breaker

2

"ATTENTION ON DECK," a female officer orders us on our feet, as two other officers enter the hangar.

"Morning. Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated. I'm admiral Bates, NAWDC commander. You're all TopGun graduates. The elite. The best of the best. That was yesterday. The enemy's new fifth-generation fighter has leveled the playing field. Details are few but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage. Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman in the box. Half of you will make the cut, one of you will be named mission leader. The other half will remain in reserve. Your instructor is a TopGun graduate with real-world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master. His exploits are legendary, and he's considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced. What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death. I give you Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick."

An older man walks through the isle and moves to stand next to Warlock, who continues speaking.

"Also joining this mission is one of the navy's youngest female pilots. Her accomplishments at such a young age are remarkable, and she is a valuable asset in this mission. She will be an assistant instructor, still eligible to fly the mission with the rest of you. I give you Captain Avery Peters. Call sign: Breaker."

I rise from my seat at the back of the room, and walk forward, following the path that Maverick had taken. All eyes followed my every move as I finally reached the podium and stood on the opposite side of Warlock. I found Phoenix, sitting next to her WSO, whose name I knew to be Bob. I shot her a wink, to which she smiled back at, and continued my observation of the other graduates. Warlock had stepped aside, directing the attention to Maverick.

"Good morning." He holds up the F/A - 18A super hornet manual. "The F-18 NATOPS. Contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft. I'm assuming you know the book inside and out." A chorus of agreement ripples through the room. Maverick throws the book into the trash can.

"So does your enemy. But what the enemy doesn't know is your limits. I intend to find them. Test them. Push beyond. Today we'll start with what you only think you know. You show me what your made of."

And we're off.
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Everyone gathered their flight gear and traipsed outside to prepare their planes for the exercise. Rooster and I walked together, until Maverick called out to him. 

"Rooster."

"Bradley."

"Lieutenant Bradshaw." I chuckled at Roosters ignorance of his Captain, and wished him luck for the conversation before heading off to prepare my aircraft. Maverick had briefed me on the lesson beforehand; we would take turns with each team of pilots, the dogfighting exercise meant to show us how well they can fly.
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"Good morning aviators. This is your Captain speaking. Welcome to basic fighter manoeuvres. As briefed, todays exercise is dogfighting. Guns only, no missiles. We do not go below the hard deck of 5,000 feet. Working as a team, you have to shoot me down or else." I listen to Maverick through the radio in the waiting room, knowing he was up against Rooster, Payback and Fanboy. This oughta be a shit show.

"Or else what, sir?" Payback shoots back. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"Or else I shoot back. If I shoot either one of you down, you both loose." Choruses of the other pilots rebuttals spread through the room, with Hangman making his opinion on Maverick clear; "This guy needs and ego check."

Payback and Fanboy have the not-so-bright idea to bring in a punishment for loosing. 200 push-ups. These guys are gonna get wrecked. Maverick agrees and then the fights on. Grunts of frustration echo through the room as the men in the air battle it out. Soon enough, Maverick has them in missile lock. Now it's my turn. I'm up against Phoenix. Unfortunately, also Hangman.