Osprey: A Topgun Fanfic

The Finale PT. 2

I let out a breath, pulling on my helmet. Maverick walks slowly around the jet, tugging at the wings and guns. The sound of engines and the ocean can be heard, the voices of people shouting at each other from across the deck.

  I glance into the blue sky, letting out a breath.

  "This is gonna be great." I say positively, listening to the radio chatter of Hollywood and Iceman.

  "It is." Maverick replies, shooting me a grin.

  I slide into the back, wiggling into my seat. I hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Ice before the start of the mission. A feeling of dread filled my stomach at the thought of one of us getting killed.

  "Relax, Osprey." Maverick says to me, perched on the ladder next to the plane.
   "You're tense. We are the best pilots in the world. We can handle a few MiGs." He gives me a dorky grin, and I laugh.

I buckle my helmet.
   "Thanks, bud." I say, and he nods, sliding into his seat.

  "Now we wait." Maverick says, and I sigh, trying to relax in the cramped space.

Maverick is quiet, but so am I. We are silent, waiting orders and listening to Iceman and Hollywood.

"Voodoo one, Voodoo one, radar contact, fifteen miles." We hear Wolfman, Hollywood's RIO, say. "A pair of bogeys, goin' five hundred nots, dead ahead."

Maverick pulls nervously at the canopy, and I shift in my seat, playing with my oxygen mask as we taxi the short distance to the runway.

"Dead ahead, fifteen hundred feet, air speed still increasing." Wolfman says, and I tap my foot nervously on the bottom of the plane. Maverick shifts in his seat as we are attached to the catapult, waiting orders as the planes hundreds of miles away near each other.

"Dead ahead, eight miles." Slider's voice says, and I glance out the window at the blue waves.

"I can't see 'em." Wolfman says. "They should be right here."

"It's all good," I hear Iceman voice come over the Comm. "I'll take the lead, let's identify them."

"Roger Ice, you take the lead, I am behind you, on your left, a little low."

As the Pilots communicate, I lean back as far as my seat will allow, closing my eyes and breathing slowly.

I hear Maverick pull on his oxygen mask, his breathing rattling through the cockpit. I hurriedly strap mine on, preparing myself.

"Iceman, we've got a problem." Wolf man's frantic voice echos over the Comm. "Not one pair, but two pairs of bogeys on the radar: I repeat, four bogeys."

I adjust in my seat, pulling at the straps.

Holy crap.

"Wood, did you say four?" Iceman asks. I hear Hollywood curse, and my heartbeat immediately exhilarates.