Mayhem || B. Bradshaw

Chapter 15

    "THE URANIUM ENRICHMENT PLAN that is your target will be operational earlier than expected," Warlock had the delight of telling them the day after. Lizbeth sighed, massaging her temples as she slid further back into her chair in the briefing room.

    "Raw uranium will be delivered to the plant in ten days' time," Warlock continued. Her face fell as the realization hit. "As a result, your mission has been moved up one week in order to avoid contaminating the target valley with radiation."

     "Sir," Coyote began, shoulders tensing. "No one here has successfully flown a low-level course." Lizbeth, together with Phoenix and Bob, had been closest to finishing it, but failed with only half a minute left.

     "Nevertheless, you've been ordered to move on." Lizbeth bit her lip, her finger tapping the armrest nervously as Warlock gestured for Maverick to step forward. "Captain."

     "We have one week left to focus on phase two, it's the most difficult stage of the mission," Maverick told them, and Lizbeth noticed the atmosphere in the room dropping. How were they going to pass phase two if they couldn't pass phase one? "It's a pop-up strike with a steep dive, requiring nothing less than two consecutive miracles."

     Maverick turned towards the screen. "Two pairs of F-18s will fly in a welded wing formation," he began, pointing towards the visualization on the screen. "Teamwork. Precise coordination of these aircraft is essential to both the mission's success and your survival."

     The screen pulled up their target and simulated the route. "As you know, the plant rests between two mountains," the planes pulled the pop-up. "On final approach, you'll invert directly into a steep dive. This allows you to maintain the lowest possible altitude and the only possible attack angle.

     "Your target is an impact point less than three meters wide," he continued, and the screen zoomed in on the goal. "The two-seat aircraft will paint that target with a laser bull's-eye." The screen visualized the dual's laser.

     "The first pair will breach the reactor by dropping a laser-guided bomb on an exposed ventilation hatch. This will create an opening for the second pair," Maverick turned around and held up a finger. "That's miracle number one."

     "The second team will deliver the kill shot." A bomb dropped from the F-18s on the screen, and hit the plant. "And destroy the target. That's miracle number two."

     Maverick put his hands behind his back and looked at the aviators. "If either team misses the target, the mission is a failure."

     He turned back to the screen again, pointing at the two planes pulling up the mountain side. "Egress is a steep high-G climb out to avoid hitting this mountain."

     Lizbeth drew a sharp breath as her eyes flickered up the mountain side, calculating at her best ability. That's more than eight G's, maybe even nine.

     "A steep climb at that speed, you're pulling at least eight G's," Hangman interrupted, voicing Lizbeth's fears.

     "Nine, minimum," Maverick corrected, which didn't help at all. But Lizbeth put away her thoughts, diverting her focus to the briefing. She couldn't get distracted now.

     "The stress limit of the F-18's airframe is seven point five," Bradley chimed in.

     "That's the accepted limit," Maverick nodded. "To survive this mission, you'll pull beyond that, even if it means bending your airframe.

     "You'll be pulling so hard, you'll weigh close to 2,000 pounds, your skull crushing your spine," Maverick said. Lizbeth didn't need the visuals. She had pulled an eight before. And she didn't really want to be reminded of it.

     "Your lungs imploding like an elephant's sitting on your chest," Maverick continued, "fighting with everything you have just to keep from blacking out. And this is where you'll be at your most vulnerable. This is Coffin Corner."

     "Assuming you avoid crashing into this mountain," Maverick continued, "–you'll climb straight up into enemy radar while losing all of your airspeed. Within seconds, you'll be fired upon by enemy SAMs.

     "You've all faced sustained G's before, but this..." Maverick pursed his lips. "This is gonna take you and your aircraft to the breaking point."

     "Sir, is this even achievable?" Phoenix asked the lingering question, and Lizbeth could see her anxious expression.

     "The answer to that question," Maverick answered, looking at Phoenix. "Will come down to the pilot in the box."

     "Mayhem, haven't you climbed an eight before?" Payback asked, looking backwards at her, and Maverick followed his gaze. Lizbeth swallowed as she nodded.

     "Yeah," she said, eyes flickering over to Bradley staring straight ahead, his jaw rigid. She took a deep breath and diverted her eyes, ignoring the guilt grumbling inside her. "It's true what he says. It's an awful experience, but it's necessary."

     She didn't mention how she was almost in G-LOC once, or how she had to abort halfway through another because–

     No, Lizbeth swallowed, and looked up at Maverick. She wouldn't go there today. She didn't need that on her mind, not when she was about to pull more G's than she ever had.

     "Gear up and check your aircrafts," Maverick said, though he gave Lizbeth an approving nod. "You're dismissed."

     The aviators went down to the locker rooms, a somber atmosphere draping their emotions as they changed into their gear. Lizbeth took a sip of water before she made her exit onto the Tarmac, in hopes of clearing her head a bit.

     She pushed her resurfacing memories to the back of her mind as she stepped onto the asphalt, making her way over to her jet to do the manual check.

     The required examination was a nice distraction, and she inspected every panel, lever, wheel, wing, the gas, the oil and the ejection system before Maverick assigned the teams.

     She would be trying the flight three times. First off she was assigned Omaha and Halo as duals, with Hangman as wingman and Harvard and Yale as his duals.

     They were number two on the list, so Lizbeth left the Tarmac with anticipation tingling in her fingertips. She sat down by the counter in the Gallery, and turned up the radio, watching pilots scatter into their planes on the Tarmac.

     The sound of rumbling jets and the sight of Bradley taking off with the two duals and his wingman increased her apprehension, and she closed her eyes.

     It's gonna be okay. Don't worry, Mayhem. You'll be fine.

     Bradley's team spoke controlled and orderly through the transmitters, but unfortunately the first pair missed the impact point and they failed the mission. The steep climb was still undergone, and Lizbeth's shoulders dropped in relief when they landed safe and sound.

     Lizbeth's team was next up, with Hangman as their team leader. She tried to soak up all the adrenaline she could muster as she took off, and they assumed the attack formation.