March 23, 2015 12:11AM | Registered: 13 years ago Posts: 153 |
[Title]Pride And Prejudice:
[Subtitle]THE TIME SLIP
by
[Author]Rae Elaine Hatfield
Ellayn@VHW-Corp.com
or hatfield@nwi.net
[Date began]12 March 2011
[Rating]
G
[Nut Graf/Blurb]
Jane and Elizabeth meander through Longbourn's grounds as they
discuss the Meryton Assembly ball the next morning ([As like
P&P2.]_ until they experience a time slip. ([A
term used for a paranormal phenomenon where people experience "time is out of
joint;" to borrow from Hamlet. (From [Wiki]: "Many time slip witnesses
report that, at the start of their experience of the phenomena, their immediate surroundings take on an oddly flat, under-lit and lifeless appearance, and normal
sounds seem muffled. This is sometimes accompanied by feelings of depression and
un-ease.") The definition strongly suggest "time slip" may be the wrong label for
this unexplained event.]_ When the trip is done, they find
themselves into an inconvenient situation within our modern
time.
Here and now, in their future, Elizabeth is more shocked at
a most peculiar and personal finding. It is possible that she can
meet her descendant when the surprise abate of being hurtled two
centuries into their future.
***
Be aware that any direct quote of Miss Austen's characters, and
some of her description or narration, may be knicked straightaway
from the source TEXT file, PridPrej.ZIP , or its components.
During November, 2010, it was fetched from;
http://www.pemberley.com/janeinfo/pridprej.html
(or one of its links). Pride and Prejudice is reputed to be
in the Public Domain. Much of the Western classic literature has
been made available, at minimum cost, through the Public Domain.
Using such blocks will help ensure canon with the [book] Pride
and Prejudice (P&P) ([(P&P? the question mark {? :== [0..3] Set
as of April 2011} is a common computer wild card for one and only one character)
If Pemberley.com did not set:
P&P0 as the 1940 Warner Brothers adaption,
P&P1 as the BBC 5 episode mini-series about 1980,
P&P2 as the 1995 BBC/A&E 6 episode mini-series, and
P&P3 as the Focus Features adaption of 2005;
then that is where I learned the associated codes. -.e.h.)]_.
As a result, some "Emendations to the Text" ("Emend:") and
"Explanatory Notes" needed to be added as footnotes within the
source text file. The emendations are not always marked as
distinct from the other notes, and sometimes these two distinctions
pertain to the same point. (When I try to hold a place in a book,
and then look up an endnote, my language reveal the moral
superiority of the footnote!) The modified file, distinct from the
download version, has these emendations, and have been brought
along with the packets as used within this story.
A copy of that file is modified, using WordPerfect 5.1 for DOS, to
incorporate certain features that enhance readability. First, the
endnotes were converted into footnotes, since footnotes are so much
more convenient and usable. Next, chapter titles were added. Then
some fixes and typography enhancements were added as I deem
fitting. Other references may be listed and expanded at the end.
Since this story file is intended to be posted to a Jane Austen Fan
Fiction web site, certain amendments must be made to bypass HTML's
alteration of token use. One is the current footnote tokens, taken
from 1980 AppleWriter 1 " (<Footnote text.>)_" must be
modified to something like:
" ([<Small>Footnote text.</small>]_ "
Otherwise, the footnote text in the old syntax would disappear at
the readers' end as the posting engine try to make it out such
indicated directive. Be aware that a footnote on a web page will
not appear at the bottom of a screen, but more like an endnote.
Therefore, this in-line syntax has been adopted, so that the note
can stay closer to its object.
PREFACE
--***--
--***--
"My identity is - Major Hiram `Highway' West, 445th Military
Airlift Wing, United States Air Force Reserve, - at your service.
`Let me tell you a tale, a good one I own- No. That will not
do." I inadvertently started singing `Strawberry Roan,' a
favorite Western Ballad of my Dad and myself. We almost harmonize
when we break away from "she who must be obeyed" ([Horace
Rumpole used this referring to his wife, but the phrase fit better about a mother,
who is not of the Donna Stone (The Donna Reed Show) or Kate Bradley
(Petticoat Junction) school of mothering. -.e.h.]_ for a
pizza and a pitcher of Miller's finest draft.
"We had just taken off from Hickham Air Force Base in Hawaii on our
last homeward bound leg from taking supplies, satellite tracking
system updates, and the installation crew to Woomera, Australia.
The old C-141-A ([This type was flown much longer than its designed
service life, they were updated to "B" and a few to "C" models, and most has been
retired to the bone-yard at Davis-Monthan A.F.B., because the type has been replaced
in service by the more modern, C-17 many years ago. -.e.h.]_ number
67-0007 had behaved fairly well for us. It should. It is among
the newest acquired of that fleet and had been overhauled recently,
and our base maintenance people have repaired it from that ordeal
quite well, in spite of referring to the type as `swept-wing
subsonic bug-suckers.' ([An actual belittlement; I vouchsafe I used
it myself. -.e.h.]_
"Reserve Air Crews relieve the Air Force Regular pilots by a
substantial amount. Most of those crews suffer `burn out,' which
is what happen when flying more than 400 hours a quarter. True,
that may not Sound like much over a forty-hour week, for
three months, but those 400 hours are between take-off roll thrust
and turning off the landing runway. ([Never been a pilot or an
aircrew member, so "I am guessing!" (Hear "Captain Tom Dodge," Down
Periscope) -.e.h.]_ Now add mission briefings, safety
and weather briefings, about two hours for the `dash-one' pre-
flight, and finally mission and maintenance debriefings, and a
short mission or a local sortie (flight) can make for a long day
with only a few flight hours for the logbook.
"I happen to be Pilot In Command of a crew who are otherwise `in
between situations.' These mission requirements lay no economic
hardships upon us, that is, taking us away from lucrative paying
jobs. Some quarters, we get within a whisker of `burn out'
ourselves.
"Let me introduce you to my crew. Lieutenant `Tex' Martin, over
there in the right seat, is our Country and Western boy. He is in
about the third verse of a C&W song. Like us, he has lost his
civilian job, and therefore, he lost his amply-stacked blonde
girlfriend, and to add insult to injury, she took up with whom he
thought was his best friend. I must ground him if he can not keep
making payments on his new Chevrolet pickup truck and then lose his
black Labrador retriever.
"Behind the copilot, our flight engineer is Master Sergeant Scott
`Scotty' Montgomery from Montgomery, Alabama. It is only
coincidence that his video-literary hero is `Montgomery Scott' of
Star Trek renown. Like his hero, he has a fetish for
bagpipe music, and to confess my truth, I can be fond of orchestra-
ted bagpipes. His hobby is pitching telephone poles; the caber
toss: He does not win or place when he enter Highland games, up
against the big lads, but he `show' often enough to keep up his
encouragement.
"Sitting on the bottom bunk, aft cabin wall, is the loadmaster of
our crew. Technical Sergeant Harrison `Bugsy' Marlowe hail from
Georgia, even though his nickname suggest South Side Chicago. His
sisters are `Georgia peaches;' as much Southern Belles, in the
antebellum sense, as may still exist. His pastime better be his
hobby, because he has given `wall-to-wall counselling' to those who
he deemed were not good enough company for his sisters; sometimes
to the young ladies' chagrin.
"Finally, behind me at the Navigator's station, is Captain William
`where-are-we?' Darcy, hailing from Butte, Montana. He told me his
first experience navigating was getting back to the ranch house in
a sudden white out. He had went out riding fences, just as his
father, grandfather, and great-grand father had done; on horseback;
when a blizzard liberated him from his complacency. I believe him.
He has a bad attitude toward his own mistakes, and is not
charitable to those of others.
"Yes, boys and girls. That is our happy band of brothers.
"When we first formed for our first mission together, we were all
of the opinion that an equitable number of female crew members
would make us a merry party. After our experience in C-141-A
number 9402 when it started a `Dutch Roll,' we were convinced of
that folly. In a few heartbeats, we were upside down, supersonic,
"flaking skin" (top panels between the wings were ripped off), and
with the only thing blue in the upper window views, was water. We
were glad to have all the beef on the yokes. We were too busy
going by checklists as we recovered the aircraft, to do something
infantile in our skivvies. We saw pine needles out the windows
when we finally got the bird righted, and then we had disagreeable
and uncomfortable feelings in our colons. ([So what if this
event occurred during the late-1970s. When fracturing time, scramble it.
-.e.h.]_
"Happiness was being on the ground then at Comox, Canada. In my
right mind, I will never complain about $400-plus as a government
cost for an aircraft toilet seat again.
"If the aircraft mechanics knew, they would appreciate the
standard. I think most of them did anyway, when they learned of
the incident.
"Oh, yes. On with the story..."
HELLO, YOUNG LADIES (ACT I)
Starlifter 67-0007 had behaved quite well, this late in a long
mission, which used to be the type's bread and butter. Hauling Air
Freight during the Vietnam War caused them to put on enough flight
hours to go between Major and Minor, or v.v., inspections within
one mission. After that, the C-141 had been stretched, modified to
receive air-to-air refueling, and then replaced by the C-17.
The C-17 is probably a nice aircraft. It should be. They are new.
However, a pilot does not have a hair on their chest unless they
are flying old aircraft. The BUFF, excuse me; B-52; pilots must be
downright wooly. I am sure their female pilots have something to
say about that, but I have not had the cheek to ask.
So far, the only repair concern with this airplane is the number
two TACAN. It broke DME ([Distance Measuring
Equipment.]_ at about 100 nautical miles out, and its
azimuth was 40degrees; not 45 or 60 The transceiver probably
clapped out, but the old timers told us that azimuth error was a
common problem with the RT-220C receivers of the post-Korean War
AN/ARN-21 system.
Usually, I do not get fidgety when approaching the point of no-
return. Every mission, flight, dream or scheme, has one. At some
point, a failure or an impending disaster does not justify going
back to the last settled situation. Press on! Even though the
Non-Destructive Inspection schedule is stringent, age and one last
treatment from near-sea level summer tropic temperature, to the
probable -60degree temperature at 33,000 MSL ([Mean Sea
Level.]_, has got to collimate the sub-microscopic fatigue
fractures into one massive failure of a wing spar.
An airplane can be slid into the water if the worst come after
total power failure. By the time an aircrew flare for best splash
down, Air-Sea rescue is probably on their way. However, when a
wing fold, and the plane is falling like a maple seed, the water
get very hard at the bottom.
So, yes. I am uncomfortable. "Take the yoke, Tex. I need a
break."
"Sure thing, Highway. I'll probably be due one when you get back."
The work has not changed much. We are trimmed for straight and
level flight, which leave little true work for the autopilot
system's heading and attitude hold. Somebody has to stay behind to
burp the baby.
--***--
observations about the Bingley sisters, when come a sudden
disruption. In a flash of time, but a black unlike any darkness
could have been within their world, they can see nothing, sense
nothing, and can not be certain the ground is still beneath their
feet. Both young ladies scream as if to the universe's Intelligent
Designer, but trapped in such a void, could He hear their wordless
pleas?
--***--
I feel a little better after "the pause that refreshes." I amble
back around the front of the cargo bay, toward the crew entry door,
to the food service counter of the comfort pallet.
We left Hickam with a flat of some day-old pastries, which we
stowed in a kitchen cabinet, so I put a maple bar on a paper plate,
and then into the microwave for ten-seconds. Not much time seem
needed to defeat the day-old "crustiness." Then I pour a cup of
coffee and cap it with a safety lid. Shortly, I take a bite and
then a sip, restore the lid to stuff the coffee in a pocket of my
flight suit and clamp the paper plate in my teeth, and am ready to
climb the ladder back up to the flight deck.
"How'd we get fresh doughnuts?" Darcy ask before I get my headset
plugged back into the intercom lead. He sit where he can get the
bouquet as I pass by.
"Microwave rejuvenation." I shift my seat up to where I can put my
feet on the rudder pedals, and then reconnect my harness.
"What?" He heard, but just need to bridge a credibility gap.
"Oh."
"I'm ready, Skip." Tex post. He could wait if need be, but he
too, experience a pastry deficiency.
"Sure. I got it." I assure, with the yoke in one hand, my cup in
the other, and my plate tilting on top of the instrument panel.
The intercom system report a little {sssquippf} whenever a headset
is plugged or unplugged. Darcy and Scotty follow. If Bugsy join
them, then I may feel deserted. No other aircraft or ships are
within sight, though. Even the weather RADAR picture is blank,
other than that high cirrus about 150 miles out ahead.
Flying is like a lot of military activities. It is composed of
99.99% boredom out of our minds, seasoned with 0.01% trouser
soiling panic. So far, this mission has been boring.
I like boring. It is said; "there are old pilots, and there are
bold pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots."
When I was young, like that Tomcat Jock that teased us during our
climb-out from Hickam, I too sought thrills. Now, I am not
mortified at the laundromat because of embarrassing brown stains in
my skivvies. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt, scrapped the
dingy BVDs.
My mind blank out as unperturbed as our environment. My BAD!
Such is the exact conditions when disagreeable surprises come. I
got away with it: This time!
Darcy and Scotty plug back into their stations, so Bugsy will get
to choose from the remainder of the pastry supply. Sorry, Bugsy.
Rank has its privileges (RHIP).
Suddenly, everything went black! I can see nothing. I hear
nothing, and when I try to holler, I utter no sound in my side-
tone. This is not the way death is supposed to set in! Still, who
can know?
I still palpate the yoke within my left hand, and feel my seat at
my sitting end, but I no longer hear the background wind roar or
the turbofans' purr. No sound or light come from the Master
Caution system. Now, why do I hear the sound of ladies screaming?
My crew members each have too much testosterone to sound like that,
and I am certain my measure is adequate. The harmony in the sound
seem to be from more than one, but we may have more important
worries than by my most probable audio hallucination.
As abrupt as the dark came upon us, light come back. The wind
sound now is as it was, but the engines "do not sound right. They
sound like they are wind-milling." I glance around the cockpit to
see the whiskey compass spin like a mad electric meter. The ADI
has tumbled. All engine instruments are at zero, and the "steam
gauges" (really electrical) are at zero. The tapes in the engine
tachometers collapsed. The Master Caution panel, at the front of
the console, is as dark as it should be in normal flight. I push
on a panel light's "press-to-test," but no light come on. The con-
soles and instrument panel are dark and dead, as a plane on cann-
bird row. ([Sometimes an aircraft cannot be put to flight condition for
a few weeks until a certain part come. During that time, it become the source for
cannibalization of other spare parts. If a plane can not be put back together and
ready to fly, in about twenty days, the nature of the hydraulic fluid tend to start
corroding shafts and eating seals. Soon after that, the craft can not be put back
together and may become a "grey ghost" and never be flown again.]_
***
"What manner of place is this?" Jane crouch from the noise and
their sudden arrival within a very cramped chamber; very unusual
environment for them.
Elizabeth clutch her sister's shoulder and draw back away from the
action she perceive, and come against the bunk post. She glance
around the cabin, but can only offer; "I know not. We have no
intelligence for such a fix!"
"I agree."
"Surely we must stay out of their way. These men seem most fierce
and their visage! What devices are upon their heads? And two of
them seem to be grappling with something monstrous."
"Can it be demons they battle?" Jane stammer in total fear.
Elizabeth is not much calmer, but in a little more control of
herself. Still, she may erupt in her outburst upon more cause for
fright. She may be able cope with straight and level flight,
because she know boats tend to obey that general rule. Can she
keep her good wits within an aircraft's normal maneuvers?
***
Darcy fume, about the same time I realize we have total electrical
power failure; "what the bloody hell happened?" I hear him behind
me, not in my headset, so I shove it to my shoulders.
Scotty report; "all indications out. No fuel feed, no oil or
hydraulic pressures, no EVI ([Engine Vibration
Indication]_, no EGT ([Exhaust Gas Temperature]_,
or anything. AC and DC volts are flat-line."
"Blast! The checklist for emergency power says only to shut down
everything and restart." Tex call out, and then mutter; "must be
Windows." So we start switching off as much as has a knob, and
then start pulling on the circuit breakers, by the rows.
Bugsy unbuckle the lap belt, stand, narrowly avoiding bumping into
our suddenly-boarded passengers, and declare; "Major. We've got
company!"
"Strap 'em in, give 'em a magazine, and let them know it'll be a
while before coffee, tea, or me!" I advise as I try to begin
emergency procedures.
"Yes, Sir!" He show them the bench seat and the buckle ends, and
assume they can figure it out for themselves, so then he pull the
breakers' at the wall aft of the flight engineer's station.
The aneroid altimeter and the turn coordinator still seem normal.
The altimeter is working too hard; revealing that we are gliding a
little better than a flat rock. All four engines are "choo-choo"-
ing because the spark boxes have no power. Those unaware of turbo-
fans may think the combustion is continuous, because the airflow is
continuous, but the compressed airflow at flight speed can actually
blow out the fires. Turbines and turbofans do not get the benefit
of the hard compression like a diesel. ([Do not take this as
gospel. "I'm only guessing," even though "choo-choo"-ing was a frequent problem
with the TF-33s in the C-141s. -.e.h.]_
"Any DC yet?" I call out.
"Not without an essential DC breaker in." Scotty advise, then
reset the primary DC instruments breaker. "We have battery DC! - Now let's see if we can get some gin in our generators! - The
Primary field DC breaker is in. AC excitation breaker in. - We
can have Essential AC and Essential DC!"
"Restart sequence Number Two engine." Tex call out as I pull on
the number two starter bulb and then fall back to the normal start-
up procedure.
Shortly, after the engineering station's respective tachometer's
short needle wind around to pick up the long needle, and sweep past
77% RpM; "YAHOO!!! She's turnin' and burnin'!" We are glad we all
had our headsets down. Scotty put words to our happiness, and add
a few ticks later; "engine's indications - at normal."
We are still on battery for DC, so I direct after-the-fact;
"restart sequence Number Three engine."
Scotty counter too soon; "abort electric restart: We're not
getting 50% current capacity from batteries and generator."
"Scotty?" I test.
"Sorry, sir. Gettin' Number two started took all the battery had
to offer."
Then Tex let go of the start button. "Oooops! Ground start
procedure." He has egg on his face when he see my scowl. "It
assume external AC and DC power." He explain, then flip open the
emergency procedures check lists.
I call: "Aborting. Stand by for air start!" At flight-level
29,750, I pitch down like approaching a short field, and watch the
airspeed indicator climb to 410 knots and the altimeter wind
downward.
"I haven't found that yet!" Tex advise, nervously flipping plastic
covered leaves of half-size paper, held together at one corner by
a shower curtain ring.
"I'm shootin' from the hip. Stay with me, guys." I post as Scotty
watch for engines one and four also spinning up, but he concentrate
on the fuel flow and ignition for number three. "Give me a little
more throttle!"
***
"Oh, no! We're sinking!" Jane cry her complaint, for she can feel
the slightly lighter feeling on initial descent, and yet still
maintain their private conversation tone while huddled against the
bunk back wall and each other.
"Hush, Jane. How can we sink until we are quite wet?"
She glance at her sister's face, as if to seek assurance. "How can
you be so certain of that? How can we get out of here?" Good
question. A good answer is by the dorsal hatch just aft of the
sextant port, which is just out of sight past the top bunk.
"I can not be certain. But do you think they would go down with
their ship?"
"The Captain is to go down with his ship?"
Elizabeth almost smile. "Do all these men look like captains, my
dear Jane?"
"What can we know about such men as these?"
"We can see that they stay at their posts, even though we can not
know their office."
"That they do. But I am not so brave as you."
"Nor am I so brave! But I calculate it best if we do not obstruct
them in their performance of their offices."
"I agree. We ought do nothing until we are asked, and with
diligence."
***
I budge number three's throttle by a small, but wild analytical
guess (WAG) ([You may be assured, that this is not a most accurate code
expansion. -.e.h.]_; enough to pick it up, and draw numbers
one and four back to windmill. Hopefully these other two will
start easier in their turn. Number three start to choo-choo, so I
budge the throttle up a little more. Maybe it is not my
imagination, but it seem to be clearing.
"Number three - on line!" Scotty whoop. "Now we can have all the
essential AC and DC we need. - That we critically need, anyway."
"Right." I lift my headset a little as I pull back the yoke, past
straight and level, but not by much. "We can't let our coffee pot
get too cold, so we need the Accessory AC." I glance at the
altimeter, and it creep up, now back up through twenty-one angels
([Thousand feet of altitude. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/angel
Is not clear whether this is AGL or MSL. Assume MSL. Over water is the same
anyway.]_.
Then I place my headset back into position, and hear; ``...Nimitz
calling Starlifter zero-zero-seven: Please respond. Over.''
Sound like an invitation. If I can hear that, my intercom box is
set for the right radio to this station.
I shift hands so I can press the microphone button on the yoke:
"Hello, Nimitz. Starlifter zero-zero-seven here. Please excuse us
while we pick up the crystal and the silverware. - Over."
Enough time lapse for a suppressed chuckle at Nimitz's end.
``Roger zero-seven. Nimitz. We have you on our RADAR. Do you
know you are squawking emergency? Over.''
"Negative, Nimitz. Zero-seven, we're not surprised. An old
modification to put the 'sponder in Emergency Mode should the
Master Caution come on. And it did. I have more lights here than
a Christmas display. - Over."
``Copy Master Caution trigger, zero seven. What is the nature of
your emergency? Over.''
"Nimitz, zero seven. Some transient event knocked out all power.
It caused the whiskey compass to spin and it killed the battery.
Over."
``Roger, zero seven. Nimitz here. Do you still wish to maintain
the Emergency status? Over.''
"Nimitz, zero seven. Unknown. - Be advised I am restarting the
IFF transponder. - Now." I switch off the system at the control
box. I count off about fifteen seconds, then switch it back on.
"Nimitz, zero-seven. You should see my normal squawk soon.
Standing by for I-P. Over."
A few ticks later; ``Zero-seven; Nimitz. We have you. Squawk
I-P.''
I reach over and do so. It is a simple momentary toggle switch on
the control box, that must be held for the duration of the
challenge.
``Zero-seven, Nimitz. Got you. Over.''
"Nimitz, zero-seven. Thank you for the squawk check." I release
the switch so the system fall back to Normal mode; as much as
normal as we have recovered. "Can we downgrade from Emergency
Status to Standby? Over."
``Zero-seven, Nimitz. What is your justification for status
change? Over.''
"Nimitz. Recovery so far so good. Your RADAR should show us
climbing gently. Over."
``Roger, zero-seven. We see you climbing. You are about 170 miles
from us on the 200degree radial. Over.''
"Tex." I call out over the center console. "Have you found that
emergency air start procedure yet?"
"Ah. Negative, Hiram. It's - not here."
"Okay. We're winging it." Then I direct back to; "Nimitz, zero-
seven. - When we get to 25 angels, we're going to air start the
other two engines. If all go well, we can do a low, flyby so we
can check flaps and gears, extension and retraction. If that go
well, we should get back to flight level, close standby, and we'll
be on our way home."
``Zero-seven, Nimitz. Going back to standby. Over.''
I check the tachometers' N1 and N2 speeds of both working engines,
and the feel at the throttle handles suggest their 101% reading is
about right, which is less than take-off roll thrust, but more than
cruise-out.
Two TF-33s can easily keep us airborne and accomplish normal flight
maneuvers. The C-141-A is the hot-rod of the cargo fleet.
One of that type aircraft had an inboard engine explode, on take
off from Alice Springs, Australia, which hot shrapnel set fires in
the cargo bay and took out the outboard engine. The other two eng-
ines got "cooked" on their way back. They had a bird-dog assist
from an Australian Reconnaissance C-130, so they made a safe land-
ing back where they left. Then the aircraft was repaired, using at
least four new engines, and flown missions back to home base.
([From an actual incident with a 63rd Military Airlift Wing aircraft, late-
1970s. Only about 40% confident it was out of Alice Springs, a frequent destination
with Woomera.]_
"Nimitz, zero-seven. Over and out."
"Well. That was cordial." Darcy idle.
"Of course. The Navy knows its a long swim home." I answer.
"Highway. Both EGTs are normal, oil pressures normal, CSDs
([Constant Speed Drives take a variable input shaft speed from an engine
and turn the output shaft at a fixed speed, within a certain tolerance. This made
for electrical power at 380-to-420 Hertz instead of 380-to-1,000 Hertz, better for
equipment and systems.]_ are at speed. - Let me know when
your ready for the other two to carry their weight." Scotty post.
"Roger, Scotty. Can we fire them both at the same time?" I test.
"Sure, Highway. Got two hands."
"Stand by. - Stand by. 25 angels." I pitch down steeper than
before; "give me spark and fuel."
"You got it!"
I creep the outside throttles to where the throttle friction hold
the inner two. The aircraft shudder as both engines' compressors
stuff air into the turbines' ignition and fuel spray bars. Then I
budge those outer engine throttles up a bit more to get the shafts
accelerating. Those two engines' tachometers reveal a little work
being done. Their speeds are coming up.
"Gettin' EGT on number one. - Wait. Getting EGT on number four
also. Whooop! We're turnin' an' burnin' on all four!" Tex and I
rejoice with Scotty, Bugsy, and Darcy.
Tex and I pull back on the yokes, to almost straight and level
flight, but still climbing, and then begin a two-minute turn toward
the Nimitz's fix. Darcy note and record the GPS coordinates.
Shortly we get close enough to begin long final, so we set for a
nominal approach. A little later, I reduce power for a long,
descent to do a fly-by the carrier group.
Later, I look out the forward wind screen to see a flattop in the
distance, which we will soon fly over its wake. Then I deploy one
notch of flaps, and the whine of the flap motors can be heard aft
of the cabin.
***
Both Bennet sisters can hear a sound like demons screaming. They
have no other way of describing the whine hydraulic motors make
when running flap-drive screws. It start at a medium pitch, which
change about half a step down as the flaps intrusion into the
airflow load the screw. They feel the slight shudder that all flap
drives tend to cause as the airfoils change shape within the
airstream, especially if the craft go through any, even a slight,
cross wind.
"Oh, Lizzy! Will we be well? What caused that dreadful noise?
What can it mean?" The elder protest when that sound stop, because
the flaps are down the equivalent of one-notch, as if her clever
sister could know.
"I know not, but it did come first cause when that one up there, at
our left, did put his hand to work that wheel." Elizabeth point
and is at the right-most position, sitting on the lower bunk and
also belted in, so she can see more of what the pilot perform.
Elizabeth observe the pilot's right hand return to the yoke, appear
to push a little button with his thumb a few times, alternating
with his speech, and then now, back toward the handle she now asso-
ciate with causing the screaming noise. In anticipation, she cup
her hands over her ears, and Jane seeing her do so, then do
likewise. They can not know, but they heard the flap drive motor
turn the screws to the equivalent of two-notches of flaps and
deploy the spoilers.
This time, the shuddering bring a sense of corresponding slowing.
They can feel a slight force bending them forward against their lap
belts. The two young ladies out of the past are also distressed by
the increased whining screams and the rougher sensations, even
within the flight deck, caused by lowering the landing gears and
deploying the third notch of flaps.
***
"Hello, Nimitz, zero-seven. Can you tell if we've got Firestones
or Uniroyals." I query for a visual on the gears. We have `down
and locked' indicated, but after our experience, another pair of
eyes' perspectives for validation would bring some comfort.
``Zero-seven, Nimitz. You've got Firestones on the mains and
Uniroyals on the nose.''
"Nimitz, zero-seven. That explain the loss of power." I grin, and
know they can know it is a spoof as I coax the throttles up to a
power setting suitable for climbing out. I add; "mismatched tires.
- We of Starlifter zero-zero-seven are grateful to the officers
and crew of the Nimitz and group for your courtesy and readiness to
aid, which if you weren't around, would certainly be needed. Thank
you all. - Over and out."
The Nimitz command center sign off too. They bid us a safe and
happy trip. It is too bad that we do not have a pallet or more for
the crew of the Nimitz. We could also tally an air cargo drop to
our current qualifications. My crew should be able to put one
exactly where they want it on their deck.
Then I horse up the landing gear control lever, and hear the
hydraulic motors run to lift the bogies. They also tip both struts
back to where they can tuck the gears inside the pods.
Furthermore, all gear doors close, including the little trap door
at the top of the pod, that open so the strut can protrude up above
the pod when the gears are down and the airplane is on the ground.
"Up and locked." Tex verify. Another accent to those words is a
disparagement about the feebleminded errors which can plague any
organization and vex anyone who must repair the damage.
***
At cruise out altitude, I slide my seat back and grant to; "Tex.
Would you take over for a while. I have some - `aircraft
commander' stuff to do."
"Sure, Highway. I'm good for a while."
"Thanks. I should be able to relieve you shortly." Then I rise
and step back toward our guests, and see them, knowing that their
eyes, and Scotty's and Bugsy's attention, is upon me. "Well,
ladies. I know you were not on board when we left Hickham a few
hours ago."
Bugsy then introduce them to me. He knew the more energetic one as
Miss Elizabeth and the other beauty as Miss Jane. The younger girl
has a light cinnamon tone to her skin that take a suntan like a
duck take to water. Her brown eyes and light brown hair, with her
trim shape, contribute to her natural tint beauty.
In contrast, Jane's skin is a light, delicate alabaster. Her dark
blue eyes and raven hair compose a stunning beauty, even though she
is not as trim as her sister. ([Jane Austen told little of her
characters' general description; other than Kitty was "slight and delicate" (V3,
Ch.V) and Lydia as "stout" (V1, Ch.IX). However, these seem to be my best guess by
what has been revealed. -.e.h.]_ The latter is the elder of the
Miss Bennets.
"Oh, Sir. We can not account for our presence here. Where are we?
Pray. I must ask." Elizabeth beg. She is as frightened, but only
more in control of her speech than her elder sister, so she add;
"it seems we had breakfast only a short while ago. Oh! Where are
we?"
"Well, ladies. We are at 33,000 feet above sea level;" I could
check the Inertial Navigation System for a Global Positioning
System fix, but that would not help them, so I explain; "flying be-
tween Hawaii and southern California, about three hours from
touchdown at San Bernardino Depot." The old Norton Air Force Base
assumed the call letters from the even older Naval weapons depot;
SBD. ([During the 1990s, IIRC, Norton Air Force Base became the
largest piece of real property for sale in Southern California (or
wider).]_
"`Touchdown?' Oh, Sir. You speak of strange things. We have no
comprehension! How is it possible that we can be - `flying?' Sir.
Our confusion is so wretched! Pray, tell us!" Jane tag-team with
her sister.
"Sir." Bugsy interject. "They couldn't have been in the cargo
bay. And the cabin door's been closed since you got your coffee
and doughnut."
"That's part of the puzzle, Bugsy." Then I direct to the ladies;
"by your apparel, I think your question should be in terms of - `when' as much a matter or more than of `where.'"
"`When?' I do not comprehend your intelligence, Sir." Then
Elizabeth read the `United States Air Force' of the command patch
([Sorry. It has been so long since I have seen one, the legend has been
forgotten. -.e.h.]_ on my flight suit, which she is suddenly
mortified.
A psychologist question may be useful. "What year do you think
this is?"
She answer with hesitation, but it is her best idea. "1811, in the
year of Our Lord?"
"That was when you left home. It is now in the year 2011, of the
Common Era - or A.D.; March 18th, if that will help you."
"Oh! No. I can not comprehend it" Elizabeth almost wail.
I vow to bring her some comfort. "Somehow, you ladies have time-
slipped two hundred years into your future. - No, wait. The
event isn't right for a time slip, and they seem to be looking
backward into the past. Going forward in time, as you ladies have
travelled, can be done by some other unknown, paranormal phenomenal
suspension. - Yes. By some paranormal event." The ladies and
the crew are willing to let me muse as I ponder with my mouth in
gear.
"But how? Sir."
"Conceptually simple, Bugsy. The unidirectional nature of
duration's progression would suggest that for anything to be drawn
- Forward in time, it only need be suspended in some interstitial
space until the normal duration reach some future point in time.
The event itself, that set the suspension, must have the end or
mirror event to restore that which was captured."
"Or not." Scotty had been reading the mail, as it were, but could
no longer keep quiet. "You sing and dance as well as any theoreti-
cal fuzzy, Sir. But Sir, we have one most important question:" He
pause for emphasis and our coaxing to continue; "what are we to do
with, about, and for these young ladies?"
"Hmmmm." I idle. "Good thought. Probably first thing we should
do is a proper introduction." Then I begin with Bugsy, whom they
are longest acquainted, Scotty, then; "...Tex up there in the
copilot seat..." and then; "...our navigator, William Darcy-" I
stop at Elizabeth's gasp.
Elizabeth is speechless, so Jane submit; "my sister and myself, are
recently acquainted with a Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, but he is such a
disagreeable person. He regard us with very little esteem."
"The avalanche has started. It is too late for the pebbles to vote." -Ambassador Kosh Naranek
[Subtitle]
[Author]
Ellayn@VHW-Corp.com
or hatfield@nwi.net
[Date began]
[Rating]
[Nut Graf/Blurb]
Jane and Elizabeth meander through Longbourn's grounds as they
discuss the Meryton Assembly ball the next morning ([As like
P&P2.]_ until they experience a time slip. ([A
term used for a paranormal phenomenon where people experience "time is out of
joint;" to borrow from Hamlet. (From [Wiki]: "Many time slip witnesses
report that, at the start of their experience of the phenomena, their immediate surroundings take on an oddly flat, under-lit and lifeless appearance, and normal
sounds seem muffled. This is sometimes accompanied by feelings of depression and
un-ease.") The definition strongly suggest "time slip" may be the wrong label for
this unexplained event.]_ When the trip is done, they find
themselves into an inconvenient situation within our modern
time.
Here and now, in their future, Elizabeth is more shocked at
a most peculiar and personal finding. It is possible that she can
meet her descendant when the surprise abate of being hurtled two
centuries into their future.
Be aware that any direct quote of Miss Austen's characters, and
some of her description or narration, may be knicked straightaway
from the source TEXT file, PridPrej.ZIP , or its components.
During November, 2010, it was fetched from;
http://www.pemberley.com/janeinfo/pridprej.html
(or one of its links). Pride and Prejudice is reputed to be
in the Public Domain. Much of the Western classic literature has
been made available, at minimum cost, through the Public Domain.
Using such blocks will help ensure canon with the [book] Pride
and Prejudice (P&P) ([(P&P? the question mark {? :== [0..3] Set
as of April 2011} is a common computer wild card for one and only one character)
If Pemberley.com did not set:
P&P0 as the 1940 Warner Brothers adaption,
P&P1 as the BBC 5 episode mini-series about 1980,
P&P2 as the 1995 BBC/A&E 6 episode mini-series, and
P&P3 as the Focus Features adaption of 2005;
then that is where I learned the associated codes. -.e.h.)]_.
As a result, some "Emendations to the Text" ("Emend:") and
"Explanatory Notes" needed to be added as footnotes within the
source text file. The emendations are not always marked as
distinct from the other notes, and sometimes these two distinctions
pertain to the same point. (When I try to hold a place in a book,
and then look up an endnote, my language reveal the moral
superiority of the footnote!) The modified file, distinct from the
download version, has these emendations, and have been brought
along with the packets as used within this story.
A copy of that file is modified, using WordPerfect 5.1 for DOS, to
incorporate certain features that enhance readability. First, the
endnotes were converted into footnotes, since footnotes are so much
more convenient and usable. Next, chapter titles were added. Then
some fixes and typography enhancements were added as I deem
fitting. Other references may be listed and expanded at the end.
Since this story file is intended to be posted to a Jane Austen Fan
Fiction web site, certain amendments must be made to bypass HTML's
alteration of token use. One is the current footnote tokens, taken
from 1980 AppleWriter 1 " (<Footnote text.>)_" must be
modified to something like:
" ([<Small>Footnote text.</small>]_ "
Otherwise, the footnote text in the old syntax would disappear at
the readers' end as the posting engine try to make it out such
indicated directive. Be aware that a footnote on a web page will
not appear at the bottom of a screen, but more like an endnote.
Therefore, this in-line syntax has been adopted, so that the note
can stay closer to its object.
PREFACE
IT is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in
possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife, however
little is known of the feelings or views of such a man may be on
his first entering a neighbourhood. This truth is so well fixed in
the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the
rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.
"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard
that Netherfield Park is let at last?" Mr. Bennet replied that he
had not. "But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been
here ([P&P2 Suggest they are coming home from church. However, P&P3 may
be closer to canon by showing Mr. and Mrs. Bennet having this discussion in his
library. The keyword, "here," may be why P&P3 put this scene in the Bennet house
instead, which is one of the few areas that interpretation or depiction may be more
faithful to the [book] than P&P1 or P&P2! -.e.h.]_, and she told
me all about it."
Mr. Bennet made no answer. He wait for her to fix her point.
"Do not you want to know who has taken it?" Cried ([A sorrow-
ful wail, as we know it, could not have been what Jane Austen meant. "Asserted,"
"stated," or "asked," &c. would probably be the verb in a modern dialog tag.
-.e.h.]_ his wife impatiently.
"You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing
it."
This was invitation enough. "Why, my dear, you must know,
Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by a young man of large
fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday in
a chaise and four (["Generally an enclosed four-wheeled carriage seat-
ing up to three people, and driven by a rider mounted on one of the two or four
horses (see "postilion"). The more or less standard vehicle for families which are
`respectable,' but not extremely wealthy."]_ to see the place, and
was so much delighted with it that he agreed with Mr. Morris
immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas
([Before Michaelmas (i.e. Sept. 29, one of the four `quarter days'
according to which houses etc. were rented).]_, and some of his
servants are to be in the house by the end of next week."
"What is his name?"
"Bingley."
"Is he married or single?"
"Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune;
four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!"
"How so? How can it affect them?"
"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so
tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of
them."
"Is that his design in settling here?"
"Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely
that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you
must visit him as soon as he comes."
"I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may
send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better; for,
as you are as handsome (["Handsome" must have had a sex change since
the Regency Era to before my time. -.e.h.]_ as any of them,
Mr. Bingley might like you the best of the party."
"My dear, you flatter me. I certainly have had my share of
beauty, but I do not pretend to be any thing extraordinary now.
When a woman has five grown up daughters, she ought to give over
thinking of her own beauty."
"In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of."
She does not take a slight. "But, my dear, you must indeed go and
see Mr. Bingley when he comes into the neighbourhood."
"It is more than I engage for, I assure you."
"But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it
would be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are
determined to go, merely on that account, for in general, you know
they visit no new comers. Indeed you must go, for it will be
impossible for us to visit him, if you do not."
"You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be
very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure
him of my hearty consent to his marrying which ever he chuses
([During Jane Austen's time, this was the way "choose" and its tenses, were
spelled. -.e.h.]_ of the girls; though I must throw in a
good word for my little Lizzy."
"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better
than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane,
nor half so good humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving
her the preference."
"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he; "they
are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has
something more of quickness than her sisters."
"Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse ([Jane Austen could not have meant
the word to be inflicted with the malice of intent, as the word has today.
-.e.h.]_ your own children in such way? You take delight
in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves."
"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves.
They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with
consideration these twenty years at least."
"Ah! You do not know what I suffer."
"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of
four thousand a year come into the neighbourhood."
"It will be no use to us if twenty such should come, since you will
not visit them."
"Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty I will
visit them all."
Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts ([An "obsolete
use in OED; abilities, talents, &c."]_, sarcastic humour,
reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three and twenty years
had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character.
Her mind was less difficult to develope. She was a woman of
mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When
she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous ([Mary
Wollstonecraft seem to suggest women of the time have a socialized hypochondria, but
Mrs. Bennet, is one of the few in the P&P story so afflicted.]_. The
business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace
was visiting and news.
And so it was, for two ladies to come to our notice and
acquaintance. So it was written, so it was done. That is the way
it was, late summer-to-early fall, 1811.
We will not forget the past as we look closer to the present day.
Dateline: 18 March 2011, ([FYI: The actual date of this part's
composition. -.e.h.]_ within the western world, west, beyond
the colonies, of which the Bennets may have been aware. Now, we
continue with some more of our cast of characters...
"My identity is - Major Hiram `Highway' West, 445th Military
Airlift Wing, United States Air Force Reserve, - at your service.
`Let me tell you a tale, a good one I own- No. That will not
do." I inadvertently started singing `Strawberry Roan,' a
favorite Western Ballad of my Dad and myself. We almost harmonize
when we break away from "she who must be obeyed" ([Horace
Rumpole used this referring to his wife, but the phrase fit better about a mother,
who is not of the Donna Stone (The Donna Reed Show) or Kate Bradley
(Petticoat Junction) school of mothering. -.e.h.]_ for a
pizza and a pitcher of Miller's finest draft.
"We had just taken off from Hickham Air Force Base in Hawaii on our
last homeward bound leg from taking supplies, satellite tracking
system updates, and the installation crew to Woomera, Australia.
The old C-141-A ([This type was flown much longer than its designed
service life, they were updated to "B" and a few to "C" models, and most has been
retired to the bone-yard at Davis-Monthan A.F.B., because the type has been replaced
in service by the more modern, C-17 many years ago. -.e.h.]_ number
67-0007 had behaved fairly well for us. It should. It is among
the newest acquired of that fleet and had been overhauled recently,
and our base maintenance people have repaired it from that ordeal
quite well, in spite of referring to the type as `swept-wing
subsonic bug-suckers.' ([An actual belittlement; I vouchsafe I used
it myself. -.e.h.]_
"Reserve Air Crews relieve the Air Force Regular pilots by a
substantial amount. Most of those crews suffer `burn out,' which
is what happen when flying more than 400 hours a quarter. True,
that may not Sound like much over a forty-hour week, for
three months, but those 400 hours are between take-off roll thrust
and turning off the landing runway. ([Never been a pilot or an
aircrew member, so "I am guessing!" (Hear "Captain Tom Dodge," Down
Periscope) -.e.h.]_ Now add mission briefings, safety
and weather briefings, about two hours for the `dash-one' pre-
flight, and finally mission and maintenance debriefings, and a
short mission or a local sortie (flight) can make for a long day
with only a few flight hours for the logbook.
"I happen to be Pilot In Command of a crew who are otherwise `in
between situations.' These mission requirements lay no economic
hardships upon us, that is, taking us away from lucrative paying
jobs. Some quarters, we get within a whisker of `burn out'
ourselves.
"Let me introduce you to my crew. Lieutenant `Tex' Martin, over
there in the right seat, is our Country and Western boy. He is in
about the third verse of a C&W song. Like us, he has lost his
civilian job, and therefore, he lost his amply-stacked blonde
girlfriend, and to add insult to injury, she took up with whom he
thought was his best friend. I must ground him if he can not keep
making payments on his new Chevrolet pickup truck and then lose his
black Labrador retriever.
"Behind the copilot, our flight engineer is Master Sergeant Scott
`Scotty' Montgomery from Montgomery, Alabama. It is only
coincidence that his video-literary hero is `Montgomery Scott' of
Star Trek renown. Like his hero, he has a fetish for
bagpipe music, and to confess my truth, I can be fond of orchestra-
ted bagpipes. His hobby is pitching telephone poles; the caber
toss: He does not win or place when he enter Highland games, up
against the big lads, but he `show' often enough to keep up his
encouragement.
"Sitting on the bottom bunk, aft cabin wall, is the loadmaster of
our crew. Technical Sergeant Harrison `Bugsy' Marlowe hail from
Georgia, even though his nickname suggest South Side Chicago. His
sisters are `Georgia peaches;' as much Southern Belles, in the
antebellum sense, as may still exist. His pastime better be his
hobby, because he has given `wall-to-wall counselling' to those who
he deemed were not good enough company for his sisters; sometimes
to the young ladies' chagrin.
"Finally, behind me at the Navigator's station, is Captain William
`where-are-we?' Darcy, hailing from Butte, Montana. He told me his
first experience navigating was getting back to the ranch house in
a sudden white out. He had went out riding fences, just as his
father, grandfather, and great-grand father had done; on horseback;
when a blizzard liberated him from his complacency. I believe him.
He has a bad attitude toward his own mistakes, and is not
charitable to those of others.
"Yes, boys and girls. That is our happy band of brothers.
"When we first formed for our first mission together, we were all
of the opinion that an equitable number of female crew members
would make us a merry party. After our experience in C-141-A
number 9402 when it started a `Dutch Roll,' we were convinced of
that folly. In a few heartbeats, we were upside down, supersonic,
"flaking skin" (top panels between the wings were ripped off), and
with the only thing blue in the upper window views, was water. We
were glad to have all the beef on the yokes. We were too busy
going by checklists as we recovered the aircraft, to do something
infantile in our skivvies. We saw pine needles out the windows
when we finally got the bird righted, and then we had disagreeable
and uncomfortable feelings in our colons. ([So what if this
event occurred during the late-1970s. When fracturing time, scramble it.
-.e.h.]_
"Happiness was being on the ground then at Comox, Canada. In my
right mind, I will never complain about $400-plus as a government
cost for an aircraft toilet seat again.
"If the aircraft mechanics knew, they would appreciate the
standard. I think most of them did anyway, when they learned of
the incident.
"Oh, yes. On with the story..."
Starlifter 67-0007 had behaved quite well, this late in a long
mission, which used to be the type's bread and butter. Hauling Air
Freight during the Vietnam War caused them to put on enough flight
hours to go between Major and Minor, or v.v., inspections within
one mission. After that, the C-141 had been stretched, modified to
receive air-to-air refueling, and then replaced by the C-17.
The C-17 is probably a nice aircraft. It should be. They are new.
However, a pilot does not have a hair on their chest unless they
are flying old aircraft. The BUFF, excuse me; B-52; pilots must be
downright wooly. I am sure their female pilots have something to
say about that, but I have not had the cheek to ask.
So far, the only repair concern with this airplane is the number
two TACAN. It broke DME ([Distance Measuring
Equipment.]_ at about 100 nautical miles out, and its
azimuth was 40degrees; not 45 or 60 The transceiver probably
clapped out, but the old timers told us that azimuth error was a
common problem with the RT-220C receivers of the post-Korean War
AN/ARN-21 system.
Usually, I do not get fidgety when approaching the point of no-
return. Every mission, flight, dream or scheme, has one. At some
point, a failure or an impending disaster does not justify going
back to the last settled situation. Press on! Even though the
Non-Destructive Inspection schedule is stringent, age and one last
treatment from near-sea level summer tropic temperature, to the
probable -60degree temperature at 33,000 MSL ([Mean Sea
Level.]_, has got to collimate the sub-microscopic fatigue
fractures into one massive failure of a wing spar.
An airplane can be slid into the water if the worst come after
total power failure. By the time an aircrew flare for best splash
down, Air-Sea rescue is probably on their way. However, when a
wing fold, and the plane is falling like a maple seed, the water
get very hard at the bottom.
So, yes. I am uncomfortable. "Take the yoke, Tex. I need a
break."
"Sure thing, Highway. I'll probably be due one when you get back."
The work has not changed much. We are trimmed for straight and
level flight, which leave little true work for the autopilot
system's heading and attitude hold. Somebody has to stay behind to
burp the baby.
WHEN Jane and Elizabeth were alone, ([The [book]The eldest Bennet sisters may have been about to continue their
does not specify the environment, or the time. Two of the three recent adaptions
(P&P1 and P&P3) show the girls within their room, as if right after the assembly,
while a third (P&P2) show them outside during daylight. P&P0 Omit the parts between
the Meryton Assembly Ball and when Jane go to Netherfield park.]_ the
former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before,
expressed to her sister how very much she admired him. "He is just
what a young man ought to be," said she, "sensible, good humoured,
lively; and I never saw such happy manners! - So much ease, with
such perfect good breeding!"
"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth, "which a young man ought
likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby
complete."
"I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time.
I did not expect such a compliment."
"Did not you? I did for you. But that is one great differ-
ence between us. Compliments always take you by surprise,
and me never. What could be more natural than his asking
you again? He could not help seeing that you were about five times
as pretty as every other woman in the room. No thanks to his
gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is very agreeable, and I
give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider
person."
"Dear Lizzy!"
"Oh! You are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in
general. You never see a fault in any body. All the world are
good and agreeable in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a
human being in my life."
"I would wish not to be hasty in censuring any one; but I always
speak what I think."
"I know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder. With
your good sense, to be honestly blind to the follies and
nonsense of others! Affectation of candour ([``The words
"Candid" and "Candour" did not generally take on the connotation of being brutally
frank, as they sometimes do now. The most usual meaning of "candid" according to
Dr. Johnson's dictionary, was "Free from malice; not desirous to find faults",
though according to the OED, it could also have the connotations "unbiased,
impartial, open, sincere".'']_ is common enough; - one meets
it every where. But to be candid without ostentation or design - to take the good of every body's character and make it still
better, and say nothing of the bad - belongs to you alone. And so,
you like this man's sisters too, do you? Their manners are not
equal to his."
"Certainly not; at first. But they are very pleasing women when
you converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother
and keep his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a
very charming neighbour in her."
Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced. Their
behaviour at the assembly had not been calculated to please in
general; and with more quickness of observation and less pliancy of
temper than her sister, and with a judgment, too, unassailed by any
attention to herself, she was very little disposed to approve
them.
observations about the Bingley sisters, when come a sudden
disruption. In a flash of time, but a black unlike any darkness
could have been within their world, they can see nothing, sense
nothing, and can not be certain the ground is still beneath their
feet. Both young ladies scream as if to the universe's Intelligent
Designer, but trapped in such a void, could He hear their wordless
pleas?
I feel a little better after "the pause that refreshes." I amble
back around the front of the cargo bay, toward the crew entry door,
to the food service counter of the comfort pallet.
We left Hickam with a flat of some day-old pastries, which we
stowed in a kitchen cabinet, so I put a maple bar on a paper plate,
and then into the microwave for ten-seconds. Not much time seem
needed to defeat the day-old "crustiness." Then I pour a cup of
coffee and cap it with a safety lid. Shortly, I take a bite and
then a sip, restore the lid to stuff the coffee in a pocket of my
flight suit and clamp the paper plate in my teeth, and am ready to
climb the ladder back up to the flight deck.
"How'd we get fresh doughnuts?" Darcy ask before I get my headset
plugged back into the intercom lead. He sit where he can get the
bouquet as I pass by.
"Microwave rejuvenation." I shift my seat up to where I can put my
feet on the rudder pedals, and then reconnect my harness.
"What?" He heard, but just need to bridge a credibility gap.
"Oh."
"I'm ready, Skip." Tex post. He could wait if need be, but he
too, experience a pastry deficiency.
"Sure. I got it." I assure, with the yoke in one hand, my cup in
the other, and my plate tilting on top of the instrument panel.
The intercom system report a little {sssquippf} whenever a headset
is plugged or unplugged. Darcy and Scotty follow. If Bugsy join
them, then I may feel deserted. No other aircraft or ships are
within sight, though. Even the weather RADAR picture is blank,
other than that high cirrus about 150 miles out ahead.
Flying is like a lot of military activities. It is composed of
99.99% boredom out of our minds, seasoned with 0.01% trouser
soiling panic. So far, this mission has been boring.
I like boring. It is said; "there are old pilots, and there are
bold pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots."
When I was young, like that Tomcat Jock that teased us during our
climb-out from Hickam, I too sought thrills. Now, I am not
mortified at the laundromat because of embarrassing brown stains in
my skivvies. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt, scrapped the
dingy BVDs.
My mind blank out as unperturbed as our environment. My BAD!
Such is the exact conditions when disagreeable surprises come. I
got away with it: This time!
Darcy and Scotty plug back into their stations, so Bugsy will get
to choose from the remainder of the pastry supply. Sorry, Bugsy.
Rank has its privileges (RHIP).
Suddenly, everything went black! I can see nothing. I hear
nothing, and when I try to holler, I utter no sound in my side-
tone. This is not the way death is supposed to set in! Still, who
can know?
I still palpate the yoke within my left hand, and feel my seat at
my sitting end, but I no longer hear the background wind roar or
the turbofans' purr. No sound or light come from the Master
Caution system. Now, why do I hear the sound of ladies screaming?
My crew members each have too much testosterone to sound like that,
and I am certain my measure is adequate. The harmony in the sound
seem to be from more than one, but we may have more important
worries than by my most probable audio hallucination.
As abrupt as the dark came upon us, light come back. The wind
sound now is as it was, but the engines "do not sound right. They
sound like they are wind-milling." I glance around the cockpit to
see the whiskey compass spin like a mad electric meter. The ADI
has tumbled. All engine instruments are at zero, and the "steam
gauges" (really electrical) are at zero. The tapes in the engine
tachometers collapsed. The Master Caution panel, at the front of
the console, is as dark as it should be in normal flight. I push
on a panel light's "press-to-test," but no light come on. The con-
soles and instrument panel are dark and dead, as a plane on cann-
bird row. ([Sometimes an aircraft cannot be put to flight condition for
a few weeks until a certain part come. During that time, it become the source for
cannibalization of other spare parts. If a plane can not be put back together and
ready to fly, in about twenty days, the nature of the hydraulic fluid tend to start
corroding shafts and eating seals. Soon after that, the craft can not be put back
together and may become a "grey ghost" and never be flown again.]_
"What manner of place is this?" Jane crouch from the noise and
their sudden arrival within a very cramped chamber; very unusual
environment for them.
Elizabeth clutch her sister's shoulder and draw back away from the
action she perceive, and come against the bunk post. She glance
around the cabin, but can only offer; "I know not. We have no
intelligence for such a fix!"
"I agree."
"Surely we must stay out of their way. These men seem most fierce
and their visage! What devices are upon their heads? And two of
them seem to be grappling with something monstrous."
"Can it be demons they battle?" Jane stammer in total fear.
Elizabeth is not much calmer, but in a little more control of
herself. Still, she may erupt in her outburst upon more cause for
fright. She may be able cope with straight and level flight,
because she know boats tend to obey that general rule. Can she
keep her good wits within an aircraft's normal maneuvers?
Darcy fume, about the same time I realize we have total electrical
power failure; "what the bloody hell happened?" I hear him behind
me, not in my headset, so I shove it to my shoulders.
Scotty report; "all indications out. No fuel feed, no oil or
hydraulic pressures, no EVI ([Engine Vibration
Indication]_, no EGT ([Exhaust Gas Temperature]_,
or anything. AC and DC volts are flat-line."
"Blast! The checklist for emergency power says only to shut down
everything and restart." Tex call out, and then mutter; "must be
Windows." So we start switching off as much as has a knob, and
then start pulling on the circuit breakers, by the rows.
Bugsy unbuckle the lap belt, stand, narrowly avoiding bumping into
our suddenly-boarded passengers, and declare; "Major. We've got
company!"
"Strap 'em in, give 'em a magazine, and let them know it'll be a
while before coffee, tea, or me!" I advise as I try to begin
emergency procedures.
"Yes, Sir!" He show them the bench seat and the buckle ends, and
assume they can figure it out for themselves, so then he pull the
breakers' at the wall aft of the flight engineer's station.
The aneroid altimeter and the turn coordinator still seem normal.
The altimeter is working too hard; revealing that we are gliding a
little better than a flat rock. All four engines are "choo-choo"-
ing because the spark boxes have no power. Those unaware of turbo-
fans may think the combustion is continuous, because the airflow is
continuous, but the compressed airflow at flight speed can actually
blow out the fires. Turbines and turbofans do not get the benefit
of the hard compression like a diesel. ([Do not take this as
gospel. "I'm only guessing," even though "choo-choo"-ing was a frequent problem
with the TF-33s in the C-141s. -.e.h.]_
"Any DC yet?" I call out.
"Not without an essential DC breaker in." Scotty advise, then
reset the primary DC instruments breaker. "We have battery DC! - Now let's see if we can get some gin in our generators! - The
Primary field DC breaker is in. AC excitation breaker in. - We
can have Essential AC and Essential DC!"
"Restart sequence Number Two engine." Tex call out as I pull on
the number two starter bulb and then fall back to the normal start-
up procedure.
Shortly, after the engineering station's respective tachometer's
short needle wind around to pick up the long needle, and sweep past
77% RpM; "YAHOO!!! She's turnin' and burnin'!" We are glad we all
had our headsets down. Scotty put words to our happiness, and add
a few ticks later; "engine's indications - at normal."
We are still on battery for DC, so I direct after-the-fact;
"restart sequence Number Three engine."
Scotty counter too soon; "abort electric restart: We're not
getting 50% current capacity from batteries and generator."
"Scotty?" I test.
"Sorry, sir. Gettin' Number two started took all the battery had
to offer."
Then Tex let go of the start button. "Oooops! Ground start
procedure." He has egg on his face when he see my scowl. "It
assume external AC and DC power." He explain, then flip open the
emergency procedures check lists.
I call: "Aborting. Stand by for air start!" At flight-level
29,750, I pitch down like approaching a short field, and watch the
airspeed indicator climb to 410 knots and the altimeter wind
downward.
"I haven't found that yet!" Tex advise, nervously flipping plastic
covered leaves of half-size paper, held together at one corner by
a shower curtain ring.
"I'm shootin' from the hip. Stay with me, guys." I post as Scotty
watch for engines one and four also spinning up, but he concentrate
on the fuel flow and ignition for number three. "Give me a little
more throttle!"
"Oh, no! We're sinking!" Jane cry her complaint, for she can feel
the slightly lighter feeling on initial descent, and yet still
maintain their private conversation tone while huddled against the
bunk back wall and each other.
"Hush, Jane. How can we sink until we are quite wet?"
She glance at her sister's face, as if to seek assurance. "How can
you be so certain of that? How can we get out of here?" Good
question. A good answer is by the dorsal hatch just aft of the
sextant port, which is just out of sight past the top bunk.
"I can not be certain. But do you think they would go down with
their ship?"
"The Captain is to go down with his ship?"
Elizabeth almost smile. "Do all these men look like captains, my
dear Jane?"
"What can we know about such men as these?"
"We can see that they stay at their posts, even though we can not
know their office."
"That they do. But I am not so brave as you."
"Nor am I so brave! But I calculate it best if we do not obstruct
them in their performance of their offices."
"I agree. We ought do nothing until we are asked, and with
diligence."
I budge number three's throttle by a small, but wild analytical
guess (WAG) ([You may be assured, that this is not a most accurate code
expansion. -.e.h.]_; enough to pick it up, and draw numbers
one and four back to windmill. Hopefully these other two will
start easier in their turn. Number three start to choo-choo, so I
budge the throttle up a little more. Maybe it is not my
imagination, but it seem to be clearing.
"Number three - on line!" Scotty whoop. "Now we can have all the
essential AC and DC we need. - That we critically need, anyway."
"Right." I lift my headset a little as I pull back the yoke, past
straight and level, but not by much. "We can't let our coffee pot
get too cold, so we need the Accessory AC." I glance at the
altimeter, and it creep up, now back up through twenty-one angels
([Thousand feet of altitude. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/angel
Is not clear whether this is AGL or MSL. Assume MSL. Over water is the same
anyway.]_.
Then I place my headset back into position, and hear; ``...Nimitz
calling Starlifter zero-zero-seven: Please respond. Over.''
Sound like an invitation. If I can hear that, my intercom box is
set for the right radio to this station.
I shift hands so I can press the microphone button on the yoke:
"Hello, Nimitz. Starlifter zero-zero-seven here. Please excuse us
while we pick up the crystal and the silverware. - Over."
Enough time lapse for a suppressed chuckle at Nimitz's end.
``Roger zero-seven. Nimitz. We have you on our RADAR. Do you
know you are squawking emergency? Over.''
"Negative, Nimitz. Zero-seven, we're not surprised. An old
modification to put the 'sponder in Emergency Mode should the
Master Caution come on. And it did. I have more lights here than
a Christmas display. - Over."
``Copy Master Caution trigger, zero seven. What is the nature of
your emergency? Over.''
"Nimitz, zero seven. Some transient event knocked out all power.
It caused the whiskey compass to spin and it killed the battery.
Over."
``Roger, zero seven. Nimitz here. Do you still wish to maintain
the Emergency status? Over.''
"Nimitz, zero seven. Unknown. - Be advised I am restarting the
IFF transponder. - Now." I switch off the system at the control
box. I count off about fifteen seconds, then switch it back on.
"Nimitz, zero-seven. You should see my normal squawk soon.
Standing by for I-P. Over."
A few ticks later; ``Zero-seven; Nimitz. We have you. Squawk
I-P.''
I reach over and do so. It is a simple momentary toggle switch on
the control box, that must be held for the duration of the
challenge.
``Zero-seven, Nimitz. Got you. Over.''
"Nimitz, zero-seven. Thank you for the squawk check." I release
the switch so the system fall back to Normal mode; as much as
normal as we have recovered. "Can we downgrade from Emergency
Status to Standby? Over."
``Zero-seven, Nimitz. What is your justification for status
change? Over.''
"Nimitz. Recovery so far so good. Your RADAR should show us
climbing gently. Over."
``Roger, zero-seven. We see you climbing. You are about 170 miles
from us on the 200degree radial. Over.''
"Tex." I call out over the center console. "Have you found that
emergency air start procedure yet?"
"Ah. Negative, Hiram. It's - not here."
"Okay. We're winging it." Then I direct back to; "Nimitz, zero-
seven. - When we get to 25 angels, we're going to air start the
other two engines. If all go well, we can do a low, flyby so we
can check flaps and gears, extension and retraction. If that go
well, we should get back to flight level, close standby, and we'll
be on our way home."
``Zero-seven, Nimitz. Going back to standby. Over.''
I check the tachometers' N1 and N2 speeds of both working engines,
and the feel at the throttle handles suggest their 101% reading is
about right, which is less than take-off roll thrust, but more than
cruise-out.
Two TF-33s can easily keep us airborne and accomplish normal flight
maneuvers. The C-141-A is the hot-rod of the cargo fleet.
One of that type aircraft had an inboard engine explode, on take
off from Alice Springs, Australia, which hot shrapnel set fires in
the cargo bay and took out the outboard engine. The other two eng-
ines got "cooked" on their way back. They had a bird-dog assist
from an Australian Reconnaissance C-130, so they made a safe land-
ing back where they left. Then the aircraft was repaired, using at
least four new engines, and flown missions back to home base.
([From an actual incident with a 63rd Military Airlift Wing aircraft, late-
1970s. Only about 40% confident it was out of Alice Springs, a frequent destination
with Woomera.]_
"Nimitz, zero-seven. Over and out."
"Well. That was cordial." Darcy idle.
"Of course. The Navy knows its a long swim home." I answer.
"Highway. Both EGTs are normal, oil pressures normal, CSDs
([Constant Speed Drives take a variable input shaft speed from an engine
and turn the output shaft at a fixed speed, within a certain tolerance. This made
for electrical power at 380-to-420 Hertz instead of 380-to-1,000 Hertz, better for
equipment and systems.]_ are at speed. - Let me know when
your ready for the other two to carry their weight." Scotty post.
"Roger, Scotty. Can we fire them both at the same time?" I test.
"Sure, Highway. Got two hands."
"Stand by. - Stand by. 25 angels." I pitch down steeper than
before; "give me spark and fuel."
"You got it!"
I creep the outside throttles to where the throttle friction hold
the inner two. The aircraft shudder as both engines' compressors
stuff air into the turbines' ignition and fuel spray bars. Then I
budge those outer engine throttles up a bit more to get the shafts
accelerating. Those two engines' tachometers reveal a little work
being done. Their speeds are coming up.
"Gettin' EGT on number one. - Wait. Getting EGT on number four
also. Whooop! We're turnin' an' burnin' on all four!" Tex and I
rejoice with Scotty, Bugsy, and Darcy.
Tex and I pull back on the yokes, to almost straight and level
flight, but still climbing, and then begin a two-minute turn toward
the Nimitz's fix. Darcy note and record the GPS coordinates.
Shortly we get close enough to begin long final, so we set for a
nominal approach. A little later, I reduce power for a long,
descent to do a fly-by the carrier group.
Later, I look out the forward wind screen to see a flattop in the
distance, which we will soon fly over its wake. Then I deploy one
notch of flaps, and the whine of the flap motors can be heard aft
of the cabin.
Both Bennet sisters can hear a sound like demons screaming. They
have no other way of describing the whine hydraulic motors make
when running flap-drive screws. It start at a medium pitch, which
change about half a step down as the flaps intrusion into the
airflow load the screw. They feel the slight shudder that all flap
drives tend to cause as the airfoils change shape within the
airstream, especially if the craft go through any, even a slight,
cross wind.
"Oh, Lizzy! Will we be well? What caused that dreadful noise?
What can it mean?" The elder protest when that sound stop, because
the flaps are down the equivalent of one-notch, as if her clever
sister could know.
"I know not, but it did come first cause when that one up there, at
our left, did put his hand to work that wheel." Elizabeth point
and is at the right-most position, sitting on the lower bunk and
also belted in, so she can see more of what the pilot perform.
Elizabeth observe the pilot's right hand return to the yoke, appear
to push a little button with his thumb a few times, alternating
with his speech, and then now, back toward the handle she now asso-
ciate with causing the screaming noise. In anticipation, she cup
her hands over her ears, and Jane seeing her do so, then do
likewise. They can not know, but they heard the flap drive motor
turn the screws to the equivalent of two-notches of flaps and
deploy the spoilers.
This time, the shuddering bring a sense of corresponding slowing.
They can feel a slight force bending them forward against their lap
belts. The two young ladies out of the past are also distressed by
the increased whining screams and the rougher sensations, even
within the flight deck, caused by lowering the landing gears and
deploying the third notch of flaps.
"Hello, Nimitz, zero-seven. Can you tell if we've got Firestones
or Uniroyals." I query for a visual on the gears. We have `down
and locked' indicated, but after our experience, another pair of
eyes' perspectives for validation would bring some comfort.
``Zero-seven, Nimitz. You've got Firestones on the mains and
Uniroyals on the nose.''
"Nimitz, zero-seven. That explain the loss of power." I grin, and
know they can know it is a spoof as I coax the throttles up to a
power setting suitable for climbing out. I add; "mismatched tires.
- We of Starlifter zero-zero-seven are grateful to the officers
and crew of the Nimitz and group for your courtesy and readiness to
aid, which if you weren't around, would certainly be needed. Thank
you all. - Over and out."
The Nimitz command center sign off too. They bid us a safe and
happy trip. It is too bad that we do not have a pallet or more for
the crew of the Nimitz. We could also tally an air cargo drop to
our current qualifications. My crew should be able to put one
exactly where they want it on their deck.
Then I horse up the landing gear control lever, and hear the
hydraulic motors run to lift the bogies. They also tip both struts
back to where they can tuck the gears inside the pods.
Furthermore, all gear doors close, including the little trap door
at the top of the pod, that open so the strut can protrude up above
the pod when the gears are down and the airplane is on the ground.
"Up and locked." Tex verify. Another accent to those words is a
disparagement about the feebleminded errors which can plague any
organization and vex anyone who must repair the damage.
At cruise out altitude, I slide my seat back and grant to; "Tex.
Would you take over for a while. I have some - `aircraft
commander' stuff to do."
"Sure, Highway. I'm good for a while."
"Thanks. I should be able to relieve you shortly." Then I rise
and step back toward our guests, and see them, knowing that their
eyes, and Scotty's and Bugsy's attention, is upon me. "Well,
ladies. I know you were not on board when we left Hickham a few
hours ago."
Bugsy then introduce them to me. He knew the more energetic one as
Miss Elizabeth and the other beauty as Miss Jane. The younger girl
has a light cinnamon tone to her skin that take a suntan like a
duck take to water. Her brown eyes and light brown hair, with her
trim shape, contribute to her natural tint beauty.
In contrast, Jane's skin is a light, delicate alabaster. Her dark
blue eyes and raven hair compose a stunning beauty, even though she
is not as trim as her sister. ([Jane Austen told little of her
characters' general description; other than Kitty was "slight and delicate" (V3,
Ch.V) and Lydia as "stout" (V1, Ch.IX). However, these seem to be my best guess by
what has been revealed. -.e.h.]_ The latter is the elder of the
Miss Bennets.
"Oh, Sir. We can not account for our presence here. Where are we?
Pray. I must ask." Elizabeth beg. She is as frightened, but only
more in control of her speech than her elder sister, so she add;
"it seems we had breakfast only a short while ago. Oh! Where are
we?"
"Well, ladies. We are at 33,000 feet above sea level;" I could
check the Inertial Navigation System for a Global Positioning
System fix, but that would not help them, so I explain; "flying be-
tween Hawaii and southern California, about three hours from
touchdown at San Bernardino Depot." The old Norton Air Force Base
assumed the call letters from the even older Naval weapons depot;
SBD. ([During the 1990s, IIRC, Norton Air Force Base became the
largest piece of real property for sale in Southern California (or
wider).]_
"`Touchdown?' Oh, Sir. You speak of strange things. We have no
comprehension! How is it possible that we can be - `flying?' Sir.
Our confusion is so wretched! Pray, tell us!" Jane tag-team with
her sister.
"Sir." Bugsy interject. "They couldn't have been in the cargo
bay. And the cabin door's been closed since you got your coffee
and doughnut."
"That's part of the puzzle, Bugsy." Then I direct to the ladies;
"by your apparel, I think your question should be in terms of - `when' as much a matter or more than of `where.'"
"`When?' I do not comprehend your intelligence, Sir." Then
Elizabeth read the `United States Air Force' of the command patch
([Sorry. It has been so long since I have seen one, the legend has been
forgotten. -.e.h.]_ on my flight suit, which she is suddenly
mortified.
A psychologist question may be useful. "What year do you think
this is?"
She answer with hesitation, but it is her best idea. "1811, in the
year of Our Lord?"
"That was when you left home. It is now in the year 2011, of the
Common Era - or A.D.; March 18th, if that will help you."
"Oh! No. I can not comprehend it" Elizabeth almost wail.
I vow to bring her some comfort. "Somehow, you ladies have time-
slipped two hundred years into your future. - No, wait. The
event isn't right for a time slip, and they seem to be looking
backward into the past. Going forward in time, as you ladies have
travelled, can be done by some other unknown, paranormal phenomenal
suspension. - Yes. By some paranormal event." The ladies and
the crew are willing to let me muse as I ponder with my mouth in
gear.
"But how? Sir."
"Conceptually simple, Bugsy. The unidirectional nature of
duration's progression would suggest that for anything to be drawn
- Forward in time, it only need be suspended in some interstitial
space until the normal duration reach some future point in time.
The event itself, that set the suspension, must have the end or
mirror event to restore that which was captured."
"Or not." Scotty had been reading the mail, as it were, but could
no longer keep quiet. "You sing and dance as well as any theoreti-
cal fuzzy, Sir. But Sir, we have one most important question:" He
pause for emphasis and our coaxing to continue; "what are we to do
with, about, and for these young ladies?"
"Hmmmm." I idle. "Good thought. Probably first thing we should
do is a proper introduction." Then I begin with Bugsy, whom they
are longest acquainted, Scotty, then; "...Tex up there in the
copilot seat..." and then; "...our navigator, William Darcy-" I
stop at Elizabeth's gasp.
Elizabeth is speechless, so Jane submit; "my sister and myself, are
recently acquainted with a Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, but he is such a
disagreeable person. He regard us with very little esteem."
"The avalanche has started. It is too late for the pebbles to vote." -Ambassador Kosh Naranek
| Subject | Author | Posted |
|---|---|---|
| Rae Elaine | March 23, 2015 12:11AM |
| LP | March 25, 2015 11:32PM |
| KatieJ | March 25, 2015 01:49AM |
| Tasha | March 25, 2015 05:48PM |
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