The Gang of Five
The Land Before Time => LBT Fanfiction => Topic started by: Dima02 on April 03, 2010, 12:38:24 AM
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Hey guys, I'm trying to make a new fanfic right now. Can you tell me what you think?
Short description: When a US Navy experiment goes horribly wrong, the Great Valley finds itself visited by strange creatures who plummet the valley into a war like no other.
Plot summary:
During the infamous Project Rainbow, the USS Eldridge is sent to the Bermuda Triangle to test out new breakthrough version of the Unified Field Theory, which states that an object can form its own space-time continuum using electromagnetic radiation and gravity. However, when the experiment goes horribly wrong, the ship creates a time tunnel in the middle of the Bermuda triangle. The time tunnel, in its own space-time continuum, randomly travel to different time periods, causing the disappearance of Flight 19 and the USS Cyclops. The experiment is kept secret by the US government and is kept top-secret.
Meanwhile in the Great Valley, the Gang of Seven finds a wreck of a PT boat as well as a DC-3 in the secret caverns. They keep it as a form a "clubhouse". However, when the famous TBF Avengers of Flight 19 enters the valley, Littlefoot believes that this is a sign of more things to come.
In 2016, a nuclear exchange between Israel and Arabs countries of the Middle East rockets the price of oil to 900 dollars a barrel. With world-wide fuel shortages, the US and UN is forced to consider drilling in prehistoric earth. Ships are then secretly sent to the Bermuda Triangle, sent to the past, and unload "green" oil-drilling equipment. However, when a Cuban vessel also discovers the time tunnel, Cuba, along with Communist North Korea, also send vessels to drill for oil. The stage for war is set.
When the Americans and UN soldiers first arrive in the Great Valley, they are friendly and respectful towards the dinosaurs, helping them fight off disease while taking good care of the land. However, when the communists strip-mine most of the Mysterious Beyond, they target the Great Valley. The Great Valley and its inhabitants and plunged into a war like no other.
Yes, I know that it's not the most original story, but I was just wondering if you guys had any suggestions or comments. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but praise is prefered.
However, please note that this is largely a techno-thriller, not a war fanfic.
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Well, there already is time travel LBT story Land Before Time: Voyage Through Time (http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4005976/1/Land_Before_Time_Voyage_through_time).
But this story is quite interesting. An alternate history technothriller meets LBT.
One problem, how will the Great Valley dinosaurs play a role in the story?
Also, was this inspired by Caustizer's Future Wars topic?
Yes, I was inspired by that Voyage Through Time. :D . They both involve modern countries discovering the Great Valley, but that is where the similarities end. Voyage Through Time isn't finished, and based on my predictions, the story will have a different plot than mine. In my story, there's an actual war, but in Voyage Through Time, the conflict is within the submarine.
Actually, I only just read the story you made yesterday. My fanfiction took shape in my head a month ago. I got my idea even before I joined this forum. First of all, allow me to congratulate you on the splendid story you wrote. The dialogue was filled with tension, and the plot was truly exciting. It's a gold standard. My expression while reading your story: :wow
As for the Great Valley dinosaurs, I don't have anything planned as of yet, but I'm sure that I'll figure something out.
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:smile
First of all, I congratulate you for coming up with an idea for a fanfic. I really like the idea of having the Bermuda Triangle as a portal to the Great Valley. The Bermuda Triangle has always been a place of mystery, so I found that was really interesting.
Here's where you want to be careful. Most fanfic writers fall into a trap where they like to just put anything they can think of into a different universe. Most of the time these are crossovers, but other times it's the idea of introducing unfamiliar things into a universe. You want to make sure that whatever you introduce into the LBT universe doesn't drastically change the way it is structured.
If you still want to do a "war" story within LBT, I suggest you read Twilight Valley by Serris. It is a LBT War story, however all of the "technology" per-say is created with things found in the LBT universe. Reading that, or even asking Serris, could give you a better insight as to how a "war" could be done in LBT.
Here's a possible idea you could think of. Maybe when the humans arrive in the Great Valley and want to start a war, have them use primitive weapons rather than modern weapons. Have them make spears and whatnot. That would make it really dynamic because they would have to use their surroundings in order to survive.
I think you have a very interesting starting concept, and just remember that in the end this is YOUR story. I'm not telling you how to write it, I'm just offering suggestions. You can choose to take these into account, or you could dismiss everything in this post and go about it however you please. When you finally write your story, write how you feel best. Don't let anybody else try to tell you how to write your story. As long as you are committed to your idea, it will turn out great.
I hope this helps, and I hope it doesn't come off the wrong way.
Thanks for the review and advise. :)
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Hey, how's work on this story coming?
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Hey, do you plan to continue posting this story? You mentioned that you had 10,000 or so words finished.
In any case, I am really excited to see how this continues.
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I am too. Yes, Voyage Throught Time got my attention and since this fanfic is inspired by that, I think I'll like it. Also, it's a techno-thriller. I don't know what that is, mind you, but I do have a feeling it's going to be interesting. ;)
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Well....I believe it's a good start on thinking about the US Soldiers entered the bermuda triangle and find themselves in the great valley but I wouldn't make it into a bloody battle. cause it is suppose to be appropiett to families. I'm pretty sure it'll be a good fan fiction story to share. However it'll need to be worked on cause it'll need to be suitable for families and children of all ages 15 to 16. no cuss words no nothing ya know.
I am wishing ya :goodluck on it no blood and guts no bad languages not anything bad that'll disturb the family... Ya know what I mean. ;)
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Some people like blood and guts and exploding ******, Joshua. Theres this one good 'human goes back in time to Great Valley" fanfiction I'm reading that has a lot of gore, but it's still a good story.
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I know Vonboy. I was just only trying to reason with Dima02; And let him/her know that The Land Before Time movie sequels and TV shows are familie/adventure show.
I have a belief that writers will may have to be carefull with story scripts for a movie they are going to animated or if it's book to entertain readers and other writers too.
I do that a lot when I am writing a made up story or do an art work project.
I hope you understand this, I was just trying to help out with others. ;)
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Its a fanfiction (not a script for a movie), I've read several stories that are gory and profane. I will agree with you that movies wouldn't do this, but fanfiction writers are different, several members on this forum have written dark/bloody and profane stories before, they just aren't posted here directly. Only links to the chapters, I'm not bothered by gore and profanity. Though the chances of a younger kid finding GOF is low.
need to be suitable for families and children of all ages 15 to 16. no cuss words no nothing ya know.
How would gore and language bother someone my age? :huh:
Some people like blood and guts and exploding
I would be one of those, I've written rather dark stories before with The Animals of Farthing Wood. It is very hard to offend me with anything gory or profane in any way.
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Well Adder, I'll be honest with ya. I am not the type of guy to hear bad language and using God's name invain. Some people just don't like mild languages.
Although action my be good like picking fights gunfire, the sound of swords, explosions, and stuff but if it's too gorey it would make you want to walk away and get shocked. Now I am not trying to say all of this in a bad way I am just being honest.
They're are other people that can be bothered by gore and profanity. Me, I am a careful and wise person, with autism. I am always careful by not using cuzz words at all.
But I'll allow others to think what you want to believe and stuff. ;)
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using God's name invain
That I can understand. There is nothing more I hate than when somebody says that. Both it doesn't bother me unless it is spoken.
I'm never shocked by gore. I know that some people are, I was just saying. I will admit that I never cuss when I speak, but stories and when I am in a bad mood (Aftermidnight section only)...that's different.
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Dima is within his rights to write whatever he feels comfortable with. If it offends you or you do not like it, there is no harm in simply walking away or closing the browser window.
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Dima is within his rights to write whatever he feels comfortable with. If it offends you or you do not like it, there is no harm in simply walking away or closing the browser window.
I know people have rights to do whatever they want to do, writting, drawing and stuff and I understand it too... We are in America it's a free country.
Now I don't mean to be rude; All I am trying to do is to give some advice to other members on their stories.
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Don't worry guys, I believe that I worded my summary terrily. I feel like that a lot of you believe that this story is just about random killing and ruthless gore; it's not even close. There is almost no blood or gore or anything of that nature. It's mainly just history, technology, and geography. I haven't even watched any M-rated movies in my life. I won't be able to write a good gore story even if my life depended on it. It's mostly just a techno-thriller. I've written more than 10,000 words, and there is absolutly no blood or cursing. I guarantee everyone that this story will be family-safe. I was trying to base this whole thing on family movies like Avatar and Pocahontas. You know how those stories are kinda the same? (http://images.huffingtonpost.com/gen/130283/original.jpg)
I was trying to do something like that. The former is rated G and the latter is rated PG-13. I was aiming for something in between, although I've seen neither of the movies.
And forget the part about "After 2016..." I wasn't thinking clearly. I was half-asleep when I wrote that.
(http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1039/713877740_4ac2de6eeb.jpg)
Now that I have the story figured out, I feel that such a plot is impossible. Even now, I'm not sure what I'll do, but I guartee you guys it won't contain much blood or gore.
Well, the first chapter is up. It doesn't have much to do with LBT, since it's just an intro. Click here to view it (http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6926322/1/The_March_of_Man). I already have the next chapter written, but I'm considering splitting the next chapter in two, because there's so much content. Also, I have to do some spell-checking. My sources got cut off, and I don't really know why. Yes, the first chapter is somewhat unrelated and boring, and you'll probably be like :blink: . But don't worry, it'll get better... a lot better.
(http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1297/1265996252_06499bab51.jpg)
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I've read the first chapter on fanfiction.net and it's pretty good so far, I'm waiting for the next update.
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Ooh. Nice set up.
Uh, you may want to remove the youtube links since they will wreck the appearance of the story.
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^ Besides, the links don't even work. <_<
Yep, I agree, nice start, I'm looking forward to this story, seems like it'll be a good read considering the prologue. ;)
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Ooh. Nice set up.
Uh, you may want to remove the youtube links since they will wreck the appearance of the story.
I don't know how they got cut off. I added the next chapter already. Should I remove the links, or should I just fix them?
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I can certainly see that someone did their research.
But as for the youtube links, just delete them. They don't add anything to the story.
If you want to make notes or cite something, do it in this topic; it looks better than if you did so in the story.
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The technical detail in the story is fantastic. It helps suspension of disbelief. No techno babble as of yet. I am eager to see how will you handle the experiment itself. :)
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New chapter! Yay! Yes, it did take me more than two years.
Actually, the chapter isn't even finished, but I feel like that you guys deserve to read what I've written so far. F-22 "Raptor" Ace has kindly allowed be to use Frank Anderson in the story. (Thanks, and tell me if there are any inconsistencies between my description and your characterization).
Enjoy! This chapter features actual dialogue between Flight 19 and NAS Fort Lauderdale as well as quotations from a famous American novel. Be the first to name the book and win an e-cookie!
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Chapter 3: The Firsts
“The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” ~Marcel Proust
Fort Lauderdale, Florida, December 5, 1945 A.D.
Naval Air Station Fort Lauderdale
“Cleve, you’d better come up to the control tower!” a loud voice shouted, “Flight 19 is in trouble.”
Cleve turned away from the coffee machine and slowly walked up the stairs leading to the control tower, careful not to spill his coffee on his new tie. After the war ended, Cleve found a job as a radioman at Fort Lauderdale. It was his job to guide TBF Avengers flying training missions into and out of the airbase. It was a boring task involving hours of sitting in front of a radar and microphone, and it did not provide the adrenaline rush of dodging shells from Japanese destroyers. But at least he only had to worry about getting fired, not fired upon.
“What is it this time, Alford?” Cleve asked plainly, leaning over the controls to get a better look at the radar, “Engine trouble or radio failure?” By coincidence, his long-time companion on the PT-148, Alford, also took a job as radioman at the airbase. This did not come as a complete surprise to Cleve. The two had both moved to southern Florida, and both had plenty of experience with radio equipment. The two became good friends and co-workers.
“No, they’re lost,” Alford responded with calmly, “I don’t understand how they’re lost in such fine weather.”
Cleve looked outside the window of the control tower and raised an eyebrow. The weather looked perfectly normal. Hurricanes weren’t common in December. There were a few cumulus clouds, but the majority of the sky was clear. The weather report said that the weather was favorable. Everything was normal except that one of the planes carried only two men instead of its usual three. He hadn’t been replaced, but the Avenger was fully capable of flying with two men. Each of the planes carried enough fuel to fly for 1000 miles. The planes had started taking off at 2:00 p.m. and were flying in perfect formation across the Atlantic just a few minutes later.
“Pilots these days,” Cleve mumbled, “They can’t even find their way back to base on a fine day like this.” Cleve put on the pair of headsets in front of him. Immediately, a loud voice filled his ears.
“Fort Lauderdale, this is an emergency. We seem to be off course. We seem to be lost. We can't make out where we are.” Cleve flinched at the loud voice and quickly lowered the volume. The voice was of none other than Charles Taylor. Cleve saw him at base before. He was a flying instructor who had just arrived two weeks earlier. They drank together once, on the trivial account that both of them were lieutenants and Avenger pilots. I heard that he was a good pilot, Cleve thought, I heard that he has 2500 hours. How did he get lost on such a fine day like this?
“Head due west,” Cleve replied emphatically. It seemed rather obvious. Flight 19, a training flight off of the east coast of Florida, could simply reach land by flying west. Still, it was the best information that Cleve could offer.
“Both my compasses out,” Taylor said, “and I’m trying to find Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I’m over land, but it’s broken. I’m sure I’m over the Keys, but I don’t know how far down, and I don’t know how to get back to Fort Lauderdale.”
Cleve started to worry. It was almost unheard of for both compasses to go out. The magnetic compass went out whenever there is a storm. The gyrocompass was more reliable, but it still malfunctioned every now and then. But both compasses to go out simultaneously? That was unusual.
“Put the sun on your port wing if you’re in the Keys and fly up the coast until you get to Miami. Fort Lauderdale is 20 miles further, your first port after Miami,” Cleve responded with confusion. Cleve turned to Alford with a look of concern. “What are they doing in the Florida Keys?” Cleve turned to Alford and said, “I thought they were supposed to be near the Bahamas.”
“They are,” Alford replied, pointing to a map of Florida and the surrounding ocean, “They were suppose to fly 56 miles east to Hens and Chicken Shoals in the Bahamas and conduct bombing practice.” Alford used his finger to draw an invisible line on the training map.
“Just barely north of the place where we conducted the experiment,” Cleve whispered. No one else was in the control tower, but speaking in a lower voice didn’t hurt.
“Yes,” Alford responded, not wishing to get off topic, “After that, they were supposed to fly north for 73 miles and fly back.”
“How’d they end up in the Florida Keys then?” Cleve asked, “The Florida Keys is nowhere near their planned course.”
“I was wondering the same thing. The wind isn’t blowing in that direction either. It's blowing east at 30 knots. Taylor must have messed up somewhere.”
Cleve rolled his eyes. Then, suddenly, Taylor’s voice came blasting out of the headset.
“We can't find the sun. Everything is wrong,” Taylor replied, “We can't be sure of any direction. Everything looks strange, even the ocean.” Cleve could detect the fear and uncertainty in Taylor’s voice, but he could not comprehend it. The weather outside was perfectly fine. There was nothing strange. It was a typical sunny Florida Day.
“Turn on your IFF,” Cleve demanded, “and switch to the emergency radio frequency on 3000 kilocycles.” Cleve knew the standard procedures for pilots caught in such a position; he himself became a certified pilot. After the whole deal with Project Rainbow, Cleve chose to become a naval aviator and flew TBF Avengers onboard the USS Monterey during the closing months of the war. Taylor was ignoring all of the standard procedures that were drummed into students during classroom lectures throughout the course. In case of disorientation, a pilot was supposed to turn on the IFF, climb for altitude, and try to pick up the homing transmitter from the air station. IFF stood for "Identification Friend or Foe". If the IFF was on, Cleve would be able to identify Flight 19's location. He would also tune to 3,000 kilocycles emergency frequency for clearer transmissions. If he was over water he was supposed to fly toward the west; if he was over land, he was to fly east. It seemed simple enough.
After a brief moment of silence, Cleve heard Taylor’s muffled reply, “I cannot switch frequencies. I have to keep my planes intact.”
This was an illogical excuse. Each of the TBMs could have switched to the emergency frequency, which was free of static and other interference. Communications on 3,000 kilocycles were clear and static-free, while signals on 4,805 kilocycles, Taylor's current frequency, were weak and garbled.
By six in the afternoon, Taylor and his five Avengers were completely disorientated and confused, flying and changing course arbitrarily. The communications equipment onboard the Avengers began to fail, unable to receive any of Cleve’s messages. However, the control tower could still receive transmissions between the five planes. Their crews seemed on the verge of panic. They talked about malfunctioning compasses, hundred-mile-an-hour winds, and procedures for ditching the aircraft. They seemed to be under some mysterious cloak of confusion; no one knew what to do.
Meanwhile, in the Fort Lauderdale control tower, the mood was one of icy foreboding. More workers and officers have arrived on the scene, but even the most experienced officers did not know what to do. Some were trying to trace Flight 19’s path on a nearby map. Others were calling for help from nearby ships and airbases. Someone, using data from other control towers, managed to triangulate the position of Flight 19 and calculated it to be 20 minutes east of New Smyrna Beach, Florida. By then communications were so poor that this information could not be passed to the lost planes.
The last transmission from Flight 19 was received at around seven. The voice was desperate but still barely distinguishable. “We are completely lost,” said Taylor. “It looks like we are entering white…”
Eventually, the voices of Taylor and his crew became undistinguishable amongst buzzing static and the sound of faint brassy jazz from Cuban radio stations. By 7:04 p.m., all contact had been lost. An eerie static covered the radio frequency.
Cleve looked at the pale, nervous faces in the room. For a moment, the tower was as silent as a church. Commander Kingston, Cleve’s boss, eventually broke the silence. "Alford, Cleve," Kingston ordered, "get on the other telephone and call the nearest airfields. Contact all the rescue teams. Let’s find those men."
Grabbing the telephone with one hand and dialing the number with the other. Cleve rapidly dialed the number of Air Sea Rescue Task Unit 4 at Port Everglades.
"Air Sea Rescue Task Unit 4?" Cleve asked, "This is Naval Air Station Fort Lauderdale. We have a flight of five TBF Avengers missing. They're on 4805 kilocycles. They're Flight 19; Fox . How much fuel do they have left? Let's see..." Cleve took a look at his watch. It was almost 5 p.m. "They have enough fuel to last until 8 p.m.. We only have three hours left."
Satellite Beach, Florida, December 5, 1945 A.D.
Naval Air Station Banana River
Meanwhile, more than 150 miles north of Naval Air Station Fort Lauderdale, Fred Ruffy and his colleges were enjoying their coffee break. At the time, the base was just a small, tranquil base used largely for search-and-rescue missions, and discipline was slack. Perhaps ironically, this small base would eventually become one of the most important military bases in the free world‚Ä”Patrick Air Force Base. It was here where the United States tested its first satellite launch rocket, and it was here where the astronauts of Apollo 11 blasted off and landed on the moon. The base, even today, is still the forefront of space exploration.
However, space flight, in 1945, was still a distant dream; most Americans were still busy celebrating the end of World War II. Loud music was playing in the control tower. There was a slight drizzle outside, but the sound of the raindrops was crushed by the sound of the music. Life after the war has been a blast for Ruffy. He has been reunited with his family and is living a peaceful life in Central Florida. He still had to go to work, of course, but it was sure better than getting strafed by A6M Zeros.
The ringing of the phone in the tower suddenly pierced the sound of the jazz music. Ruffy quickly stopped the record player and reached to answer the phone.
“This is Naval Air Station Banana River. Is there…”
“This is Naval Air Station Fort Lauderdale,” a familiar voice disrupted, “We have five TBF Avengers missing over the Atlantic. Scramble a search plane. We’ve triangulated their position to be within a one hundred mile radius of 29 degrees, 15 minutes north, 79 degrees, 1 minute west. Scramble something immediately.”
“Is this a drill?” Ruffy asked, jotting down the coordinates on a piece of paper, “And did you cause this, Cleve?” He said that last part with a smirk.
“Ruffy?” Cleve asked with surprise. “It’s you? I’m sorry that we have to meet over a crisis like this one. And no, this is not a drill.”
“Alright then,” Ruffy replied. He looked around his desk and grabbed a nearby chart. “We have one Catalina and two Mariners on training missions in the area. I’ll divert them immediately and send up a few more birds. We’ll call back if the pilots report anything.”
“We need to act fast. They only have fuel for three more hours. Avengers don’t ditch well in water.” Cleve recalled his experience with the Avenger. The top canopy of the plane had a big metal bar running along it. It was a terrible design flaw. It hampered visibility and made it very difficult to bail out. When exiting or ditching the aircraft, it was very easy for loose clothing or parachute wires to get caught on the bar. In training operations, it was merely an annoyance, but in emergencies, it could mean the difference between life and death.
“I’ll relay the information to the pilots,” Ruffy replied, “Please tell us if you get any new information.”
“Thank you so much, Ruffy,” Cleve replied, with a hint of relief in his voice, “You’ve never let me down.”
“And I won’t start now. Good luck!” Ruffy hung up the phone.
Ruffy was confident about keeping his promise. The base had seen stuff like this before; novice pilots getting lost in fog was nothing uncommon. The Navy had foreseen such situations and equipped the airbase with many veteran squadrons of PBY Catalinas and PBM Mariners. Both types of aircraft were flying boats that have proved their worth during the war, and all the aircraft were manned by experienced crews. Cleve’s pilots were in good hands.
Five minutes later, at 7:27 p.m., PBM-5 BuNo 59225, a Martin PBM Mariner flying boat, took off into the dusk sky. Its last radio transmission was received at 7:30 p.m.. All radar contact with the plane was lost shortly after. It was never heard from ever again…
Vernal, Utah, April 3, 65,900,501,944 B.C.
The Great Valley
It was almost midnight in the Great Valley. Arcs of lightning flashed across the dark might sky as rain started to pour down. The residents of the Great Valley were all at their nesting place. Some ran to the caves for cover in the caves, but others, including all the longnecks, chose to stand their ground. The big trees above them offered great protection from the pouring rain. The days of rising waters has hit its climax. Littlefoot was the first one to be woken by the sound of the lightning. He was followed by his grandpa and grandma.
“That skywater is coming down hard. When will it to stop?” asked Littlefoot, who turned to his grandparents for an answer.
“I don’t know, Littlefoot,” Grandpa Longneck replied in his usual voice. “It has been a long time since we had skywater like this.”
“And I hope your friends are okay,” Grandma Longneck added. “You know what happened the last few times.”
Littlefoot gulped as he remembered the last few times the Great Valley encountered heavy skywater. One time, it caused severe flooding in the Valley and led to his encounter with his mud brother Mo. It was an exciting adventure, but many other floods didn’t turn out so well. Not long ago, the cave that Ruby and Chomper inhabited flooded, and they had to find a new cave. Even more recently, when skywater led to running mud that destroyed Petrie’s nest, Petrie almost had to move away. For Littlefoot, heavy skywater was a bad omen, and it was only made worse by the continuous flashes of sky fire.
“I hope so too,” replied Littlefoot, before going back to sleep. He really hoped that the skywater won’t bring bad luck with it this time, but new, friendly visitors, like Mo, were always welcome.
Fort Lauderdale, Florida, December 5, 1945 A.D.
Naval Air Station Fort Lauderdale
"Six airplanes lost! Twenty-seven men missing! How does this happen? We’re all going to get court marshaled for this…”
Cleve was walking in circles and going on a paranoid rant about the missing airplanes. It was already dark, and a new group of officers had taken over the control tower. Cleve and Alford, though officially off-duty, chose to stay near the runway and wait for news about the missing airmen. There were 14 men onboard the five TBF Avengers and 13 on the PBM Mariner. Within just a few hours, they all disappeared without a trace. Dozens of ships and search and rescue planes were already probing the region, but there were no signs of any aircraft‚Ä”no floating survivors, no oil slicks, no wreckage, nothing. It seems as if the planes simply vanished into thin air.
“We’ve already contacted the Air Force and the Coast Guard,” Alford said grimly, without even lifting his head, “But it’s already night. I know that the planes are equipped with signal flares, but it’s still gonna be tough.”
Cleve nodded his head in agreement. “Taylor has ditched his plane before, but ditching in the water is never safe. If they got lucky, they might have managed to crash-land on some deserted island, but we’ve already searched most of the islands.”
“Our prayers are with them.” Alford replied. Alford’s calm demeanor was often a perpetual mystery to Cleve. The two men were exact opposites when it came to neuroticism. As Cleve found out during the war, Alford was often times the better leader during times of crisis, with an unparalleled ability to keep composed under fire. It was a mystery to Cleve why Alford failed to outrank him.
Suddenly, the two men were blinded by a bright light coming from the end of the airfield. Both men turned around and squinted, but neither could make out the outline of the distant object in the darkness. As the light got closer, Cleve recognized the distinctive headlights and grille of a Willys MB jeep. The jeep still had the white army star painted on its hood. It screeched to a halt next to the two men, and a familiar officer stepped out.
“Cleve! Alford! How are you doin’?” Ruffy said with great enthusiasm. “I haven’t see you since you in ages.” Ruffy gave Cleve a bright smile and a bone-crushing handshake.
“You’re a lieutenant now?” Ruffy patted Cleve on the shoulder, “Good for you. I knew the Navy lost a number of good men in the war, but I didn’t know that they were this desperate.” The joke lightened up the mood and solicited a chuckle from both Alford and Cleve.”
“You’re not doing badly yourself,” Cleve responded, noting the Lieutenant Commander insignia on Ruffy’s uniform, “Alford and I were just discussing the missing planes. Isn’t that missing PBM Mariner from your airbase?”
Ruffy nodded and then shook his head “Yeah. Thirteen of my good friends. All missing. It’s just terrible. We’ve called every major airbase in the region. Even the British are sending planes from Bermuda.”
“We’ve sent up some of our birds too, but they’ve had no luck so far. The weather is getting better, and we’re hoping that we can find them before midnight. The ocean temperature is in the upper 70s, so hypothermia isn’t a big concern. The current, though, is. The Gulf Stream current is very strong. The survivors will have drifted miles apart by dawn.”
“But not all of your planes are up, are they?” Ruffy asked in a funny voice. Cleve was puzzled by the question, unsure of Ruffy’s intent, but he decided to answer truthfully.
“Not all of them. No. If you want us to send up a few more, I’ll gladly ask the Commander Kingston. I’m sure that there are still some pilots on-duty…”
“No need.” Ruffy dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand, “What do you say if you fly us up there and start our own search?”
There was a moment of silence. At first, Cleve was a little surprised by the sudden request, but he understood his duty to his friends and comrades.
Alford was the first one to break the silence. “I’m in,” he said, in his usual terse manner. He nodded and straightened out his jacket.”
“That’s the spirit,” Ruffy complimented, “But we can’t do this without you, Naval Aviator Robert H. Cleve. Are you in?”
Cleve smiled and nodded. “Come on, let’s see the base commander. We have 27 men to find.”
Jensen, Utah, April 3, 65,900,501,944 B.C.
The Great Valley
Here, in the eastern regions of the Valley, the thunderstorm was gaining even more strength. Continuous streaks of lightning struck the head of Saurus Rock, enveloping the entire monolith in a bright glow. The relentless rainfall has caused Green River to rise more than 5 feet, but fortunately, the levees were doing their job and holding the water in place.
Still, two pairs of eyes watched the deteriorating situation with grave concern. From their cave, high up in the mountains, the two dinosaurs were busy observing the rainfall and rising waters.
“That’s not what I’m afraid of, Chomper” the pink fast-runner said, “What I’m afraid of is that the rain will cause a mudslide and block the entrance to the cave.”
“You’ve got a point, Ruby,” the purple sharptooth replied, “And the rain might also wash away the path we use to get up here.”
Ruby nodded, “Getting stuck in a cave is not entirely pleasant,” Ruby recalled the incident on her Star Day, “And we can’t just fly or glide down like Petrie and Guido.”
“What do you suggest then, Ruby?” Chomper inquired. Even though Ruby was one of Chomper’s newer friends, she was also Chomper’s closest friend. She was a caretaker, an older sister, someone to look up to for advice and wisdom. He had great faith in her judgment.
“We have to get down into the valley before the rain destroys the path. Otherwise, the rain will destroy the path and leave us stranded.”
“Maybe we can have a sleepover at Littlefoot’s tonight. I’m sure that he’ll be more than happy to see us.”
“Brilliant idea, Chomper,” Ruby patted Chomper on the snout, “But we’ve got to leave right now. The rain is getting worse.”
Chomper nodded. Without saying another word, Chomper followed Ruby out the opening of the cave and down the muddy path leading down into the valley.
West Palm Beach, Florida, December 5, 1945 A.D.
Morrison Army Airfield
Under the darkness of night, a silver P-51D Mustang taxied onto the airstrip at Morrison Army Airfield. Sitting at the controls was Captain Frank Anderson, a dashing young pilot and a proud member of the 361st Fighter Group. While in service over Europe with the Eight Air Force, he shot down 17 enemy airplanes and acquired more than 20,000 hours under his belt. He once, under the orders of the Office of Strategic Services, stole a German Messerschmitt Me-262 fighter jet and flew it all the way back to England. His accomplishments made him a hero among his colleagues, but he harbored one big secret… He was German.
No, he wasn’t a Nazi sympathizer, and he hated Hitler as much as any American. But there was no escaping his past. He was originally born in Dresden, Germany, as Hans Richthofen, but he changed his name to Frank Anderson after moving to America. It turned out to be a great decision, as the war generated hostility towards all persons of German lineage, regardless of their political ideology.
“Good evening, men. This is Colonel Cathcart, your flight operations officer, welcoming you to today’s mission,” a happy voice called over the radio, “You’ve all been briefed on the evening’s run. There’s no sense naming names, since the enemy is probably listening to this transmission.”
There is no enemy, Anderson thought, mentally condemning the corpulent and deluded colonel. Colonel Cathcart deemed Anderson a subversive because he wore scarfs and used words like panacea and utopia, and because he disapproved of Adolf Hitler, who had done such a great job of combating un-American activities in Germany.
“The weather has improved tremendously over the Gulf. You will have no trouble at all seeing your target. But you mustn’t forget, that means that they will have no trouble at all seeing you.”
Anderson grunted. As if our own men are gonna shoot me down with a flare gun, he thought.
“I want to wish you good luck on today’s mission. To those of you who won’t be coming back, I’d like to say that we will do our best to take care of your wives or sweethearts. And don’t forget: General Dreedle wants to a nice, tight search pattern on those aerial photographs. Everyone reach to go?”
The standard procedure for signaling “yes” was a thumbs-up gesture at the control tower. But instead, Anderson gave the Colonel the middle finger. It was too dark to tell the difference anyway.
Anderson set the flaps and pushed forward the throttle lever. The Packard V-1650 Merlin engine roared into life. Soon, the P-51 was off the ground and climbing into the starry skies above.
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Warning: spoilers
I've completely abandoned the previous antagonists (North Koreans). It just seems too impractical and unrealistic. Besides, I feel that it's too political sensitive. I haven't completely made up my mind about the antagonists. One idea I have is to give Frank Anderson a Nazi brother (if it's okay with you, F-22) who commands a German Type XIV U-boat for ODESSA and gets sucked into the dinosaur world. Another idea I'm considering is to simply not include any human antagonists and just have the characters battle against the elements and other dinosaurs.
However, either way, I'm gonna need to develop a feasible plot. I really don't know how to end this story. I was too caught-up in the detail and kinda ignored the big picture. Initially, I wanted to write a "colonization" story, kinda like Pocahontas or Avatar, but that just seems too long and complicated. So, I'm really open to suggestions right now. Please, if you have any idea, even if it sounds impractical, tell me. I need all the inspiration I can get.
It has been four years since I started this story. Four years! Almost a quarter of my life! Since then, I've started writing numerous other stories, but by far, I've spent the most time and effort on this one. However, I'm not completely pleased with the results. This story is one of my least successful, in terms of viewership and reviews. The newest chapter has only about 200 views, and this story, in total, has only a meager 3 reviews. Some of my others stories--stories that I slapped together in an hours or two--have done way better. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not going to keep writing this story if so few people are going to read it.
TL;DR. I'm really in hot water. What do I need to make this story more worthwhile, and what plot suggestions do you have in mind?
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I has been four years since I started this story. Four years! Almost a quarter of my life! Since then, I've started writing numerous other stories, but by far, I've spent the most effort on this one. However, I'm not completely pleased with the results. This story is one of my least successful, in terms of viewership and reviews. The newest chapter has about only 200 views, and this story, in total, has only a meager 3 reviews. Some of my others stories--stories that I slapped together in an hours or two--have done way better. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not going to keep writing this story if so few people are going to read it.
TL;DR. I'm really in hot water. What do I need to make this story more worthwhile, and what plot suggestions do you have in mind?
i'll try to think of ideas.
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Your quotation marks got replaced with "“".
Also, it's "court martialed".
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As for antagonists, I think Nazis work the best.
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Guys, quick question:
Do you guys find the storytelling distracting at all, with the constant switching between locations and characters? I feel that it makes the story a bit easier to write but also harder to follow. Would you guys prefer just two or three switches per chapter? I'd probably have to switch to shorter chapters, but it'll be easier to read.
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Lots of literary references in this chapter. Try to identify them all!
The last chapter earned me one subscriber. I'm still not getting nearly as many views as I first hoped. I'll write a new more chapters, but if I still can't meet my review quota, I think that I'll call it quits.
Fortunately, though, I found out that this story is a very good "platform". I can easily adopt it to another fandom. I just have to take out the LBT parts and replace them. No need to change the techno parts. No need to spend hours tracing navigation charts and reading TBF Avenger manuals... :blink: :blink:
And F-22, please tell me if there are any inconsistencies with Frank's character.
The story is subject to change.
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Chapter 4: The Discovered
“Mistakes are the portals of discovery.” ~James Joyce
West Palm Beach, Florida, December 5, 1945 A.D.
Morrison Army Airfield
Under the darkness of night, a silver P-51D Mustang taxied onto the airstrip at Morrison Army Airfield. Sitting at the controls was Captain Frank Steiner, a dashing young pilot and a proud member of the 361st Fighter Group. While in service over Europe with the Eight Air Force, he shot down 17 enemy airplanes and acquired more than 20,000 hours under his belt. He once, under the orders of the Office of Strategic Services, stole a German Messerschmitt Me-262 fighter jet and flew it all the way back to England. His accomplishments made him a hero among his colleagues, but he harbored one dark secret… his brother was a Nazi.
No, Frank wasn’t a Nazi sympathizer, and he hated Hitler as much as any American. But his brother, Felix Steiner, aligned himself with the fists of fascism. In his early memories, Frank could remember him and Felix in their fun war games. Felix taught Frank how to hunt and shoot their father’s Pistole Parabellum, a relic from World War I. When the Spanish Civil War broke out, Felix volunteered to join the Nationalists, claiming that it was the only path to salvation for Spain. After the war, he moved to Germany. In his last letter to Frank and his family, he proudly praised Hitler and informed them of his decision to join Kriegsmarine. Then, the war broke out, and Frank never heard from his brother ever again.
“Good evening, men. This is Colonel Cathcart, your flight operations officer, welcoming you to today’s mission,” a happy voice called over the radio, “You’ve all been briefed on the evening’s run. There’s no sense naming names, since the enemy is probably listening to this transmission.”
There is no enemy, Frank thought, mentally condemning the corpulent and deluded colonel. Colonel Cathcart deemed Frank a subversive because he wore scarves and used words like panacea and utopia, and because he disapproved of Adolf Hitler, who had done such a great job of combating un-American activities in Germany.
“The weather has improved tremendously over the Gulf. You will have no trouble at all seeing your target. But you mustn’t forget, that means that they will have no trouble at all seeing you.”
Frank grunted. As if our own men are gonna shoot me down with a flare gun, he thought.
“Furthermore, I want to wish you good luck on today’s mission. To those of you who won’t be coming back, I’d like to say that we will do our best to take care of your wives or sweethearts. And don’t forget: General Dreedle wants to a nice, tight search pattern on those aerial photographs. Everyone reach to go?”
The standard procedure for signaling “yes” was a thumbs-up gesture at the control tower. But instead, Frank gave the Colonel the middle finger. It was too dark to tell the difference anyway.
Frank set the flaps and pushed forward the throttle lever. The Packard V-1650 Merlin engine roared into life. Soon, the P-51 was off the ground and climbing into the starry skies above.
Jensen, Utah, April 3, 65,900,501,944 B.C.
The Great Valley
“Psst, Littlefoot,” a low voice quietly called out, “Littlefoot, wake up.”
Littlefoot groggily opened his eyes and lifted his head. He saw the smiling face of Chomper and the still jovial but more concerned face of Ruby.
Littlefoot stood up and yawned. “Hey guys,” Littlefoot greeted them, “What brings you two in here at this late hour?”
“We were hoping to spend the rest of the night here,” Ruby explained, “The skywater is falling too hard. We feared that our cave would get washed away, and that brings us here.”
“Can you please let us stay, Littlefoot, please?” Chomper tried to put on his best puppy-eyes look.
“Sure guys, you’ll be safe and dry here,” Littlefoot gestured up at the tree shielding them, “Here’s some leaves to make yourselves comfortable. Littlefoot stretched out his neck and grabbed a mouthful of treestars.
“Thanks, Littlefoot,” Ruby replied.
“We really owe you one,” Chomper added.
“Ro roblem…” Littlefoot tried to stay with a mouthful of treestars, “Shat’s what frends are fro.”
The Florida Strait, December 5, 1945 A.D.
US Navy Torpedo Bomber FT-58, TBM Avenger
It had been several hours since Flight 19’s last transmission, and still, no one had the slightest information regarding the whereabouts of the 27 missing airmen. Scores of fighters, bombers, seaplanes, and ships crisscrossed the region, but no one reported even an oil slick.
“Alford, give me a position update,” Cleve spoke into his microphone. The three officersóCleve, Ruffy, and Alfordówere all seated inside a single cramped TBM Avenger. Cleve was in the pilot seat, Ruffy sat in the navigator-radioman position, and Alford took the gunner’s seat. The plane had just come back from a training mission earlier in the day and was hastily refueled. It was an older TBM-1C Avenger, with somewhat inferior avionics, range, and speed, but it was the best Cleve could find.
“We’re just northwest of the island of Bimini. Actually, we’re flying right over that place.” Ruffy didn’t name the place, as the radio was still on, but they all knew the place like the back of their hands.
“It still gives me nightmares,” Cleve muttered, remembering Project Rainbow and PT-148, “It’s so weird.”
“What is?” Ruffy asked, briefly turning off the radio, “The radio is now off. No one else can hear us.”
“So far, I’ve been shelled by Japanese cruisers and jumped by A6M Zeros. I’ve seen friends injured and our own planes going down in flames. But I’ve never had nightmares about them. Instead, that whole ordeal haunts me the most. I feel that whatever caused PT-147 to disappear… it’s still out there.”
Cleve was right about Project Rainbow. Even though none of the three officers knew it at the time, the magnetic field from the experiment was still active. Einstein theorized that even though the generators and coil were obliterated in the explosion, the magnetic field generated was too powerful to be contained. Under normal atmospheric conditions, the magnetic field spread out and aligned itself with Earth’s natural magnetic field. Thus, the presence of the field, on good days, was nearly undetectable. However, when exposed to lightning, Lenz’s law can suddenly cause the magnetic field to concentrate and reactivate. The result is the creation of a super-magnetic field that can move independently of Earth’s space-time continuum. The Navy suppressed all news of the incident, and almost all files relating to the incident were destroyed. Even Ruffy, one of the senior managers of the experiment, was kept in the dark.
“I know what you mean,” Ruffy replied, “Things aren’t supposed to just vanish into thin air, and certainly not 51-ton gunboats… But come to think of it, do you find it strange that PT-147 and the planes all disappeared in the same general area?”
“And all without a trace,” Cleve added, “Not to mention in the same weather conditions. It certainly sounds weird, but it could be all a coincidence.”
“Contact!” Alford suddenly yelled through the intercom, “Contact! Four o’clock high. Single plane approaching from the port side.”
“Roger that. Turning on the radio,” Ruffy answered and flipped the radio power switch into the “on” position.
“Should I turn into him, sir?” Cleve asked.
“Negative. Keep flying straight.”
Cleve could hear the static in his headset as the radio came into life. A bored American voice could be heard over the airwaves.
“TBF Avenger, do you read me?”
“Loud and clear,” Cleve responded, “Please identify yourself.”
“This is Captain Frank ëRaptor’ Steiner, Morrison Army Airfield. I’m lookin’ for some, uh, downed Avengers and Mariners. Have you seen anything?”
“We’re also searching, but no luck here either.”
“What’s your call sign, Avenger?”
“Just FT-58.”
“Where are you headed, FT-58?”
“Towards Sandy Point, a bit east of here.”
“Mind if I come along for the ride? I’m headed in the same direction. Have to keep talking to stay awake.” It was true. Frank had just gotten back from Europe, and the time differences were causing him severe drowsiness. Even back during the war, P-51 pilots often had trouble staying awake on long flights; the Merlin engines’ droning had an infamous narcoleptic effect. Pilots usually tried to counteract the sleep spell by taking amphetamines or flying in close formation, but Frank had neither drugs nor wingmen.
“Not at all, Raptor,” Ruffy replied, “You’re in for a thrilling flight.” Cleve, Alford, and Frank chuckled at the sarcasm.
The P-51 Mustang pulled alongside the Avenger, and the two planes pierced through the darkness.
Jensen, Utah, April 3, 65,900,501,944 B.C.
The Great Valley
The rain had temporarily abated to a drizzle in the valley. Warm, moist air blew in from the north, gently enshrouding the valley in a thin veil of fog. At Littlefoot’s nest, the dinosaurs were drifting off into the calm realm of sleep and dreams. It is widely believed in modern science that only mammals are capable of dreaming, but the theory is only partially true. While it is true that no surviving reptiles and amphibians can dream, dinosaurs were a notable exception. Their dreams were filled with vibrant colors and scenes. While different species had different sleep patterns, all were capable of dreaming.
One dinosaur in particular was having a very bad dream. His tail swept hither and yon, and his arms were moving around in rapid, random patterns. He was having a nightmare.
“Pictures come alive with movements free, and roundteeth like fish swim beneath the sea. Information fly at the blink of an eye, and beasts can talk even when out of sight.” An old pterodactyl resembling the Hermit at Black Rock was whispering prophecies into Chomper’s ear. He spread his wings, and his eyes began turning blood red. “You can outstrip the flyers in the sky, but metallic flying craft will scour the night. Strange strangers will promise you joy, but they lie, for this world, drenched in blood, shall die.” Upon finishing the last line, the pterodactyl kicked Chomper in the stomach. Chomper stumbled backwards and fell off a high cliff into the dark abyss below.
“No, no. Say it not so!” He screamed as he fell. “Ruby! Littlefoot! Help me! Somebody, help me!”
As Chomper fell, he noticed a flying light coming straight at him. As it got closer, Chomper noticed that it was unlike anything he has ever seen. It had wings like a flyer, but it didn’t flap his wings. Instead of a beak, it had spinning locks of vines. It had no eyes and no mouth, but it made a sound like a million bees passing by.
“Help, help!” Chomper screamed. The mysterious flyer got closer. Deep into that darkness peering, Chomper fellówondering, fearing, doubting. Chomper fell down on the left wing of the flyer with a loud, metallic cling. The skin of the flying beast wasn’t soft; it was as hard as rock. He tried digging his claws into the blue skin of the beast to get a grip, but the skin was too hard even for his claw to penetrate. The beast dipped the wing and entered a left turn. The wind swept him off his feet. He fell and began sliding off.
“Help! Help!” Chomper desperately cried out. He claws searched for something to hold onto, but they helplessly ricocheted off the hardened skin of the beast. The last thing he was the pulsating red light at the tip of the wing.
The Florida Strait, December 5, 1945 A.D.
US Navy Torpedo Bomber FT-58, TBM Avenger
“ëSo what do you plan on calling your book?’ I asked this Vonnegut guy. He thought about it and said, “ëI tell you what, I’ll call it ëThe Children’s Crusade.’’” Frank was retelling his encounter with Private Kurt Vonnegut, a chaplain’s assistant who looked like a filthy flamingo. The two met on a train hauling American GIs out of Europe, and Vonnegut told Frank his story.
“It sounds like an amazing book, but I feel ëSlaughterhouse-Five’ sounds more catchy,” Cleve replied.
“I’d love to meet him in person,” Ruffy said, “I’m amazed that he survived the Dresden Bombing. In a slaughterhouse no less. Cleve’s right about the title though; it does sound more descriptive and even contains a dash of irony.”
“Cool story, bro,” Alford replied sincerely, in his usual curt manner.
“I want an autographed copy. I have a feeling that it’ll be an instant classic,” Cleve added.
“He said that he was going to go back to Ilium, New York to resume his optometry studies,” Frank replied, “That’s where we’re most likely to meet him.”
“Eeyup,” Alford said. Alford was being campy again. Laughter filled the airwaves.
Cleve shifted his gaze from the P-51 next to him and checked his instruments. All the displays on the center panel were holding steady. That was a good sign. But Cleve frowned as he checked the right panel.
“Uh, Ruffy,” Cleve said over the intercom, “We seem to be having a problem with turn-and-bank indicator.” Even though the plane was holding steady, the turn-and-bank indicator was swinging back and forth like a pendulum of a clock. The indicator was not a crucial instrument; it was more for calculating the trajectory of bombs than for navigating. Cleve could easily fly without it, but it was still a point of concern.
“Do you want to head back?” Ruffy asked.
“We can still fly safely, but we should still inform the base.”
“Roger that. I’ll contact Fort Lauderdale.” Ruffy tuned the radio onto the airbase frequency. “Naval Station Fort Lauderdale, this is FT-58. We’re having problems with one of our instruments. Do you copy, Fort Lauderdale?”
There was only an eerie static. The silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token. And the only words there spoken were the shouted words, “Fort Lauderdale!”
“Fort Lauderdale, do you copy? Fort Lauderdale?! FORT LAUDERDALE!” Ruffy was practically screaming into the microphone, but it was no use. Ruffy then tuned to the emergency frequency at 3000 kilocycles and shouted “Mayday!” into the microphone. No one seemed to hear him. The static only grew louder.
Ruffy tuned the radio back to the P-51’s frequency. “Raptor, can you contact Fort Lauderdale at 3000 kilocycles? We’re having instrument troubles.”
“Me too,” Frank’s panicked voice came over the radio, “My altimeter and speed indicator are completely kaput. Both my compasses are spinning in circles! My radio’s stuck at this frequency. What the hell is going on?”
“Cleve, this is too dangerous,” Ruffy commanded, “We have to turn back.”
“Roger that. Turning back to zero-niner…” Cleve tried yanking the control stick, only to freeze in terror.
“Ruffy… Raptor?” Cleve said in an intimidated voice.
“Spit it out, Cleve.”
“Our compasses… they’ve gone cuckoo too!” Both the magnetic and gyroscopic compasses started spinning in circles.
“Don’t worry. We can try celestial navigation.”
“Too late! Look!” Just as Cleve finished the sentence, a stygian grayish-green fog enveloped the airplane. Visibility suddenly dropped from excellent to poor. Even the P-51 just a few yards away became barely visible.
Cleve was truly worried now. Even if he did manage to contact an airbase, he would have no idea how to get there. Without his compasses or any visual cues, he had absolutely way to determine his location.
“FT-58! What the heck is going on?! I can’t see!” Frank’s voice came over the radio. The static grew louder, and the voice became disjointed.
“I don’t know! Our compasses are spinning in circles. We can’t see either.”
“We’re bloody jinxed!” Alford shouted from the back of the airplane. Sudden gusts of wind shook both planes. One large gust almost turned Frank’s P-51 on its side. Both pilots recovered, but both lost their sense of bearing.
Ruffy was the only one still thinking clearly. “Cleve, Raptor, climb to 5000 feet. Maybe we can climb out of this fog.”
“Alright, Raptor, here we go,” Cleve said, gently pulling back the control stick, “Follow my lead.”
Both planes climbed to 5000 feet. Then 10000. Then 25000. The old Avenger couldn’t reach its service ceiling at 30,000 feet and refused to climb higher. To save fuel, both planes went back down to 5,000. The fog around the aircraft dissipated slightly, but it still firmly blocked out the stars and ocean. Cleve still couldn’t see any visual cues to guide him. The stubborn instruments still refused to function properly.
In the meantime, Ruffy kept switching frequencies and sending mayday messages. Methodically working his way upwards, Ruffy reached 4805 kilocycles. “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is FT-58. Does anyone read me?”
Much to Ruffy’s surprise, someone responded to his mayday call. “Aircraft calling mayday, identify yourself,” the voice had a familiar ring to it.
“Taylor!” Cleve and Ruffy cried out simultaneously, “Taylor! This is FT-58. We’ve spent hours looking for you. You’re still alive! How are the others?”
“We seem to be off course. We seem to be lost. We can't make out where we are.”
“Is everyone alright?” Ruffy asked. The three officers all mistakenly believed that Flight 19 had crash-landed on some deserted island and that Taylor was using a salvaged radio.
“Nobody’s compass is working. We’re all lost, and we’re critically low on fuel.”
Cleve, Ruffy, and Alford looked at each other in bewilderment. “How are they still airborne?” Ruffy asked over the intercom, “Their fuel supply was supposed to have run out 3 hours ago.”
Cleve checked his wristwatch. It was 23:11. Flight 19 only had enough fuel to last until 20:00. Sure, it was possible for a plane to fly 5 or 10 minutes longer than its fuel supplies allowed, but flying more than 3 hours on empty? That was impossible.
“How are you guys still airborne?” Ruffy asked, “You were supposed to have run out of fuel 3 hours ago.”
“Our fuel supply will run out at 20:00. We only have fuel for 20 more minutes. Help us!”
“It’s 23:11ómore than three hours past 20:00.”
There was a slight pause on the other end. Taylor went to synchronize his wristwatch with Devlin and Parpart.
“Our wristwatches all say it’s 19:40. We only have fuel for 20 more minutes. My engine is already sputtering.”
“Please help us!” Thompson, a Flight 19 pilot, cried out.
Cleve, Ruffy, and Alford decided to put away their curiosity and get back to the task at hand. Cleve looked around and saw a flight of five TBM Avengers below him. “I can see them now,” Cleve said, pointing to the planes at one o’clock low. He pulled back the throttle and pushed the stick forward. The Avenger drifted downwards. Frank’s P-51, still stuck on another frequency, followed.
“We’re lost too,” Ruffy said, “Our instruments are also malfunctioning. We can’t find land.”
“What about that P-51. Are his instruments working?” Taylor asked.
“No, and his radio is stuck at 4400 kilocycles.”
“So no one knows how to get back?”
“No one knows.”
“We’re all going to die.”
“Eeyup.”
“Shut up!”
The seven planes joined together in one formation. Frank’s radio frequency was still stuck, and Ruffy had to constantly switch frequencies to maintain communications.
“When the first man gets down to his last ten gallons of gas, we all ditch together,” Taylor explained to his students, “FT - 58, P-51, you two circle us and call for help. Drop some flares and first-aid kits. We’re going to need it.”
“Sorry we failed you, Flight 19,” Ruffy explained apologetically, “We were sent here to rescue you, but we ended up getting lost too.”
“It’s not your fault,” Taylor assured him, “A good leader takes the credit when things are good and the blame when things are bad. I shallówait a second. What the hell is that in front of us?”
Cleve looked forward. A large cloud of stygian grayish-green fog suddenly formed in front of the flight. It looked like a giant thunderhead cloud, but with the color of the mysterious electromagnetic fog that surrounded the Eldridge. Flashes of blinding lightning reached out. One bolt caught FT-81 in the wing, electrocuting the crew. The Avenger rolled on its side and entered a rapid descent. Its wing caught the water. The plane cartwheeled and disintegrated with a loud splash.
“Gerber! Lightfoot! Nooo!” a voice screamed.
“Everyone, break away!” Taylor ordered. Frank couldn’t hear the order and kept flying straight. Cleve threw the control stick to the left, but it was too late. The six remaining planes were sucked into the giant cloud.
The fog was blinding. Cleve couldn’t even see his own wings. The electronics went completely haywire. Instrument lights flicked on and off. The radio spewed out sparks and obscenely loud static. Cleve covered his ears. The compasses spun like the blades of a helicopter. The turbulent air shook the plane like ragdoll. A particularly strong gust of wind caused Cleve to hit his head against the steel casing of the cockpit. The last thing he saw before passing out was a blinding flash of light enveloping his aircraft.
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good update.
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*bump*
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Damn, you captured the terror of the crews perfectly.
I can't wait to see what's next.
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Hey guys! Check out what I found at the book store today:
(http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/61NPeo08eYL._SL500_AA300_PIaudible,BottomRight,13,73_AA300_.jpg)
Yep. That's the USS Eldridge alright. I haven't actually read any of his books, but his techno-thrillers rival those of Tom Clancy in quality and popularity.
I haven't yet purchased it, but it was quite an unexpected surprise. It's nice know that great minds think alike after all, ha.