Not bad. That was good thinking, and I have to check myself.
He scrambles higher again, racing for clouds above. A terrible mistake. He doesn’t realize this is our moment of glory, these climbs into the heights. The altimeter ticks our easy ascent and I’m right on his tail. Now I have him. Now I have this person who tried to touch my brother. Finger on the trigger, line up the gunsight.
It’s much quicker than I expect.
Easy.
The shot’s right to the undercarriage with my deadly twenty-millimeter cannons, and his engine smokes. The nose drops, then it’s falling down and away. I finger my trigger again, amazed.
A little parachute appears below.
The plane explodes.
That’s right, I tell the pilot. Go see the wreckage of your plane. Go take a good look at what I’ve done.
Heart racing, I head back for the formation.
* * *
The pilot in the wounded Lightstorm plane returns to Havenspur with us. Smoking and chased from the rest of his squadron, he’d figured his best bet was to make for our friendly group. As we fly along, he fields the many questions about how the attack on the airbase went. There’s lots of laughter, boasting, now that tension has passed.
I ignore the excited chatter. Dizziness and nausea overwhelm me, the weariness sudden and thorough. I just did more high-force maneuvers in ten minutes than I normally do in an entire week. When we land, I sit in the cockpit, sucking in air like I’ve been underwater, every muscle trembling with exhaustion. I have nothing left to give.
Filton waits below, relief etched on his face as I slide open the cockpit glass. “Not a scratch, Chief,” I say, jumping down. My knees give way slightly.
He offers me an arm. “Very good, sir. Very good.”
Cyar lopes over, face streaked with sweat, dark hair matted. He looks a bit undone. “God, that was terrible! I was on Garrick’s tail and that pilot came right out of the sun. Cut between us and chased me off before I could even say a thing over the radio.” He stops and looks me up and down. “Did you get him?”
I nod.
He glances to my plane, then shifts on his feet. “Sorry. I would have come along, but I thought you were right behind me. By the time I looked back, you’d disappeared.”
I manage a smile. “Just testing out the plane. She’s quite fast.”
There’s a breath of silence before he says, “Athan, I owe you one.”
“You do.” I shove his shoulder, grateful I can still do it. Anything for him.
“Lieutenant Erelis,” a third voice interrupts. Merlant marches over, mouth set, silk scarf untied. “You were supposed to stay on my wing! You were not supposed to let me out of your sight.”
Cyar steps away, but I straighten. “Sorry, Captain. I had no choice.”
“You damn well did! Flying alone your first time up is the most foolish thing you could have done. You’re lucky we aren’t fishing you out of the Black right now.”
“If not me, then it would have been Cyar. No one else was running to help him.”
He opens his arms. “Because the rest of us were using our heads! Trying something called strategy rather than blind flying. And even after the round was won, you still carried on. Right over Hady! All on your own.” He gives me a look of disbelief. “You’re a lucky fool that plane you met was one of your own.”
Garrick appears around the nose of my fighter. “What’s this, Captain?”
Merlant gestures at me. “I’m trying to explain to your rookie what strategy is.”
“Not much luck, I’m guessing?”
“You’re welcome to take a shot at it.”
Garrick looks at me. “You flew off like a devil, Charm. Incredible dive. I’ve seen pilots nearly kill themselves with moves like that. How’d you keep her out of a stall?”
I shrug. “No other choice.”
“Did you get him down, then?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re sure of it?”
“The whole thing was in flames. There’s no plane left.”
A slow grin lights Garrick’s face. “My God, really? Not bad, Charm! Your first time up, too!”
I stare at him. A compliment from Garrick? What do I do with that?
Merlant looks the same. “Captain Carr, you can’t encourage this in a squadron.”
“Can’t encourage what? Bringing down the enemy?”
“No, every other damn thing he did.” Merlant ticks off his fingers. “Leaving formation without permission, abandoning his leader, never bothering to radio his intentions, attacking the enemy without support … I’m not sure there’s a rule he didn’t break. Sorties aren’t a one-man show.”
Garrick steps between us. “Captain, my rookie just shot a plane out of the sky on his first time up. I’d say that’s pretty damn impressive. Strategies only get you so far, then instinct and luck kick in.” He glances at me. “Though next time it would be helpful if you tried to be a bit more of a team player.”
I nod.
Merlant throws Garrick a dark look. “I will be reporting this to Major Wick. The Lieutenant broke direct orders.”
That threat stops everyone, even Filton and Kif, who’ve been checking my plane over. Garrick straightens his shoulders. His voice is low. “Listen, Captain, there are two squadrons here. We may be training with you, and the Lieutenant will show you the proper respect, but he doesn’t answer to you, nor will he ever. He answers to me, and I say he did a good job today.” He steps away from Merlant and claps me on the shoulder. “Stay on your leader’s wing next time, Charm. I’m not going to be the one who has to explain your death to…” He trails off, no need to finish.
“Yes, Captain.”
He nods, giving me what might actually be a genuine smile, then heads for the barracks. Cyar follows. Filton and Kif disappear into the nearby hangar.
I stand before Merlant, slightly embarrassed, still nauseated.
Nothing left to give.
Merlant looks drained, too. I suppose there’s no such thing as an easy dogfight. “This is the problem with you Safire,” he says quietly. “You think you know everything already, need no one’s help. You think that because you got it right ten years ago, and created something from nothing, you can do it again with ease.”
I rub my aching head.
“You can’t do this alone, Athan. You need to be a part of a team.”
“Cyar’s my team,” I say tightly.
“Not when you’re a captain. When you’re captain you’ll have ten pilots looking to you for guidance. You can’t abandon them for one.” He walks closer. “I lost a good friend up there last year. I know this isn’t a game. You can treat it like one, but up there people die. And you die. It’s about victory, assess, victory, assess. Strategy, Athan. You should know that better than anyone.”
Exhaustion and reason win out. “I understand, sir.”
“Good.” He pauses, shaking his head again. “You really made the bastard run, though, didn’t you? We usually let them off once they’ve waved the white flag and headed for home.”
“He picked the wrong plane to go after.”
Merlant smiles faintly. “I’ll be writing the operations report for Major Wick, and I’ll be sure to mention your score. Perhaps we’ll overlook the rest this one time. But only once.”
I glance up, relieved. “Thank you, Captain.”
He nods and heads for base headquarters, as sweaty and tired as the rest of us. His black cat runs along at his heels. I didn’t even notice it trot over.
* * *
Night falls, and I’m still pulsing with adrenaline. Sleep doesn’t come, only the feeling of loops and dives in the sky, up and down through the atmosphere, the moment of blinding fear when I was caught between crosshairs. I turn onto my stomach and write Ali, holding the paper in the compound light. As always, I end up staring at the blank sheet for far too long.
How do I share what I’ve done today? Where do I begin?
It wasn’t so bad, really. Some heart-stopping moments, then parachutes. As Merlant said, they often just let the other pilot go after a certain point.