Red Bull

six

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"TIME IS YOUR GREATEST ENEMY." Maverick said, gripping the sides of his podium.

I'd have to disagree with Maverick. My greatest enemy was my own head.

It had gone haywire after my instructor told me I'd be flying with an WSO, and even more so when I was paired with Bob.

And that's where I ended up.

Sitting right next to the man himself.

I avoided staring at him, by staring at the airstrip outside the room, trying to focus on flying.

Anything to ease my nerves.

Maverick continued, "Phase 1 of the mission will be a low-level attack with two teams. You'll be flying along the narrow canyon walls to the target. The radar surface-to-air missives defend the skies above, but not the canyon below."

My eyes snapped from outside to Maverick out of pure surprise. Possibly a little bit of horror.

This was crazy. Absolutely crazy.

"That's because the enemy knows that no one is insane enough to fly below." Rooster speaks up.

At least Bradley Bradshaw had more than two brain cells to rub together, because this was likely improbable.

Impossible.

"And that's exactly what I'm going to train you all to do."  Maverick said, and nobody bothered to argue with him.

Somebody shout, scream, say something!

Words failed to form in coherent sentences in my mind, so I failed to utter a single word.

Bob tapped me on the shoulder, and I practically jumped out of my seat.

"Yeah?" I whispered to him.

"Are you okay?" He asked politely. I half heartedly nodded to him, and Bob pushed up his glasses, turning to pay attention to Maverick. Even he could tell something was wrong with me.

Maverick then explained today's objective. "Your time is two and a half minutes, because fifth generation fighters are waiting at an airbase nearby the region. A head-to-head with these planes in your F-18s, and you're dead. That's why you need to get in, hit your target, and be gone before these planes have a chance of catching you. This makes time your greatest adversary."

𓇽

"SLOWER, RED, SLOWER!" Bob screamed into his headset, analyzing information faster that I could process it.

"WE NEED TO GET THERE UNDER 2:30!" I yelled back, frustrated that nobody in our entire encampment was able to pass the simulation yet.

Bob began noticeably gripping the side of the plane, "YOU'RE GOING TO CLIP THE CANYON WALL!"

"NO I'M NOT! I'M FOLLOWING COYOTE!" I defended, which was the truth. I was right behind Coyote as we flew through the course, and our time was guaranteed to get us through the canyon in under the time required.

"Stop yelling you two!" Coyote says, obviously tired of hearing our argument.

Why couldn't Bob just trust me? Maybe he'd prefer to be Phoenix's WSO by now. I don't know if I was cut out to have a partner.

"Red Bull—" Bob started, but out of nowhere, without warning, Coyote slowed down without communicating.

"Javy!" I yelled at Coyote, and I pull my central flight stick upwards to avoid crashing into him.