Pas de Deux: A Top Gun Maverick Story

First Day of Training

I was hoping after staying awake for a whole 24-hour trip from Guam to North Island, I would sleep like a baby. Unfortunately, that is not the case. Luckily, I got a room at the base to stay in. It's not much, no bigger than a New York City studio apartment, but at least I got a place to sleep and a private bathroom...it's the little things that make life easier...for most. Waking up with the sun, I reluctantly get out of the cot and get ready for the first day of training. I stepped into the hangar where the brief will take place. I'm a little unsettled to find desks and chairs with the F-18 NATOPS manual at every seat – like a classroom. I take a breath and pick a seat. I choose a spot on the far right second row. With nothing else better to do, I open the manual and start skimming through the familiar pages.

After a while, more pilots and WSOs start to filter into the hangar and find a seat. I didn't have to look at them to know what they are thinking. They enter the hangar and their pace slows when they see me, sitting with a perfectly straight posture. A little unsettled, they find a seat but continue to glance in my direction. If they find a seat next to or in front of me, when they turn to glance at me, they see the darkest and meanest resting face, with my head tilted down looking at the pages. My theory is confirmed not only with déjà vu but with the entrance of Hangman and Coyote.

"I get the callsign now" I hear Hangman mutter to Coyote who just hums in response before they find their seats. As much as I hate to admit it, Hangman's right. This is the exact scenario that got me my callsign. After a while, all the pilots were sitting, waiting for Admiral Bates to introduce our instructor.

"Attention on deck!" someone shouts as Bates walks up to the podium in front of the makeshift classroom. We all stand up for the Admiral's entrance.

"Morning. Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated." Bates orders and we all scrape our chairs back into our seats. "I'm Admiral Bates, NAWDC Commander. You're all Top Gun graduates. The elite. The best of the best. That was yesterday. The enemy's new fifth-generation fight has leveled the playing field. Details are few, but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage. Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman in the box," I see Hangman turn to look at Phoenix who subtly flips him off. "Half of you will make the cut. One of you will be named Mission Commander, the other half will remain in reserve. Your instructor is a Top Gun graduate with real-world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master," Footsteps echo from behind us. Maverick. "His exploits are legendary, and he's considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced." Hangman turns to see who's teaching but his face quickly falls when he recognizes Maverick – the man he helped throw out of the bar last night. Hangman pinches the bridge of his nose as if saying 'You've got to be kidding me' without saying a single word. "What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death. I give you Captain Pete Mitchell. Callsign: Maverick" Bates finishes, stepping away from the podium. Maverick goes up and faces the class.

"Good Morning" he starts with a friendly smile and a nod. I see Bob turn and look at me, I shoot him a quick glance to meet his eyes. He recognizes Maverick too, good. "The F-18 NATOPS. It contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft. I'm assuming you know the book inside and out,"

"Damn right," Coyote says.

"Damn straight" Hangman layers.

"You got it," Payback calls out. The three who threw out Maverick, clearly trying to win him back over. Maverick drops the book in the bin next to the podium.

"So does your enemy," Maverick says after the echo of the book hitting the bin softens.

"And we're off" I hear Hondo mutter and I can't help but agree.