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Dropping a Sponge...Bomb

Posted on Wed Nov 11, 2020 @ 12:03pm by Lieutenant Megan DuBois & Major Nicolas Trigman

Mission: First Unity
Location: Flight deck/ Planet Side
Timeline: Mission Day 52 at 0000

ON

Trigman had given the briefing to those really needing coffee. Yes, it was an early operation, referred to among those in the know as predawn flights, and a mainstay more in war than in peace. Still; the show must go on, and the first step towards cleaning up after the Dominion is a good reason to be up early.

The pilots were making their way to the fighters. Trigman was walking the exterior checks of his bird; his partner Belle, with homage to the fighters of old, on his ship was nose art reminiscent of older war birds, often a pin-up girl painted on the nose of an aircraft. Trigman had gone more modern; a beautiful Trill with brown hair, longing, looking towards the camera used to take her image, firing a 2260's era phaser, adorned his fighter. The said pin-up was his wife Lily from one of their picnics and photo sessions. Trigman said he liked taking his ladies with him for luck.

The doors to the hangar bay parted as a feminine figure slipped in among the bustle of the flight deck. Finding a nearby ladder, she climbed up to a better vantage point. Following a tradition formed before marriage, Lily Halden; the same who was blazoned on her husband's fighter, took an observation point to see her beloved off.

His stature, never hard for her to find, she quietly waited until he glanced around. When their eyes met, both had a knowing smile. Despite years of marriage, it still sent chills through her when he smiled that acknowledgement of her, a little secret between them, as she really should not be here. Yet she would not lose any chance to see her husband off or returning to put her fears to rest.

"Time to light them up." Trigman turned to the control area and saluted the flight deck officer; often nicknamed Air Boss by pilots, before boarding his fighter.

The flight wing deck was an orchestrated affair, and Trigman could only admire the one who parked, arranged the flight launch order of the wing, and serviced his birds. His would be the first one out with the squadron to follow.

"Sponge Flight Lead ready for take off," he transmitted to the tower, and smiled as the engines were in wait.

“Sponge Flight Lead, you are cleared for departure, the voice of flight control spoke. “Good hunting, Major.”

Trigman throttled his way through the force field and into the open space between him and the planet.

Megan stood in the flight control center with the largest mug of French pressed coffee she could get. Up late last night for the briefing and then super early for the launch, she just wanted to go back to ed. Instead, the teenager overdosed on caffeine on an empty stomach. “I really need a croissant,” she murmured, sipping her coffee as she watched the fighters slip out of the launch bay force field. There really wasn’t too much for her to do, but once they were launched, she went to the station set aside for her and sat down, pulling up her science station layout and observing the flight and the planet.

The formations were in groups of four, each set partnerd teams with Trigman's bird in the lead. With trained ease the fighters entered the atmosphere as a group, and once in the air gave a little more distance for the conditions.

Luck would have it that the skies were clear and cloud cover light at 3125 meters. The fighter approach at ten kilometers began to form up in bombing order with each fighter giving three lengths between drops, two staggered lines wide, north to south trajectory, Trigman on the inside and his partner the outside edge.

The run was a simple three passes, dispersing two lines of the chemical bombs to ccarpet the target area, and then the good do what they are supposed to do and neutralize the toxins by soaking it up and filtering. Too much for the exact chemical bonds and rate of absorption for Trigman to worry about. He just had the bombing schedule and lines projected for maximum coverage.

"Sponge Flight Lead calling the ball," Trigman called the note of being a klick out and in control of his approach.

Bringing the fighter down and bleeding off speed with flaps, he slowed to near stall speed while over the target, dropping his first cluster of three bombs. Once the weight left he adjusted his trim made a slow bank away as his second bird dropped the ordinance and banked wider to line up for the next run, approaching from a southern trajectory north.

This process was repeated by all fourteen birds, banked to next target run, until three patterns were fully dropped.

"Sponge Flight One to Birdhouse. How was our run?" Trigman asked the scientists watching.

Megan leaned closer to her screen and sipped her coffee, waiting for the dedicated satellites to update her readings. “Looks perfect, guys,” the teenage scientist said. “Satellites are reading full coverage. Now it’s just a matter of time, and then we can get some new samples. Thank you. Drinks on me,” she said, then instantly regretted it. Her and a bunch of attractive flyboys in a bar? Yeah…

“That is most kind of you. As Flight Lead, I accept the offer and look forward to your team meeting the flight," Trigman replied. “I can vouch for all my pilots being officers and will not cause any bad reputation with a customer if we want to have a working relationship with Research Division.”

Megan chuckled. “I’m more concerned if they’re gentlemen, Major,” she said teasingly. “See you back at base.” She closed the channel and sank back in her seat.

“Sponge Flight One. Roger that,” Trigman replied, angling his birds homeward.

FIN

Major Nicolas Trigman
Commander Air Group

Lt. Megan DuBois
Assistant Director of Research

 

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