1: Dawn Of Thunder
Third Edition
Author: chaos_eternus
When Earth is threatened, the USA and the UK join forces to protect our world…with help from an old friend.
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Chapter 1
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A muted purr echoed across RAF St Athan as a large night-black craft slipped slowly out of an old, slightly decrepit looking World War II hanger. Wings bending and warping under the heavy weight of the wing tip mounted engines, the vehicle slowly moved forwards, its thin, blocky body overshadowed by a massive under slung, the metallic shape of the load glittering and shimmering in the dawn sunlight as the tall, spindly undercarriage cleared the boundary of the runway.
Grimacing slightly, the Pilot, a dark haired officer with a distinctive scar running from his left eye to his ear glanced at the camera image of the runway displayed on his heads-up display. Nudging the control stick, he carefully and slowly lined the craft up with the runway, cursing the oversized undercarriage and the component below for blocking any direct view of the runway beneath.
Finally satisfied, he tapped his radio “Airhead 1-4-niner requesting permission to launch.”
The reply was clear and untainted by static or interference, just screaming of the money that was put into every aspect of the construction, of the highly expensive digital transceivers and high speed encryption/decryption chips, “Permission granted Airhead 1-4-9, be advised heavy traffic at Rhoose, vector immediately 150 degrees port to avoid traffic and join escort
Pilot Officer Reynolds smiled slightly as the unknown voice at St Athan's control tower broke comm. Discipline, passing on an unofficial but heartfelt message, “Good luck with the beast, and may fair winds follow you on all your journeys”
“Copy That Control, rolling.”
The purring rose to a powerful, muted roar as the large craft surged forward; its six engines pushing it rapidly down the runway. Accelerating in a manner that would make a bat out of hell proud, the dark vehicle lifted well clear of the end of the runway, and headed up, turning swiftly out of sight of Rhoose Airports busy international traffic lanes and towards the waiting escort of Tornado and Eurofighter Typhoon Jet Fighters.
“Shit! Damn and blast” Reynolds cursed as the craft bobbled, wrestling with the controls he quickly dragged it back under his control again, cursing this craft with every breath he took. Maybe it was a technical fault, maybe a design flaw, maybe a result of the load slung underneath, whatever it was he didn't know, but this craft didn't want to stay under his control. It fought him, making him use every trick he had learned in his ten years as a pilot to keep it under his control. He would really have to pass a sarcastic word or too along once he got that thrice-damned piece in place.
“Err… Airhead 1-4-niner” a voice drawled over his radio, “be advised we are hearing every curse you… sorry word you say”
Reynolds looked around puzzled, then flushed, embarrassed as he noticed the radio was still active, still transmitting every word, every noise he made.
“Sorry” he muttered, flicking the radio back to ready, grimacing as the crafts control stick shuddered in his hand once more.
“Hey Reynolds” the voice made the pilot officer grimace with distaste, its every nuance screaming, I'm young, I'm a pilot and I am cocky, “you think we should pass your assessment on to engineering?”
“Smart-ass fighter pilots.” Reynolds muttered as he fought with the controls once more.
Finally, the escort peeled off, their jets screaming for air in the high altitude as the Airhead continued up, quickly leaving earth's fragile atmosphere behind.
“Control, this is Escort detail, the first egg has left the basket, please vector to BP for a top-up and tell mother goose to prepare the second egg.”
“Roger that, drop to 2,000 and head…”
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StarGate Command (SGC), Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado Springs
SG-1 looked up startled from their briefing as the message blasted swiftly through the room from the PA, the excited, anxious voice of a duty tech sergeant shouting for General Hammond to come to the control room.
They and the General looked at each other surprised, alert sirens, no teams off world, and no shout of ‘off-world activation'. Something was up. Almost simultaneously, they dropped their papers and ran swiftly down the metal steps to the control room.
Hearing their clattering footsteps on the stairs, Tech Sergeant Harriman turned swiftly to face the approaching general.
“Sir, NORAD just reported an unidentified contact leaving atmosphere”
“Goa'ulds?” Colonel Jack O'Neill asked, just beating Hammond to it.
“NORAD doesn't think so, they say the flight profile suggests an Earth Construction, but it came out of an airbase in the United Kingdom ”
“What makes you say that, son” Hammonds voice was calm as always but tinged with worry.
“Sir, every time we've seen an alien spacecraft they have tended to leave atmosphere vertical or very near vertical, this contact acted like an atmospheric craft up till the point it left atmosphere which is why we were not called earlier, NORAD was watching it because it didn't match any known aircraft in design, they just thought it was something new the limeys had cooked up”
“O'Neill, I am not familiar with these ‘Limeys?”
“Slang for the English” O'Neill absentmindedly informed the big Jaffa .
“I see”
O'Neill stopped and did a rapid double take “Whoa, did you say England , as in the UFO came from England ?”
“Yes sir, RAF St Athan to be exact, its a joint RAF/Army base in South Wales ”