Chapter I: Shared Ownership
I stood at the airfield, gazing up at the clear blue sky above me. The aeroplane should have been back by now, but knowing her, she'd keep it out a little longer. That girl always pushed the limits of the flight envelope.
I removed my scanner from my belt, dialed up Tower frequency, and listened. Come on, enter the pattern already! I thought. You said you'd only need it for two hours!
My scanner chirped. "Bonanza Eight-Two-Seven-Sierra, enter a right downwind for Runway 27."
Finally! A soft young female voice read back the clearance, my eyes catching a glint off in the distance. The glint grew larger as several more radio calls were exchanged, eventually turning final and executing a perfect landing. It taxied to the end and changed over to ground control, pausing a moment while the flaps came up before proceeding over to the secluded ramp on which I waited.
Down the single taxiway it came, our prized possession. It wasn't just any cantilever monoplane, but a 1981 V-35 V-tailed Beechcraft Bonanza, chromed out with blue, black, and violet striping that tapered to a thunderbolt towards the cowling. The plane had been extensively modified by me and its co-owner, to the point where we overhauled the instrument panel and replaced it with a state-of-the-art Garmin glass panel. Money and dreams are what kept the bird flying; both my companion and I had invested loads of cash into the endeavour. Truth be told, she paid for most of its airframe, myself responsible for annuals, upkeep, and the fuel.
She saw me as she turned the aeroplane, parking it at an angle relative to the hangar behind where I stood. With a roar followed by a sputter, the engine was shut down, the three-blade propeller stopped. The door opened, and out into the sunlight stepped a young girl, around twelve.
"Thanks for the ride, Silver," she said as the pilot stepped into the afternoon sun. "Plane's an absolute beast!"
"She's my pride and joy," Silverwings replied softly, casually resting an arm on the chrome engine cowling. "Two hundred thousand dollars keep it flying," she added with a smirk.
"Silver, you bitch!" I said as I approached the other owner of the aircraft. "You said you'd only have it for two hours!"
She looked a little hurt, adjusting her round glasses and pointing to the younger one.
I put a hand to my forehead. "Right, children present."
"Spitfire, you really should be more careful of what you say." Her violet eyes glanced over to where the young one stood, excitedly chatting to her friend. "Funny how I can get her friend to fly with me, but my sister is a lost cause."
"She just hates you because you're a new pilot."
"New pilot?" Silver asked, an air of inflection in her soft voice. "Need I remind you that I worked my tail off to scrape together enough cash to pay for not only my share of the plane but my high-performance and complex aeroplane endorsements? Not only that, but you seem to have forgotten that I have logged two hundred and fifty hours of flight time! Nothing like your girlfriend's got!"
That took it too far. Nobody hated on her like that. She may only be a student pilot and just spreading her wings under my team's watchful eyes, but that was no reason for someone to insult her so. However, I kept my cool. "D'aww, you're so cute when you're mad!"
My hands gripped her shoulders, pressing her up against the shiny chrome cowling. I leaned in closer, whispering in her ear. "Don't talk of Fleetfoot that way. You know full well that you're not a student anymore."
Panicked glances were my only reply.
"Listen, I..." I sighed, suddenly seeing the fear that had taken over. I guided her off the cowling and embraced her in a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Silver. I shouldn't have done that."
"...Mhmm..." She placed the keys in my hand. "You're forgiven. Go fly."
I walked over to the hangar in order to retrieve my flight bag, watching the Canterlot High student take a spot in front of the aeroplane, hands folded behind her back, eyes staring idly up at a Learjet on climb out. I knew she dreamt of one day being behind the stick and throttle of one of those beauties, cruising at high speed and high altitude. Sheepishly I waved at her as I climbed in, setting my flight bag in the backseat, sliding myself into the left seat, closing the door behind me. I checked the Hobbs meter, noting the time out before fastening my seatbelt and plugging in the headset I produced from my bag.
Silver had left the checklist on the dash; I held it in one hand while going through the pre-start items. Gear down, avionics master off, beacon on, lights on, circuit breakers in. I then continued over to the engine start checklist, starting by pushing the red mixture control to full rich, throttle full open, fuel pump on. Next, I brought the throttle out to one-fourth, taking the key and inserting it.
"Clear!" I turned the key. The engine sputtered to life, oil pressure coming up, temperature normal. Immediately I set the blue propeller control to 1,000 RPM for taxi, proceeding next to the avionics master switch. The dual Garmin displays lit up, the radios activating. I copied the weather information before calling up ground control.
"Ground, Bonanza Eight Two Seven Sierra, at complex one, ready to taxi, westbound with Echo."
"Bonanza Eight Two Seven Sierra, taxi to the runway via Bravo-Alpha."
"Bravo-Alpha, Two Seven Sierra." Outside, Silver held up her arms to form an X shape. While I waited for her to begin commands, I switched on the music system. Much to my annoyance, Silver had left her playlist going on shutoff. The piano riff to a certain love song began, evoking a groan from me as I muted the song.
Silver began to move her arms in the 'come forward' motion, drawing them back while walking backwards from the plane's nose. I responded by taxing forwards, turning when she signaled and going on my way. I reached the run-up area to see a familiar blue and yellow Cessna Skylane parked there, facing west. I parked next to it, giving a wave to the pilot at the controls. The pilot was none other than Fleetfoot, my girlfriend. She waved back as I completed my engine check, turning on the landing light and rolling up to the hold line.
"Tower, Bonanza Eight Two Seven Sierra, ready for takeoff, Two-seven at Alpha."
"Bonanza Eight Seven Sierra, clear for takeoff."
I read back the clearance, proceeding onto the active runway, pressing shuffle on the playlist. As I increased throttle and pitch, the opening riff to Ready To Die began to blare through my headset. The aeroplane began rolling, picking up speed. At the specified speed, I began to bring back the controls, climbing out at best angle. With a flick of my hand, I retracted the landing gear just as Fleetfoot got on the radio.
"Tower, Wonderbolt Trainer Twelve, ready for takeoff, Two-seven at Alpha."
The following communications went as normal, myself being advised of the traffic behind me. The coastline came into sight, the tower approving my frequency change. I acknowledged, but just as I was about to hit the switch to change over to the air-to-air, a frantic, panicked transmission came through.
"Mayday! Mayday! This is Wonderbolt Trainer Twelve, declaring an emergency!"
