Atlas: A Top Gun: Maverick Fanfiction

Chapter 22: Navigation, My Enemy

A/N: I know it's short and that's why I'm updating a bit early! Next chapter is THE chapter so expect that Monday!  and then I'll be going on a short hiatus for a month or two to adjust to my new work and school schedule :) that being said, please be patient with me as I try to work on the story on top of what's going on in my life! Thank you and as always, let me know what you think!

"Time is your greatest enemy. Phase one of the mission will be a low level-ingress attacking in two-plane teams. You'll fly along this narrow canyon to your target." A line of red appeared on the screen ahead. "Radar-guided surface-to-air missiles defend the area. These sams, they're lethal."

"But they were designed to protect the skies above, not the canyon below," Pete continued, glancing occasionally out at the pilots that all sat before him.

"That's because the enemy knows that no one is insane enough to try and fly below them." Bradley said, crossing his arms.

Pete nearly whirled around, eyes locking onto him. "That's exactly what I'm gonna train you to do. On the day, your altitude will be 100 feet maximum. You exceed this altitude, radar will spot you and you're dead."

But he wasn't planning on slowing down for this next portion of instructions either. "Your airspeed will be 660 knots—minimum," Pete continued. The pilots just looked amongst themselves, stress and disbelief clear on their features. "Time to target: two and a half minutes. That's because fifth-generation fighters wait at an airbase nearby. In a head to head with these planes in your f-18s, you're dead. That's why you need to get in, hit your target, and be gone before these planes even have a chance of catching you. This makes time your greatest adversary."

"You'll fly a route in your nav system that simulates the canyon. The faster you navigate the canyon, the harder it will be to stay under the radar of these enemy sams. The tighter the turns, the more intensely the force of gravity on your body multiplies—compressing your lungs, forcing the blood from your brain, impairing your judgment and reaction time."

"So for today's lesson, we're going to take it easy on you. Max ceiling 300 feet, time to target: three minutes. Good luck."

Quite honestly, with the reality of the mission setting in, Pete knew that they would need more than luck. In fact, what they would really need was some kind of God-given miracle that allowed them to make the mission possible and survive it.

He wasn't sure what he believed. But he believed that if he could teach them, maybe they could make it home.

Unfortunately for everyone—the canyon runs were anything but easy. It proved to be the real test and challenge for these pilot's and their mettle. "Why are they dead?" Pete questioned, pointedly glancing over at Javy Machado.

Phoenix was quick to let out a huff and take accountability. "We broke the 300-foot ceiling and a Sam took us out."

"No." Pete said, jaw ticking in annoyance. "Why are they dead?"

"I slowed down and I didn't give her a warning. It was my fault."

"Is there a reason you didn't communicate with your team?" Pete pressed.

"I was focusing on—"

"One that their families will accept at the funeral?"

Javy's face instantly fell in regret and he bowed his head. "None, sir."

With that taken care of, Pete turned back to Phoenix. "Why didn't you anticipate the turn? You were briefed on the terrain. Don't tell me, tell his family," Pete gestured at Bob, who remained solemn as he sat beside her.