Buck Rogers

Marso · Mar 17, 2007

When Jennifer Foster caught the evening flight back to McCarron under Walker's watchful eye, Buck Rogers wasn't there. Unbeknownst to them, he wouldn't be returning to Las Vegas until the following morning. He'd spent the early part of the day in pre-flight briefings, followed by a cursory medical check and a nap. Pre-flight was completed in the late afternoon, followed by a high protein, low residue meal consisting mostly of steak and green beans. Then he'd suited up for his flight- a silvery, form fitting pressure suit, complete with a metal helmet collar. It was a different getup than that worn by the STS astronauts, not nearly as bulky or hard to move around in. It was pure of form and function- an outgrowth of the designs that had been used during the days of the X-15 flight testing, but with 1990's technical refinements. He'd only be wearing it for several hours, and then, God willing, he'd be right back here on terra firma.

Once the day-long preparations were complete, it was time to get down to the real purpose for his being here. Accompanied by two life support technicians, Buck strolled into the hangar and feasted his eyes on his current first love: the X-55 Raven. She was the first true aerospace plane that had ever been built, capable of flying to LEO after piggybacking up on an old, modified Valkyrie Bomber, then returning to Earth under power. There were actually two Ravens, named Hugin and Munin from Norse Mythology- Thought and Memory. Fitting, given the X-55's current mission: covert reconaissance. She was capable of obtaining either photo intel or signals intercepts; her 'black boxes' were the most advanced ever designed for the Air Force, and their inner workings were so secret that Rogers himself wasn't cleared to know anything about them- he was simply the rocket driver.

And there was no mistake- the X-55 was a rocket, or at least part of the time. The sleek, compact airframe was built around a combined cycle powerplant employing a pulse detonation scramjet that would convert (in vacuum) to a pure rocket. She also boasted a single, conventional jet engine for low-speed, terminal-phase flight in the Earth's troposhere. Her shape was vaguely reminiscent of the old SR-71 Blackbird, but the Raven was smaller, a tad more more rounded, and packed a helluva lot more smack than her venerable predecesor. In time of war, the Raven could be fitted to deliver two warshots to any coordinates on the planet in under two hours from the time she left the ground.

In short, she was the the most advanced piece of technology in the arsenal of the United States. And Buck Rogers was the lucky bastard who got to fly her, on average, once per week. There were three other pilots in the program, two for each bird, with the two pilots from the opposite crew flying the Valkyrie for any given mission. Buck's opposite number wasn't on site today; Area 51 was sensitive enough that even cleared personnel were kept off-base if they weren't actually needed.

Munin was already loaded onto her Valkyrie taxi, and Buck paused to shake hands with his two fellow astronauts who would pilot the latter. "Heya Buck," Sharkey called to him. Sharkey was wearing a standard issue flight suit today, a standard blue zoomie suit instead of the desert khaki version that had come into vogue with the operations squadrons since the war. The two clasped hands, grinning, each one instinctively going for the knuckle-crusher grip. Sharkey got the better end of the deal.

"Oww!" Buck grumbled, pulling his hand free and throwing a quick punch at Sharkey's shoulder. The latter blocked, and the two spent the next few seconds in a frat-boy sparring match. The third man, Major Devlin, slapped Buck on the back.

"Feeling lucky, Buck?"

"Always," Rogers replied. "You two keep the ride smooth, understand?"

"Whatever, hotshot," Sharkey replied. "Just try not to fry us when you detach."

"Hey," Buck shrugged with a grin, "I said I was feeling lucky- I don't know about you two."

"How 'bout this- last one back to Vegas buys the beer," Devlin said. Both Valkyrie pilots turned to Buck, raising their eyebrows. "I guess that would be…you!"

"I supposed the fact that I'll blow over Vegas a half couple times before you guys even get the Valkyrie back in the hangar does not count, eh?"

"It'll count when I fly Hugin on Saturday," Sharkey assured him smugly. He pointed to the crane-lift behind them. "Your chariot awaits, captain," he added, his Brooklyn accent coming through strongly. Buck didn't have any accent at all, at least as far as he was concerned- he was a Chicago boy through and through, midwest born and bred.

"Let's get going, then," Buck replied, suddenly serious. The two other pilots nodded, patted him on the back one last time, and headed for the hatch of their jet. Buck stepped carefully up onto a small platform with his two accompanying technicians, and the crane operator smoothly hoisted them up and around, placing the outer edge of the platform a precise two inches beneath the canopy rail of the X-55. Behind him, he heard the well-lubricated hangar doors begin to slide open silently, letting in the cool night breeze. It carried the scent of the desert on it, and Rogers took a deep breath as the wind kissed his cheek. Soon enough, he would be enclosed in a manmade artificial environment, with nothing but a composite canopy separating him from an envrinoment as deadly as man had dared to delve into.

It was already pitch black outside, with nothing more than a waxing crescent moon to provide a modicum of illumination. The Valkyrie was completely stealthed- Sharkey and Devlin would taxi her using infrared, with no lights. Aside from her engine noise, the only clue anyone would have to her presence when she took off would be the blue-white flames of her afterburners. Unfortunately, there was no way to hide those. As for the package she carried atop her fuselage, it would be nigh invisible, with no prying eyes anywhere within a few hundred miles.

No more time for reveries. Buck climbed into the cockpit, which (in his mind, at least) fit him like a glove. His two assistants immediately began hooking his suit up to the Raven's ALSS (Aviation Life Support System), and he turned on the ship's battery and began his preliminary cockpit checks prior to APU start. Within two hours he would be in space, his trajectory carrying him over China, where Munin's sensors would be searching for further information on Chinese deployment of a prototype ICBM- one with the capacity to strike any target in the United States, rather than simply the west coast. It was an important mission, but for Buck Rogers, the journey itself was the thrill.

If Buck had known where the real danger to his country and the world resided, his opinion of the night's mission would have been completely different.
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phantomofthenet · Mar 17, 2007

[action=phantomofthenet]signs up for Marso's mailing list.[/action]

Good start!

Marso · Mar 17, 2007

LOTS of typos and stuff in there- like I said, that is raw off the WP without even a cursory look-back. But you get the idea.

phantomofthenet · Mar 17, 2007

I like it thus far. Interested in what's going on Hangar 18.

And it's always cool to read flying stuff by people who know what they're talking about.

Marso · Mar 17, 2007

phantomofthenet said: ↑

I like it thus far. Interested in what's going on Hangar 18.

And it's always cool to read flying stuff by people who know what they're talking about.
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Buck's interaction with Jennifer is going to have...ramifications, and the other Hangar-18 stuff alluded to will, after a fashion, be following old Buck right to the 25th Century.

LizK · Mar 17, 2007

I'm also interested in following this.
Please don't let me dangle too long.

The Saint · Mar 17, 2007

I caught only one thing I might flag as a no-no in writing:

When you use a technical acronym, give the unfolded version first, and then pop the acro version in again as quickly as possible.

Original:

"His two assistants immediately began hooking his suit up to the Raven's ALSS (Aviation Life Support System)"

Or:

"His handlers quickly but carefully mated his suit to the attachment points of the Raven's Aviation Life Support System; if the suborbital Munin's cockpit was a surrogate womb, its ALSS was the umbilical cord."

Parentheticals -- ( and ) -- are for screenplays, not prose, and the fewer you can manage to use even in screenplay format, the better. They literally scream to the reader: "Hey! HEY! LOOK AT ME! I'M PULLING YOU OUTTA THE STORY NOW! YOOOOO-HOOOOOOO!"

Rincewiend · Mar 17, 2007

What's a Buck Rogers thread without pics of Erin Grey?!?

The Saint · Mar 17, 2007

You know, Erin Grey is the most fascinatin' kind of sex symbol -- no boobage to speak of, not much of that hip-to-waist ratio, can't say she's got much booty, either.

And yet...

STILL blazin' hot despite all that. She boggles the mind and elicits the illicit salute at the same time.

EDIT: And I just discovered two things. 1. Don't ever look at current photos of a chick you had a crush on as a kid. You'll be disappointed. 2. Erin Grey was almost Captain Janeway. According to Wikipedia, she was in the top 5 for the role.

LizK · Mar 17, 2007

The Saint said: ↑

You know, Erin Grey is the most fascinatin' kind of sex symbol -- no boobage to speak of, not much of that hip-to-waist ratio, can't say she's got much booty, either.

And yet...

STILL blazin' hot despite all that. She boggles the mind and elicits the illicit salute at the same time.

EDIT: And I just discovered two things. 1. Don't ever look at current photos of a chick you had a crush on as a kid. You'll be disappointed. 2. Erin Grey was almost Captain Janeway. According to Wikipedia, she was in the top 5 for the role.
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Wonder how she would have fared as Janeway. Wonder how the character would have fared as well.

Lanzman · Mar 17, 2007

Q's interest in her would have been much more understandable, for one thing.

Anyway, this is an interesting take on the Buck Rogers story so far. Area 51 and all. Good job, Marso.

The Saint · Mar 17, 2007

If I had only one fanwank wish come true for this story, vis a vis Area 51, it would be a cameo appearance by an F-302. lol

EDIT: Awww, never mind. The (Stargate SG:1) X-302 wasn't flight tested until June '02. Somewhat ahead of Buck Rogers's 1995 time.

phantomofthenet · Mar 17, 2007

The Saint said: ↑

You know, Erin Grey is the most fascinatin' kind of sex symbol -- no boobage to speak of, not much of that hip-to-waist ratio, can't say she's got much booty, either.

And yet...

STILL blazin' hot despite all that. She boggles the mind and elicits the illicit salute at the same time.

EDIT: And I just discovered two things. 1. Don't ever look at current photos of a chick you had a crush on as a kid. You'll be disappointed. 2. Erin Grey was almost Captain Janeway. According to Wikipedia, she was in the top 5 for the role.
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Erin Gray is the publicist for a number of the actors from Firefly, IIRC...

Marso · Mar 17, 2007

I predict Voyager would have been a smashing success with Captain Deering at the helm.

dkehler · Mar 17, 2007

I like! More please!

Marso · Mar 17, 2007

More will be forthcoming, but at a slower pace. After the embarrasment of reading my unchecked, unedited raw feed and findiing all my own mistakes, future postings will be after material has seen at least one re-edit, and may be posted as pdf files so that I don't lose italics, paragraph structure, etc. Sort of like the other stuff I've posted in the past.

Marso · Mar 17, 2007

Saint, I haven't forgotten your cameo.

dkehler · Mar 17, 2007

Marso said: ↑

More will be forthcoming, but at a slower pace. After the embarrasment of reading my unchecked, unedited raw feed and findiing all my own mistakes, future postings will be after material has seen at least one re-edit, and may be posted as pdf files so that I don't lose italics, paragraph structure, etc. Sort of like the other stuff I've posted in the past.
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I only noticed one sort of mistake, and I consider myself a pretty decent editor. So kudos on an excellent first draft.

The Saint · Mar 17, 2007

I typically overlook stuff like typos in a forum fic, unless they're absolutely stinkin' heinous. Yours weren't that absolutely stinkin' heinous. I only commented on the parentheticals because that's a rule I find myself breaking all too often.

Marso · Mar 18, 2007

Fuck.

I want to write more tonite, but a little St. Paddy's Day whiskey has left me feeling dead tired and muddy-headed. Buck's in the middle of an in-flight emergency, and I just cain't tackle that unless I've got my mental A-game on. Which I don't, tonite.

:hangover:

The Saint · Mar 18, 2007

I know how you feel, man. Brick Danger just slugged an angry young black man who tried to rough him up; twist is, the angry young black man had been a dark-haired, olive-skinned, doe-eyed stunner of a girl just a split-second beforehand...

...but copious amounts of Bushmill's has rendered my own mind's eye a tad blurry, so I'm reelin' with the holiday spirits right along with ya.

Marso · Mar 18, 2007

Here's a little more for a lazy Sunday.

Buck Rogers looked up and grinned from ear to ear as the blue-white vista of the Earth rolled by above Munin. His mission complete, the spaceplane was still inverted- the sensitive cameras and sensors were actually located topside, to better protect them from the heat of re-entry. This was always the most enjoyable part of a mission for Buck. He'd overflown China from LEO, completely undetected as far as he knew, and indeed there had no indications from the Chinese that his presence above them had been noted at all. The black boxes had done the electronic voodoo they were designed to do, and the intel weenies back at NORAD ought to be happy with the result. The stressful part of the flight was over- mission accomplished. All Buck had to do now was enjoy the ride, and do some of that pilot shit in the terminal phase. Although an F-16 was a much more fun aircraft to fly than an aerospace plane, Munin was a real kick in the pants. She was the fastest thing in the sky, the highest, and the most technically advanced. Buck reflected as he often did that he had the best job on Earth, although one could argue that his job really wasn't on Earth, was it?

The red master warning chose that moment to illuminate, blinking offensively in Buck's face and spoiling his cherished few minutes of being fat, dumb, and happy before having to get busy.

Buck's eyes darted to the ICAS message on his primary flight display, where all of his primary flight instrumentation was displayed digitally. It alerted him that there was a fault in his primary hydraulic system. He reached up and toggled through a couple of screens on his multi-fucntion display, bringing up a schematic of the offending system. Reservoir level was good…pump pressure was nominal….there it was. An error message on the elevon servo actuator. The little sumbitch was jammed, frozen, or in some other way incapacitated. It looked like the hydraulics themselves were okay, but that when the signal from the fly-by-wire computer was sent to the servos to make a flight control movement, nothing was going to happen.

Not good.

Not good, but not a life threatening emergency just yet. The spaceplane was still outside the atmosphere, and maneuvers were being accomplished by a combination of reaction control thrusters and high-speed gyros for precise trim adjustments. The latter were usually only needed for photo runs, but good pilots lilke Buck, Sharkey, Devlin, and Spider could use them for fine adjustments in attitude prior to re-entry. It wasn't until the ship was descending into the high stratosphere over the Pacific Ocean that he'd really need those flight control servos to do their job. Of course, when he needed them, he would really need them.

He had a few minutes to get things sorted out. Instinctively, the first thing he wanted to do was talk to someone on the ground, let them know what was happening. That wouldn't be possible for a while yet, however. This wasn't a normal space mission- he was up here covertly, and even if he broadcasted on an encrypted radio, the raw signal itself could be intercepted and betray his presence. He'd have to wait until after re-entry was complete, when he was back down to a reasonable altitude and speed. Of course, by that time, he'd be well and truly in trouble.

The Raven Class of aerospace planes was more than just a technical breakthrough in aviation hardware- it was a revolutionary new concept in mission design as well. In the past, spacecraft launched by NASA were basically flown via ground control, with the on-board astronauts able to override controls in the event of an emergency. Two way communication were maintained at all times, except during periods of blackout such re-entry or when a capsule passed behind the moon. The Raven, conversely, was designed to fly its own mission plan autonomously, with no ground contact at all. She still flew by computer control, but the computers in control were on board the craft herself, and there was a lot more interaction between pilot and plane than there was between the pilot of the space shuttle and his craft. Once a Raven detached from the Valkyrie and boosted for space, the pilot became primarily an automation manager, and remained so during most of the re-entry phase. When the ship was through the hot part of the re-entry phase and slowed to mere hypersonic speeds, the pilot would begin making more and more inputs to the autopilot, until hitting thick air and subsonic speeds, when the combined-cycle powerplant would be locked down and the conventional supercruise engine lit for the terminal phase of the flight. At that point the Raven was pretty much a regular airplane, and could be flown using the autopilot or even by hand like a modern fighter.

What this all meant for Buck was that he was free to troubleshoot for a time. He double checked the settings on his flight director, and reviewed the re-entry sequence on his mission plan. He hadn't played with the ship's orientation at all; the computer would flip her end for end and execute the braking burn on schedule, then flip and roll her again to present the heat shield to atmo. Buck need only monitor that when it happened, to make sure it happened the way it was supposed to. So he called up the emergency checklist on his MFD and began the process of trying to correct the elevon servo malfunction. The servo in question was interlinked with both the elevons on the trailing edge of his delta-wing, a safeguard against a failure on one side that would result in fatal cross-controlling inputs at hyper or supersonic speeds. Either both elevons worked as advertised, or neither would.

The procedure for this malfunction was a little radical, by anyone's standards. Buck's instructors had killed him a few times in the simulator with it, by distracting him and causing him to miss a fine point- on the off chance that the servo was somehow frozen up instead of jammed, the heat of re-entry ought to free it up. But it still had to be 'rebooted', so to speak, and re-slaved to the computer controlled fly-by-wire system. That would mean, at best, pulling and resetting a circuit breaker to reset the circuit logic, or at worst, having to shut down and restart his entire hydraulic control system. But he couldn't do that last part until the re-entry phase at the earliest, so his hydraulic fluid and pumps would stay warm enough and not freeze out on him in the near-absolute-zero temperatures of space. If that happened, the Raven would turn into an uncontrollable brick that would follow a ballistic arc right into the desert outside Area 51. The UFO hunters and the Air Force alike wouldn't find anything but a crater, and maybe little bits of DNA from Captain William 'Buck' Rogers.

Not a satisfactory outcome.

So Buck followed the checklist. It turned out there wasn't much he could do yet, except switch over from the RCS system to the fly-by-wire flight controls to try and re-cycle the servo- get it moving. This was how they'd bagged him in the simulator the first time. He carefully checked his time index- if he didn't re-engage the RCS before turnover, the braking burn wouldn't happen on schedule and he'd be committed to another orbit (best case) or a landing on the east coast or in the North Atlantic Ocean. (worst case) He switched over, selected manual control, and gripped the stick easily. He watched his MFD for proper indications as he gently cycled the stick fore and aft, side to side, and then in a few sweeping circles. In the vacuum of space, any flight control movements would have no affect at all on the ship's attitude or flight path- it was merely a systems check.

No response from the elevons- they definitely weren't moving.

Next step was to pull the breaker and try a circuit logic reset. He did that, and repeated his flight control test. Still nothing. Unfortunately, it still didn't tell him if he had a physical jam or a frozen servo. He was thinking the latter, because there shouldn't have been anything to cause a physical jam, unless he'd taken a small hit by a micrometeorite or something along those lines. Anything was possible.

For the first time, Buck's mind wandered to the ejection envelope, and he considered the possibility that he might have to discard his trusty steed somewhere over the desert. That was not an outcome he wanted to contemplate- there was a tremendous amount of pride associated with being a part of this program, and Munin was one of only two of these ships in existence. Buck would almost rather auger in than face his colleagues after losing her. There was an old joke among military pilots: It's better to be a smoking hole than to look bad. The reason it was funny is because it was so blatantly not true- except to guys with larger than life skills and the egos that went along with them.

That was all he could do until re-entry. Buck re-engaged the autopilot, swtiched from FBW back to RCS, and double checked his re-entry program a third time. Then he took a deep breath, sat back, and began playing out various scenarios in his mind. When he reached this point, then he needed to do that. It was like a mental flowchart- If A, then B, if not, then C. Things would be happening fast and there would be no time for hesitation.

On schedule, the reaction control jets fired and Buck felt a brief resurgence of joy as the Earth hove up out of view and, after a few seconds, re-appeared in his canopy below him, now moving backwards. A countdown appeared on his PFD, and Buck lightly took the controls in hand, ready to intercede manually if for some reason the autopilot didn't fire the braking burn on the money. He was a little more wary than normal, for obvious reasons- things were already not working right.

The burn happened on time, and Buck grunted slightly as the G's mashed him into his seat. Munin was a military craft- not a space shuttle. She was small and overpowered for her size, and her designers knew that her pilots would be men and women capable of taking more punishment than, say, a civilian astronaut riding the space shuttle. He blinked hard, but his vision didn't swim or grey out. His diluter was giving him 100 percent oxygen and had been for the entire flight- his brain and muscle tissues were well oxygenated. That and the fact that Buck, like all fighter pilots, had built up a sustained G tolerance. It took a lot of sustained G's to begin affecting his performance. The rocket burn ended on schedule, and suddenly Buck was in free fall again.

Munin's RCS system fired again, this time flipping her end for end and rolling her 180 degrees as well, then setting the proper pitch attitude for re-entry. When it was all said and done, Buck double checked the numbers against the flight plan, and was satisfied.

There was a slight bump- that first hint of turbulence as the Raven kissed atmosphere. Then there was another, and another, and then it was pretty much a steady thing, building up to a familiar rumble. Buck saw a cherry glow appear around the nose of the ship, spilling out like the light of charcoals on a grill that were ready for the steak. Only this time, Buck was the steak. Hopefully his tinfoil wrapping was good enough to keep out the heat, he joked with himself. The G's slowly built up again, pressing him hard into his seat and trying to pin his arms and legs.

Only this time, he had things to do other than sit back and enjoy the ride. With a lot of effort on his part, he accessed the emergency checklist for the hydraulics again and moved on to the next step. Pull and reset the servo control circuit breaker a second time, then switchover from RCS to FBW. He couldn't do a system test this time, nor did the checklist call for it at this point- he was deep into re-entry, and flight control movements would have an effect on the ship now. Disasterous, fatal effects, at this stage. The autopilot stayed on.

The next step was a reset of the master warning system. If it still detected the fault, it should warn him again as it had the first time. He held his breath, straining against the G's, and actuated the reset. The red master warning came on immediately, along with the same ICAS message informing him of a hydraulic issue. Buck only had one thing to say: "Aww, shit!" Back to square one.

The G's were easing up now, and the red glow was diminishing outside. Buck paused to check and see where he was: Altitude 98,000, decelerating through Mach 9. Still hypersonic, but low enough that the flight control surfaces would have some bite. The autopilot would start trying to make course corrections with them pretty soon, and when nothing happened, things were going to go to hell pretty fast.

Back to the checklist. Buck pulled the circuit breaker on the servo for the third time, then proceeded to kill his entire hydraulic system and pull the breakers for it as well. Warning lights came on all over the cockpit like a christmas tree. Worst of all, the autopilot monitor annunciator had come on as well, warning him that the autopilot was trying to make flight control inputs and nothing was happening.

Without warning, the X-55 broke out of controlled flight and started to spin wildly. Actually, there had been a warning- when the autopilot had warned Buck that it was no longer capable of controlling the ship's flight path. All it took was a slight imbalance of forces to set things on their ear, at these altitudes and speeds. It was a problem the X-15 crews had run into early and often during the testing of that venerable plane, back in the 1950's. Of course, back then, the X-15 hadn't been computer controlled. When those things had happened, the pilots had been forced to handle the recovery themselves, and they were up to the task. "WHOA, Nelly!" Buck grunted, grimacing in pain as eyeball-out G's slammed him forward into his straps. The inertia reel caught and held him fast, but it hurt! Outside the canopy, sky and earth wheeled by in a blurry, confusing whirlwind.
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Marso · Mar 18, 2007

No time for pain. No time for disorientation. Only concentration on the task at hand. Buck had seconds to get things under control, or he was finished. The ship would come apart in thicker air, and he was well outside the survivable ejection envelope now. He knew Norad and the Hangar-5 complex were both tracking him now, and they'd be aware that he was in some sort of difficulty. He doubted if they realized how much. On their scopes, it would look like he was a bit off course, nothing more. Only the most experienced pilots on site might have an inkling of what that really meant. Not that it mattered- he was completely on his own up here.

Buck was vaguely aware of the chime in his ear, informing him that the autopilot had had enough of this shit and was going on sabbatical. Buck had manual control- or would have, if the controls were working. First things first- he had to stop the spin. He switched back over to RCS, looked at his PFD, and saw that he was in a clean flat spin, with just a little positive pitch. Fair enough- he knew how to recover from that. He began twitching his thumb against the joystick hat, sending out precise, controlled bursts from the reaction control jets. They were far less effective in atmo than they were in space, but he was still high enough that they might do the trick. Unfortunately, it was one of those things that required fine control and some patience to set right, and he had another critical emergency still looming just ahead.

So Buck did the unthinkable. With one eyeball and half his brain on the PFD , he continued to make counter-spin inputs. With his left hand, he began the process of resetting the hydraulic control system, resetting the flight control servo, and rebooting the computer connection between the fly-by-wire computer and the flight control hydraulics. All this as the ship shook violently, and the eyeballs-out forces were contributing to what would be a serious case of red-eye. It took the sort of hand-eye coordination and ability to multitask found in schoolyard daredevils who could pat their heads while rubbing their tummies, while hanging by one leg off the side of a spinning merri-go-round.

But those forces were beginning to reduce a bit. His inputs were having the desired effect- Munin's yaw rate was slowing considerably, and the pain in Buck's head and thorax started to ease off a little. He was breathing easier, and he finished the procedure by closing the last circuit and watching as the warning annunciators blinked out one by one as he brought back all the systems he'd shut down.

Atltitude was now 75,000, speed Mach 3.4. He was decelerating rapidly, and his flight path had flattened out a bit- an unintended benefit of the spin.

The Moment of Truth had arrived. "Here goes nothing," Buck quipped grimly, and swtiched back from RCS to FBW. He eased the stick forward, and was rewarded as Munin pitched down slightly, coming out of her flat attitude. "We're in business!" Buck shouted to himself, exhiliarated. He pitched down a little further, and from there she recovered easily from her spin with a couple standard inputs from him. He checked his position, and saw that he was well off course. Well, that there was no problem at all. Where the X-15 and the space shuttle had come down as powerless gliders, the X-55 was a true spaceplane. Buck nosed her over into thicker air and brought up the checklist for starting the JX-110, an exclusive supercruise engine designed specifically for this bird under a black contract to Pratt & Whitney. She started without a hiccup, and Buck leveled her out at 65,000 FT, just above the limits of Class A domestic airspace. He held her there until he was over the prohibited airspace surrounding Area 51, then brought her on down and in for a stealth landing on the 5-Complex runway. He finished the entire flight without communicating with anyone- stealth all the way, as per the mission plan.

With the first hint of dawn brightening the eastern sky, Buck taxied his ship straight into the open, waiting hangar, where the customary crowd of senior officers and technicians were waiting. He cut the engine and let her roll in on intertia, depending on APU power for brake hydraulics and such, and the hangar doors had slid shut behind him before the whine of the APU itself had faded away to nothing. Once the hangar doors were completely closed, the interior lights were turned on. Buck finished up his checklists and locked her down, popping the canopy. "Break out your playing cards and poker chips," he called to the crowd below. "Lucky Buck is back!"

The first face to appear over the canopy rail, one of the ALSS technicians, took one look at him and started in alarm. "Jesus Christ!" the tech swore. "You okay, captain?"

Buck was grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah, I'm fine! What's the matter?"

"You look like you burst every capillary in your eyes, sir!"

"Oh, that," Buck nodded. "Yeah, I'll bet I did. Get me unhooked, will ya? I need a beer."
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Marso · Mar 23, 2007

Update: The work is progressing.

Aurora · Mar 23, 2007

post

Lanzman · Mar 23, 2007

Lintel.

Oh, I'm sorry. Is this not free association?

Marso · Mar 30, 2007

Update:

I'm into the third act of the portion of the story that's set in the 20th century. Pretty soon Buck's going to be waking up in a strange new world...

Marso · Apr 7, 2007

Update:

Finished Part I, 'Suspension'- basically everything that happens in the here and now.

I'll let it percolate for a day or two, go back for some editing/polishing, then put it up as a PDF file for your consumption.

Part II, 'Awakening', will be forthcoming...

Paladin · Apr 7, 2007

Fantastic! I especially enjoy the little homages to the Gil Gerard TV series.

The detail in the flight emergency sequence is wonderfully realistic! Lots of--dare I say?--verisimilitude. Say, you don't work around aircraft, do you?

One nitpick: wouldn't the X-55's ultra-secret reconnaisance data go to the NRO (National Reconnaisance Office) rather than NORAD (North American Air Defense Command)?

Marso · Apr 7, 2007

Paladin said: ↑

Fantastic! I especially enjoy the little homages to the Gil Gerard TV series.

The detail in the flight emergency sequence is wonderfully realistic! Lots of--dare I say?--verisimilitude. Say, you don't work around aircraft, do you?

One nitpick: wouldn't the X-55's ultra-secret reconnaisance data go to the NRO (National Reconnaisance Office) rather than NORAD (North American Air Defense Command)?
Click to expand...

I dunno, but since it's a 'black' air force project, and the subject of the mission was Chinese ICBM proliferation, I thought NORAD made sense. Those guys could always kick it over to NRO as well, I suppose. Not Buck's problem, though.

Oh, and I've revamped a bit of the spin recovery- minor changes, but stuff that was bothering me because when I read through it again after the fact, some of it was grossly inaccurate. Not that most readers would notice, but I changed it anyway. Now it's still probably innacurate but not so much.

I've been working on the polishing today, but don't want to rush it.

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Buck Rogers

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The Saint Sentinel Angel

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dkehler Fresh Meat Deceased Member

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The Saint Sentinel Angel

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The Saint Sentinel Angel

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Buck Rogers

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LizK Sort of lurker

The Saint Sentinel Angel

Rincewiend 21st Century Digital Boy

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Lanzman Vast, Cool and Unsympathetic Formerly Important

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Marso High speed, low drag.

dkehler Fresh Meat Deceased Member

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Marso High speed, low drag.

dkehler Fresh Meat Deceased Member

The Saint Sentinel Angel

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The Saint Sentinel Angel

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Marso High speed, low drag.

Marso High speed, low drag.

Aurora Vincerò!

Lanzman Vast, Cool and Unsympathetic Formerly Important

Marso High speed, low drag.

Marso High speed, low drag.

Paladin Overjoyed Man of Liberty

Marso High speed, low drag.

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