Gryphon (closed)

Lady_Mornington

Sic Semper Tyrannosaurus
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"Tower 1 this is Valkyrie requesting permisson to land."

Major Lovisa Zetterberg's voice carried through the air to reach the Tower at the EU airbase just north of the town of Nurek, Tajikistan. The weather was perfect, a virtually clear sky as she took her Gryphon around the airbase to begin the in flight for landing.

"Valkyrie this is Tower 1 you have permission to land. Welcome to Tajikistan."

She smiled as she brought the fighter to descend for the tarmac, every day the Norwegian ensign manning the tower greeted her with the same phrase. "Welcome to Tajikistan."

"He never gets bored with it does he?" The voice of her Radar Intercept Officer, Lieutenant Carl Andersson saying the same thing as he always did in response to the tower.

"And neither do you.."

Bringing the Gryphon down, flaps out as the wheels hit the tarmac and the familiar jolt hit the two officers inside. Another mission accomplished. Major Zetterberg was the commander of one of the two Gryphon squadrons that operated next to the RAF in Tajikistan. They were part of the peacekeeping mission sent by the EU to keep the Islamic rebels of the south and the Government troops of the north apart long enough to be able to broker some kind of agreement. In many ways she was a pioneer, the first woman squadron leader on only the second peace-keeping mission where Sweden had sent fighters to uphold peace. She had done her reading, digesting everything she could get her hands on about the previous mission fifty years earlier, when UN troops had fought in the Congo.

She was a good pilot, although perhaps a shade naive about the mission as such. Coming from a country that had not seen war since the 19:th Century and perhaps believing this to be no different from the excercises carried out back home. Truth to tell the no-fly zone had been respected and the daily missions had proved to become routine.

Taxing her Gryphon of the runway and being greeted by the groundstaff as she opened the hood and freed herself from the straps that secured her to the seat. Right now she wanted a cup of coffee and a shower, although that would have to wait until after the debriefing. Lovisa cursed silently as she knew that the Englishman Morgan would take part. She didn't like him and suspected that he thought her nothing but a stupid girl who managed to get her position out of some kind of affirmative action.

Oh well better deal with that now and get it over with...
 
Squadron Leader David Morgan, RAF

Squadron Leader Morgan watched the oddly shaped JAS 39 Gripen as it came in to land. Even without checking the tail number he could tell who the pilot was - only one pilot in the squadron combined that level of precision with textbook manuevers. Most pilots that good started taking shortcuts, but Valkyrie's fighter hit the tarmac at the prescribed speed and location, before performing a text book rollout back to the hardstanding.

He shook his head. It was like a machine had been flying the plane.

Morgan was a stranger in a strange land. Assigned as liason between the Swedish unit and his own RAF Squadron, he'd once been his CO's Radar Intercept Officer until a very public brawl about an incident during a no-fly mission. His CO had engaged a fighter that had been actually on the other side of the no-fly boundary, claiming that the plane had locked him up with its radar.

Morgan knew that the man had been stuck on 4 kills for years, and wanted to be an Ace so bad he could taste it. He'd been furious at the debriefing and had refused to drop the matter, making it impossible for him to continue with his squadron.

Unfortuantely, he was the only Swedish speaking RAF officer on the base, so they hadn't just been able to pack him off elsewhere, and now he found himself writing reports nobody wanted to read and attending debriefings for pilots who didn't give a damn about him. And he had more combat kills than the whole of this Squadron put together - because they hadn't got a single one between them!

A jeep started out from the hardstandings with two officers perched in the back. Here she came, Major Zetterberg. Valkyrie would be sure to ignore his operational reccomendations, he knew, in addition to doing her best to ignore him utterly during the debriefing.

He didn't like her and suspected that she thought him nothing more than an old has-been Navigator who had been passed up for promotion.
 
Major Lovisa Zetterberg

Smiling and waving to the groundstaff as she and Lt.Andersson got in the back of the jeep and were driven to Squadron HQ. She still couldn't shake the feeling that it was a bit too much really. Like something out of Top Gun or similar. Like the callsign, back home she usually responded to A Leader, but in view of the Brits and their fascination for such things she'd been dubbed Valyrie by her own pilots.

The godesses of the Norse sagas, riding behind the berserkers and collecting the dead. Lovisa wasn't best pleased with that particular allegory, she had been raised with the idea that the armed forces she was part of had one primary function and that was deterrence. Of course she trained for dog-fights and ground attacks, yet the concept of actually firing upon another person was alien to her.

Straightening up as the jeep came to a halt by HQ and jumping out being greeted by Colonel Falk who proved as jovial as ever and Squadron Leader Morgan who proved to be just as dour as usual. Smiling and ripping of a salute to her commanding officer and nodding to Morgan as they went inside.

The air-condition was on full blast and tea and coffee was being served to herself and Lt.Andersson before the colonel rapped of the usual questions. Regarding enemy activity, anything out of the ordinary, the latest intelligence on the warring factions etc etc. Lovisa let Lt Andersson field the questions, partly because her RIO took an immense pleasure from revelling in details and partly because she felt her English to be insufficient. She was word perfect of course but her accent betrayed her. Not like Carl who spoke the language with a rather out-dated posh accent.

Looking at Morgan who kept taking notes, knowing he'd be bound to offer criticism at some point and bracing herself to take it in good humour. After all the man was a has-been.
 
Squadron Leader David Morgan

As the debriefing rolled to its affable conclusion the Colonel turned to Morgan and asked - as usual - "Any comments from your end, David?"

It always made him slightly tense - he'd been with these people six weeks and there was no way they should be referring to him by first name. In fact, the chaps of his old squadron had never done that - always calling him either by his Callsign, Paladin, or by his last name.

Looking at the pilots he could see that they'd already switched off - but he knew he had to try anyway.

"Yes, just one thing. The patrol was flown very well - good formation, nice route, hit all the waypoints at the right times. Everything by the book. The only problem is that by now the Tajy's will know that book as well as you do. You have to start changing things around a bit, or the first time they come over the wire, they'll know exactly where to find you."

The Colonel explained that the patrol route had been the optimum for that terrain and that changing things to make them different also meant making them worse. David shrugged - he'd expected to lose the fight, but knew he'd have to try.

"Well, have it your own way. You'll have to learn the hard way, I suppose."
 
Major Lovisa Zetterberg

"With all due respect David, there is hardly any opposition to talk about is there?"

Lovisa had spoken harshly, perhaps a bit too harshly to be considered polite, yet the way that the Englishman constantly came up with criticism rattled her perception of her own abilities as well as seeming rather inpudent with respect to Colonel Henrik Falk.

"From the intelligence reports we've received this morning the risk of running into hostile airforces are slim to none. The Tajiks have moved their MIG:s to the northermost part of the country and the Rebells have none to speak of. What we might run the risk of are SAM-sites and according to the Americans they are not yet in the area."

She inhaled and stared belligerently at David Morgan. "I think this is rather a question of too big an ego on your part David." She looked sideways to Colonel Falk who gave her a look of warning, prompting her to bite back the rest of her criticism.

"Well then it seems you two have a few issues to resolve doesn't it." Col. Falk summarised the situation as he made to stand up, waving for Lovisa and David to remain seated. "Me and Carl is going out for a wee stroll and when we come back the two of you better have sorted it out do I make my self clear?"

Lovisa nodded and mumbled a yes sir and seeing how David did the same. She received a pat on the shoulder from her RIO as the two left the room, closing the door with an ominous click.
 
Squadron Leader David Morgan

"Too big an ego? That's quite something coming from a pilot, Major. Haven't you ever heard the saying that every gallon of sweat in training saves a pint of blood in combat? Is there something wrong with acting as if there's the possibility that this is going to be more than just a big jaunt abroad?"

David turned in his seat to face the Major more squarely, leaning forward on his knees.

"Your problem, as I see it, is that you resent taking advice from an outsider. You think you already bloody know it all - and I can assure you that you will come to earth with quite a damn bump when you find out that's not so. Just three of those refitted Mig 21's that the Government forces own could have ripped your little patrol apart today."
 
Major Lovisa Zetterberg

"I am aware that the MIG:s of the Tajik airforce is not to be underestimated but it's beside the point David. The fact is that I think you dislike me personally and allow me to state the reasons. First because I'm a woman, secondly because I'm younger than you and thirdly because I'm not with the RAF and have had confirmed kills."

She leaned back, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. Reaching for the mug of coffee and grimacing as the cold liquid pooled in her mouth.

"Look I don't mind taking the occasional hint but it seems you're intent on slagging me of for everything I do around here and to be honest I've had it up to here with it."

Lovisa kept her eyes locked with his as she spoke, then chiding herself for taking such a belligerent poise against him. She could understand that he felt left out, having been seconded to the the Swedish detachment rather than to stay with the RAF:

"This is silly David, let's do it like this. When we're off our shift I buy you a beer and we talk about other stuff...get to know each other."
 
Sqn Ldr D. Morgan

He breathed deeply and counted in his head to five before speaking. It helped.

"I don't dislike anyone here personally. I don't care that you're a woman, and I don't hold your not having any combat experience against you. It's a common problem in the Swedish airforce.

Look at it from my perspective. How many of these briefings have I sat through? How many times have I futilely opened my gob and been patted on the head like a senile old sheepdog that nobody pays much attention to anymore?"


He shook his head in frustration.

"Look, we've got to do something to break this deadlock. Let's try a few drinks tonight, like you suggested, and see if we can get onto better terms with each other. I really do want to help you, Major, not shoot you down in flames."
 
Major Lovisa Zetterberg

"I'll meet you in the Mess at seven then. Right now I'm dying for a shower."

She stood up and extending her hand in an act to reinforce the fragile truce between them. Smiling shyly as he accepted it and shook it once.

The rest of the afternoon was spent checking the rosters, writing the e-mails to her family and taking the shower. As Lovisa entered her quarters she found Lt.Andersson in bed seemingly shivering with fever. She called the medical officer who after a short consultation remitted him to the field hospital, seening as he was in the first stages of dehydration. The climate was probably to blame and the MO assured her that it was not a life or death situation.

Lovisa's mood having taken a turn for the worse, Carl was a good friend and she thought briefly of cancelling the drinks with Sqd Ldr Morgan, yet that would only make life more miserable. Thusly she was seated in the Mess at five minutes to seven, nursing a lager. Hoping this would work out although her mind was contemplating whom would replace her RIO.
 
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Sqn Ldr Morgan

As usual, Morgan's work was done by four - to say he was a little underutilised here would be a massive understatement. He could feel himself gravitating to the mess for a before-dinner drink - but disciplined himself not to. He'd seen officers go that way - drunk before eight every night. And then drunk in the morning too, eventually. Finally topping their tanks off in the afternoon at lunch.

He wasn't going to let himself slide in that direction.

He'd considered bringing the scrapbook that summarised his career. He'd diligently kept it since joining as a Pilot Candidate some eleven years ago - but he decided he'd go for informal. They already saw him as an impossibly militaristic and uptight marionette - what he needed to do was relax a little, he decided.

So at five past seven he walked into the mess bar, changed into civilian clothes for once. Spotting his target he eased himself into the chair opposite and made to greet her warmly - but something about the way she huddled over her lager despondently stopped him.

"What's wrong, Major? You look like there's been a death in the family."
 
Major Lovisa Zetterberg

Lovisa looked up to see Sqd.ldr Morgan hovering just beside her, a concerned look on his face.

"Almost, seems lieutenant Andersson has to be shipped home. Which means I have no RIO for the time it takes to find someone, ship him here and get him acquainted with the mission parametres."

Taking a sip from her lager and giving him a mischevious smile.

"You don't happen to be certified to go on the Gryphon do you David?"

She knew it rattled her when she used his first name but that was the way things were done in the SAF. Especially here in the middle of nowhere the formality had gradually subsided into familiarity.

Not that she cared about the absence of such. Lovisa prefered to be on first-name basis with people. She understood the need for hierarchy yet saw no need to revel in it.

"So what do you say? Valkyrie and Paladin."

It was meant as a joke but she then she saw the look on David's face.
 
Sqn. Ldr. D. "Paladin" Morgan

Her news about the young Swedish RIO was a blow. David might not be friends with these people, but he recognised them as allies, fellow aviators and human beings. Nobody should be unceremoniously carted back home from a combat assignment for an illness, and he knew that this chance blow of fate had savaged the young mans career. Combat slots were often vigorously sought after in the RAF, but in the SAF they were almost non-existent.

At her offer his jaw just about hit the table in shock. Fly backseat. For her?

Normally he'd have almost sneered at the offer, but this wasn't normal circumstances, was it? He'd been excluded from his squadron for the unforgivable crime of whistleblowing to brass. He couldn't fly with his old outfit now and the truth was that he might well NEVER get back in the air now. He awaited the orders even now, dreading the calm explanations that the posting to a nonflying role was just temporary, until things settled down, and the never ending string of reccomendations that he be left there to continue his 'vital work' until they could start saying he was 'getting a bit long in the tooth' instead.

Looking out of the window, the grey streamlined shapes of the Gripen at the far end of the taxiway called to him seductively. He realised, with a rush, that he was almost aroused at the thought of strapping in again. Major Zetterberg was calmly sipping at her drink, seemingly unaware of the chaos her simple words had thrown him into. He was aware, though, that the talk had died down around them and the other Swedish aircrew were watching him.

He sat down, to give himself time to think. Time to calm the storm raging between his temples. There really WAS only one decision.

"Yes! I mean, I suppose I could help you out until you get a replacement picked, shipped out, trained and up to speed. I've got about a 60 hours in the Viggen, 10 or so in the Drakken and I've been up in the Gripen about 10 hours for familiarity check rides. I'll need a few hours to get up to speed."
 
Major Lovisa Zetterberg

"You've been in the Draken? I thought that one went out of service at the same time as armoured knights. How old are you really?"

She smiled, to be honest she was a bit jelaous. She'd flown the Viggen but never the Draken, and it meant that she would have to defer to him, at least in that aspect. Still having Morgan as her RIO would mean the end of the endless ciriticism.

"I'll have words with Henrik, I mean Colonel Falk tomorrow, but you will have to promise me one thing. No titles it's Lovisa and David is that understood. And no cheap cracks at ABBA either."

Finishing her beer she extended her hand to him. "I belive you owe me a beer David" winking as she stood up "and make it to go. It's time I challenged your Victorian morals."

Smiling again as she stood up and collected her things. She had seen that the sauna was not booked for the evening. Wondering if David would be terribly shocked at the proposal.
 
Paladin

"The damn thing only went out of service 8 years ago! I was just in time."


At her crack about Victorian values, he shook his head a little. How the hell did you interpret THAT statement? David watched as she stood, picking up her keys and her bag. Buying the beer was the easiest way not to have to think about that.

He was still in shock. He knew that Major Zetterberg - Lovisa now - took her flying seriously enough that he'd most likely be airborn by noon and the thought of feeling that familiar acceleration and then feeling the world drop away beneath him had his pulse racing again.

Grabbing a six pack from behind the bar, he motioned towards the door with his head and waited for her in the corridor. Probably she'd be grilling him on some obscure manual, or asking him questions about the damn plane's tech specs.

When she headed towards the leisure facilities instead, his curiosity was piqued. What the hell was she thinking? Game of volleyball? Game of squash? Something competitive? Did she need to beat him at something to assert her nominal command tomorrow?
 
Major Lovisa Zetterberg

She grabbed a towel from the rack, smiling seeing as it bore the legend of the SAF, the blue roundel with the three crowns. The fetishism with the symbols never ceasing to amaze her.

Holding the door open to the sauna and allowing David to step inside before pulling her tunic off. It was not an act of seduction, hailing from a country where nudity was perfectly normal and sharing a sauna would be seen as being akin to having coffee with a colleague.

Stripping down before looking at David

"Now then there's nothing to be ashamed of, besides I've seen it before."
Giving him a smile before heading inside the already warm sauna "and bring the beer."
 
SqnLdr D. "Paladin" Morgan

David rolled his eyes. Not THIS old gag again. He was peeling his Rugby shirt off before Lovisa had left the room.

He'd been assigned to a SAF unit for six months - it was where he'd gotten his hours in the Viggen and the Drakkan. It was also where he'd learned the lingo. Did she think such things were natural skills for a Typhoon pilot?

Anyway, he'd been sent to the sauna after the mission, only to have the whole typing pool file in topless. The lads had arranged it all, of course, on a bet to see if he freaked out.

They'd won the bet, but he'd learned his lesson.

And so he tied the towel around his waist and grabbed the beer, before making tracks for the inside of the sauna. He did think it was going to be difficult being all business with her tomorrow though - now that he'd seen her undressed he was going to be imagining her like that all day.
 
Major Lovisa Zetterberg

The warmth of the sauna was heavenly and Lovisa felt herself relax as she sat down on the wooden bench, not bothering to keep her towel wrapped around herself.

It had always been like this, whatever troubles one faced would surely be temporarily gone and she understood why the Native Americans had treasured the steam-huts so much as they had.

Turning to David who looked less than relaxed as he was sitting on the far end, holding his can of lager as a charm.

"Are you going to share some of those David?" Smiling as he reached out to give her the can "Now to get down to business. What do you think I need to improve, how should I do it and thirdly why are you sure that you are qualified enough to give me lecture?"

Smiling as she spoke, knowing that it was quite a belligerent question and hoping that she'd lessen the blow by doing so.

"Further I'm a bit curious to your own experience. You've seen proper combat right?"
 
SqnLdr D. "Paladin" Morgan

He'd expected this sort of grilling - but not while he was being parboiled, and not while his interrogator was sprawling nude a couple of meters away.

"Let's handle point three first, shall we? You know I've been flying for about 9 years? I started life as a pilot and I've actually got four kills myself. That means I've got four more kills than you or any other pilot in this squadron. In fact I have four more kills THAN the squadron. My career as a pilot lasted five years - since then I've flown as an RIO in Typhoons. They're every bit as complicated as your Gryphons."

He shrugged. "I'm not claiming to be the old man in the mountain, here, but I do think that I've earned a little respect."

Sitting back, starting to relax now that he was talking shop, he continued - grateful to her for not interrupting him.

"What do you need to improve? Right now the biggest problem is your adherence to by the book methods. It's going to sound funny coming from me, but you guys need to loosen up and become more reactive. And you're the worst of the lot, Lovisa. You're probably the best natural pilot I've seen, but you fly like you're in an airshow - I can count the maneuvers off by the second."
 
Major Lovisa "Valkyrie" Zetterberg

Lovisa almost regretted having asked about proper combat. It was not that she was ignorant that the Gryphon she flew was primarily designed to hunt down and kill other pilots in similar machines, yet it felt alien to her. She had spent hundreds of hours patrolling or excercising with her squadron, training for a worst-case scenario and even though she had the highest rate of confirmed kills during such she still found it hard going from theory to practice.

Trying to be amiable about it she offered David the last beer "Well perhaps you can give me some pointers then, but still we're not here to hunt for enemies, merely to act as the deterrent."

She emptied her own can and sat back as she watched her soon to be RIO.

"You must understand one thing, we're rather Germanic in this sense, adherence to rules and doing things by the book." Smiling as she uttered what for all intents and purposes had been a slight reproach to David's speach about stepping outside the same. "Besides the Swedish public would be rather sensitive to the issue of SAF pilots playing Top Gun in the underdeveloped world. And if the public is unhappy the government is and when they're unhappy the military suffers."

Once again smiling apologetically. It was the first time in fifty years that her country had sent fighter units to a conflict. The first one having been the Congo of the 1950:s where a couple of outdated SAAB J29:s having battled the Katangan airforce. The newly elected conservative government had decided to repeat this, perhaps in attempt to convince potential buyers that the JAS Gryphon would be a suitable investment.

"But I'm grateful for your compliments David, I truely am. Just one thing when you're going up with me. I don't want any backseat driving is that understood?"

Lovisa had spoken the last sentence softly, yet it was an unmistakable command. She would listen to what he had to say and even adhere to some of it but he must understand that she would be the one calling the shots.

Standing up and nodding to him. "I'm going to have a shower and then hit the sack. We're scheduled for a night mission for tomorrow but I would require you to report to the hangar prior to the briefing. To get you acquainted to Gripen."

"And thanks for the beer by the way." She turned and shot him a smile as she left the sauna. Hoping that she had made the right decision.
 
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SqnLdr D. "Paladin" Morgan

David nodded absently as she left. The admonition about backseat driving hadn't been serious, she already knew that he wouldn't, or she couldn't have trusted him enough to make the offer. They drummed it into you at flight school that there could only be one pilot, and that pilot was the aircraft commander.

He stared intently at the wooden wall of the sauna, but he wasn't looking at the pine woodgrain, he was seeing the twisting curve of the Aim9L as it slammed into the African F5 and sent it spiralling to the Savannah below.

Finishing the beer he crumpled the can and stood up with a sigh. There was no deterring pilots, unfortunately, they were all a proud breed. They didn't care that you had more planes. They didn't care that you had better planes. All you could do was to kill them until the politician's flinched. That was deterrence.
 
Major Lovisa "Valkyrie" Zetterberg

She awoke before revellie as was her habit, Lovisa had never been one for sleeping in, prefering the quiet of the early mornings both out of preference and necessity. There was precious little privacy on the airbase thusly the few opportunities she got at being on her own became even more precious.

Donning the tracksuit and the trainers as she went on her daily constitutional. She would have to make do with a few laps along the landing-strips, seeing as the surrounding countryside was not a friendly environement to the peacekeepers in general and would be even less so to a female.

She spent an hour doing the laps, judging that she'd covered roughly ten kilometres before she headed back to her barracks, being greeted by the bleary-eyed pilots and RIO:s as she hit the showers.

Once again thinking about her offer to David, perhaps a bit hasty but she still deemed it to be the right one to make. If nothing else she could benefit something from the man's experience as well as not having to face his endless sermons during debriefing.

Finding her colonel during breakfast recounting the events of the previous night and being given his assent. It would serve to improve the relations between RAF and SAF as well as being a reason to invoke a favour in return from the Brits if necessary. Col Falk smiled affably as he downed his coffee. On the whole it was a brilliant idea.

Spending a few minutes discussing everyday things as David Morgan entered the canteen, prompting Falk to wave him over, wishing to be the first to congratulate him, and although the Englishman did so in good grace Lovisa still thought she could discern something of a pained expression on his face as Falk vigorously shook his hand and slapped his back in a cameradery way.
 
SqnLdr D. "Paladin" Morgan

David stumbled into the canteen at a respectable hour past reveille. One of the first things to go in an RAF squadron on deployment was the sparrow fart reveille that these crazy vikings still seemed enamoured of. For the first week he was here, David had humoured them - then he'd started coming in for breakfast at nine in the morning again and nobody had quibbled.

He knew that changed today - he had to be up with the rest of the pilots.

He'd been worried that Falk would queer his pitch by refusing to grant David flight status, but the rotund little colonel had seemed overjoyed that David would be flying with Lovisa - as if David was a prodigal son returned to their crazy little family. As he returned the handshake, David grinned sheepishly at Lovisa who was watching with a raised eyebrow. Still it felt good to be welcomed like this - he knew that Lovisa would have gotten short shrift indeed trying to do this in an RAF squadron.

Finally he sat down with the two officers, setting his coffee and toast down in front of him.

"So. I'm eager to get up there. When are we starting?"
 
Major Lovisa "Valkyrie" Zetterberg

"As soon as you finished your breakfast David."

Lovisa smiled as she finished her orange juice and crumpled the styrofoam cup. There were a lot of things to be done and besides she had a surprise for him.

"You need to get to know the ground-crew as well as the plane. How many hours did you have on the Gripen? And it's pronouned Gree-pen."

Colonel Falk laughed as he once more slapped David's back, "Going to have you sound like a Norrlander in no time David. just beware of the horrid food they serve." Falk hailing from the southernmost province of the country, thus making him nothing more than a Dane in Lovisa's eyes. The banter being the same as always, good humoured yet hinting that the stress that the small detachment was under was never far away.

"Let's go David." Lovisa's tone betraying just how eager she was to get to her jet. The relation to it was akin to the love she'd felt for the horse she'd kept as a girl. Being able to master the impressive machine gave her a sense of immense pride as well as a boost to her ego. Coupled with the true and undiluted love she felt for flying.

Heading down to the hangar where her Gryphon was being readied. The groundcrew a mixture of officers and conscripts working their way around the fuselage to make sure it would be ready. She noted with some satisfaction that there was a strip of tape just below the RIO's seat and as they approached she told the corporal to pull it away.

Airbrushed just below their respective seats were now a picture of a knight and a rather too busty female viking added with the legends Valkyrie and Paladin.

"I hope that you like it, we had some troubles finding a proper picture of a Paladin so you must excuse any errors on our part."

Turning to David and winking
 
SqnLdr D. "Paladin" Morgan

David let his hand scuff the grey painted metal of the Gripen's flank, almost stroking it. The groundcrewman pulled the tape clear and there was the armoured Saint George beneath the legend "Paladin".

Lovisa's grin was jovial but David couldn't answer her right away, looking away and blinking a few times to clear his eyes. For weeks he'd fretted that he'd never see this again. He felt the fears leave him, but in their wake was the stress that the waiting had caused him. He blinked again and coughed.

"That's great, Maj... Lovisa... Looks grand." he knew the words came out a little awkwardly, but surely the extent of his emotion was visible. He reached out and slapped a hand down on the Groundcrewman's shoulder. "Nice job."

Finally he swung his foot up into the steps and climbed agilely up the side of the big beast, sliding into the cockpit with a pleased grunt and plugging his intercom line in. The familiar deafness caused by the ear protectors was replaced by the hum of the radio intercom and then he was strapping himself into the ejection seat.

Not waiting for Lovisa, he pulled the checklist from its place and begin checking and initialising systems.

"Crosscheck radio systems - Check
Initialise IFF Transponder and crosscheck codes and status - Check
Initialise Radar in ground following mode - Check
Crosscheck GPS system and Radar positioning - Check
Master Arm to Safe - Check
Payload Delivery systems - Check
Oxygen Delivery System - Check
Avionic sensor system - Check"


As he rattled through the list he became aware of Lovisa's head, peeking over the back of her seat and watching him. Looking up he grinned at her.

"Radar, Radio and Flight systems check out. Board is green."

The engines were her babies, as were the control surfaces. Once she ran those checks, the Gripen would be ready to make its way to the runway and get this show on the road.
 
Major Lovisa "Valkyrie" Zetterberg

Lovisa mouthed a thank you to private Alvarez who had been up since dawn, painting the avatars to the side of her Gripen. The bottle of whisky she offered him had made him jump to the task, even though it would mean forsaking a few hours of sleep.

Getting into the cockpit, seeing how her new RIO busied himself with the pre-flight preparations. Looking at the eight man strong ground-crew. She had been able to handpick them and although they had been as sorry as she had to see Carl leave they had also been eager to show Morgan what the SAF was capable of. It would be wrong to label them patriots, such sentiments were rarely expressed among her countrymen, yet they felt that they had a tradition to uphold. The SAF may have very few battle-honours yet every man and woman serving with it took an immense pride of the Gryphons. The fifth generation Swedish built jet-fighters and at least in their minds second to none.

Donning the helmet and strapping herself down, and being given the last minute details before closing the hatch and taking the Grypon out on the runway.
 
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