A Ghost Playing Hangman

The End

All Jake could see was smoke. At the speed both planes collided, there was nothing but smoke and debris in the air.

"Hangman, was there a chute? Was a chute deployed?" Jake heard the near-panic in the voices over his headset but couldn't answer. He was too far behind to see if you ejected before impact and too high up to see if you were in the water.

"Hangman, answer." He shook his head in shock. "I—I don't know. I couldn't see."

He replayed what just happened, over and over to see if maybe he missed something. But the silence on his headset told him everything he needed to know.

Jake maneuvered the plane back to the carrier, landing as if he were on autopilot. The crew around him celebrated a successful mission, but nothing about what just happened felt like a victory.

He sat in his plane until he heard a knock on the dome. Bradshaw had climbed up and was waiting right outside for him. With more force than was necessary, he took his helmet off and flung it by his feet.

This was why he didn't get close to people. This was why he refused to let anyone in.

After opening the top of the plane, the cheers he had heard became something that would haunt him at night.

"Has there been any word yet?"

Bradshaw's face was a mask of concern, but there was no time for words. Jake shook his head, his throat tight with unshed emotion. He couldn't find the words to explain what had just happened. Instead, he focused on the dull roar of the carrier's operations, the rush of adrenaline still pulsing through him, mixing with dread.

"No word," Jake finally managed, his voice a low rasp. "I... I couldn't see if she ejected."

Bradshaw's expression darkened, a storm brewing behind his eyes. "We have to get a search party out there. If she's in the water—"

Jake cut him off. "We don't even know if she made it out!" The words came out sharper than he intended, fueled by frustration and fear. "We can't risk more lives trying to find her if we don't even know if she's alive."

Silence settled between them, heavy and suffocating. Each heartbeat felt like a countdown, ticking away the moments they could have spent saving you.

"I can't—" Jake started, but the weight of his own past decisions loomed large, echoing the mantra that had haunted him since the beginning of his career. He'd kept his distance from everyone, convinced that it was safer that way. But now? Now he felt the stark loneliness of that choice.

The sound of the deck crew working below broke the stillness, the cacophony reminding him of the harsh realities of their world. He needed to pull it together. For you. For the squadron. For every pilot who had ever risked everything. He wouldn't let Ghost become another statistic.

He climbed out of the cockpit and onto the deck, the air thick with tension. The crew was still celebrating the mission's success, but it felt hollow. No one knew yet about the potential loss hanging over them. The camaraderie felt tainted, like a party thrown in a graveyard.

Bradshaw stood next to him, unsure what to do. His focus turned when Maverick approached. "Hammer is sending out a few rescue boats in case she made it out before impact."

Both men could hear the small bit of hope in Maverick's voice, but his body language betrayed him. It was doubtful you had made it out of there in one piece, especially with no evidence of a chute.

The rest of the team kept their distance, knowing the three men standing together would take this loss the hardest.

In the distance, two rescue boats skimmed over the choppy waters, their bright orange hulls a stark contrast against the gray sea. Jake's heart raced, hope flickering like a dying ember.