Don't Fear the Reaper

Guilty Pleasure

We had fueled up halfway through our shift and taken a much-needed lunch break. Crystal and I walked toward the mess hall and just sat in silence. I needed caffeine, and fast. I put my elbows on the table and rested my head on my palm, closing my eyes and just breathing slowly. I was queasy by the smell of the mess hall; it was filled with the scent of sweat mixed with burnt food and smoke from the grill, and occasionally the smell of vomit. I pushed through the feeling by breathing through my mouth whenever possible. The coffee would be coming out soon. Not many personnel were on the decks at this time, but they still had a few staff available for us. Just as I was thinking about coffee, I heard them bring out the self-serve liter pumps. I opened my eyes looking at it, wishing I had telekinesis right about now to bring the device to me. Crystal watched and let out a small giggle knowing what I wanted, she got up from the table and walked towards the coffee dispenser. She grabbed two cups, filling them to the brim with the disgusting bean water. I hated the taste of coffee, but I didn't care, I needed the caffeine. I took it black since the sugar and cream had not arrived on the table yet. Crystal on the other hand decided to wait, thankfully, she wasn't waiting long.

"Thank you," I whispered to her as she set it in front of me. We preferred our lunch breaks quietly because we reserved talking for the cockpit. We generally held constant communication while in the plane. It was helpful to our teamwork, how we worked in enemy fire, and when we were being targeted, all of which was dependent on being a cooperative team. The guys around here could learn a thing or two from our example. We worked 12-hour shifts for 3 days a week and then the other pilots took over for the remainder of the week. The hours were brutal, but we made do seeing as we had the least seniority for bidding our preferred schedule. We technically didn't have to fly for the entirety of our shift, but it was helpful to have eyes in the sky as much as possible. I slowly sipped my coffee, taking in the tranquility for the next hour.

When the hour was up, we headed back to the plane. I quickly did my preflight, making sure nothing was out of sorts. I hopped in Crystal following my lead as I checked the flight controls, electronic displays, pitot-static system, and analog instruments. Crystal continued her flows and checks and I waited for her to be ready, I hopped back out of the plane and did a 360-degree walk around just to make sure we didn't have any other blatant issues. When I hopped back in, Crystal was ready to go. I made sure to strap my helmet back on my head and tell the ground crew we were ready to go before I started the engines. They hooked us back up to the catapults and brought up the blast pad. When I saw the thumbs-up, I heard ATC in my ear.

"Reaper, you're cleared for take-off. Have fun out there." I heard them say.

"Cleared for take-off, we'll be departing to the Northwest," I told them. I pushed the throttles fully forward and prepared for the bumpy ride off the runway. When we were airborne, I happily turned us to heading 320, climbing up to around 6,000ft. When we got away from the ship around 81 miles away Doe radioed into the ship.

"Mustang, we'll be bearing 140 at 81 miles starting some aerobatics." She told them. Our routine was expected.

"Roger Doe, we'll keep you updated if we spot any activity. Your partners are to the North about 20 miles out from you." They told her.

"I have them on radar, thank you." Doe said to ATC. I got us up a bit higher before I started doing anything. Once we were at around 10,000 ft I threw on the afterburner and started doing rolling turns while descending. Once we got to 3,000 ft. I pulled us vertical and climbed up back up to 10,000, once there I turned off our burner and flipped us backward, descending and doing loops as we did so. After this, we flew inverted for a bit.

"What's the plan here Reaper?" I heard Doe ask after a few minutes went by of us hanging upside down. I rolled the plane back over, so we weren't hanging by our straps.