Before we get started here, the lawyers need to have their fun:
As usual, I don't own jack scratch. When it comes to money, I'm flat busted, so don't even bother trying to sue me. The characters belong to Disney, the software belongs to Bill Gates, my kidneys belong to my bookie, and all your base belong to us!
Chapter Six
This was starting to get seriously old…After dashing out of the now burning lair, the two heroes had quickly found themselves standing atop the same ledge which they had first landed on an hour before. This time, of course, there was no squad of synthodrones waiting to greet them, but that didn't make the memory of this particular spot any less painful.
Or the memory of what had happened forty feet below it, for that matter.
"Ya' know, of all the places that I'd like to re-visit, this isn't even on the list." Ron quipped, clearly indicating that he'd had his fill of this particular piece of real estate.
"Well, we'd better think of a way off of it then, shouldn't we." Kim replied, stating the obvious.
On the cliff high above them, Dementor's lair was now fully engulfed in flames. Large explosions continually rocked the structure, sending chunks of flaming debris flying in all directions. To Kim, it seemed as though she was standing directly underneath the Middleton Fourth of July fireworks display. The sight was every bit impressive as it was unnerving.
Moving up the cliff was out of the question, as it would only take them closer to the danger that they were trying to escape. Moving down the cliff was only slightly better, as it most likely represented a dead end. (That was one phrase which always raised Ron's heart rate.)
Two sets of eyes darted about in the darkness, looking for a third option. Then, Kim noticed something that had been overlooked in the confusion of the previous battle here. To their right, there was a narrow path leading from the ledge, around a sharp bend in the cliff. She didn't know where it led, but it was something, and anything was better than what they had right now, which was nothing.
"C'mon… This way!" she shouted at Ron, running toward the path. Ron obediently followed suit, racing around the bend, and stopping short at the sight of another cliff, exactly like the one that they had just left.
"Awwwww man!" he whined. "It's like déjà vu!"
"You can say that again." Kim lamented.
"It's like déjà vu!"
Kim shot a sideways glance at her boyfriend, not sure whether to laugh, or slap him silly for that cornball remark.
"Well, this obviously isn't helping." Kim finally stated. "Let's go back and try something else."
Ron was just about to turn and follow Kim when Rufus began chattering wildly from his pocket.
"Hey, KP!" he called out. "I think Rufus sees something!"
Sure enough, Rufus had spotted something which his humans had missed. Being a rodent, his senses were more acute than a human's. It was an excellent tool for survival in a world where virtually everything was bigger than you are.
Recessed into the cliff and hidden by the shadows that clung to its base, unbeknownst to either of the two teens, there was a large grotto, and while the mere mention of that word may have sent a shiver down Ron's spine, its presence warranted investigation.
Slipping silently through the entrance, Ron and Kim soon found themselves shrouded in total darkness. It was the kind of darkness that prevents one from even seeing the proverbial "hand-in-front-of-your-face," and it only served to heighten Ron's anxiety.
"Let's shed some light on the subject, shall we?" Kim said, finding a large switch on the wall near the grotto's entrance.
Floodlights suspended from the ceiling burst to life, flooding the grotto with light. The two heroes shielded their eyes momentarily, allowing their pupils time to adapt. When they finally found themselves capable of observing their surroundings, they were truly surprised by what they saw.
There, in the center of the room, was the strangest looking aircraft that Kim had ever seen. It was small by comparison to the military transports that she was used to traveling on, but it was definitely still military in its origin. It featured an oversized Plexiglas canopy, which gave it somewhat of a hunch-backed look, and a pair of large, semi-circular air intakes were mounted to each side, just behind the cockpit. The entire assembly stood astride two sets of main landing gear, arranged to the front and back, resembling the wheels of a bicycle. A pair of smaller wheels deployed from each of the wings, in a fashion similar to the outriggers of a Polynesian canoe.
Kim regarded the plane with a combination of curiosity and confusion. What was it doing here? Was it part of Dementor's scheme? Over against the far wall there was a stack of electronic jamming pods, indicating that Dementor had been running small-scale field tests in a run-up to his recently thwarted plot. She was so deep in these thoughts, that she didn't even notice the eager grin, which had slowly spread across Ron's face. By the time she looked up, Ron was already climbing a conveniently-placed step ladder into the open cockpit.
"Uh, just what are you doing?" Kim asked with great confusion.
"Saving our sorry hides, if that's all right." came Ron's sarcastic reply.
"Oh puh-lease Ron, you don't know how to fly a…"
The remainder of her sentence stuck in Kim's mouth, as the strange craft suddenly sprang to life. The sound of compressors and turbine blades winding up soon filled the chamber, and within moments the engine itself roared its concurrence.
"Are you coming, or are you gonna wait and take the train?" Ron shouted above the din.
Suddenly, Kim wasn't certain about anything going on around her. It seemed almost other-worldly that Ron had been able to power-up this craft. Weirder still, was that he seemed confident in his ability to fly it.
At first, she was hesitant to step forward, but then she thought of everything that had already happened that night. Ron had shown a level of skill, which exceeded all expectations that she had of him. He had displayed courage and ability under fire that defied explanation, and done it all without any of his characteristic "big headiness."
She could trust him here, she concluded. If he could fly from cliffs and conjure swords, then piloting a jet really wasn't much of a stretch. She briskly dashed forward, vaulting into the cockpit as Ron closed the protective bubble of the canopy around them.
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Ordinarily, Ron Stoppable would be the last one to call himself an "aviation enthusiast." To him, airplanes were just another way to get from point "A" to point "B." They were no different that cars, trains or jet skis. Simple transportation… and nothing more.
However, as he sat in the cockpit of this odd-looking aircraft, which he had never seen in person before, he felt as if he was in his second home. The surroundings seemed intimately familiar to him, like and old friend that had dropped by for a visit.
In a sense, the T/AV-8B Harrier was like an old friend to him. About a year before, his lifetime love of all-things video games had led him into the realm of flight simulators, and through this he had developed a true love for the little jet. He had, by this point, idled away literally hundreds of hours flying a digital replica of the plane through cyberspace, learning its characteristics and idiosyncrasies, taking it into virtual combat, and learning how to win.
He even felt a sort of kinship with the plane, if that wasn't too weird of a concept. It was, after all, a lot like himself. It was small compared to its peers, lacking their speed and sleek looks. It seemed awkward and misshapen in its appearance, not at all evoking an image that one would find threatening. Most people were quick to dismiss it as a simple novelty, and pay it little to no attention.
But make no mistake about it… The strange little jet was deadly.
In the hands of an experienced pilot, the Harrier was a fearsome opponent. It was a nimble dogfighter, a lethal ground-attack craft, a stable gun platform, and he had come to know it better, perhaps, than he even knew himself.
A quick glance over the controls told him that there had been some modifications to this particular specimen. The familiar analog gauges and panels had been replaced by digital touch screens, but the overall layout seemed to be the same, and he found little difficulty in locating all of the necessary controls. A gentle nudge of the throttle soon had them rolling forward, out of the grotto and toward the edge of the cliff.
"Uh, Ron…" Kim called out nervously from her position in the cockpit's rear seat. "You do realize that there's no runway, right?"
"Don't need one." Ron stated plainly, and quickly adjusted the plane's thrust nozzles for vertical takeoff. The ability to take-off and land vertically was a unique feature of the Harrier's design, and one of many reasons he was so enthralled with the plane.
Within moments, they were airborne and free of the cliff. Ron pitched the nose of the plane slightly downward, using the shallow dive to gain airspeed, then gently pulled up into a gradual climb. He banked slowly to his right, following the line of the coast, and both teens took the opportunity to look over their shoulders and view their handiwork.
The lair was now a raging inferno, with large sections of the structure already starting to collapse inward. Dementor may have escaped capture this night, but with the level of damage they had done, both Kim and Ron doubted that they would be hearing anything from the diminutive dictator for quite some time.
Bringing the wings back to a level position, Ron continued to gradually gain altitude. "Booyah!" he sing-songed. "Thank-you for flying Ron-Air!"
"Ron-Air?" Kim asked sarcastically. "I swear, if you start singing 'Sweet Home Alabama,' I'm hitting the eject button."
Ron nervously coughed into his fist, and rolled his eyes. Kim placed her forehead into the palm of her hand and heaved a forlorn sigh.
"That's exactly what you were going to do, wasn't it?"
"Mmmm… maybe." came the sheepish reply.
"Swell… Just try to get us in touch with wade, okay."
"Can do, KP." came the snappy reply. "Rufus, front and center, buddy!"
The pink rodent fairly shot out of his master's pocket, darting into the back seat, and returning momentarily with the Kimunicator. He pulled a small cable from the back of the unit and plugged it into a data port located just underneath the cockpit's control panel. Finally, he wedged the unit firmly between the side of the cockpit and Ron's ejection seat.
"Way to be, Rufus!" Ron said enthusiastically. "Our communications are now hands-free, KP."
With that remark, he reached down and pushed the call button on the small, aquamarine device.
"This is Mad Dog and Valkyrie calling Rubber Duck… Come in Rubber Duck! Do you copy, over!" Ron called out.
It only took a few moments before the familiar image of Wade appeared on one of the cockpit video screens.
"What the heck did you just call me?" Wade asked.
"It's a code-name, dude." Ron explained. "'Cause, you know, your Wade… and ducks like water, and… uh… well… look, I had to think of something fast, okay!"
"Okay, okay… just calm down Mad Dog." Wade replied, not entirely sure as to what was causing Ron's strange behavior this time around. "So what's up?"
"We need you to plot us a course back to civilization." Kim said, peering out from behind Ron. "Think you can hook us up?"
"Piece of cake!" Wade replied.
"No thanks, I ate before the mission." Ron broke in.
"Yeaaaaaahhh… I'll get right on… that." Wade said in return. "By the way, did you guys hijack a plane or something?"
"Long story, Wade… Tell you when we get back." Kim shot in return.
With that, the young web-master's image disappeared from the screen.
"What was that you called me just then, by the way?" Kim asked once she was sure Wade had closed the connection.
"Whaddaya' mean?" Ron asked, quizzically.
"My code name…" Kim clarified.
"Oh, yeah… You mean that 'Valkyrie' thing?"
"That's the one."
"Well, c'mon KP. You remember Mrs. Baxter's class on Western Religion, don't you?"
"Bits and pieces of it, mostly." Kim admitted. She was normally an excellent student, but that particular class had been about as boring as watching linoleum peel. She was loathe to admit it, but she had actually spent a fair amount of time in that classroom sleeping.
"Well, in ancient Nordic mythology," Ron explained, "the Valkyries were a legendary race of warrior goddesses."
"A warrior goddess?" Kim questioned aloud, taking a moment to think this over.
"Okay… that works." she finally admitted, finding the concept to be strangely satisfying.
"Okay, you're set and locked." Wade suddenly said, returning to the tiny video screen. "I've laid in a course to a small village where you can find lodging for the night, and there's a ride to the airport lined up for the morning."
"As always, Wade, you rock out!" Kim chimed.
"I do what I can." Wade replied with a shrug. "By the way, do you guys have an escort, by any chance?"
Ron looked back over his shoulder at Kim, allowing the two teens to exchange confused looks.
"Uhhhh, not that we're aware of." Ron finally replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, it's just that I'm detecting three unidentified aircraft on an intercept course with you."
"Can you identify these unidentified aircraft?" Kim asked in response.
"Accessing surveillance satellites." Wade replied snappily, his fingers clattering across his keyboard. Within moments, the image of Wade had been replaced on the screen by another, causing both heroes to slump dejectedly into their seats.
"Oh fer' cryin' out loud!" Kim moaned.
"What… did Drakken have a garage sale or something?" Ron whined.
The three aircraft now closing in on them off were destructo-droids. Kim and Ron had first faced these colossal machines at the abandon auto plant in Middleton, when they had saved Dr. Freeman from the blue-hued mad scientist and Shego. The ability to fly certainly represented a new wrinkle, but the design was still unmistakable.
Staring intently at the picture on the screen, Ron quickly sized up their opponents. He may not have known much about physics or aerodynamics, but his online experiences had taught him a few things about how the design of a plane affected its performance.
The droids had obviously been designed with speed in mind. The large engines mounted in their legs and their short, stubby wingspans spoke volumes about their performance abilities.
Immediately, Ron could tell that retreating wasn't an option. The Harrier was many things, but fast was not one of them. If he turned tail, the droids would simply run him down like road kill. They were dragsters: speed was their game.
But if the droids were dragsters, then he was a sports car: quick in the turns and light on his feet. Agility was his game, and he quickly formed a plan that he hoped would use this to his advantage.
"Alright Wade…" he said after several seconds. "We've got ourselves a fight, here. I'm gonna need you to be my AWACS."
"Beg pardon?" Wade replied, puzzled. Acronyms normally weren't Ron's strong suit.
"Airborne… Warning… And… Control… System." Ron explained slowly. "I need you to be my big eye in the sky."
"Roger that!" Wade shot back, quickly catching on to Ron's meaning. "I'll keep you posted with what's coming your way."
"Please and thank-you!" Ron replied.
Ron had to momentarily reassure himself that he indeed knew what he was doing. He knew dog-fighting, at least in the virtual sense, and he understood its basic concepts and tactics. He viewed it as a sort of dance… a deadly, aerial ballet, seeking to balance the dual forces of momentum and maneuver. Maintaining air speed was the key to survival, but one couldn't afford to be too conservative in this regard. There was a balance which had to be struck
His hands now racing over the controls, Ron struggled to get the small interceptor ready for combat. He switched the computers and radar from navigation to targeting mode, and activated the onboard FLIR night-vision system. He called up a diagram of the plane on another display, showing the weapons that they had onboard.
At least one thing was going their way right now. The Harrier was equipped with a rather impressive array of firepower. He had a pair of AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles at his disposal, as well as a quartet of AIM-7 Sparrows. For the short-range work, there was a 25-millimeter gatling gun. This bird certainly had some teeth in its beak.
He scowled slightly at the sight of what else he was carrying. There was a pair of HARM missiles and a GBU-31 bomb. Ground attack weapons weren't going to be of much use in a dogfight, and the extra weight they presented would be a problem. Searching through the controls, he quickly found the ordinance release switch, and the plane lurched upwards as 3,600 pounds of high explosive fell harmlessly toward earth.
"What was that?" Kim called out from her position behind Ron, clearly surprised by the sudden shift of the plane.
"It's no big." Ron reassured her. "Just dropping some excess baggage is all. Gotta get down to fighting weight."
"Bogeys inbound on your eight o'clock!" Wade called out over the still-open com-link.
"Copy that!" Ron replied, snapping the visor of his helmet into place. Both he and Kim donned their oxygen masks and braced themselves for the fight ahead. Both were thinking the same thing…
"These particular skies were about to get decidedly un-friendly"
The droids were within visual range now, bearing straight toward them. Ron held his course, steadying himself, waiting for the right moment to make his move. There was no room for error here, and if he didn't pull this off exactly as he had planned, then the fight could very well be over before it had even begun. He began whispering to himself from under his mask, trying desperately to calm his own nerves and keep his head in the game.
"Steady…""Wait for it…"
"NOW!!!"In a single motion, he banked the plane hard left and pulled back into a sharp turn, bleeding off airspeed as he went. The droids tried to follow, but lacking his maneuverability, they quickly overshot him. In a flash, Ron rolled back right, reversing course back into the droids, putting himself right on their tails. He side-slipped into firing position, lining up for a shot at the far-right droid, and within seconds, a low-pitched electronic tone told him that he had a lock. He pulled the trigger, and the sky lit up as a sidewinder streaked away from his left wing. Seconds later, the droid disintegrated into a fireball.
The dogfight was barely ten seconds old, and he had already scored his first kill!
The two remaining droids now split up, one breaking left as the other climbed vertically away. Following the second droid, Ron slammed the throttle forward and over 20,000 pounds of thrust responded, sending the duo surging toward the stratosphere at over 600 knots.
Ron was quickly starting to realize the limitations of his online training. Virtual reality may be impressive in its authenticity, but it was still no match for actual reality. All of the force-feedback joysticks in the world couldn't compare to the sensation of real-life G-forces being exerted across your entire body. It felt like he had a safe sitting in his lap, and he suddenly realized that he was drenched in sweat. Still, he knew his craft, and he knew how to use it. His own physical limitations would have to be pushed aside for the time being. He had a job to do.
The droid now winged-over and entered a power dive. Ron followed suit with an aggressive over-the-top move, and was soon screaming earthward at trans-sonic speed. The Harrier was never designed to go this fast, and the airframe began to shudder violently. Kim feared that their wings would shear off, but Ron held steady, his full concentration on the droid in front of him. The droid suddenly pulled up, leveling out its flight path, and Ron cringed, realizing his mistake.
He had over-committed to the dive, and he was going to overshoot the target.
Franticly, he worked the controls. He threw down full-flaps, deployed his airbrakes, chopped throttle and pitched up into a barrel roll. All-in-all, he tried anything he could think of to lose speed.
For a split second, he feared the worst as the droid disappeared from view. If he had indeed slipped in front of the mechanical beast, then he and Kim were both as good as dead.
It was an astonished gasp from behind him that jerked his attention upward. They were flying inverted now, suspended by their harnesses with the darkened sea filling the canopy above them. And there, looming large in the canopy, just a few feet away, was the droid.
The evil machine seemed to regard them as it scanned the pair with optical sensors that served as its eyes. Ron and Kim simply looked back, locked in mutual observation with this technological terror. Then, as if following some sort of aerial choreography, the two craft simultaneously began to barrel roll around each other, bleeding speed, locked in a mutual pirouette at over 700 miles per hour.
For Kim, it felt as though her guts were being run through a blender. She looked up to see alternating views of sea and sky flashing past the canopy above her, all the while with the droid looming large in the foreground. Her stomach was voicing its uncertainty as to its own ability to keep its contents in place, and her throbbing head was calling for a vote on the issue.
Ron would have most likely been one step ahead of her on the stomach front, if he hadn't been so darn busy at the moment. As it was, he found it quite impossible to think of anything other than the task at hand. A smile of guarded optimism began to spread across his face as he saw the droid slowly drifting out in front of them. The laws of physics were on his side tonight, and he intended to make them count.
After three more rolls, the droid passed fully in front of them, and Ron flipped back upright, flicking the selector switch on the control yoke from missiles to guns. He drifted slightly to his right, placing the gun-sight piper directly on the droid, and squeezed the trigger.
The entire aircraft seemed to shudder with the staccato burst of the gatling gun. Tracers streaked off into the darkened sky, each round following its predecessor so closely that the combined effect looked more like a laser than a stream of individual projectiles. Ron's hand was steady, and his aim was true, as the droid's left wing was quickly shredded by the burst of fire.
Pitching over into a death-spiral, the droid plunged downward into the sea, leaving a comet-trail of smoke and flame in its wake.
"Booyah!" came Ron's triumphant cry. "Scratch two!"
"Uh, Ron…" Kim called from the rear seat once again. "Not to break-up the party or anything, but what happened to the other one."
"Wha… What are you talking abohhhhh… taco sauce!"
Almost as if on cue, warning buzzers screamed throughout the cockpit, and the control panel lit-up like a Christmas tree. Rufus squeaked the warning that they each already knew…
"Incoming!!!"Ron's heart sank, as he already knew what this meant. He had committed the cardinal sin of the dogfight: He had allowed himself to become "target fixated," focusing too much on the objective in front of him and neglecting the rest of his surroundings. It seemed strange to him that he had made the error of becoming too focused, when it was normally the other way 'round. However, there was one small detail still to be considered:
They weren't dead yet.
Working with cat-like reflexes, Ron shoved the stick hard left and kicked right-rudder, sending the Harrier into a violent snap roll. Half-a-second later, the cockpit was flooded with light as a Meteor missile streaked past the canopy, missing by mere inches.
Without pausing to think, working on pure instinct, Ron pulled back on the stick, plunging their craft from its inverted position into a steep, reversing dive. It was a perfect "split-S" maneuver that would have made any fighter jock proud.
"It's still back there, right on our six!" Kim yelled from her position, glancing back over her shoulder at the approaching attacker.
"Good!" Ron responded. "We're gonna let it get closer!"
"What?" Kim screamed. "Just who's this 'we' that you're talking about, ace-boy?"
"Just trust me on this one, okay!"
The droid was indeed closing the range, working its way into a firing position for its plasma blasters. Ron knew this would happen, given the droid's superior speed, and it was exactly what he wanted. Steadily, he began to count off the seconds…
"One chimmerito…""Two chimmerito…"
"Three chimmerito…"
"NOW!!!"With both hands, he pulled the control stick back so hard that he feared it might snap like a twig. At the same time he adjusted the thrust nozzles downward, using the power of the engine to increase the strength of the turn. This was a tactic he had learned while dog-fighting in the virtual world. It had served him well then, and he prayed that it would work just as well now.
The Harrier pitched hard upwards, pinning the two teens to their seats. Kim felt the oxygen mask ripped from her face by the intense G-forces, but didn't mind, as she was probably going to hurl momentarily, anyway. They both could feel the blood retreating to their lower extremities, and the dizzying fog of a near-blackout briefly swept over them.
The sensation quickly passed, however, as Ron relinquished the turn. The droid had slipped by underneath them, choosing instead to continue its dive, rather than attempt a turn which its silicon brain knew it could not hold.
Once again, Ron rolled back into the path of the droid, falling in on its six o'clock. The droid gunned its engines, opening the range as it streaked downward toward the sea before leveling off at an altitude of only twenty feet.
If there had been any of the region's ubiquitous fishing trawlers in the area at the time, their crews would have been treated to an awesome sight. Two aircraft screaming across the water at wave-top level, each throwing up a rooster tail of salt spray in its wake. Ron did his best to keep up, but the droid's superior horsepower was proving too much. The droid was already well-beyond gun range. Even his one remaining sidewinder didn't have the ability to reach the tin-plated automaton at this point.
He still needed to take a shot, however, as his instincts were screaming that he wouldn't get another chance. There was always the option of simply letting the droid go, but running away didn't seem to be part of this robot's programming. Most likely, it would simply continue to retreat until it had regained the advantage of altitude. Then it would turn back into the fight.
"No," Ron thought. He had to end this now. His mind raced through all the tools he had available, quickly settling on the one item which stood a fighting chance of ending this battle, once and for all… The Sparrows.
Moving like greased lightning, he adjusted his radar settings and pickled one of the four AIM-7s which he had at his disposal. He quickly discovered, however, that the rooster tail being tossed-up by the droid made for an excellent radar counter-measure. He pitched-up slightly, using the increased altitude to gain a better angle of attack. He juked left, then right, searching for an opening. He was almost startled when the electronic tone sounded, alerting him that he had a lock.
"Fox two!" he cried out, as one of the Sparrows streaked away from his right wing.
"Fox three!" he yelled out again, as he followed the first shot with a second one, moments later. He knew this was his only shot at finishing this fight, and he didn't want to take any chances with a potential system malfunction mucking it up.
The two missiles streaked toward their target, the glare of their solid fueled rockets glinting like starbursts against the darkened sea. The first struck the droid's right wing, failing to detonate, but successfully shearing-off a third of its structure.
The Droid banked violently and began to climb, clawing desperately for the safety of altitude.
…It never got the chance.
Moments later, the second missile slammed squarely into the droid's torso, detonating on impact. The night sky was suddenly filled with a brilliant, orange glow, reflecting off the sea, making it difficult to tell where the earth left off and the heavens began. Bits and pieces of flaming debris rained downward, splashing into the surf, creating a cascading cloud of fire that resembled a monumental chrysanthemum blossom. It was a display that would have made any pyro-technician proud.
"Booooo-yah!" Ron screamed, pulling his mask down and the stick back, then banking over into a victory roll. "Scratch three bandits! Manfred von Richthofen, eat your heart out!"
Kim found herself trying to maintain the delicate balance of gagging and catching her breath simultaneously. Throughout it all, she had somehow managed to keep her lunch intact, but that didn't mean that she wasn't still feeling like the whole of her insides were past their expiration date.
"Well, whadda ya' think, KP?" Ron asked, looking back at his girlfriend, who was just now getting her wits about her.
Kim paused to take stock of herself, making certain that all of her internal organs were still in the appropriate locations.
"I think you're a menace to everything in the air." she finally replied.
"Awwwww… Birds too?" Ron asked with a mock pout.
"Yes, birds too." Kim shot back, a playful smile quickly spreading across her face.
Releasing her harness for the first time since they had taken off, Kim leaned forward in the cockpit, placing her arms around Ron's shoulders and craning her neck to kiss him gently on the cheek.
"Nice work, flyboy." she cooed.
"First rule of the dogfight, KP…" Ron replied, puffed-up pride evident in his voice. "Don't pick one with the Mad Dog."
Kim chuckled lightly. Ron had earned some minor bragging rights tonight. There was one question that was gnawing at her, however…
"So just where the heck did you learn to fly this thing, anyway?"
"You'll never believe me if I tell you."
"Try me."
"I swear, you won't believe it!"
"Spill!""Well, you know how last fall, I got that Steel Skies program for my computer."
"The video game?
"Flight Simulator, Kimbo. There's a big difference."
"To-may-to… to-mah-to… So what's your point."
"That's it... That's where I learned."
"You're telling me that you became a top gun by playing video games all day."
"And somebody said video games were a waste of time."
"You're right."
"How do you mean?"
"I don't believe it!"And with that, she leaned in to kiss him again.
"Ah, geez… Can't you two wait until you're on the ground and have a room or something?" a voice unexpectedly called out. Neither of the two teens had noticed Wade re-appear on the cockpit video screen.
"Uhhh, that wasn't what it looked like." Ron stammered.
"It sure looked like a membership application for the mile-high club to me." Wade replied with a sly grin.
"WADE!!!" two young voices cried out in unison, neither one bothering to call a "jinx."
"Alright, alright… calm down you guys." Wade said reassuringly. "I'm just messin' with you."
"I assume there's a reason for this call." Kim inquired, still obviously annoyed by the intrusion.
"Just wanted to let you know that you're now officially bogey-free." Wade responded. "You can resume your previous course at will."
"Thanks, Wade. Rockin' as usual." Kim replied with a sigh.
"Wade out!" the young web master said, signing off with a knowing grin that made Kim somewhat less than comfortable.
"Shall we head for home, then?" Ron asked, already banking the plane toward the first waypoint Wade had sent them.
"Yeah…" Kim sighed, slumping back into her flight seat. "Let's jet."
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Author's Notes:
Like, WOW man! I can't believe that I pounded this whole chapter out in just two evenings! Theme from "Rocky" starts playing in background
This chapter is completely unexpected, as it appears nowhere in my original outline. I can assure everyone, however, that I'll be returning to the original plot in earnest with my next chapter.
I've been intrigued by the idea of Ron as a pilot for some time now, and this storyline presented an opportunity that was simply too good to pass up. I realize that it doesn't do much to move the overall plot along, but then again neither did Steinbeck's gopher, so I'm not entirely without precedent here. (For those of you who think I just had a stroke here, pick-up a copy of John Steinbeck's "Cannery Row" and read chapter 31. It'll explain everything.)
Acronyms Explained: Okay, so there was a lot of "alphabet soup" to wade through in this chapter, what with all the military jargon and what not. Here's a quick run-down of what you just read for all those who aren't fluent in random capital letters…
T/AV-8B Harrier: This aircraft is very real. It's an upgraded, twin-seat variant of the original AV-8 Harrier "Jump Jet" which first flew in the summer of 1960. This variant is most often used as a trainer aircraft, but still maintains full-combat capability. Several variations of the Harrier are currently in use by the British Royal Air Force, Royal Navy and the United States Marine Corps. (The British version is designated as the GR-7.)
Vertical Take-Off and Landing (VTOL) is one of the hallmarks of the Harrier's design, and makes this one of the most versatile aircraft in the air today.
Using the adjustable thrust nozzles to aid in turning is a tactic first developed by Harrier pilots of the British Royal Navy during the Falkland Islands War of 1982. It is still taught as part of the training regimen for new Harrier pilots today.
FLIR: (Forward-Looking Infra Red) This is an advanced night-vision system where an enhanced image of a plane's surroundings is projected onto a HUD (Heads-Up Display) screen, mounted in the front of the cockpit. In most versions, it can be used in both navigation and targeting modes.
AIM-9 Sidewinder: This is a short-range, heat-seeking, air-to-air missile, which was first used by the American military during the Vietnam War. Updated versions of this weapon are still used by all branches of the American military and NATO.
AIM-7 Sparrow: A radar-guided cousin to the Sidewinder, this weapon also saw its first deployment during the conflict in Vietnam. With a greater range than the Sidewinder, the Sparrow belongs to a family of weapons known as AMRAAM. (Advanced Medium Range Air-to-Air Missiles) Together with the long-range AIM-54 Phoenix missile, these weapons form the backbone of American air-to-air combat capability.
HARM Missile: The HARM (High-speed Anti-Radiation Missile) is an air-to-surface weapon designed for use against enemy air defense networks. The weapon will hone in on the source of a radar signal, essentially flying itself down the radar beam and directly into the transmitter.
GBU-31 Bomb: A 2,000-pound smart bomb, guided by global positioning satellites. It belongs to the weapons family known as JDAM. (Joint Direct-Attack Munitions)
Meteor Missile: A tactical AMRAAM missile currently deployed by a consortium of European countries, including The United Kingdom, France, Germany and Italy.
The jamming pods mentioned in the grotto scene are probably ALQ-99 Electronic Warfare Modules. These are normally used to disrupt enemy radar and communications networks, and are most-often deployed with the United States Navy's EA-6B Prowler aircraft.
No, Ron wasn't being wasteful near the end, there. The Sparrow missile is known for its high rate of failure, especially in its early variants. The practice of increasing one's odds by firing multiple missiles at a single target is well established. It's a tactic known a "ripple-firing," and it's been in use by pilots since the early 1970s.
The "split-S" is a classic dog-fighting maneuver, initially developed by pilots during the First World War. Used as a means of reversing direction without loosing speed, it begins when a pilot rolls his plane over onto its back. Then, pulling back on the stick, the pilot dives down, finally leveling out at a point where he is traveling upright, in the opposite direction, and at a lower altitude. The name comes from the fact that when the maneuver is diagrammed out on paper, it resembles the bottom-half of the letter "S."
Manfred Von Richthofen: Manfred Albrecht Freiherr von Richthofen was the highest-scoring and most infamous fighter pilot of the First World War. Credited with 81 combat kills before he himself was killed in action on April 21, 1918, he is better known to history as "The Red Baron."
The "Sweet Home Alabama" line that Kim delivers after take-off is my own tribute to the movie "Con-Air," and what in my humble opinion is one of the best-delivered movie lines of all-time… "Define irony: Bunch of idiots on a plane, dancing to a song made famous by a band that died in a plane crash." (Long-live Lynyrd Skynard!)
One final hint on the trivia question from way back in chapter one… The golfer in question was known as "The Hawk" for his steely resolve and laser-like concentration on the course. One of the most dominant golfers of the mid 20th century, his success was all the more amazing after a head-on collision with a bus in the winter of 1949. His doctors told him he would most likely never walk again, but barely six months later, still limping from the accident, he won the United States Open Championship in a three-way playoff. He died at home in Fort Worth, Texas on July 24, 1997. He was 84 years old.
As is SOP, I welcome all comments, criticisms, snide remarks and e-mail worms.
Remember to always read responsibly, and I'll catch y'all on the flip side…
Nutzkie…
(Peace, love, recycle, all that jazz…)