The Stranded Pilot

A/N: No ponies this chapter, just wait 'til the next one

North Sea, 01:17am 2nd February 2011, Royal Navy Carrier, Weather: Stormy, lightning

Captain Stevens made his way to the bridge. The aircraft carrier was in the middle of the stormy ocean, the 10 foot waves having no effect on the behemoth of a ship. He entered the bridge and made his way to the window overlooking the flight deck.

"Captain on deck!"

"At ease." He stepped up to the window and looked out at the rain lashing down against the well-lit deck. "How are the preparations going?"

His second-in-command walked over to his side and saluted. "Engines are good, wing flaps are responding well and flight computer is set, sir."

The jet in question was sitting on the main flight-deck. It was an experimental, electric powered jet. It was a prototype, almost identical to the standard, multi role Eurofighter Typhoon used by the RAF, but the main body was a lot bulkier to accommodate the larger electric engines. It was part of a government initiative to switch the RAF from fossil fuels, and the prototype had passed all tests so far. If it passed all others would change aerial warfare.

This was the last test before it was put into a simulated combat environment. The onboard scientists wanted to check it for efficiency in a storm, one that a wind tunnel couldn't provide. It had taken years to design and build 2 working electrical engines that provided enough power and control for a jet fighter, and this last test was critical, to say the least. The man flying it was one of the best pilots on the ship.

Flight Captain Howards stepped onto the flight deck, decked out in his flight suit, helmet under his arm. He strode purposefully towards the jet sitting on the flight deck ignoring the rain hitting the deck around him. He had spent the last 2 weeks memorizing the specifics of the fighter, how the electric engine worked, how to work the adapted flight computer. It was standard for pilots about to fly advanced warfare jets. He remembered his flight training, how the Eurofighter had a special computer onboard to make hundreds of calculations a minute to keep the jet stable in flight. The Eurofighter was something else, and this prototype pushed it a step further.

For a start, the body was bulkier to deal with the engines, and the flight computer had been reprogrammed from scratch for this. The thing that had piqued his interest was the battery. A normal car battery would run the jet for roughly 20 seconds, and the battery installed was the size of 20 car batteries, but instead of giving him 400 seconds, it gave him 4 hours, because of experimental technology used in the battery. There was a lot of black ink, but he had gleamed it was using something called 'fusion power-storage techniques'.

For the last 2 hours, he had been briefing himself on the specifics of this flight. His call-sign would be Maverick, the carriers Base-plate. For purpose of this test, he would fly into a real life electrical storm, and the only other jets in the air would be patrols, but they would be 40-50 miles away. An emergency search and rescue team was standing by in the event of a failure. He looked over at their helicopter to reassure himself. He stopped 5 feet away from the cockpit and let the flight crew finish their jobs. He flipped the visor up before placing the helmet on his head as 6 members of the 8 man flight crew stood up and jogged to the side.

He finished buckling his helmet as the one of the final members of the crew pushed a ladder in to place next to the cockpit, the other grabbing two light wands ready to signal the take-off. Howards nodded to the crew member before stepping up the ladder and climbing into the cockpit. He slid the canopy shut, closing out the rain that was crashing down more heavily than before, and began his pre-flight checks, flipping the visor on his helmet down and tuning into the radio frequency he had been assigned for this flight.

"Base-plate, this is Maverick calling in."

"Roger that Maverick, hearing you loud and clear."

Howards finished his checks and looked at the crew member wheeling the staircase away. The guy noticed him and gave him a thumb up, and Howards returned it by waving 2 fingers in a circular motion pointing upwards, indicating he was going to start the engines. The crewman dragged the staircase clear as Howards requested the authority to start up.

"Maverick requesting permission to power engines."

"Roger that Maverick, request permitted. You are cleared for take-off when ready."

Howards powered the dual electrical engines and made a few final checks, and looked to the final crewmember with the light sticks who was over to the side of the flight-deck and gave him a thumbs up.

The crew member nodded, and gestured to the control tower using one of the sticks, leaving the other to gesture at the pilot. After getting the all clear from the tower, he pointed the light wands at the ground, and Howards prepared himself for take-off.

The result was instantaneous, pushing him into the back of his seat as the Eurofighter rocketed forward thanks to the carriers launch system. He felt as the fighter dropped slightly going off the deck, but throttled up the engines to cope with it. The engines felt sluggish compared to the jet engines he was used to, but nothing he couldn't get used to.

"Maverick calling in. Take-off successful."

He heard clapping in the background "Roger that Maverick, continue as assigned."

North Sea, 03:38, 40 miles north of Base-plate

Howards levelled the jet out. For the last 2 and a half hours he had been piloting the fighter through the persistent rain. He was about to return to Base-plate when they radioed in:

"Ma-*scckt*-ck," the static had been present since he had entered the storm. "The sc-*scckt*-ts want you to fly into the very heart of the storm bef-*scckt*-ou come home. Can you do that?"

"Roger Base-plate." He turned the nose of the plane towards the location on his radar. He saw lightning strike and he was blinded for a second by blinding light.

"Storms getting bad." he muttered to himself, not transmitting. He flew for another minute, occasionally seeing more lightning strikes. He got used to the blinding light, but the thunder ricocheted all around him, seeming to bounce off the storm clouds.

"Base-plate, I've reached to co-ordinates. What now?" he was answered by static. "Hello?" he tried again, but got the same response. Another lightning bolt flew down to his right.

He switched off the microphone. "Only a matter of time before I get hit." With those words, time almost seemed to stop, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a bright light fly towards him, hitting the plane before he could even turn his head to it.

Suddenly he was blinded again, seeing only pure whiteness, but this time it lasted a lot longer, maybe 5 or 6 seconds. When he could see again, it wasn't a pleasant sight. There appeared to be electricity jumping around the fuselage of the plane, even over the cockpit window, but he was more worried about the situation inside the cockpit. Warning lights were turning the controls into a Christmas tree, warning beeps filling his ears, and he felt a massive lack of power, like the engines had failed.

He desperately moved the joystick, and the jet moved slowly from side to side. The rudder was working, but pulling back gently on the stick didn't change the course. His guidance systems like radar and satellite co-ordinations were blacked out, and so was his HUD. He had to get them back online. He levelled out the plane and reset the HUD. It took 2 attempts, but he did it. He was shocked to see he was banking to right, angled roughly 10 degrees down. He levelled out and hit himself.

Never try to level your plane out without your instruments. Your natural sense of balance is deceiving.

He levelled the plane out and looked over his systems. He guessed after 2 and a half hours he had used roughly 70% of the battery, and his reading showed 6%. Crap, it must have been sapped by the lightning he thought. Thanks to the 2 weeks of study, he determined he would have enough power to land, but powering the engines was a risk. For the first time since the strike he took stock of his surroundings. He was nearly out of the clouds, and was shocked to see coastline. He checked his radar, and saw the coast, but nothing else. No contacts. If he had travelled to a coastline, he should at least see a patrol, shouldn't he?

He decided to try the radio:

"Mayday, mayday, can anyone hear me?" he was rewarded with a scream of static, deafening him. "Shit! Damn that's loud." he went back to scanning the area outside the jet. The clouds were thin, and he had roughly gotten control of the jet. The lack of engine power made changing direction difficult, but he was gliding steadily and didn't want to risk powering up the engines. It had only been a minute and a half since the strike, but he needed to re-establish contact with Base-Plate, and if necessary land the jet. He looked back at the battery level, reading 5%. It was running out fast. He crossed the coastline, now heading over land at roughly 70kph. He looked behind him through the canopy and looked over the fuselage, and was horrified to see a large hole in the right engine, the metal around it blackened and scorched. He was glad he hadn't powered the engines. It probably would have blown up the whole plane.

His system was reading a dozen errors with the plane, and had to start dealing with them, the warning beeps still filling the cockpit. As he set about doing so, another problem arose. His left wing wasn't responding properly, and the jet got extremely sluggish. There was nothing he could do about it now, and while dealing with the other problems he attempted to make contact with someone, anyone. He switched though the frequencies, hearing only static. He finally raised one without any kind of interference, and tried it.

"Hello, is anyone there?" He got no response "Hello? Anyone? Ok, this is Maverick, I am unknown miles from Base-Plate, I have been hit by lightning, I am going to attempt a crash landing. I say again, I am unknown miles from Base-Plate. Maverick over."

He looked out of the canopy, and thought he saw something flying nearby, looking at him. The object was lit up by a sudden flash of lighting, and he realised he must be hallucinating; it looked like some kind of small horse with wings. He shook his head and when he looked again, the horse thing had gone. He looked forward and shouted in shock when he saw a tall tree approaching fast. He banked hard to the right to avoid it, but the tip of the left wing was destroyed by the tree. He banked left and right, trying desperately to level out while the beeping intensified. He looked down and saw he had crossed a forest and was now over a massive area of hilly plains, miles wide. He realised that this was his best opportunity to make a crash landing. When he saw an area of light ahead, beyond a forest, it sealed the deal.

Maverick tilted the nose down and aimed for a relatively level area of ground. He transmitted another message. "This is Maverick, I am now attempting a crash landing, location unknown. My wing has taken heavy damage." Maverick was about to open flaps, but when he looked at the left wing saw the panel was loose. The flap wouldn't open if he tried, and the other one would spin him. He knew he had to try and save his aircraft. He lowered the landing gear, comforted by the mechanical clunk as the gear set in place. He pulled back on the stick to tilt the fighter and touched down. The fighter was shuddering and vibrating badly from the rough ground, but he was slowing down.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

As he thought it, the plane hit a bump and jumped into the air. He saw the forest approaching fast. He immediately tried to hit the flaps, knowing they were better than nothing, but got no response. "Damn, damn, DAMN!" he looked up and saw the forest much closer and had a brainwave. It would wreck the plane but it would stop him, fast. He raised the landing gear and let the plane smack down, the air intakes digging into the ground. Howards could feel his teeth rattling. He looked ahead but couldn't see the forest. The fighter sailed over a bump and he saw the forest directly in front of him. Before he got a chance to eject he hit the first tree at 40kph, throwing him forward and smacking his head against the console, knocking him cold.

A/N: Here it is, re-written. Thanks to Flyingspud for help with the mayday call and ANTIcarrot for some of the information in his comment. Not much I know about carriers unfortunately, so that's still partially incorrect but there's nothing I can do about it. Let me know how this chapter sounds now.