“Bogey on your right,” I said into the comm, and I knew the second Panther spotted them because he leaned into that direction and began to dive low, implementing the plan we’d discussed back on base if all conditions were favorable—and they were.
I fell in beside him, and we found the cloud cover we were after and sped toward the unsuspecting duo above. The goal was to get in under them before they even realized we were there.
My senses were tingling now, as the high-risk portion of today’s hop was about to be initiated. Panther shot out from under Gucci’s tail and went straight up, and I followed suit, barely clearing Whiplash’s tail end as I began to climb toward the heavens.
The second they saw us was obvious—they broke formation, no doubt in an effort to try to see what the fuck was going on behind them. But it was too late now; we had them in our sights, and this hop was about to show who was more skilled at this one-on-one shit.
The skill set Levy wanted to witness in this final hop was of the highest caliber. He wanted to know that his pilots—theElitepilots—knew how to handle themselves when up close and personal with the enemy. This kind of combat was all about geometry and piloting. It was about assessing the other pilot’s energy and willingness to go all the way. You had to watch and observe every maneuver they made, orient to what they were doing, then make a decision on what to do next. Once you’d done all of that, you had to maneuver yourself into position to counter it—all in a handful of seconds that could mean life or death.
This job wasn’t for the faint of heart. Panther and I topped out at our max altitude and then began the steep dive back to the two below, and the thrill of the chase kicked into high gear as I zeroed in on Whiplash and watched Panther pin Gucci.
“Looks like they’re gonna roll,” Panther said, and not a second after that, they veered off in opposite directions and barrel-rolled over and over at a nauseating clip in an effort to shake us free.
But with Panther and me this close, we could see each and every move before they even made it. Gucci tried for a nosedive, but Panther plugged that sucker up, andWhiplash decided to see how strong my stomach was with some major three-sixties—stratosphere style. No matter what they threw at us, though, we were right on their tails, and it wasn’t long after that that Panther and I locked on to our targets and the mission was called. Whiplash and Gucci were done.Sayonara, suckers.
The euphoria of victory that washed over me as the results were relayed through the comm made me whoop and fist-bump the air. Panther’s stealth tactics had been the perfect move for today’s mission—we’d been the hunters seeking our prey—and as I flew past Whiplash’s plane and she shot me the finger, I couldn’t help but laugh, my joy overtaking me.
You gotta love it when the dead can still flip you off.
The four of us leveled out, I moved into position by Panther to head back to base, and it occurred to me that this might be the last time I ever flew with him like this. It was almost enough to take away from the jubilant feeling of success, until I remembered that whatever path we chose to take after this, we were taking it together.
There would be other highs, other moments to share, so I needed to bask in this one now and then store it away as one of the best moments of my life. This was a time for celebration, and I was fairly certain there would be more where that came from.
I couldn’t be one hundred percent positive, but I was pretty sure that today’s win had also just secured the top spot in the program for one of us.
I touched down, climbed out of the plane, and rushed over to Panther, tearing off my helmet. When he looked at me and smiled, I got my first high from being on the ground.
That proud, joyous expression crossing his face as he pulled his Aviators off made me feel like I was still flying. We met halfway between the planes and embraced in a victorious hug full of back slapping, whooping, and, finally, a gentle stroke of fingers down the cheek.
“I can’t believe we did it. You were amazing up there today,” Panther said. We turned to head back toward the hangar, and I couldn’t help but puff my chest out a little. It felt good to have Panther’s approval, and even better to have his respect.
“You weren’t so bad yourself, Lieutenant Hughes. That plan of yours was genius. They never saw us coming.”
“Damn right.” Panther grinned then stepped my way to bump shoulders, as though not being able to touch was as hard for him as it was me. “Thank God the weather was in our favor.”
“Eh.” I shrugged as we stepped inside the hangar. “If there’d been no clouds, we just would’ve switched to plan B.”
Panther stopped as we reached the door to the locker and bay area. “Which was?”
“Fly like crazy, reckless motherfuckers and scare them straight outta the sky.”
Panther chuckled as he pulled the door open for me. As I passed, he whispered in my ear, “I think our time together has taught you a little bit of restraint, Lieutenant Morgan.”
I agreed—being with himhadtaught me how to have a hell of a lot of restraint. It had also told me that some things—the best things—were worth waitingandfighting for.
“Lieutenants?” At the sound of Commander Levy’s voice, we looked up to see him standing at the top of the stairs leading to the observation area above the hangar. “Get cleaned up and meet the rest of the class up here in twenty.”
“Yes, sir,” we barked out with sharp salutes.
“Nice flying today, the pair of you,” Levy added before he headed back inside.
I started down the hall then winked at Panther and said, “I’ll race you to the showers.”
34Panther
TWENTY MINUTES TO the second, Solo and I headed toward the door that led to the observation area where we assumed everyone was waiting.
Along with Gucci and Whiplash, we’d been the last to arrive back at base after the hops, and since no one had been left in the locker room, we assumed they’d already assembled for this final, and very important, class.
