly between darkness and light. Only now, only here, sitting in a cockpit, was it possible to observe night and dark so closely together, like brothers laying down side-by-side. After a week on Darkknell, there was something soothing about the sight of the sun, of being surrounded by light. They'd swing over the planet and land in pre-dawn darkness.
He didn't take long to admire the sight.
Past the day-side, clouds, thick and white, were gathering on the dark face of the planet, the seeming peacefulness threaded through with precipitation and wind. Odds studied the monitors and did a quick analysis of their flight path. He chewed on his bottom lip while he thought about how to discuss this latest development with the other three pilots. They were likely seeing the swirling mass of turbulence appear on their scopes, as well. "We're coming into a bit of weather."
"I see it on the brightband," Catcher acknowledged, "freezing rain and hail."
"Ah, yes. It's good to be home," Travis said.
"I could do without the weather," Dart grumbled. "Freezing rain is a mess for landing ships."
Odds rolled his eyes. He never did like working with ARCs. Whenever he had to transport them, they always had to make some sort of comment about his flying. A little extra training and the di'kuts thought they were experts on every shabla thing. He paused a beat, and once he was sure his temper was under control he answered. "Not to worry, Dart. I've taken ships through worse than this."
The ARC only grumbled under his breath in reply.
"Razor, I need an update on the local weather front." Odds could easily interpret the weather on his scopes, but figured a bit of positive news would be good for the other three. Dart seemed particularly stressed. Odds briefly wondered if there was more going on with the ARC than fatigue.
Not my problem. I'm not the captain. Captain Rex abandoned us.
Razor's voice interrupted his thoughts and focused him back on task. "Storm already moved past us here in town. It's crisp and clear. Good weather for gliding those ships in. You four are lucky."
Dart snorted.
As a fellow pilot, though, Odds heard the wistfulness in Razor's voice. It was the same tone Chance used during their early days on Ando, when they were two pilots without a working ship, before the mad scramble to fix the pirate raider.
He turned to his substitute co-pilot and gestured to the nav-disdrometer. "Det, let me know if the storm moves closer or if the sidebar goes red." Odds turned a wary eye on his own control board while he listened to Catcher, Dart and Travis recite readings back at him. Razor was listening in as well and Odds was glad for the backup.
The ship pushed through atmo and real gravity began to assert itself. Odds' one hand started to shake again and he tightly clenched his muscles to still the action.
Fek.
He blinked rapidly as his vision blurred slightly. This might not turn out to be one of his smoothest landings. He was used to flying LAATs, and while he normally didn't mind the challenge of piloting a different sort of ship, he was not in the best shape either physically or mentally. And, he didn't just have to safely land his ship, cargo and passengers, he was responsible for the lives of the rest of the Legion as well.
No pressure, though.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He could hear Chance murmuring to himself. His vod liked to recite the sensor readings out loud during takeoff and re-entry.
I hear you, Chance. I can get through this.
"Kriff!" Dart filled up the channel with a colorful collection of curses in languages that demonstrated the ARC's broad range of experiences. Even through the hazy, clinging cloud of fatigue, Odds had to admit he was impressed. Dart ended his litany with a final exclamation, "Who picked this fekkin' ship?"
"Steady, Dart," Odds said, still trying to figure out why the ARC was so uncharacteristically tense.
"Tell that to the damn ship," Dart snapped back. "It's shaking itself apart."
Odds squeezed his eyes shut - hard and just for a second - in an effort to fend off an oncoming headache, but even that tiny movement seemed to cause all his injuries to ache anew. Razor had his back and smoothly stepped in and took over. "YTs have wonderful qualities, Dart," supplied the paralyzed pilot on Ando, "but automatic gravity readjustment isn't one of them. You may be experiencing added turbulence. As Odds says, stay steady. And, try adjusting the grav thruster manually."
There was a pause, followed by more colorful cursing. "Got it," Dart said finally. "Alright, it's stabilized."
"I'm getting a lot of atmospheric interference," Catcher said.
"Det, status update," Odds kept his attention focused on the controls, as well as the constant stream of readouts from the other three pilots.
"It looks like we're coming out of it. The front is headed north along the coastline and out to sea."
"That's what I wanted to hear," he nodded with satisfaction. "Remain on course. We can easily power through the residual winds."
"Good to know," Dart replied dryly.
The clouds were parting as the ships descended and, through the lightening transparisteel, Odds could see Andotown; the lights of the houses shining through the night like miniature stars. The open sea was calm with a brilliant orange reflecting back and the small fishing fleet was visible as tiny, illuminated dots in the distance.
Odds' eyes swept over the sensor readings then back over the terrain. On the journey home, they'd discussed the best landing sites for the four ships. The pirate raider had originally crashed outside of town in an area they now referred to simply as "The Meadow." The second landing site was Fisherman's Field.
Fisherman's Field was much closer to town, and made it easier to transfer the wounded, but brought in 'civilian complications.' Since Razor was directing them toward the field, Odds would have to trust in the judgement of the other pilot. As the landing sight came into view, he gave a short bark of a laugh. The civvies had managed to put down red and blue nav-lights to guide in the ships. It even looked like a proper landing field.
It was still going to be a tight fit, though, and he felt cold sweat trickling down his neck as they descended toward the site.
"Dart, you're off course by a vector of 0.5."
"Got it. Correcting now," the ARC said and Odds verified as the freighter's vector straightened.
"I received a warning light from my inertia dampers," Catcher said.
"Those are always over-sensitive on landing. Ignore it. You're going to have to glide the rest of the way in anyway. Keep your final burn to no more than three seconds, then switch immediately to your ion drive."
"Acknowledged."
Catcher sounded calm enough, but they both knew it was a tricky maneuver to attempt in an unfamiliar ship on a makeshift landing site.
Odds swallowed. Hopefully, they wouldn't have to scrape Catcher and the PLY off Fisherman's Field.
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