Copilot | Top Gun

six

This was it; the final fly was upon you, and you were terrified.

"Relax, okay? We're gonna do great."

Pete's consolations did help, but the second set of dog tags around your neck kept reminding you of the crash. True, you had been flying well the past few months, but something about today seemed different.

"Cadets, line up!" Roared your instructor.

All of you jogged to your respective crafts and began setting up.

You were planning to fly as a Sharp Shooter. Things would be easiest that way. But after a minute of preparing, Pete said: "Y/N, why don't you pilot?"

The question caught you off guard. "Me?"

Pete laughed. "Of course you, you're already one of the best fliers here," he approached you, resting his hands on your hips. "You're amazing. Come on, I'll sharp this round. It'll be just like training."

You stood on your toes and kissed Pete lightly to tell him okay, and then you were climbing into the cockpit.

Your stomach was full of butterflies as the commander signaled you to advance.

Pulling the jet through the warehouse, you passed crates of machine parts and workers alike. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Brett watching your aircraft closely.

After Pete had filed the complaint, Brett had been demoted to engine repair. He and Pete had been at each other's throats all month. Finally the commander had had to place an unofficial restraining order between them. They couldn't be caught in the same room.

Shaking this from your head, you maneuvered the jet onto the runway. In seconds, you were in the air. Pete was whooping with adrenaline and you couldn't help the wide smile on your face.

"Atta girl!" Pete yelled, gripping your shoulder excitedly from behind.

You told yourself to ease up. Your legs and arms were still with fear. You pushed air through your lungs and loosened your grip on the steering stick in front of you as you neared 35,000 feet.

Then, just as you were getting the hang of your nerves, everything went wrong.

"Pete— there's a red light on, is that bad?"

Pete didn't respond.

Thinking he hadn't heard you, you repeated yourself through the intercom.

"There's a red light— is that—"

"Fly low!" Pete suddenly yelled.

"What?" You didn't know if you had heard him right.

"That's the fuel light! We're out! Fly l—"

Before he could finish, you felt the engine beneath you die.

You screamed as Pete started to yell. The aircraft plummeted towards the ground.

"Maverick, Arrow, evac now!" Came the commander's voice over your headset.

You reached over and tugged at the strap next to your hip. Nothing happened.

"It's jammed!" You called, attempting to stay conscious in the dizzying fall.

It was all over then. Pete would die like Chelsea had and you would be alone once more. The thought of that fate consumed you. You couldn't seem to breathe.

Then the back of the jet opened and Pete shot out of his seat, a white parachute protruding from his harness above.

You blinked. Pete had dislodged. That meant it was only you stuck now. Your heart soared.

"Maverick, do you see a chute?" Demanded a voice from your headset. You pulled it off of you and stared at your hands.

Then your fear returned. You were plummeting to your death. You ignored the penetratingly ice cold fear and gripped the cord to your evacuation system. It really was jammed.

The meter on your dashboard read 17,000 feet.

You would never make it.

With one last fruitless tug on the strap, you screamed. You were afraid. Afraid of leaving the world behind.

Then Chelsea was falling.

Then Pete was falling.

Then you were falling.

You sat back, closing your eyes and breathing hard. At least it was you and not Pete, you thought desperately.

Then, your chair dislodged.

Miraculously, you were flung from the falling vehicle and were now tumbling in the air.

You screamed, tugging at the parachute cord as you fell through the air. The mountains beneath you coming closer by the second.

Finally the parachute expanded above you. But what? You gasped. The parachute had been slashed to ribbons. You were in a free fall with no hope of rescue. Desperately, you thought of the man who had survived a fall of 20,000 feet. Would you be so lucky? You'd been at 15,000 when you'd last checked.

As you screamed, the mountains seemed to swallow you up.

And then all was dark.

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