Unbeatable

Posted on Tue Aug 20th, 2013 @ 2:26am by Gabriel Grey & Ensign George Ward

Mission: Episode 2 - Whispers in the Clouds
Location: Holodeck Two, USS Unification
Timeline: Day 2 - 1200 hours

ON:

Gabriel Grey stepped lively down the corridor on his way to Holodeck Two, nodding congenially to two gold-shirted maintenance men as his fingers tightened around the isolinear flash drive containing a brand new holodeck program he had just brought with him from home. It had been a very long time since the old man had fooled around in a holodeck. The last time he'd tried it, his body had felt so battered and bruised that he cursed the soul of the damn fool who'd invented interactive holographic programming in the first place. Gabriel had sworn back then that he would never step foot in another holodeck ... but that had been over six years ago, when all he wanted was to retire and finally settle down to nice, quiet, safe, and boring rest of his life.

Things were different now, though ... they had been ever since he'd gotten that unexpected visit from Admiral Jackson over at the Starfleet Diplomatic Corps. Truth be told, Gabriel Grey had been feeling the itch for quite a while before the Jackson showed up to ask Gabriel what he thought about dusting off the dress whites for one last go around. The elder retired ambassador had said 'yes', and ever since that moment, had felt the quietude and the agedness begin to bleed out of his bones. He'd immediately begun to feel vital and adventurous again, so much so that he called up an old friend who work over at the Aviation Historical Museum out in Kitty Hawk, and asked him about that blasted holoprogram he was always raving about. And now here it was ... and it promised to be a hell of a good one.

So lost in thought was the old man that, as he turned to stride through the opening doors of Holodeck Two, he walked right smack into another person, the collision knocking the both of them back.

"Goodness, I'm sorry," apologized Gabriel, staggering to keep his balance as he held out a hand to hold the younger man by the elbow. Gabriel Grey found himself looking into the placid, serene face of a handsome young Human male. The kid was young, early twenties by Gabriel's estimation, with smooth bronze skin and raven-black hair that he wore long and wild.

"Are you all right, young man?" asked Gabriel, an earnest expression upon his wizened face. "My apologies. That was entirely my fault."

"Sorry, Sir. I guess I was lost in thought in my logbook." George tucked the black pilot's book under his arm. "I don't want to take up any of your holodeck time. I know how precious it can be."

"My name is Gabriel Grey," smiled the elder man, extending his hand for the younger officer to shake. "I'm the Unification's new Chief Diplomatic Officer. And you are?"

Taking the offered hand, he gave it a firm but not overpowering grip. "I'm Ensign George Ward, Sir. The Chief Helmsmen aboard the Uni, I was just keeping my atmospheric skills sharp." The bright yellow Beechcraft Staggerwing was still on the runway as George preferred to save the programs after checking the logs.

"Ah," nodded Gabriel as he caught sight of the biplane sitting on the simulated tarmac. "I think I recognize that one," he said with a smile. "Mid twentieth century design, yes? She's beautiful."

George couldn't help but smile as he thought of the airplane. "She is....I had the honor of servicing and flying the real thing back on Earth. A small aircraft museum in North Carolina." He thought about it for a second and said. "What were you going to run, if you don't mind. Is it something I can tag along?"

Gabriel smiled warmly. "You know . . . I was just going to ask you if you'd like to join me, Ensign Ward." Gabriel held up the isolinear flash drive in his hand, genuine excitement showing on his face.

"I have a friend that works at an aircraft museum in North Carolina - something tells me it could be the same one as yours. Anyway, this old friend of mine sent me this here holosuite program that he said is unbeatable. It takes place during a major conflict in ancient Earth history called World War II. Pilots from a territory called the United States find themselves locked in aerial combat against their mortal enemies from a nation-state called Nazi Germany. Here's the kicker . . . the Nazis have suddenly developed a new aircraft - one that significantly outmatches the best planes that the United States has! It will be up to just the two of us, a couple of U.S. pilots flying in a pair of P-51 Mustang propeller aircraft, to go up against an entire squadron of Nazi Germany's Messerschmitt 262 jet fighters - our 2 to their 24!"

Gabriel's eye twinkled merrily, in a grandfatherly way. "What do you think, kid? Think we can beat 'em?"

"No disrespect intended Sir. I think that's a suicide mission. The constant thrust of the Schwalbe's engines puts the jet at a distinct advantage. The 30mm cannons would make mincemeat of the paperthin Mustang. Computer. Replace the Staggerwing with a Mk 3 Gloster Meteor. I studied much of the aircraft in that conflict."

The new plane shimmered into existence. The young Ensign started walking over to the new craft. "Now this.....would be an interesting challenge. The two never met in combat. The 262 is about 50mph faster and can climb better. The Meteor can out turn it in most places, and it's cannons are more polished. There were four in Belgium several months before the conflict ended, but they were forbidden to fly over occupied territory. Still a suicide mission against an entire squadron, but at least we'll have a chance to take a few with us." George commented.

"Now that is nice!" nodded the grey-haired ambassador, as he walked slowly around the Gloster Meteor. He noted how the Allied jet fighter's aggressive torpedo-like fuselage was rivaled in size by the pair of conical turbojet engines that sat inward of mid-wing. "I'd definitely love to take one of these babies up into the air!" Gabriel gave an apologetic shrug. "Unfortunately, I don't think this particular program my friend gave with allow us to change what type aircraft we fly or fly against." Gabriel gave a chuckle. "He intentionally designed the program as an insanely difficult suicide mission, knowing I won't give up until I've beaten it or died of old age! But . . . if you'd rather something more along these lines, I don't think I'd object." Gabriel cast another appreciative glance at the Gloster.

"No....you had you heart set on getting blow out of the sky. I won't rob you of that." George said very sarcastically. He let the older man reset the holodeck. The scenery changed. Two P-51 fighters planes lined up in revetments. Various maintenance personnel were putting on the final touches. "Computer....can changes be made to the armament?"

=^= "limited changes can be made. Please state request." =^=

"Swap the six .50 machine guns for the Mustang variant four 20mm Hispano-Suiza cannons."

The internal blisters became twin protrusions, jutting out near the middle of each wing. "At least this way, if we hit them. they'll go down easier. Less ammo, but way more punch. By the way Sir....standard rules, first person shot down, buys the first round of drinks." George grinned as the walked to the aircraft.

"Guess, I'm buying the drinks, then," smiled Gabriel, shaking his head at the young helmsman's insistence on using cheat codes. "Computer: reset second-player Mustang armaments to standard settings, please." The holodeck computer gave a compliant chirp as Gabriel headed over to the P-51C that sat behind George's. The tail of the second mustang was painted bright red, and a decal below the canopy where the pilot's name should have been, instead bore a stencil that read: 'Crash and Burn'.

"Crash and Burn, huh? Cute," Gabriel remarked at the programmer's joke, as he climbed up the short ladder to hop into the Mustang's cockpit. Taunt me all you like, old friend, but you know I am totally going to beat this one day!" Gabriel radioed George in his own plane as he began checking down the fighter in preparation for takeoff. "Mustang Two to Mustang One: how's it looking up there, son? You good to go?"

"Yeah...the controls are simplified. I doubt too many from our century can adjust a fuel mixture for a V-12 engine. Cannon Fodder ready to run." Gabriel gave the signal to pull his wheel chocks, he took the brake off and the silver aircraft bounced on inflated tires for a second as it started rolling.

The short distance to the runway proper took mere seconds and soon George had the throttle to the wall. The throaty roar of the supercharged Merlin V-12 was music to his ears.

"Crash and Burn, good to go," answered Gabriel. "Now, the way I believe it goes is, once we've been airborne for a full ten seconds, the squadron of Messerschmitt's will materialize ahead of us." The two P-51 Mustangs taxied down the runway, with George in the lead position and Gabriel on his wing. With a roar, the Mustang's throttled forward and began race down the asphalt, until the wind seemed to catch beneath their steel wings, and at last the two fighters were airborne! The old fighters arced up into the clear blue sky, the late morning sun glinting off of their polished riveted aluminum bodies. The sensation of lifting off in the cockpit of the old Earth aircraft thrilled Gabriel Grey, and let the old man imagine that he was really some ancient airborne warrior, preparing to do battle in the skies with some villainous foe. The old man smiled, feeling the pull of gravity upon his body as his Mustang climbed after George's into the sky.