Liberty
Posted on October 6th, 2009 by T'Kirr and Ian Blackthorne

T’Kirr and Ian Blackthorne

The yellow Stearman biplane soared above the countryside of northern Virginia as fall colors in their full glory sped by below. Clad in the typical worn leather jacket, white silk scarf, leather helmet, and goggles, the pilot in the rear seat yelled into his microphone, “Hang on!” Pulling back on the stick, he maneuvered the plane into a loop, providing a spectacular view of the autumnal hues as they crested over the top. Diving back to level flight, he centered the control stick, able to feel every quirk of the crisp air rushing by the flight surfaces through the stick and pedals.

The passenger in the front seat, was dressed similarly, except her jacket was shiny and more fitted. Her scarf was brown and woolly, wrapped several times about her neck. She was peering over the edge of the plane down at the ground, following points of interest with her eyes as they passed swiftly by. After a moment, she peered back at the pilot and exclaimed over her radio, “That was exhilarating!”

With a grin, Ian pulled the stick slightly back and hard to the left, throwing the airplane into a couple of quick aileron rolls. The technology was primitive, but visceral; direct mechanical control of the aerosurfaces gave a pilot an incredible feel for the aircraft. Right now, Ian Blackthorne needed this cathartic expression of his personality more than ever. He had made up for his medical disqualification from combat fighter operations by occasionally piloting Atlantis, but now he wasn’t allowed to even do that. Flying was a part of him, and he enjoyed this biplane as much as warp flight in a starship. Even better was getting to share it with T’Kirr, and to that end, he offered over the radio, “You wanna take her?”

The Vulcan looked back at him again and, despite her goggles, Ian sensed less excitement and more trepidation. The feeling passed quickly, however, replaced by enthusiasm. “Okay.”

Ian slowly took his hands off the stick and feet off the pedals. “She’s all yours.”

At first, T’Kirr just held steady, getting a feel of the aircraft. She then made to ease into a turn, and suddenly the plane began to tip sideways. Making to correct, she turned the other way, and the Stearman began to roll, wing over wing. Their flight path had just started to dip when, somehow, she managed to pull level again. T’Kirr looked back at Ian again. “How do I turn?”

Chuckling against the wind, he replied, “The floor pedals control the rudder! You have to use them in addition to the stick.” Foot controls weren’t something a 24th century pilot had to concern themselves with. This time, the Stearman began to bank slightly into a turn, but after a few seconds, they were rolling again. “Give her more rudder!”

After leveling out, T’Kirr tried again. This time, the plane wobbled, but she managed to keep out of a roll. A few minutes of practice later, the wobbling disappeared. “I did it!”

“Good flying, you’re definitely getting a feel for her. Try a loop!”

Feeling more confident, T’Kirr pulled back on the stick and sent the plane upwards. The engine groaned and the horizon disappeared, and the occupants of the aircraft felt heavier as they arced too tightly. What goes up must come down, however, and they were soon speeding back toward the trees. Fixing on the horizon again, they were flying lower than before, but at least she had completed it.

“Not bad, not bad, especially for a first-timer!” Ian answered, taking the controls. “I’ve got her again,” he said, and as he felt T’Kirr let go, Ian abruptly climbed into what initially looked like another loop. At the top, instead of continuing the loop, he rolled to level flight in the opposite direction – an Immelman turn.

“Impressive.”

A half-smile on his face, Ian began a gradual decent toward the airfield he’d lined up on after the Immelman. After a few minutes of flying in contented silence, the Stearman landed after a short bounce on the runway. Once they’d come to a stop, Ian killed the engine and raised his goggles. “So, what did you think?” he asked with a grin.

Pulling herself up off the seat, she settled on the edge to better face him and removed her own goggles. Her eyes were bright. “It was… stimulating.”

“Then we’ll have to go again soon. Hell, I’ll be in here more often now anyway, I have to get my flying fix somehow.” He stood in the seat and looked down at her. “If you want to learn, I’ll teach you how to fly both this plane and the seaplane in Lost Harbor.”

“I would like that. “T’Kirr stood, using Ian’s arm for support. “I have one condition though.”

“What’s that?” he asked as he hopped to the ground and offered to assist her down from the higher front seat.

She took his hand and landed gracefully, her eyes flicking over him up and down. “You have to go wearing that.”

Chuckling, he answered, “Done, as long as you wear that.” Eyeing the form-fitting leather jacket, he added, “1930s aviatrix attire becomes you.”

Ian was rewarded with the expected arched eyebrow. She slipped her fingers over the crook of his elbow and they strolled off, neither feeling at a loss, as both knew they would soon return.