Reincarnated as an Imperial Prince-Novel

On board His Imperial Ruthenian Majesty’s Ship Aircraft Carrier Petropavlovsk. Lieutenant Rasul Rustamev was walking down the massive hangar under the deck of the ship with his helmet under his arm, offering sights of all the aircraft ranging from propeller to jet planes being tended by male and female technicians and maintenance crew.

Yes. Female crew. It was the most unbelievable thing in the world. Women on a warship.

Just three years ago, the Tsar himself along with the Tsarina pushed a bill to allow women to get into what were once men-only jobs like military, construction, and factory operations.

The bill garnered a big outcry from traditional conservative factions, protesting that women should not be allowed into high-risk jobs with both valid and stupid arguments being put forth.

Still, the bill passed the legislature in the Imperial Council by a good majority, much to the joy of the feminist factions in Ruthenia.

Their joy was short-lived as the jobs still vetted them thoroughly, like separating the wheat from the chaff.

When the first batch of women signed up to be part of the navy. The seamen all have horny thoughts and have trouble working near them. Part of navy life is being out at sea for months without stepping on land and being around sweaty men all the time. A recipe for a sausage party to happen. And it did.

After boot camp, beatdowns, and hazing, the men and women now respected each other as brothers and sisters in war.

Still, there is funny business going on, but as long it does not catch the attention of the commander or cause conflict among the crew in their ship.

Many personnel noticed his appearance and waved a salute at him. Rasul saluted back to his comrades before hopping onto the giant elevator currently occupied by Wraith fighter aircraft.

He motioned to the operator of the elevator to start lifting them up and with a push of the button, the cacophonous sound of hydraulics and pneumatics filled the air as they rose up to the flight deck.

A few moments later he stepped off the platform onto a large flight deck of an aircraft where he was welcomed by a strong gust of wind blowing in from the ocean. The sea spray felt cold on his face and arms causing him to shiver slightly as he walked closer to the edge looking at another magnificent ship sailing alongside the Petropavlovsk Aircraft Carrier.

Even though the night has been shrouded by darkness, Rasul can still make out the appearance of the majestic Battleship, His Imperial Ruthenian Majesty’s Ship Imperator Aleksandr IV from the navigational lights and lamps fixed along its contour.

He had never seen anything that big in his life. He couldn’t help but wonder how in the hell is that ship floating. It goes the same for the aircraft carrier he was standing on. Truly they are the symbol of Ruthenian greatness and might.

It was due to these ships that it made him want to serve more of his country and his emperor.

Now, a time has come to prove his loyalty and devotion to the empire and the people living under it.

“Lieutenant!” A voice called.

Rasul jolted from his reverie before turning around. Standing there, he sees another young man. He didn’t look much older than him. Probably just graduated from the same air force academy as him. But he recognized him as they had already met earlier in the briefing room. He will be his “Guy in Back” and a partner inside the Wraith. Lieutenant Medet Marlenev

“Lieutenant Medet? How are things going?” Rasul walked over to him.

“They are still loading missiles and bombs on the aircraft so we are not flying anytime soon.”

“I see,” Rasul said as he patted him on the shoulder. “Where are we on the schedule?”

Medet took out his pocketbook and opened it. “Why didn’t you listen to the briefing earlier?”

“No, I just want to review it one last time before we depart,” Rasul replied.

“Okay,” he sighed as he looked at the schedule. “We will egress from the aircraft carrier along with eleven Wraith aircraft fighters at 2240 HRS and reach Tokyo at 2315 HRS. Our objective is to launch a diversionary attack on the depot which will hopefully divert the attention of the police and the military surrounding the embassy. The special forces and the security guard in the embassy will neutralize the remaining forces and make their way to the airport where the cargo aircraft Bogatyr lands on the hostile airstrip.  Our job is to provide cover to the transport plane and the VIPs by intercepting as many enemy aircraft as possible all the while crippling their anti-aircraft defenses. Once everything is cleared, we are to return to rendezvous with the aerial refueling plane Gagana in the Sea of Yamato for aerial refueling and land at Vladivostok.” Medet closed the book as he concluded the review. “By this data alone, we can conclude that we won’t be able to return to the aircraft carrier until she docked at Port Arthur.”

“So that’s just about it huh?” Rasul asked rhetorically.

“Pretty much,” Medet replied in agreement. “I’m kind of excited and nervous at the same time, to be honest. This is our first real mission. This is unlike the simulation exercises and dummy practice we had in  our school.”

“The government said that we are the only country in the world that possesses the most technologically advanced aircraft. However, that title will be meaningless if the one piloting behind it is incompetent. After all, what makes the aircraft is the pilot who controls it.”

After walking for a while, Rasul and Demet reached their Wraith fighter aircraft with crewmen wearing red shirts mounting AIM-7 Sparrow missiles, and AIM-9 Sidewinder under the wings of the jet.

It was the one thing Rasul and Demet noticed when they first got introduced to the concept of the aircraft carrier. Everything on the deck must be well-choreographed and to do so efficiently crewmen on the deck are to wear colors that specify the roles and responsibilities while they are working.

There are seven colors in total with each color categorizing its functions: purple, blue, green, yellow, red, brown, and white

For example, the red ones, the one that is loading their jet right now is responsible for moving, mounting, and arming the aircraft. The yellow shirts are called the shooter, aircraft handling officers, Catapult and Arresting Gear Officers, and plane directors. They are the men and women who deal with and direct the planes, especially for taxiing.

The roles prevent the hogging of manpower to one task, and most importantly, prevent spies from going into places they are not supposed to be.

Rasul couldn’t think of any other country that implemented such a process in their aircraft carriers. Probably because they are ten steps ahead in terms of design and technology. Thinking that it would be the case invigorated him even more.

They waited patiently for the time of their departure. Five minutes before their operation commenced, the yellow shirts pulled the Wraith fighter aircraft to the catapult launcher in the middle of the flight deck. Rasul and Demet followed it and climbed up the ladder. With an open canopy, they hopped into the jet fighter aircraft. Rasul sat in front while Demet sat in the back and they both put on their flight helmets.

Demet closed the canopy and looked around the surroundings through the window and saw a Wraith fighter aircraft with a raised barrier behind preparing also for launch.

“Look at those guys, I hope they don’t make clumsy mistakes as they did in the academy,” Demet chuckled.

“Damn right they should,” Rasul softly chuckled and continued. “Okay let’s initiate the pre-flight checklist.”

As they were about to do the pre-flight checks, the radio sounded from their helmet.

“Wraith 1-2, you’re second in the line,” they recognized the man’s voice. It was from the air boss in the flight deck control.

“Copy that boss,” Rasul responded calmly and proceeded to do the preflight check. Then after five seconds of silence, he reached out to Demet through comms. “How are we on the flaps and stabs?”

Demet glanced behind his shoulder as he checked the flaps and stabs of the aircraft moving. “All good!”

p-ᴀ-ɴ-ᴅ-ᴀ-ɴ-0-ᴠ-ᴇ-ʟ、ᴄ(ᴏᴍ) “Great! Let’s check the weapon systems. The cannon spun up and the missiles clicked. We are all good to go,” Rasul said.

“Okay! Let’s roll then,” Demet said.

Rasul raised a thumbs up to the shooter down below. Indicating that they are ready for launch.

Seconds later, the Wraith fighter aircraft besides them screamed loudly as it whizzed towards the end of the aircraft carrier with the aid of the catapult system, launching it into the air.

“Okay we’re next, get ready,” Rasul informed Demet as the shooter raised his hand and knelt down.

When the shooter dropped his hand down, the catapult system activated and Rasul pushed the throttle forward, causing the twin Dynamic Systems J79 turbojet engines to roar boomingly.

The two were glued to their seats as the jet aircraft accelerated from 0 kilometers per hour to 200 kilometers per hour in a short amount of time. Once they were released from the deck, their heads jolted forward and back as they soar into the air.

“We are airborne,” Rasul announced as he leaned back into the seat. “Let’s give these calico carp fuckers a lesson of why they shouldn’t fuck with us.”