standards, I was essentially an old man trapped in a young body. That made picking up new concepts a hell of a lot harder than back when I was a kid.
A product of a living in space is we forget the outer wrapping doesn’t necessarily match our insides. It gets even weirder when you add in deep-sleep. For a guy like me, I looked about twenty-five but had about forty-two years of awake time, and fifty linear. The General was triple that, but only looked fiftyish in Terran terms, and someone like Schmiddy or my new Sergeant Major buddy looked like the walking dead. For Thomas Knox, all he saw was a young buck needing training and approached the issue like he would every other wannabe pilot.
My instructor, was a Mariner who was originally from Ganymede, but wanderlust and the stars made him join the Space Mariners’ Guild as soon as he could legally thumb on. Unlike the Legion, the Mariners’ Guild didn’t really have a retirement program. They just worked folks until their pilots quit. I’d personally never heard of anyone doing that, though. The guys who ended up as Mariners had a different kind of outlook on life centered on exploration and travel. Thom was no different. He was back on Luna as part of a training tour as a mid-career breather waiting to get back out to the stars.
He’d been back on Luna for about a year and a half and had been itching to leave for about twelve months. He had a cool steady confidence of someone who was very good at his job, unfortunately, because he knew it so well and had spent years around others in the same career he spoke in a hodgepodge of trade-speak and jargon, mostly flying right over my head, forcing me to stop him every couple of minutes. Each question I asked would spiral into several additional questions to the point where I felt safer not asking questions at all. It was hard to avoid that urge because I knew the mentality was not only lazy but also dangerous.
He was pounding regulation, theory, and standard control layouts into me. Once we got to the last part, things started to click a little, since almost everything from hoppers to angrav sloops used almost the same setup. I'd used hoppers back in Alaska when I was a kid, and I loved watching them race, so I went from death by vid to wide awake almost instantly. Thom saw my level of engagement jump and asked if I wanted to try my hand in the simulator. Hell yes, I would!
“We're going to start you off on something small. We'll use a light shuttle. A little ten-seater. Lots of maneuverability and wide open space. It will give you a feel for the controls. Since we're in a sim, I'll let you crash, but co-chair if you have any questions.” He plopped down beside me and I watched how he moved. If I was going to pretend how to be a pilot, I needed to mirror the little things too.
He fired up the system, and for practice walked through a launch sequence, as though we were leaving a satellite, then turned the controls over to me. I have to admit there was a bit of an adrenaline rush. The grav system tied directly into the sim, so as soon as we pretend launched, I felt the loss of gravity, and lifted out of my seat. Then a shift as we accelerated. Like I said, it’s the little things. I quickly buckled my restraints, as Thom laughed, and pointed to the grav controls “keep her at point one five standard grav, which is comfortable for most folks, and bump the decel damps to ninety-three cabin, 100 all others. You'll want to feel the boat moving in here, but we don't want fluids flying back there.” I did as instructed, adding the advice to my mental checklist.
“Sorry about that, but the best way to learn is to feel the drop firsthand. You tend not to forget after that. The guy who taught me, Grimes, dropped us off a cliff at four gees to drive the lesson home. I figured you didn't need as much a push” He smiled. I told him I appreciated it, and he pointed me towards a nearby moon on the display telling me to make my way
A product of a living in space is we forget the outer wrapping doesn’t necessarily match our insides. It gets even weirder when you add in deep-sleep. For a guy like me, I looked about twenty-five but had about forty-two years of awake time, and fifty linear. The General was triple that, but only looked fiftyish in Terran terms, and someone like Schmiddy or my new Sergeant Major buddy looked like the walking dead. For Thomas Knox, all he saw was a young buck needing training and approached the issue like he would every other wannabe pilot.
My instructor, was a Mariner who was originally from Ganymede, but wanderlust and the stars made him join the Space Mariners’ Guild as soon as he could legally thumb on. Unlike the Legion, the Mariners’ Guild didn’t really have a retirement program. They just worked folks until their pilots quit. I’d personally never heard of anyone doing that, though. The guys who ended up as Mariners had a different kind of outlook on life centered on exploration and travel. Thom was no different. He was back on Luna as part of a training tour as a mid-career breather waiting to get back out to the stars.
He’d been back on Luna for about a year and a half and had been itching to leave for about twelve months. He had a cool steady confidence of someone who was very good at his job, unfortunately, because he knew it so well and had spent years around others in the same career he spoke in a hodgepodge of trade-speak and jargon, mostly flying right over my head, forcing me to stop him every couple of minutes. Each question I asked would spiral into several additional questions to the point where I felt safer not asking questions at all. It was hard to avoid that urge because I knew the mentality was not only lazy but also dangerous.
He was pounding regulation, theory, and standard control layouts into me. Once we got to the last part, things started to click a little, since almost everything from hoppers to angrav sloops used almost the same setup. I'd used hoppers back in Alaska when I was a kid, and I loved watching them race, so I went from death by vid to wide awake almost instantly. Thom saw my level of engagement jump and asked if I wanted to try my hand in the simulator. Hell yes, I would!
“We're going to start you off on something small. We'll use a light shuttle. A little ten-seater. Lots of maneuverability and wide open space. It will give you a feel for the controls. Since we're in a sim, I'll let you crash, but co-chair if you have any questions.” He plopped down beside me and I watched how he moved. If I was going to pretend how to be a pilot, I needed to mirror the little things too.
He fired up the system, and for practice walked through a launch sequence, as though we were leaving a satellite, then turned the controls over to me. I have to admit there was a bit of an adrenaline rush. The grav system tied directly into the sim, so as soon as we pretend launched, I felt the loss of gravity, and lifted out of my seat. Then a shift as we accelerated. Like I said, it’s the little things. I quickly buckled my restraints, as Thom laughed, and pointed to the grav controls “keep her at point one five standard grav, which is comfortable for most folks, and bump the decel damps to ninety-three cabin, 100 all others. You'll want to feel the boat moving in here, but we don't want fluids flying back there.” I did as instructed, adding the advice to my mental checklist.
“Sorry about that, but the best way to learn is to feel the drop firsthand. You tend not to forget after that. The guy who taught me, Grimes, dropped us off a cliff at four gees to drive the lesson home. I figured you didn't need as much a push” He smiled. I told him I appreciated it, and he pointed me towards a nearby moon on the display telling me to make my way
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