Into The Air

June 7th, 2531

Green Fields, 60,000 Feet MSL

1130 Hours

"This is Edan reporting to Ground, all systems clear on the aircraft."

"Roger Edan, give the aircraft a test or two up there."

"Understood, will do."

60,000 feet in the air, inside an F-210 that had been given to the Green Fields Colonial Army by the United Rebel Front, Andrew Edan was putting the aircraft through its paces, up nearly at its service ceiling. Yanking the aircraft into a series of turns and loops, Edan put it through every possible dogfighting maneuver he could think of. As he finished off a Split-S, he keyed his COM again. "This is Edan, aerobatics completed. Airframe holding steady so far. Current altitude now fifty seven thousand feet above sea level."

"Roger that Edan, we read you. Put her into a spin and stall out will you?"

"Gotcha."

Drawing back the throttle, Edan positioned his aircraft's nose at the F-210's critical angle of attack, and waited for the aircraft to begin shuddering as its nose dropped from the loss of airflow over the wings. "Aircraft stall characteristics as expected. Putting it into a spin now" Edan transmitted. Pulling back on the stick again, he once again positioned the aircraft at its critical angle of attack, but this time, he yawed to the left, and sure enough, the F-210 entered a spin. Calmly applying full rudder to the right, Edan quickly recovered from the spin. "Spin characteristics normal." he once again transmitted.

"Good, good. One last thing Edan. We want to see how fast the aircraft will go at high altitudes for recon. Push power to full for seven minutes."

"Seven minutes?"

"Correct."

"Good. This has been quite the enjoyable flight. Makes me almost want to stop fighting so I can just hotdog around the skies forever."

"You and your trainee already got in trouble for wasting fuel less than a week ago."

"True as that might be, that was training."

"Huh. Sure it was. I know how you pilots are."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll bicker later when I'm on the ground. Pushing power to full."

"Wilco."

Grabbing hold of the throttle, Edan pushed it to its limit, and within the cockpit of the aircraft, could feel and see that it was quickly accelerating. "Mach one reached." he transmitted. "Mach two reached, I think I'll begin-what the fuck!" Edan shouted into his COM as he heard two distinct thumps in the rear of the aircraft. Turning the engines off, Edan saw that it did not help the escalating engine temperature any. "Beginning emergency descent, aircraft on fire!" he transmitted as he decreased his angle of attack further and further to begin descending. But, as he attempted to level the aircraft out, he found his controls unresponsive. "Shit!" he yelled. "This is Andrew Edan, Green Fields Colonial Army to any friendly forces! I am out of control in a steep dive with a crippled aircraft!"

As the F-210 began to shake as it exceeded its maximum speed, Edan struggled to even turn his head to look at it black and yellow striped handle between his legs. Even if he had wanted to, he couldn't eject. The G forces and speed would kill him anyway. And so he continued struggling, pulling back on the stick, trimming the aircraft. At 20,000 feet Edan felt the aircraft spin around in conjunction with a series of metal screeches, and, looking out of his canopy, he saw his left wing had been ripped off from the stresses of overspeeding the aircraft. He struggled to key up his COM as the ground rushed to meet him. "This is Andrew Edan. I am now unable to recover from my dive. I am going down at coordinates-" were the last words anyone on the ground heard from the pilot.