Ensign Kansz JoNz - ShoreLeave: Out of Bounds!
Kansz JoNz
“…your ego is writing checks your body can't cash.”
- CDR Tom ‘Stinger’ Jardian, Top Gun
(( I-Kiyo Ring, The Black, Flight Training Trials ))
Flight Operations was having a time of it this cycle as the area around the platform station was very busy; both Starfleet and commercial flights were coming and going, and there were a handful of flight trainers and civilian ships out and about as well.
Ensign Kansz JoNz was one of those training flights and she couldn't be happier about being back in the cockpit. It was an individual trainer, and she was responsible for familiarizing herself with the craft at a standstill and then bringing the fighter in for a landing at the assigned bay. And repeat two more times.
Thrusters, check. Lidar, check. Oxygen, check. Maneuvering thrusters, check.
The Caitian sighed. This was her third run and she could appreciate the need to familiarize with the craft, she really could. All the same, she couldn't wait for the real action of training, such as the advanced dog fighting course that she was required to take.
With a sigh, she keyed her helmet mic and opened the channel.
JoNz: =/\= This is Flight Trainer Beta Two. Requesting the Ball. =/\=
FOPs Actual: =/\= JoNz has the ball, prepare to bring Flight Trainer Beta Two in. =/\=
JoNz: =/\= JoNz has the Ball. Copy. =/\=
FOPS Actual: =/\= Landing Bay Three. =/\=
JoNz: =/\= Landing Bay Three. Copy. Starting my run. =/\=
A mischievous grin broke across her features behind the clear visor of the helmet. She was definitely going to land this sucker by way of the FOPS Tower; JoNz was going to do a flyby of the tower.
Coming in on an upward arc, the fighter handled superbly and was sensitive to her every tweak to the course; JoNz bypassed the landing bay and flew right for the tower, tooling past the plexi-glass window of the structure at breakneck speed and then arcing back out toward the black, her harness straining at her shoulders.
And at that moment, unfortunately, the nacelle of the USS Joseph M'Benga was suddenly *there*.
JoNz: “Oh Frak!”
Pulling hard on the stick in a desperate attempt to get the fighter out of the way to avoid the nacelle, the Cait entered into a steep corkscrew dive away and down from the Olympic-class ship; she flew in between the nacelle struts, her one wing dinging off one of the struts and throwing her off course.
Unfortunately, she was now diving directly for the hull of the space platform. In her helmet comms, the FOPS chief was screaming, =/\= Abort abort abort! Veer off! =/\=
Desperately wrenching the control stick in the opposite direction and pulling away in a sloppy arc, she really put the little trainer to the limit and the engine could be heard whining. JoNz managed to clear the obstacle and get the little trainer upright in the right position.
She'd come way too close to being that bug splattered on a windshield. Or in this case, a Caitian mangled on an ample nacelle; blood pressure pounded in her ears and her heart pounded in her chest. The Caitian felt sick to her stomach.
Kansz was lucky. She'd come close to dying, and all for a stupid trick.
Eventually, the pounding in her ears subsided and she could hear the flight tower in her ear over the comms.
FOPS: =/\= ---your azz in that landing bay! Now! =/\=