Avalanche

| the test |

Crammed into one of the mission deployment rooms on the aircraft carrier, we made the last preparations for our final test. Once we passed, (or in other's cases, failed), we would be Top Gun graduates.

It was unbearably hot, every person was stuck shoulder to shoulder, I was between Rooster and Hangman with the rest of the solo pilots. They both towered over me, even sitting down, and for a moment I wish I was taller too.

I grabbed at the color of my flight suit, hoping some cool air would help. I balanced my helmet on my lap, picking at the design I had so meticulously planned.

I had to win today.

Kazansky's are winners, remember?

There was no other option. I had to prove that I hadn't come all this way because of my father, because of my last name. I had to prove that I was just a good pilot.

The best pilot.

"You ready?" Hangman bends down, whispering in my ear.

"Of course I am. Are you?"

"Born ready." He leans back, with his hands crossed behind his head.

I rolled my eyes, then nudged Rooster. "Get a load of this guy, right?" I jammed my thumb in Hangman's direction.

Rooster laughed and Hangman gave me a half hearted glare.

Deciding to push their buttons a little more, I said, "Remember boys, there no points for second place."

Before either of them could say a word, Admiral Bates made his appearance.

He walked to the front of the room, Cyclone storming behind him.

Warlock turns to face us.

"Well pilots, today's the day. It's the day of your final exam. Congratulations, you've made it this far. Now show us what you've got. Show us what you've learned. Show us it wasn't a mistake that you got selected and approved to this program."

After his attempt at a pep talk, Admiral Bates stepped back to leave us in the hands of his subordinate, Vice Admiral Simpson.

Warlock would eventually go back to the command center of the aircraft carrier, where he, and later Cyclone would watch us do what we do best: fly.

"The mission statement here at Top Gun is simple: win in combat. That's what we've trained you to do for the last 13 weeks. You know the parameters. You know what's on the line today, cadets. Team Charlie is blue, and Team Delta is red. Here are your teammates..."

I didn't pay attention, it didn't really matter who's team I'd be on. I hoped me and Phoenix would be paired up, but knowing our directors, we'd be separated for the exact same reason.

Our final exam consisted of all the skills we been trained sin, air-to-air combat, dogfighting, maritime strikes, and mission planning.

All of our work now came down to what we did in the cockpit.

❅

Just as I had suspected, they had separated Phoenix and me. Coyote and Rooster were on Delta with her, so I knew she'd be okay.

Hangman, Payback, and Fanboy were all on my team, Team Charlie, and countless others I didn't bother to repeat their names.

We were already in the air, and we had 3 minutes until we intercepted enemy aircraft, our other classmates.

We had 3 minutes to come up with a plan.

Everyone was arguing over each other after which objected was the most important to go after, downed pilots and their planes, or enemy targets on our radars.