On returning to the cockpit, Vin noticed a second sticky note next to his original.
“See glove box for remedy”.
Oh, well played, barmates, well played. Sitting on top of the Xeeslian calfskin gloves was a tube of hastily re-labelled “Asteroid cream”.
After a morning of spiralling around trying to get FA off flying sorted, Vin had turned the sound up in his cabin and attempted to relax with a bit of Strauss. The difference was profound – his grip loosened on the stick, his left hand weaved a merry dance on the keyboard and eventually, finally, he managed to get the simulator combat turns using thrusters.
Getting a bead on the enemy with any kind of accuracy? Not a hope. Accelerating toward an enemy, clicking the FA off, executing a neat flip, waiting until he shot past then hitting the boosters before sticking a sneeze cannon up his thrusters – now THAT was fun. The trick was to flip until you saw your own drive trails.
Hit the brakes and watch them fly past. Probably wouldn’t work on anyone with any skill, but brought out a childish giggle each and every time.
Circling an enemy to stay out of their visual range was a little harder. Approach with full lateral thrust and then yaw like mad whilst firing gimballed weapons. Anyone for tinned Sidewinder Surprise? It didn’t work at under 1k, but never mind, Vin wagered that it looked stylish to outside observers.
He noticed as he went to pour another Disoan coffee that some joker had left a toy frog under the seat.
“I really must change the lock code again…” he mused.