Prejudice: Two Democracies: Revolution, #2
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Ace fighter pilot Anastasia Seivers is offered a secret assignment: to join a squadron taking the fight to Concorde's true enemies. But this squadron isn't part of the regular Concorde military, it is attached to the Legion Libertus, the independent force responsible for saving thousands of lives after the nuclear attack. After initial hope that her new commanders will be different, Seivers starts to suspect that they too are prejudiced against her.
Determined to remove the chip from Seivers' shoulder, Prefect Olivia Johnson, commander of the Legion, takes her on as pilot for a special mission.
Alasdair Shaw
I studied at the University of Cambridge, leaving with a BA in Natural Sciences and an MSci in Experimental and Theoretical Physics. My masters options included gravitational astrophysics, planetary geophysics, remote sensing and high resolution electron microscopy. I went on to earn a PGCE specialising in Science and Physics from the University of Bangor. A secondary teacher for over ten years I have plenty of experience communicating scientific ideas. I grew up in Lancashire, within easy reach of the Yorkshire Dales, Pennines, Lake District and Snowdonia. After stints living in Cambridge, North Wales and the Cotswolds I have lived in Somerset since 2002. I have been climbing, mountaineering, caving, kayaking and skiing as long as I can remember. Growing up I spent most of my spare time in the hills. Landscape archaeology has always been one of my interests; when you spend a long time in the outdoors you start noticing things and wondering how they came to be there. At university I included geophysics in my options. I am an experienced mountain and cave leader, holding a range of qualifications including ML, SPA and LCL. I am also a course director for climbing and navigation award schemes.
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Prejudice: Two Democracies: Revolution, #2 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Independence: Two Democracies: Revolution, #0 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Liberty: Two Democracies: Revolution, #1 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Equality: Two Democracies: Revolution, #3 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Hidden: Two Democracies: Revolution, #4 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Fraternity: Two Democracies: Revolution, #5 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
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Prejudice - Alasdair Shaw
1
As the second sun set over the scrubland of Concorde’s largest landmass, a lone fighter levelled off for the last leg back to base. Flight Lieutenant Anastasia Seivers stretched her shoulders one at a time then settled herself lower in her seat. Two months flying four patrols a day, and not a whiff of the enemy.
For the first couple of weeks after the attack, the squadron had been in the air round the clock searching for survivors and dropping supply pods. The flying had been interesting back then too; the climate change brought about by the planet-wide nuclear bombardment had stirred up powerful storm cells. Now, the restarted terraforming plants had calmed the weather, though little sunlight penetrated the thick clouds. Seivers smiled, her next flight would be a high-altitude patrol, an opportunity to bask in the warm glow that didn’t reach the surface.
A bang from behind jolted her into full alertness. She snapped her head around, simultaneously scanning the data in her visor display and trying to eyeball the problem. A hint of white smoke trailed behind the Goshawk fighter.
Dammit. Heap of junk should have been scrapped years ago.
Warning tones and red engine warnings filled her helmet.
Sorry, girl. I didn’t mean it.
She throttled back the port engine. It’s not your fault you were pressed back into service.
The craft bucked, and now black smoke billowed out the back. Seivers cut the engine with a swipe of her hand. There, there. Running through clouds of particulates all day long, and no time for proper maintenance.
She pulled up a map. It’s a wonder you made it this long.
A high-pitched whine insinuated itself into the roar of the remaining engine. Seivers eyed the rising gauges and sighed. She thumbed a button on the throttle. Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. Attico Tower. Blackjack Zero Fiver. I’ve lost one engine, about to lose the other. I intend to put her down on the Borro Salt Flats. Over.
She banked the fighter round, almost reversing her course.
Blackjack Zero Fiver. Attico Tower. Understood. We have your beacon. Will dispatch Search and Rescue. Over.
Seivers trimmed the aerofoils for gliding.
More like a controlled plummet.
Attico Tower. Blackjack Zero Fiver. Am killing the starboard engine now. Altitude is good for landing at Borro Salt Flats. Out.
With the engines off, the only noise was the whistling of the wind past the canopy and the hiss of oxygen into her helmet. She only needed to make minute adjustments on the stick and rudder pedals to keep the fighter on course. As long as the flight control computer kept getting power from the emergency batteries she’d make the landing; without it, the swept-forward rear wings would flip the craft faster than she could compensate.
Ten minutes and over eight thousand metres of altitude loss later, the scrub started to peter out. Attico Tower. Blackjack Zero Fiver. Borro Salt Flats in sight. Speed and altitude good. Going for wheels-down landing. Over.
Blackjack Zero Fiver. Attico Tower. We confirm you are good for wheels-down landing on Borro Salt Flats. We still have your beacon. All our SAR assets are currently deployed elsewhere. An independent rescue craft has offered to assist. Over.
Seivers rolled her eyes. Attico Tower. Blackjack Zero Fiver. Understood. Just make sure those cowboys don’t leave me sitting out here too long. Out.
The salt flat she was aiming for appeared as a paler patch of ground. When she’d last seen one, it had blazed brilliant white beneath a crystal blue sky. That had been on her escape and evasion course. She snorted at the coincidence; at least this time Concorde’s twin suns wouldn’t cause her any problems.
She flashed over the edge of the scrub and cycled the landing gear down. The ground inched closer, but not fast enough. Seivers’ eyes fixed on the bushes at the opposite end of the flats.
I’m going to overshoot.
She threw the stick over, kicked the pedals, and sideslipped, right wing pointing almost to the ground. She levelled out briefly, then sideslipped to the left. As she came out of the slip, she hit the airbrakes. The harness pressed into her shoulders and her fighter dropped the last few metres and hit the deck. The gear and her seat