RF-47
| RF-047 Kulbit | |
| Spacecraft Characteristics | |
|---|---|
| Base Hull | Su-47 Berkut |
| Drive Type | Bussard Turbojet |
| Drive Rating | 0.15 |
| Armament |
|
| Owner | Asagiri Speedworks |
| Flag of Record | Crystal Millennium |
| Faction | Asteroid Racing |
| Registry Number | 47 |
| Launched | 2024 |
| Purpose | Asteroid Racer |
| Primary Crew | 1 x Pilot, |
| Operational Status | Active |
| “ | Racing is a great mania to which one must sacrifice everything, without reticence, without hesitation. | ” |
| — - Enzo Ferrari | ||
A Humbling Experience
Lee Hasegawa:: blog.thejetfighters.fen, 02/04/25
I promised it three months ago, and now I've delivered.
A first flight in an RF-47: Kulbit
It says a lot that they even let me fly the actual plane Daryl Haur used to win the warbird's championship. It tells me the jet you buy, is the exact same as the one that just won the ARR Warbirds Championship. To say I was salivating at the prospect was an understatement.
After a full day's briefing, then another full day fitting me up for a custom flightsuit, and a custom moulded seat, it's time to take her out. This is not a spacecraft you sit in. You put it on, like a tight speedo. Lugs in the flightsuit dock with the seat and frame to make the life-support. One single red level breaks them all at once. Handy in case you crash it. Cockpit instruments are basic backups only - everything's projected on the visor, cycled through with finger switches on the throttle and stick
The hand controls owe more to a hardsuit than standard pattern GJ. If you've any prior experience with fighters, you'll be constantly cycling through the display while trying to trim the aircraft. I never got used to it in the short time I had with her.
I had Just a few 'quick' laps of a marked test-course to try it, so I made the most of them. I pushed the throttles to nose her out into open space.
Gods, please don't let me crash this thing because it's probably fucking priceless.
It didn't fly like a fighter.
If I'm honest, it flew like a dog. One moment refusing to bite through a maneuver, then snapping hard, forcing a surprised overcorrect as the engines kicked in. Try fly her like a fighter or a veritech and it's clear - this is not a happy jet. Power and position adjustments don't come naturally - the jet snapping and porpoising in reaction to mid-maneuver corrections. It never really felt steady or under my control. It always felt on the edge of departure, ready to snap up and bite into a spin at a moment's notice. Control inputs are treated like suggestions, to which it'll either answer with what you wanted, or something you didn't quite expect. The engine's surged on the throttle, coming in with a kick that slewed the entire airframe rather than a smooth progression.
Getting it around a track felt like a wrestling match with a bulldog.
By the end of the second lap, I'd already decided I hated it. One should never meet ones heroes. Maybe they'd tweaked the settings or something broke - I don't know. I radioed in my displeasure, asking if something had been changed.. The answer I get back is short and too the point.
"Push it. It's a racer not a fighter."
Now, that's a frightening thing to suggest to any human being. Especially with a big solid asteroid waiting for G-Loc rght below.
Alright. Take a breath. Hang on. Hope it bites and 'whoooaaaaaaaa......'
Where once there was hesitance, there is confidence. Where once, she fought back, she dives in and begs, eager to show what she can d. Faster. Faster. Faster. My hand pushed forward on the throttle and she surges, crushing my body down despite the best efforts of the flightsuit. There is no deviation. There is no snap or bite. It pulls and turns begs for more, demanding I try harder. It answers every twitch of my wrist.
For one brief moment, I had my apocalypse.
For the final lap I tried to push, to give her what she wanted. Whether I got it right or wrong depended more on luck than skill. I only ever saw glimpses of what she could do, tantalising hints that begged me to try exceed my own courage, moments where it all came together before falling apart again
It demands so much. Far more than my own skill level could ever provide.
I've flown many spacecraft - from Blackbirds to F-EZigs. I'd considered myself a 'good' pilot. My time with the Kulbit may have been short, but it was an altogether humbling one. No matter how good we think we are, there's always more to learn.
A digression
You sit in an X-Wing, you're Luke Skywalker. You sit in an a Veritech, and you're Roy Fokker. They all feel just right, just like you always imagined. They're everything you ever dreamed of. It doesn't matter if you've never even flown a Cessna, the moment you sit in that cockpit, you become the Hero. You fly a Blackbird, and you know that 'this' is what the big jet must feel like - a big deep well of endless power beneath your hand, slicing efforlessly through the sky. The replica Apollo's give the 'feel' of old-school spaceflight, cramped, hot and adventureous, but without demanding the raw skill and nerve.
They turn mortals into heroes. No matter how mortal.
The Kulbit does none of these things. This is not a machine that suffers a timid or unconfident pilot. It demands confidence. It demands you actually fly it and tell it what to do rather than give vague suggestions and hope it works it out. It demands you meet it's standards and it looks down on you with cynical disdain when you don't. It is the evil P.E. teacher you grew up hating, for who you were never good enough. If there're any cracks in your skill, this spacecraft will find them and it will shove them in your face. It's a jet you know is more than capable of flying straight from your hanger to a racetrack, and winning - given the right pair of hands. .
If only it wasn't for you sitting at the controls. You know you're the weakest link in the chain. You're not good enough. And that's not a comfortable feeling for many dilettante Fen. It's easy to do something else that makes you feel better now.
But ye Gods, those fleeting moments where it all comes together and you line up that one perfect turn on full afterburner, you will know that it is all you. She will show you what she is truly capable of, and you will spend the rest of your life chasing that one moment of absolute sycronisation between pilot and spacecraft. It's an elusianian mystery, to be revealed only to those she ever deems worthy knowing. A peek at the true depths of her capability.
She allowed me only the meerest glimpse of it. But that was enough.
There is satisfaction in mastery. It is a long and arduous road, one fewer and fewer would ever choose to take in favour of the quick hit of satisfaction. But those few who do, they are the ones can become legends.
Class Quirks
- Experts Only. Really. You will kill yourself if you've never flown a performance jet before. You might kill yourself if you have.
- Energy monster. Does not loose energy in high speed maneuvers. The energy generation and retention on this thing is staggering.
- Technically a fighter. Can carry the bare minimum of armaments necessary to meet GJ homologation standards, but not really designed for actual combat. [1]
- The real thing. If you're good enough, you can take one of these straight from the factory and potentially win a championship. There's no watering down. No lightweight monkey-model for wannabees.
- Faster to go faster. Takes a certain level of big, polished-brass-sphere confidence to fly fast.
Trivia
It is a sad truth that the majority of these that ever do get sold will likely either be raced to death, or be polished and preened in a wealthy collector's hangar, replica race-markings gleaming under artifical lights while the seals slowly rot. [2]
- ↑ Simulations are inconclusive, but the poor weapon stores always hamper.
- ↑ If you see the real thing, you'll see just how scuffed, dirty and worn it is - it has patina.
