A Flight Gone Wrong [Cyborgs] (Domus, Private)

JustinG

0041 Hours
Rodez Airport, Guienne, Domus

It was completely dark, and the rain was driving with an unnatural force, as if Boreas and Poseidon had gone to war.

The lights of the city lit the horizon a sick orange colour, distinguishable through the black storm that overshadowed most of Domus tonight, though it was dim. Below this glow in the sky lay the rows of lights along the runways, ghostly lines of flickering blue lights that spread in their patterns across the dark and flat landscape that was the airport.

A bright white light - though greatly dimmed by the rain - swept across this scene every few moments, alternated by a green strobe light. This beacon emanated from the tall tower that stood above the tarmac and terminal, denoting the installation as a civilian airport.

Another set of lights cut across this scene of contrasting colours and dark - the strobing green and red of the wingtips and the white beacon that was the landing light of a hoverjet. It was proceeding slowly over the tarmac in front of the terminal, maneuvering carefully to compensate for the moderate winds that blew across the land, buffeting anything in their way with the peculiar wind that only comes with rain. It made its way to the landing pad in a few moments despite the wind and started to descend, whirling about first and casting its white landing light across the glass that covered the waiting room above the landing pad.

It then settled down, engines still running.

A few vehicles moved up to it - fuel truck, and a small baggage vehicle - yellow lights adding to the mix of colours visible through the dark on this tempestuous night.

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0046 Hours
Landing Pad, Rodez Airport

"All right, captain, we are full!" the mechanic called, giving the thumbs-up to the coyote sitting in the cockpit of the idling four-engine hoverjet - just a small, cross-country version, used by the larger companies for small commuter flights. This particular one was headed to Rennes, in Brittany, and had just a few passengers to ferry across Domus at this late hour.

The captain was an experienced fellow of thirty-five years. He'd been flown in the military for four years before moving on to civilian aviation. Now that he was stuck with this dead end position on the graveyard shift, he was starting to think that the military was indeed better.

Despite his annoyance at this position, he smiled and returned the thumbs up, radioing into the control tower, asking for permission to take off.

The co-pilot, a somewhat younger spaniel by the name of Louis, started flicking through the appropriate switches and looking through the procedure checklist as the take-off clearance came through.

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T- 1h. 40m.

0128 Hours
About 3500 ft above Bourbonnais, Domus

"Good evening, everyone. This is your captain speaking. We seem to have cleared all the turbulence at the moment, and we should have a clear flight from here to Rennes."

Gustav turned the intercom button off and let himself sit back in the chair a little more, relaxing. He didn't like this sort of weather, though he was more than capable of flying in it safely.

Louis was not as experienced in this weather, and as such, he was delegated to the task of keeping tabs on the weather and communications while Gustav concentrated on flying.

Radar showed that it should be clear for the rest of the flight, and that took Gustav somewhat off his edge and gave them both a rest.
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~My Characters~

RabidFox · Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2009 3:40 am Post subject:

Olivier Girard was thirty-eight-years-old, a meerkat with a height of 5'9" and a healthy thin weight. He was Domish, of course, and worked at the DuPont Woodworking Company in Rennes, Brittany. A red and black plaid, flannel shirt laid open over his chest, which was covered in a white t-shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his golden-furred arms resting on his lap as there were no arm-rests in the plane. Blue work jeans were kept secure at the waist with a brown-leather belt, and ankle-high boots rested fairly comfortably in front of his narrow seat.

It was cramped in there, barely enough room to get situated. Fourteen seats in such a small plane, it was like a mini-van with wings. With the exception of his legs, the rest of his body was not so content. His right shoulder went into the aisle, and his left shoulder into the wall. It was extremely awkward when sitting in one place for so long, and he was already beginning to get stiff.

I'll have to visit my chiropractor after I get home. He thought, unhappily.

What a way to fly. Next time, he wouldn't be such a cheapskate.

The meerkat had stayed in Rodez, Guienne for a week, and his work had considered the time "due vacation leave". Every few years, Olivier made a point to visit some of his relatives in Guienne. His parents and his brother used to come too, but as they had grown older, his parents had become too tired, and his brother too wrapped up in his own affairs. This year it was just Olivier to drop a friendly "We know you're still alive, we love you -- Sort of --, and here's a fruit cake." But he did have fun, they weren't boring like some other relatives of his, and he always spent time kicking back in the city.

Now it was time to return home to good ol' Rennes. He looked forward to being on the coast again, with the refreshing daily showers, and fishing at the Cloison Straight. His hands would get back to work: Measuring, sawing, hammering, finishing; and he would be back to sleeping in his own bed. Ah, the sweet sound of rain drops drizzling on his roof, and the liberties of being one's own host. It was a good feeling to end a vacation, even if the trip had been pleasant.
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"Anything good in life is either illegal, immoral, or fattening." - Murphy's Law

Andifferous · Posted: Wed Jul 29, 2009 5:24 am Post subject:

Near the rear of the small craft, Rinn appeared completely oblivious to the world around him. With his headphones on, and his fingers flying rapidly over the keyboard of his laptop. Between his casual clothing and the bag of beef jerky he was snacking on, he seemed like an average gamer who had managed to book a cheap flight. His intense focus wasn't on any game however; what had his attention now was a meeting with executives from PureTech. Since he owned most of the company, he was required to take part in the decision making process.

He wasn't entirely sure how he had managed to end up on this small plane, some sort of conflict with the scheduling or some such nonsense. He didn't really care too much though, this was just one flight after all.