Personel flight

Posted on 20 Aug 2025 @ 11:05am by Lieutenant Paul Winchester & 1st Lieutenant Cassandra Matthews

1,645 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: S04 Episode 02 The Hackers Backdoor (Main)
Location: hollodeck 3
Timeline: Back post - before breifing

=On=

Paul stood in the Tomcat's Fighter bay, he stood in his flight suit with his helmet on the wing of the Gryphon Mk2 Fighter that he was going to use to train 2 Lieutenant Matthews, while she used the other fighter that sat next to the one he would use.

He tapped his combadge =/\= Lieutenant Mathews, please report to the Hangar deck for your Fighter training, Winchester Out=/\=

Cassandra had just finished up the current reports for inventory and the requests for secondary training. The fighter pilot program was a popular idea amongst the Marines. As if on cue, the familiar voice of her old friend and training officer, Paul Winchester, came over the comm and summoned her to her training session. It had been a few weeks now, and she was getting more confident in the skills he had been teaching her in the private lessons. She, too, had been doing her best to get him trained up to join the ranks of the Marines. It was a good trade-off. Still, she found she missed simply spending time with her friend.

Getting up from what was now her desk, she headed to the hangar lockers and dressed down into her flight suite. She made her way into the fighter bay as requested.

Approaching, she gave a respectful salute. "Second Lieutenant Mathews reporting as requested, sir," Cassandra stated.

Paul replied, "At ease, Lieutenant," looking back at her. He continued, " Are you ready to show me what a Pilot you are?" He needed a Marine in charge of the Marine Pilots so that they would not start any fighting with the fleet pilots.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Cassandra stated with a touch of mirth. She had been studying hard and practicing for hours in the holodeck simulators. She felt confident that she could finally pull off the real deal.

"Very well, show me what you have learned," Paul said as he climbed into his fighter cockpit. He hoped that she had picked up everything he had taught her.

"Aye Aye, Sir." Cassandra climbed up into the cockpit. Her body filled with a mass of nerves and excitement. She had anticipated this moment for so long. The cockpit, though new, felt so familiar and welcoming to her. She began the prelaunch list. Going through the safety protocols and then the warm-up sequence. Then, after all the preparation was done, it was finally time. Time to fly. She sent out the request for clearance to launch. Once granted, the doors slid open to the great vastness beyond. She accelerated towards it, the excitement giving way to pure bliss. All the fear was gone as she looked out the windows to the stars beyond. They felt as though they were at her very fingertips. She followed the deployment procedures away from the base into the open space to the designated training area.

Paul flew towards the training area. He said over the coms. =/\= The course you are about to tackle was set up by Paula to test the movement of your flight skills,=/\= as he wiggled his left hand, knowing that he needed to get Lieutenant Hawksley to have a look at it. He continued, =/\= The time on the right-hand side of your HUD is the Time set by Paula. If you beat it she will give you a free drink in Odin's Bar=/\=

Cassandra couldn't repress the small laugh that escaped as Paul's voice came through the comms again. A free drink from Paula? That was a rare wager, and one she had every intention of winning.

Her gloved hands hovered over the controls for the briefest of moments as she adjusted to the weight of expectation—and the endless, starry expanse that stretched out ahead. The ship's systems hummed around her like a living heartbeat, and the familiarity she'd built in the simulators surged within her like muscle memory.

"=/= Understood, sir,=/=," she replied, her tone edged with determination. "It's drinks on Paula tonight." She joked confidently

She could sense Paul's smirk behind the silence that followed. It pushed her further, solidifying that this was no drill she could lazily coast through. This was the proving ground she'd been waiting for—the culmination of weeks of training under Paul's sharp-eyed tutelage.

The HUD flickered to life, mapping out the challenge ahead. She studied the course markers on the display as callsigns and boundaries filled its crisp interface—tight turns. Precision maneuvers. A few unexpected elements, no doubt, knowing Paula's strategic creativity.

=/\= Show me what you got, Cashpot=/\= replied Paul over the comm, giving a cheeky grin to Cassie's new callsign as Paul pushed his fighter's throttle to watch her complete the course.

Cassandra's jaw tightened, determination flickering over her face like the glow of her cockpit's HUD. "Cashpot," she muttered under her breath, half a chuckle, half an irritated sigh. Of all the names to stick. But Paul’s tone, equal parts challenge and amusement, ignited something undeniable: a need to prove him oh-so-wrong.

"Alright, Paul," she murmured, hands flexing over the controls. "Let’s see who’s grinning when this is over."

She pushed the throttle forward, the fighter responding with an exhilarating surge. The course stretched out ahead like a labyrinth of impossible demands, each marker daring her closer to perfection. Tight turns loomed, and she leaned into the first one, every muscle in her body tuned to the rhythm of the machine. No overthinking, no room for doubt, just instinct and pure focus.

Oo Smooth so far, Cashpot, but don’t get cocky. Still a long way to go.oO She thought to herself.

She was surprisingly calm, but she could feel the underlying tension. She ignored it, biting her lip as the next challenge presented itself: a narrow corridor flanked by virtual hazard fields. One misstep, and the HUD would flare red—a failure she refused to let happen. Her movements were swift, crisp, the fighter gliding through the space like it was an extension of her own body.

“Not bad for someone with such a ridiculous callsign,” she muttered more to herself than anything.

As she cleared the final sharp curve, sweat beaded on her temple, but she didn’t falter. Paul’s smirk may have been driving her at the start, but this? This was for her.

The culmination of every ounce of practice, every late-night analysis of past runs, every stumble she had fought to overcome.

The finish marker lit up on her HUD, and she pulled her fighter in line with a precision so sharp it silenced even Paul on the comm for a moment. A moment she savored.

"Well, I’ll be damned," Cassandra breathed to herself, a mix of surprise and pride. She didn’t just pass, she'd crushed it.

Cassandra allowed herself the smallest smirk as her ship eased to a halt. “You can call me 'Cashpot' all you want,” she replied, voice steady, “but don’t forget—this pot just cashed out.”

She powered down her HUD with a flick, satisfaction radiating off her in waves as she imagined Paul finally wiping that smirk off his face. That alone almost made the callsign worthwhile. Almost.

Paul responded, =/\= Well done, Cashpot. I will inform Paula that she owes you a round of drinks in Odin's bar.=/\= he noticed the timer turn green as Cassie had beaten it by 2:43.05 seconds. He finished, =/\= you do know that if someone beats this, you have to do the same, don't you?=/\= he chuckled.

=/\=I'd consider it an honor and a privilege sir, =/\= Cassandra radioed back satisfied with herself for the moment.

Paul responded,=/\= Right, let's head back home,=/\= as he turned his fighter around to head towards the hangar. Paul knew that he had a lot of paperwork on his desk to complete before the ship left the dock and headed out to space.

Cassandra smirked to herself as she powered her thrusters down further, watching the distant form of Paul’s fighter begin its turn back toward the hangar. She allowed a moment more to soak in the quiet thrill of the victory, the crisp green glow of the timer still imprinted gently in her mind like a trophy on display. It wasn’t just about winning. It was about precision, mastery, the kind of skill measured not just in seconds, but in confidence.

=/\= “Well, sir, if someone beats my time, I’ll gladly hand over the crown. The galaxy does like a new hero every now and then,” =/\= she replied with an easy kind of calm that masked the razor-sharp determination still coursing right beneath her steady tone.

She settled back in her seat, glancing around at the expanse of stars beginning to glitter in the growing quiet. This was her theater, her proving ground, and today, it felt like it belonged to her.

And then, after a brief pause: =/\= “That said, don’t hold your breath waiting for it. Pretty sure Odin’s bar is going to be serving my victory rounds for a while yet.” =/\= A subtle laugh followed, just enough to convey the cocky but well-earned energy she was carrying now.

As Paul’s fighter grew smaller on the HUD, a flicker of restlessness itched at her—but there was no rush now. She toggled her own systems back online to follow at her own pace. Let Paul deal with the paperwork and the minutiae of fleet operations. Tonight, with the timer shattered and Paul’s usual air of smugness stolen for once, Cassandra figured the stars owed her one more chance at a quiet moment of triumph before they returned to business as usual.

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