Jekyll and Hyde
The classroom still felt as clammy and congested and still smelt as stale as it did on the first day that Violet Vanderson had entered its doors. But after weeks of countless training missions flying in all conditions imaginable, a laid-back lesson was not something she would argue against.
Vi had always despised school. The concepts taught to her were easy enough, and she did relatively well on tests on examinations for someone with such a fluctuating punctuality record, but she always did miles better when working with her hands as opposed to having to read about it in a textbook. Kinaesthetic learning, the school councillor had described it as. Most teachers saw her as a lost cause, someone who would end up working as a janitor or a mechanic or around the back of a garbage truck. But Vi knew in herself what she was capable of, and it extended far beyond standardised tests and endless essays on the circle of life or photosynthesis or whatever useless information the Zaun Schoolboard’s curriculum decided to cram down their throats that year.
Iridescent rays of golden sunlight peeled through the window blinds as the trainees gradually filled up the room, still flocking to the same seats they’d chosen on the first day they stepped foot in Top Gun. Creatures of habit. The Sun and rising temperatures of the Piltovian weather had called for a station-wide move to short-sleeve uniform for the approach to Summer, call which was accepted gratefully by all on base.
When Ekko walked in just a few minutes after Vi, he wrinkled his nose at the unbearable heat of the small classroom and moved to open the window next to them. “Feels like they’re trying to cook us in here,” he mentioned passively to his wingman with a small smile before sliding into the seat beside her.
Vi hummed in agreement and turned her head to glance at him. “Maybe it’s an intimidation tactic. To break us down,” she replied sarcastically, wiggling her fingers at him.
The Piltovian weather had been unpredictable to say the least. One minute, the Sun would be out in its full blazing glory, beating down on the weary pilots and turning the cockpits of their jets into mini saunas. And in the next moment, it could absolutely piss it down with rain, huge sheets of moisture hammering onto their wings and canopies and making their flying conditions much dangerous than need be.
Hot and cold. Teeter-tottering like a pendulum. Similar to a certain captain from Piltover Vi couldn’t get out of her mind.
Speaking of the devil, Vi’s recent interactions with Caitlyn had raised more questions than it had answered. As one door closed on why she was being so hard on them all, a thousand other windows opened. Some queries related to work, the program, why she was the way she was with the recruits.
Other questions, questions Vi would be disappointed but not surprised if she didn’t get the answer to, were so unprofessional they would probably land her with a Court Martial. But oh God, if she didn’t want to peel back Caitlyn’s layers metaphorically and physically.
The captain had arrived before any of the other officers, because of course she did, and was patiently waiting at the front of the classroom sat at her desk. Cerulean eyes flickered between the droves of pilots swarming to their seats and a large textbook splayed out before her. It was thick and beaten around the edges with its title page obscured; Vi prayed that popcorn reading wasn’t on the agenda for today.
When the pilots finally settled down, they all turned their attention to the front, awaiting with a suppressed eagerness to be told what will be covered today and if it was a lesson they could zone out of or not. However, Caitlyn did not speak, avoiding the students’ eyes as she looked towards the back of the room.
Before Vi could put her hand up to ask what they were waiting for exactly, the door finally opened for the last time. Every pair of eyes shot to the back of the classroom. A skinny spindly man dressed in a modest sandy shirt and pressed brown trousers walked- no, hobbled – into the classroom, half-dragging and half-limping his right leg along under the support of a plain cane nestled beneath his armpit. Long mousy brown locks fell into amber eyes which settled on Cait’s and melted, offering a warm smile.
The captain returned a flash of her teeth and stood up as the man got to the front of the classroom. He took Caitlyn’s seat from her and propped his cane against the desk, looking up at her before returning his eyes to the class.
“Good morning, all,” Caitlyn greeted with an unreadable tinge to her voice. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve called a classroom session so far into your training program.”
A voice from the back of the class called out, “When are we going into the air again?”
The captain ignored the quip and got straight back to her lecture. “As you are all aware, there was an incident on a recent training session where an F22 Raptor lost a segment of its vertical stabiliser mid-flight.”
Twelve pairs of eyes settled on Maddie, whose face grew redder than an afterburner.
Twelve pairs of eyes then settled on Vi, who shrugged it off.
“I am not here to discuss this event. Both pilots have been spoken to and the appropriate action has been taken,” she continued coolly. “The incident did, however, highlight the lack of training and awareness for both Zaunite and Piltovian pilots in the phenomena that a control surface is lost.” A pause, followed by a small inhale. “In the real world, your chances of surviving damage like this are slim to none. But with correct training and a bit of luck, those chances increase.”
Vi scoffed to herself. Luck? Really. Luck meant nothing. Vi had been dealt the shitty hand of cards her entire life and still managed to come out on top. Not because of luck.
Because of grit and skill.
She flared her nostrils as Caitlyn carried on.
“In light of this, I’ve called in one of the RPAF’s civilian contractors and a good friend of mine, Doctor Viktor Andrich. Viktor holds a PhD in engineering and knows more about aerodynamics and aircraft than any of you any will. He will talk, and you will all listen.”
Leaning back on her chair, Vi looked back at Jayce. “Is he your type, Pretty Boy?” she murmured out of the corner of her mouth.
Jayce smirked and leant forward, whistling lowly and muttering, “Great balls of fire.”
Caitlyn’s cold commanding voice cut across the classroom. “Something the matter, lieutenants?” she shot, glaring at the pair.
Vi slammed her chair forward with a thud. She placed her palms flat on the table and shrugged innocently. “Nothing, ma’am. Just discussing thrust force.”
“Oh?” The captain cocked an eyebrow slyly. “Would you like to discuss your comments on thrust with the rest of the class?”
The pilot shook her head side to side. “It’s really a need-to-know situation, ma’am.”
A wave of snickering rippled across the classroom. Caitlyn scowled at them both and Vi hid the creeping blush up her neck with a wide grin.
At Vi’s comment, Viktor stood up, leaving his cane by the desk as he walked to the blackboard nailed to the wall at the front of the classroom. “You have brought up an interesting point relating to thrust-to-weight ratio, lieutenant,” he drawled. A thick eastern Zaunite accent dripped from each of his words; Vi could tell it a mile off.
Viktor plucked a white stick of chalk from the desk and began to draw across the board. Vi shivered and winced. If having to sit in a classroom all day didn’t drive her crazy, the sound of the doctor scratching in white lettering across black background certainly fucking would.
“When weight is lost on an aircraft,” he explained slowly, writing a single letter T on the board with a dash over W x 9.81, “the TWR is… skewed. Normally, a decrease in mass of an aircraft leads to a higher thrust to weight ratio, corresponding with easier handling and more manoeuvrability. This is not the case when a control surface is lost. The TWR increases, but handling certainly does not.”
Preaching to the choir, Labcoat, Vi thought to herself.
“So, for this session, I will explore each individual control surface and the steps you should take to ensure your maximum safety and comfort in the event of complete failure or loss.” Viktor dropped his chalk back onto the table and turned around to face the class. “Do we have any questions before I begin?”
***
Violet Vanderson had not regretted her choice to become a pilot moreso than in those dreaded hours in the classroom. Ekko’s suggestion about switching careers to truck drivers was becoming more appealing by the second.
Watching paint dry would be more intellectually stimulating than listening to Viktor drone on. He had a flat tone that didn’t pitch up or down once, like he was trying to lull them all to sleep as opposed to teach them something meant to save their lives one day. The same point was repeated over and over again for each separate control surface – which were many.
Vi hadn’t even realised she’d nodded off during the lecture until she awoke in a startle, snapping her head up from the desk in a frenzy. A sticky wet patch from where she’d drooled in her slumber stuck slick to the corner of her mouth.
Eyes still hazy, she glanced around the room, blinking rapidly as she collected her senses. None of the other trainees were there, and the sun had begun to set on the horizon outside, casting spells of orange and amber into the classroom as dusk approached.
“Sleep well?” a voice from the front of the classroom asked.
Vi jumped out of her skin at the sudden noise. Her head snapped forward, every nerve in her body alert and in overdrive, only to spot the captain sitting back in her desk looking awfully relaxed.
The lieutenant swiped at the corner of her mouth and rubbed her eyes. “Where’s the doc?” she asked groggily.
“Finished an hour ago. He’s going to stick around on base for a while, though. Wants to see the flights firsthand for some new research he’s working on.”
“You were watching me sleep for an hour?” she grumbled in response, sitting up in her chair.
“Duty of care,” Caitlyn shot back, echoing what she’d told Vi before. She failed to mask the flustered tone in her voice. “And I wasn’t watching you sleep.”
Sighing, Vi ran her palms over her face again, scrubbing away any further sleepiness before continuing. “You’re a real Jekyll and Hyde case, Cap.”
Caitlyn leant forward, a sly smirk crawling upon her lips. “I’m surprised you know who that is, Vanderson,” she retorted without any bite.
“Never read it. No pictures.” She shrugged. “Cool metaphor, though.”
“And who do you prefer to be teaching you?” Caitlyn asked, folding her arms across her chest.
“Whoever isn’t the bitch.”
“You think I’m a bitch?”
“I think you’re hard on us, and you don’t have a good reason why.” Vi’s jaw feathered as she ground her molars. “We’re disconnected from each other. Half of us have never flown together before, yet you’re expecting display team quality group formations.”
The pilot paused for a moment, before adding, “It’s not just in the air either. The issue’s on-ground too. I can’t fly well with someone if I don’t know who they are.”
An awkward silence settled between them, tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Vi waited for the worst; she waited for another barrage of insults, or to be dished out latrine duties, or for Caitlyn to dismiss her entirely and tell her to clean up her act.
Instead, the captain nodded slowly, absorbing every word that Vi said – to her utter shock. “I understand,” she responded quietly. “Perhaps a – a team building exercise should be next on our agenda.”
The lieutenant stood up, her back and neck clicking as she did so. She chuckled dryly. “Anything that gets us out of this damn classroom, Cap; I’m all ears.”
Before she was swallowed up into the darkness of the compound's halls, Vi threw another passive comment over her shoulder. A comment which sent hot coals plummeting into the pits of Caitlyn's stomach as soon as it passed the lieutenant's lips.
"Oh, and if you'd like any more feedback, more than happy to provide it over another drink."
There was the smallest uptick of a smile at the corner of both their mouths before Vi disappeared completely.