XVI: Wild Bird

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Wild Bird













Sparrow. Rose had gotten the callsign almost immediately in her second week at the academy. Much to her own shock, her superior had said it to her rather than screaming something else much more insulting in her face. She had thought that the callsign didn't suit her. A bird? What could have been so special about a little, useless bird? But it was when she had flown her first mission that she realized that 'small' didn't mean useless or powerless.

"Captain Mitchell is no longer your instructor."

Admiral Simpson stood at the front of the room, glancing tensely at the rest of the pilots who were confused and shocked. His dark eyes blazed at each pilot sitting in the room, observing their restrained contempt.

"And as of today, there are new mission perimeters. Time to target is now four minutes. You'll be entering the valley at reduced speed, not to exceed four hundred twenty knots."

Rooster found himself glancing around the room, searching for any sign of Maverick and Rose. Having not shown up to the mandatory mission briefing that morning, he was quickly becoming concerned. He barely listened to any of the admiral's words.

"Sir, won't that be giving their planes time to intercept?" Bob spoke, his glasses shifting on his face as his eyebrows furrowed.

"Well, Lieutenant, you have a fighting chance against enemy aircraft," Simpson replied dismissively, ignoring the general wariness enveloping the room, "What are the odds of surviving a head-on collision with a mountain?"

Many of the pilots had looks of annoyance and disbelief written on their faces. Nevertheless, Admiral Simpson continued.

"You'll be attacking the target from a higher altitude, level with the north wall. Gonna be a little harder to keep your laser on target, but you will avoid the high-G climb out."

"We'll be sitting ducks for enemy missiles," Rooster heard Fanboy whisper to Payback.

Before Simpson could say another word, the screen behind him beeped. Everyone looked on in confusion when two, single F-18s lit up on the black mission grid, marking that someone was about to test the course. And all at once, the realization hit Rooster.

"Who the hell is that?"

Then an all too familiar voice filled the room.

"Maverick and Sparrow to Range Control. Entering point alpha. Confirm green range."

"Uh, Maverick, Range Control, green range is confirmed. I don't see an event scheduled for you, sir," Control responded in confusion.

The pilots in the room sat forward in their seats, smiles slowly breaking through their serious exteriors when Sparrow spoke.

"Well, we're going anyway."

"Nice," Phoenix smirked.

Rooster was smiling too, but it faded quickly when his eyes darted back to the dark screen. His hands gripped the armrests, and his stomach twisted into knots, worry clenching his heart. He wanted to say that Maverick had shocked him, but really, he hadn't. He was just doing as he always had: risking it all. What he didn't expect was that Rose would be accompanying him.

"Setting time to target, two minutes and fifteen seconds," Maverick spoke over the intercom.

"Two fifteen? That's impossible," Payback commented, shaking his head in disbelief.

Deep down, Rooster knew they could do it. If Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell and Rose 'Sparrow' Dawson couldn't pull off the mission, then who could? What chance would any of them have?

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