Slipstream

“You’re late,” a stern voice remarked.

No shit, Captain Obvious. Ever since the ‘incident,’ Captain Thomas had developed the rather annoying habit of pointing out all of my errors and shortcomings. I was only ten minutes late, but he still found the capacity to be a professionally-offended, salty cumbucket.

“My sincerest apologies, Captain. I’m afraid I overslept,” I gruffly muttered, trying to disguise the sarcasm dripping from my tone. I failed. Miserably.

“Think you’re funny, eh? You’ve got no respect lad, and your punctuality is disgraceful!”

The Captain continued his rant, but I tuned him out, a skill I’d gotten rather adept at in the past few months. The coffee machine hissed loudly, frothing out a large amount of steam as it prepared my requested cappuccino. To be completely honest, I was still pretty tipsy from last night, having drank perhaps a little too much whiskey. I needed to sober up. Fast.

Thankfully, the pre-flight briefing that followed, was just that—brief. Basically, we’d be flying our usual gig, the Skyland Corporation’s mobile headquarters—a balls to the wall, no expenses spared, garishly exuberant private jet.

In a word, it was huge.

I’d been the aircraft’s First officer under Captain Thomas for around five months. Today was just a ferry flight to go and pick up a few of the executives that had been attending a big merger meeting in Los Angeles.

We’d be flying empty, with just a small skeleton crew: two pilots, and three flight attendants. Normally there would have been more, but many of the flight attendants had chosen to stay in LA the previous week, instead of returning with the plane for its scheduled A-check at Heathrow.

I wouldn't have minded staying in California as well—maybe hitting up a few of the bars and trying my luck with the locals, but none of the stand in pilots had anywhere near enough flight hours on an A380 to cover for me on the return journey. Plus, I’d had to cosign a boatload of maintenance documents along with Captain Grumpy-Fuck.

Leanne—an orange faced flight attendant with peroxide blonde hair and the most obnoxious, high pitched voice, was currently chatting away to Jason—the only male member of the cabin crew. He was tall and thin, camper than a row of tents, and so deep in the closet he was finding christmas presents.

I didn't mind the guy. He was a barrel of laughs, but Leanne often had me facepalming so epically that Patrick Stewart himself would have been proud. She was just so unequivocally stupid.

“You’re on walk around,” Captain Thomas shot at me, as we made our way out onto the tarmac. No surprises there. Grumpy-fuck always ‘nominated’ me for walk around checks, especially when it was raining. Like now. Fucking old git.

Muttering several choicy curse words under my breath, I set off from the terminal building at a brisk pace, trying not to trip over my own feet as I headed for the jet’s left wing tip. The sky was still pitch black, and the rain was coming down hard, peppering my uniform with large droplets. Less than a minute, and I was already starting to resemble the likeness of a drowned rat.

“Why do I always have to do this shit?” I grumbled to to no one in particular, shining the inspection flashlight into each of the four engine intakes and exhaust areas in turn.

It was a cold November morning. Not quite cold enough for any ice to have formed on the fan blades or engine pressure ratio probes, but I still had a good look—or as good a look as my slightly impaired vision would allow. There was no evidence of any damage to the inner cowlings or access panels as far as I could see, and the thrust reverser sleeves on engines two and three were securely closed.

Quickly checking none of the fuel ports were leaking, I headed towards the rear of the aircraft. The familiar whir of the APU droned on as I shone the flashlight up, checking for any damage to the tail section. All seemed well, so I headed back under the fuselage to the landing gear, checking the brakes and hydraulic systems.

After a few more slightly overcompensated examinations, I finished the walk around with a somewhat half-assed inspection of the navigation lights. By the time I’d ascended the stairs into the cabin I was fucking drenched.

Jessica, one of the flight attendants, met my perpetual scowl with a grimace. “Wow, you should probably go change.”

I gave her a stiff nod. She was one of the few colleagues that didn't see me as just ‘that new pilot.’ She’d completely friendzoned the shit out of me, but I was glad to have somebody to talk to all the same.

“Go on. I’ll cover for you,” she urged, handing me a spare first officers uniform. She must have known I’d be the one doing the walk around.

“Thanks,” I said, accepting the uniform. She really was a better friend than I often gave her credit for. With slow, squelching footsteps, I made my way to one of the executive bathrooms to change.

When I finally entered the cockpit, Captain Thomas was busy talking to air traffic control. I settled myself into the first officers seat and began initiating various system checks. It had taken me a little while to get used to the highly automated flight management computer—called an ECAM—but I’d persevered, and now knew it like the back of my hand.

“You get lost out there?” the captain asked, his snide tone grating as usual.

I held my tongue, despite it threatening to fire several revelations about what I thought of him in his direction. I didn’t need the hassle of an argument right now.

The atmosphere in the cabin returning to somewhat professional levels, we started each of the four jet engines without a hitch. The deep rumble of the powerful turbofans reverberated through the behemoth aircraft and into the cockpit.

“You have control. We're going to 27L,” the Captain said, as he flicked a couple of overhead switches. He preferred to order me around like a lapdog, rather than fly the plane himself. I guessed it made him feel like the big ‘I-am’ or something. Prick.

I waited for the tug to push us clear the gate before applying power to the four Rolls Royce engines, carefully easing the aircraft out onto the taxiway, and heading for runway 27L.

Captain Fuckwit proceeded to request clearance for takeoff. Air Traffic Control took their sweet time, to absolutely no one’s surprise, but eventually granted us clearance.

“Flaps and droops are set. Proceed,” the old bag commanded.

The engines spooled up to a muffled roar as I pushed the throttle levers forward. It’s go time, baby. Releasing the brakes, I allowed the behemoth to roll, the huge aircraft steadily gaining momentum as the rain continued to lash against the windscreen. I always loved takeoff. The invigorating rush of defying gravity was almost as good as the burn of a fine whiskey. Almost.

After we’d gotten to around seventy-five knots, I applied around seventy percent power. Fuck yeah! The Airbus surged in acceleration, pushing us back into our seats.

“V-one. Rotate,” the Captain muttered, as we reached takeoff velocity.

I pulled the control stick back, the nose lifting into the air as the superjumbo began to climb. The tanks had just enough fuel to get us to LA, and we weren't carrying any passengers or luggage, so the rate of ascension was higher than usual.

The captain flipped the landing gear lever up as we continued to soar onward. Visibility was fucking awful. I couldn't see shit, and had to fly solely on instruments all the way out of London.

At about eighteen thousand feet, I flicked the autopilot on and let out a yawn. The weather wasn't great, but it was nothing the computer couldn't handle. The captain was glaring at me for some reason, pointedly flaring his oversized nostrils.

“What?” I shot at him.

“Have you been drinking?”

“No,” I lied. Shit. If he tells the bosses—I’m screwed.

“You smell like a fucking brewery.”

“Well, I may have had a couple of whiskeys last ni-”

“Get out of this cockpit, you’re relieved of duty!” the Captain suddenly snapped, flecks of spit flying from his mouth.

Fuck it. I couldn't be bothered to argue. I was probably going to lose not only my job, but maybe even my wings for this, as well. I made sure to slam the cockpit door on my way out, quickly heading for the bar. Might as well enjoy myself.

“Where are you going?” Jessica looked concerned, following me down the stairs and along the cabin as I snatched a bottle of Jack Daniels from a fancy display case behind the Sky Bar. “No, Jack—we talked about this!”

She grabbed the bottle from me, but I’d already downed half of it at that point. The familiar buzz shot through my senses. I was instantly one happy motherfucker.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Jack!” She slammed the bottle down on the bar. “They’re going to fire you!”

“I know,” I sang, throwing up my shoulders in a wholly exaggerated shrug. I’d ran out of fucks to give.

“Bed!” Jessica snapped.

She practically dragged me over to the crew sleeping quarters and threw me down onto one of the cots. The familiar dizzy spinning sensation overtook me, as I closed my eyes, drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Now, this is where my recollections get a little hazy.

It started with a jolt. A big one. Gravity increased. A lot. My head smacked off the cabin wall as everything seemed to rapidly decelerate. I suddenly felt about four times as heavy. I managed to force myself out of the flight cot, idly rubbing my throbbing head. The fact that I was still blind drunk didn’t help matters much.

Muffled screams reverberated through the cabin as I stumbled out of the sleeping quarters. Something was seriously wrong with the bird. Even in my inebriated condition, I could tell we were no longer flying level. Jessica stumbled toward me, holding on to the edge of the Sky Bar to keep herself from falling over.

“Jack! There’s something wrong with Albert!” she squeaked, her voice too shrill for my liking.

Albert? Jess never called the Captain by his first name, he didn't like it. Something really bad must have happened. I forced myself to focus, stumbling my way to the cockpit.

Barging through the door, I found the captain clutching his chest, rasping out long, deep breaths over a blaring stall warning alarm. The autopilot had disengaged, and the plane was pitching up at a sharp angle.

I didn’t have time to think. Lunging over the central control column, I slammed the flight stick forward, along with the engine thrust levers. The superjumbo was sluggish to react. It seemed to take an age before the nose began to drop, the engines spooling up to a deafening roar.

A fierce battle with the flight stick commenced as I fell into my seat. The jet was being thrown about by a pretty aggressive side wind, but after a few tense minutes or so, I finally managed to get the wings fairly level, but the pitch was quickly becoming more of a problem.

It still felt as though the jet was flying nose up. Weird, the G force should have evened out by now. Visibility out of the windscreen was still non existent due to cloud cover, but I vaguely noticed it was now daytime.

“Terrain, terrain, pull up! Terrain, terrain, pull up!” the Ground Proximity Warning System sounded through the cockpit.

What the fuck? I glanced at the altimeter. “Holy Shit!” It was reading negative eight hundred feet, which was obviously bullshit. Still, I wasn't about to take any chances with GPRS warning. I pulled back on the control stick, just as the jet cleared the cloud cover.

What I saw through the windscreen chilled the blood in my veins.

The thing that was sat directly in our flight path must have been about the size of a fucking skyscraper. It had the resemblance of a purple bear, if anything, but it was blown up to ridiculous proportions. The weirdest thing was that it appeared to be slightly transparent, and had lots of little stars twinkling from it’s huge frame. Swathes of countryside could be seen through its massive form.

I was instantly sobered for a few seconds, my eyes going wide. Captain Thomas had fallen silent, the flight harness the only thing holding his slumped over body in his seat. The great beast spotted us, and I watched in absolute horror as it lunged up with surprising speed. Luckily we had already flown out of its reach, turbulently climbing back up into the clouds. It was just as well, there wasn’t a damned thing I’d have been able to do, otherwise.

“A-Al… A-Albert! Wake up, we’ve got a problem. A big problem.”

The Captain gave no response. Shit.

“Captain Thomas!” I yelled at him, whacking him on the shoulder a few times.

He continued to lay motionless. Well, not completely motionless—the turbulence was pretty bad. The atmosphere seemed a lot thicker than usual.

“Jessica!” I shouted, hoping the flight attendant would hear as I pushed the stick forward again. The Airbus gradually levelled out, once again clearing the clouds. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

A lush, evergreen wilderness was clearly visible from the windscreen. Large rolling hills, vast areas of savannah, and huge blankets of thick forest here and there. There was even a snow-capped mountain range spanning the horizon.

The flatter areas of terrain were littered with literally hundreds of the giant bears, all different colours and sizes. Some of them made the A380 look like a cereal box toy. Sweet Jesus.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Quickly requesting our current coordinates from the flight management system, I found I couldn't get a read on our location. The GPS wasn't getting any signals from any satellites.

Jessica appeared at the cockpit door. “Is everything okay-” she began, before gasping in terror when she spotted the bizarre view.

“Jess?”

She ignored me, her eyes glazed over, gaze scanning the terrain with a look of horror.

“Jessica?”

Still, she paid absolutely no attention. Ugh, I’m too drunk for this shit.

“Jessica!” I yelled. Finally, she snapped out of the stupor. “Captain Thomas is unconscious. Administer first aid immediately,” I said, in the most authoritative tone I could muster.

It must have worked, as a small whimper escaped her throat, and she nodded. Putting a hand on the captains neck, she checked his pulse, but her gaze was quick to find the windscreen again. I rolled my eyes, pulling back on the flight stick. We began to climb, the view of the ground slipping away slightly.

“I-I can't feel a p-pulse!” she squeaked.

“What?” I groped at the captains neck. Like she’d suggested, there was indeed no pulse. I licked the back of my hand and held it in front of his mouth. Nothing. The captain was dead.

I was shocked. We hadn't exactly been the best of friends in the past few months, but I’d never have wanted this to happen. Jessica was still whimpering, clutching a hand over her mouth in shock.

I grabbed a headset. “Pan, pan, pan! Skyland flight seven-seven super—pilot in command is deceased!” I had no idea how to formally let Air Traffic Control know that the Captain was dead. Not that it mattered, of course—no one answered.

I tried again. “Pan, pan, pan! Skyland flight seven-seven super, requesting position.” Nothing.

I scanned several frequencies. All were dead. I checked the GPS again, but I still wasn't getting any readout. How the fuck are we going to land? I shuddered, my thoughts drifting to the giant bears. Do we even want to?

“I’m scared, Jack! What the fuck is going on?” Jessica whimpered. “Where are we?”

“I don't know,” I sighed.

Jason and Leanne appeared at the cockpit door. “Is everything okay?” Leanne asked.

“Just turbulence,” I lied, deliberately going for a casual tone. If Leanne found out what was really going on the screams would be unbearable. Un-bear-able. Ugh, my drunk brain was trying to make a funny.

“Turbulence? It felt like we was gonna crash, innit?” she whined.

“Yes, turbulence, now go away,” I shot back at her. She promptly ignored me.

“What’s happened to the Captain?” she asked, rather accusingly.

Fuck it. “He’s dead,” I replied. Leanne stared in shock for a moment, before promptly exploding into a bout of hysterics. “Jason, get her out of here will you?” I yelled over the annoying screams of the panic-stricken hostess. He hesitated only a split second before dragging her from the cockpit. Thank fuck.

For mile after mile, we flew onwards into the unknown. I was pretty sure we weren't flying over England anymore—or Earth at all for that matter. The increased gravity still hadn't went away, even though we were flying quite level. I had scanned the terrain, both with my eyes and the flight management system several times. There was no suitable place to land a plane of this size. Big fuckin’ surprise.

I probably could have ditched her on to one of the vast plains, but I didn't fancy setting down too close to the giant star bears. There were shitloads of them. I eventually gave up my search, climbing to a more fuel efficient altitude and trying to figure out how to get us down alive.

I had tried to re-engage the autopilot so I could move the captain’s body, but it just didn't want to cooperate. After many unsuccessful attempts, I eventually managed to convince Jess to move him. She complained. A lot.

“So, how you holding up?” I asked her. She was sitting in the chair behind the now empty captain’s seat.

“I want to go home. Just take us home Jack, please.” She looked to be on the verge of tears.

“Believe me, I’ve been trying, but I haven't got a clue where we are.”

All I had were limited basic instruments. The altimeter and airspeed indicator were giving false readouts, the magnetic compass couldn't decide which way was north, and the magnetic heading wasn't giving any readout at all. The only thing that appeared to be working was the gyroscope attitude indicator.

“What are those things?” Jessica whispered in terror.

“I don't know what they were Jess-”

“No, those!” she croaked, pointing out of the starboard side window, all of the colour draining from her face.

Something that looked like a horse with wings—a mythical pegasus, even—was flying alongside the cockpit and making odd gestures with its hooves. It appeared to be wearing a blue garment of some sort, something that looked bizarrely like a flight suit. It also sported a pair of flight goggles. Its large feathery yellow wings were a blur, its fiery orange mane and tail whipping around in the wind as it rocketed along beside the window, effortlessly keeping up with the jet.

I laughed aloud, slowly rubbing a palm down my face. This horse. This horse had a fucking minigun strapped to its back.

There were loads of them, many different colours of winged horses soaring alongside the jet. I barely had time to do anything other than wipe the tears from my eyes before a muffled bang shot through the fuselage, and an alarm began to blare through the cockpit.

The laughter died in my throat. I glanced down with a pained grimace at the ECAM. We’d just lost engine one. Several error messages were flashing up, many failures I knew I wouldn't be able to deal with alone. Almost instantly, the jet started to roll to the left. I quickly compensated with the control stick, levelling her out again and throwing a nervous glance at the pegasus still gliding alongside the cockpit. It looked pissed off, and it easily had the firepower to shoot us out of the sky.

Jessica was whimpering in fear, staring at the flying pony as I attempted to prioritise the messages on the ECAM. Number one was starting to overheat. I flicked the master switch for the engine off and pulled the corresponding throttle lever back. The plane could easily fly on three engines, but that was the least of my worries.

The pony started angrily tapping a hoof on the window, the huge barrel of the gun on it’s back spinning as it continued to make the odd gestures. Jessica took that as her cue to nope the fuck out, bolting from the cockpit without so much as a backwards glance.

I sighed, noticed the pony’s lips were moving. It kinda looked like it was trying to say, “follow me.”Yep—I’m way too drunk for this shit. I slowly nodded my head. Incredibly, it gave a nod back, shooting out in front of the superjumbo, slowly gaining altitude and banking in a wide arc to port.

Can't believe I’m actually doing this. I pulled back on the stick and pushed the remaining three throttle levers forward. The engines spooled up to a roar. The superjumbo climbed, following the pony in an extremely wide left turn. It must have looked a bizarre sight from an outsiders point of view. I had no idea where we were going but I was certainly glad we hadn't been shot down.

The next three hours or so were fairly uneventful. There’s only so long you can stare at a flying pony’s backside without getting bored. I resorted to studying each of the flying ponies in turn, noting the the vast majority of them appeared to be female, if I had to guess.

Eventually the pegasus began to slow, gesturing a hoof in a downward motion. I got the hint and backed off the throttles a little, engaging the first level of flaps. I had no idea what altitude we were at, but I assumed the pony did.

I saw something that had the barest hint of familiarity up ahead. It almost looked like a row of lights. Odd. I looked a little further. There were more clouds, only they were oddly shaped—and clumped together in something that almost resembled a regular pattern.

The pony slowed even more. I adjusted with another level of flaps, and wound down the engines a bit. The nose raised slightly, the jet settling into a steady glidescope. We flew closer. I could make out a large mountain surrounded by the oddly shaped clouds, at the top was a… No way…

Two sets of lights spanned either side of a long runway. It looked to be just about long enough. This was just… almost too convenient. What are the chances of—oh, shit, the gear! I quickly slammed the gear lever down. We were closing in on the mountaintop a little quicker than I’d originally anticipated. Fuck. I flicked the flap lever down another notch and applied the speed brakes. The superjumbo pitched up even more, the gear lock lights eventually going green. I had to rely solely on the view from the windscreen as I guided her down. There was no landing beacon to lock on to.

The gear slammed into the tarmac. It wasn't actually as hard as I’d been expecting, but there was still a pretty big jolt. I could hear frantic screams from the cabin. I quickly pulled the three throttles back, fully engaging the two reverse thrusters and practically slamming my feet through the gear brake pedals.

“Come on, big girl! Slow the fuck down already,” I grunted through gritted teeth as the nose gear touched down.

The minigun pony was still flying along in front of the cockpit, throwing glances over its shoulder. It took quite a while for the jet to stop. I thought we might have ended up rolling off the edge of the mountain, but thankfully the Airbus ground to a halt with around thirty metres to spare.

“Holy shit!” I gasped, shakily began the process of shutting the engines down. I’d just landed a double decker superjumbo on top of a frickin’ mountain without any computer guidance—whilst drunk. It wasn't skill, it was a rather generous helping of sheer dumb luck. Once the aircraft was secure, I jumped up, quickly heading through the cabin down towards the Sky Bar.

“How the flying fuck did you pull that out of your arse-” Jessica began.

“Not now, Jack’s thirsty.” I brushed past her and grabbed another bottle of whiskey, pouring myself a glass this time as I sat at the bar. “They’re going to show up soon and I don't know what they’ll do, so I’m having a drink. Feel free to join me if you like.”

Leanne and Jason were shaking, clutching each other on a plush couch. Jessica merely gazed at me in shock, before jumping in fright when a loud banging sounded on the side of the fuselage. Well, shit. Might as well get this over with. I jumped up from the bar, stumbling slightly and taking my beverage with me as I headed over to a door and pulled the lever. It rotated, eventually swinging outwards, revealing a sea of pegasi gazing up at the jet.

“Well, hello there!” I said rather enthusiastically. “I hope you’re not expecting to charge a landing fee, because we’re broke,” I shamelessly chuckled, taking another gulp of whiskey.

The pony that had guided us in came out of nowhere, landing a swift kick to my chest and sending me flying back through the cabin—minus my drink. I heard the glass shatter against the tarmac below. Ouch.

Stumbling to my feet, I was more than ready to take a swing at my attacker, before I realised she had her huge assed gun barrell spinning in my face. She was a damn sight more intimidating up close, even if you disregarded the oversized firearm. Her head was about level with my chest, and she looked pretty damn strong.

“Okay… It occurs to me that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot… o-or hoof, if you’d prefer?” I nervously chuckled. Jessica, Leanne and Jason started screaming in hysterics, practically falling over each other in their panicked attempts to scramble into the conference room. None of them managed to get very far at all.

“QUIET!” the pegasus commanded. The flight attendants immediately fell silent.

“Shit, that’s pretty impressive. Wish they’d listen to me like th-”

“Shut up.” The pony was glaring at me, her minigun still pointed at my head.

“Okay!” I gave an apologetic grin, raising my arms.

“You in charge of this ship?”

“Well actually it’s not a ship, it’s an aero-”

“Are. You. In. Charge?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re under arrest for ponyslaughter.”

I’d intended to ask what the fuck she was going on about, but she was apparently done talking. Before I even had time to open my mouth, she grabbed me with her her forelegs, pulling me out of the open doorway and took flight—taking me with her!

Now, don't get me wrong—I’d always loved flying, but this was going a bit too far. I was shitting enough bricks to build an airport terminal as we soared over what looked like a bizarre cloud-built military base, eventually coming to rest in front of a huge Rolls Royce turbofan. Engine one.

She dumped me unceremoniously onto the tarmac. The blatant damage to the engine was unmistakable. There was blood splatter here and there. Several of the fan blades were bent, or missing altogether. One of the flying ponies had obviously been ingested. Shit—pegastrike?

The pegasus glared at me. “You killed one of our comfort stallions,” she stated, her tone more than a little accusatory. “You will now pay the price.”

I grimaced, groggily pushing myself to shaky legs. “Okay, look… I’m sorry that one of your peo-I mean hors… ponies, got sucked into the engine,” I slurred, my gaze finding the blood splattered turbofan as several more of said ponies landed, most of them mares. “But he mustn't have been very bright if he didn’t know enough to fly clear of a fucking jet engi-”

A loud sob pierced the air. A mare with a lilac coat, an ice blue and white mane and tail and a picture of a shooting star on her flanks levelled me with a tear filled gaze. “You killed Windrunner!” she squeaked. “He was my favourite…”

A wave of guilt washed over me at the sight of the mourning pony. It didn’t help that most of the pegasi were now shooting accusatory looks in my direction. “Look I’m sorry, I-”

CLONK.

Pain exploded through my head, quickly followed by a black void. I attempted to glance back to see which of them had thrown the cheap shot, but everything faded to black.