The final evaluation, essentially our graduation to the fighters we chose, started off as it always had. We sat in the briefing room waiting to turn in the flight plan Bucky and I had so intently prepared. Both of us were ready for this, as the instructors had paired us up together on purpose. Once we had those filed, the two of us, having already had our G-suits on, made our way out to the waiting planes.
"So, this is what it comes down to, eh Jerome?" Steven asked. "A couple of dogs like us, duking it out."
"If I'm a dog, then you, my friend, are a shark with the way you fly," I replied. The walk out on the tarmac was usually pretty warm, temperature-wise, but today was even hotter. We knew what the weather was going to be like over our area, so we took some solace that this was the only sun we would get for a while. "Anything interesting going down between you and Jupiter?"
"Nah, that ship has sailed." He replied as we arrived at our aircraft. The black and silver jets, along with the flight crew almost seemed to beckon us to climb in. Knowing this was the final ride in these aircraft, we took our time enjoying the moment for the most part. The minute we climbed into those cockpits; it was all business.
Soon, we were airborne and on our way to the target area. We were following the navaids given by some buoys thousands of feet below, simulating a run through various types of terrain. We ran through valleys, cutting through tight corners, to just full-on sprints across rolling hills. Once we got to the end of the last course, we formed up and prepared ourselves for the next phase of the sortie. Flying wingtip to wingtip, we looked each other in the eye. We both knew what was about to happen.
"So, who's the better pilot Talon 2?" He asked me.
"I think it's time we find out." I banked the aircraft into a hard right turn, catching Bucky off guard. He pulled up so I wouldn't fly into him, and he started to come back down right on my six. I shoved my engines into afterburner and dove for the hard deck. I kept checking my tail, and through the clouds, I could see he was still hot on my tail. I decided to use the clouds to try and evade the shark hunting me. I cut the burners once I hit another cloud layer and reversed the turn. I came streaking out of the cloud to see I had crossed his tail.
"Jesus Christ! Where the hell did you come from?!" he exclaimed. We were now in a flat scissor fight, each of us trying to force the other to shoot out in front. Our airspeed began to drop with every turn. I then decided to try something. It was a dangerous move, but I couldn't think of anything else. I extended everything I could. Airbrakes and flaps even pulled the throttle back to around half. For a brief moment, Steven's jet shot out ahead of me and allowed me to increase throttle and attempt for me to get my nose on target. Unfortunately, like a shark, he sensed I had given up a lot of my airspeed. His jet quickly went from in the center of my HUD to quickly leaving it and his jet was ripping around towards me. I had no choice but to ditch out and try to force some sort of nose-to-nose fight. In short, I was not successful.
"That's what I like to call a dead bird," Steven said. I watched his jet soar skyward, and I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Yeah. I had you there for a second, I just couldn't keep my speed up." I said, leveling off my jet. I checked my fuel and saw it was way lower than what it should be. "Oh shit... I'm Bingo fuel buddy."
"I'm getting to that point too, let's RTB." We formed back up with each other and made our way back to base at supersonic speed. The flight back was quick, seeing as we were under the constraint of fuel, but what a flight it was. Down below, the clouds were rushing by, slightly obscuring the beautiful reefs thousands of feet below them. Up high, we saw the contrails of a large aircraft. It was a tanker cruising about 12,000 feet above us, and it was being tailed by two fighters. Most likely returning from a long-range sortie.
It wouldn't be long before we were making our final approach and landing back in Unity Island, where we were greeted by a small crowd of instructors. They gave us our last debrief for our T-38 flying.
"Firstly, I wanna say I'm extremely proud of you two and what you have been able to accomplish." Our lead instructor said. "The next course you will be flying in is going to be much harder and faster, and we had about a week to enjoy ourselves before the next course.
We had selected our aircraft of choice already, with Bucky going for the F-15 and myself for the F-16. During that week, Bucky and I studied the many manuals and procedures that were needed for the proficient and swift learning of our respective jets. The two of us did find time to relax, and of course, Andre would keep in touch with the both of us, sharing some more combat footage with us and showing us around the airbase. He had already put in a good word for us to come to his base, seeing as he had a bit of pull.
"You see, Jerome, The Eagle is the better jet thanks to its medium to long-range capabilities. Not to mention it held the record for the highest kill-to-death ratio for over 60 years." He said matter-of-factly.
"And the Viper has more kills period," I replied. "Just not the best ratio." We continued to rib each other about our pick, eventually coming to an agreement that both were good. "Well, we might not see each other for a while. You're gonna be busy, I'm gonna be busy."
"All good man, let's just enjoy the here and now." I knew he was right. As long as we had been here, he hadn't been wrong in his observations. That day was the last day we had to talk as the next day was to be the first flight in each of our respective aircraft of choice. It couldn't come soon enough.
The next day, before my first ride up, I tried to call my cousin, but for some reason, he didn't answer. I guessed it up to him most likely flying a sortie at the time and went on with the day. The briefing for the first hop was long, but it was necessary. This was to be our first time in the Viper, and we needed to know everything about it from tip to tail. One by one, we started to make our way to the flight line. There she sat, albeit a two-seater version. It will be called my aircraft for the next week or so. The F-16D. I was in the back while the instructor took the initial controls for takeoff. Once we got airborne, control was handed over to me.
"The sky is yours, pilot." She spoke. I gripped the sidestick, and to be honest, in that moment I felt the power behind the jet. However, I nearly overbanked the plan on my first turn. My instructor nearly whacked her head on the canopy from how fast I rolled the jet. She, of course, told me to go easy on the controls, which I soon did. It took a few minutes for me to get used to the controls, but once I did, it was almost like second nature. From loops to dives and a few too many g's for a first flight, it was one hell of a time. The last part of the flight was us taking the Viper over the speed of sound, and she accelerated much quicker than the Talons we flew before. It was like nothing I had ever experienced, and I loved every last moment of it.
After the debrief, I immediately called Andre to tell him about it, but again, no answer. I started to get a little worried. This wasn't like him, but I chalked it up to him just getting some much-needed rest for the next day. As I was leaving the flight ops building, I noticed a bunch of F-2s lining the flight line on the opposite apron. I hadn't seen one in person before, and it was a bit jarring to see how similar they were to the F-16. After a bit of fitness training, the other Viper pilots and I went to get some chow, and I tried my luck at calling Andre again. Still no answer.
Just as I was finishing up my food, my phone rang. For the first time, however, my face didn't light up into a smile. It was Andre's number, but the sudden pit in my stomach almost prevented me from answering the call. I separated myself from the group, telling them it was important. Once I made my way outside the mess hall, I answered the phone.
"Andre, what's up man?"
"This is Candid." The tone of his voice was icy cold, and the lump in my throat suddenly decided to show up. "I don't know how to say this, Jerome.. but..." Over the phone, I could hear the faint sound of someone sniffling. Even Candid's voice was trembling.
"But what? What happened?" I said, between gulps. My own breath was trembling. I had a feeling of the next words out of his mouth, but I was silently praying it wasn't what I thought.
"On the last sortie, your cousin didn't-" He stopped himself, trying to control himself. "He didn't make it back." Those words hit me like a truck. My legs suddenly felt like jelly and I nearly collapsed onto the floor. I was heavily leaning on the wall of the mess hall, and my expression must've looked a sight as other pilots came up to me, asking if I was ok. All I could do was slowly nod my head with a blank stare on my face, still holding the phone to my ear. "He was a damn good pilot, Jerome. I-! I told him it was too many, but he stayed behind... I'm sorry." Then the phone went dead. It all happened in a blur, from walking almost zombie-like to my barrack, to my mother calling me in a panic, to nightfall. Time seemed to fly on by. I couldn't rest that night. I lay there, on my cot, wondering what I could do. I left the room to get some fresh air. Sometimes, just sitting under the dark starry night helped. There was a spot, a bench I went to that sat at the end of the breezeway. There were no obstructions, just the sky and the sea. Until I met her.
Still dressed in the day's flight suit, I sat down next to the girl. I definitely startled her, as I felt a sharp stinging pain in my shoulder from a haymaker she threw. I grabbed my shoulder, shifting to the edge of the bench and staring off into the distance.
"What the hell, man! Don't just sneak up on someone like that!" She snapped. I said nothing. "Hello? Earth to random pilot? You there?" I looked over at the girl, just for a split second. When we made eye contact he face went from angered annoyance to considerable concern. "What the hell happened to you?" I remained quiet, going back to staring out into the cold blue water. She fell silent as well. For about ten minutes, nobody spoke a word. The distant noise of a few jets quietly roaring off into the night filled the air, along with the rolling waves. Then she broke it. "You lost somebody, didn't you."
"That obvious, huh?" I finally spoke. She nodded.
"I know the feeling. But unfortunately, that's the way things go around here." She spoke softly, but firmly. "You're gonna lose more people if you keep on this path. So, buck up and move on."
"Buck up?" I retorted aggressively, but quietly. "You're gonna tell me to just get over it?! He was like a brother to me!" I could feel tears starting to form in my eyes. It was almost too much to bear hearing that. "How would you feel if someone told you that you lost someone-!"
"Because it happened to me!" She shouted back, silencing me. "Those were the exact words I was told when I lost my best friend..." Even in the darkness, I could tell she herself was on the brink of tears.
"I thought you were just saying that..." I replied. It wasn't until then that I could feel the tears running down my cheeks. "I need to go, I'm sorry," I said, standing up and starting to walk away. She then grabbed my shoulder, hard. She spun me to face her and then just embraced me. I was shocked. Speechless. Then it came out. The tears began to flow heavily. I started to silently sob. It was as if she was squeezing the emotions out of me. Before I knew it, almost half an hour passed before I calmed down. I hadn't even noticed I had dropped to my knees. She soon let go of me and stood up.
"Stay strong, Franklin. Your brother would've wanted that from you." She spoke. I couldn't muster the words thank you out of my mouth, so I just gave a nod. "Good luck." She disappeared into the breezeway, where I just sat there, rubbing my face clean with my arms. I wanted to properly thank that girl, but the emotional exhaustion from the day was too much. I passed out the moment my head hit my pillow after making the walk to my barrack. For the next few days, between training, studying and the long calls with family back home, I always went back to that spot to wait for the girl, hoping she would return. Unfortunately, she never did. And I knew for a fact I wouldn't see her again when I saw the flight of F-2s take off during my preflight checks for a training sortie. During training, I was still referred to as Jeff, but I had another plan once I was off to Eagle Island.
The month of training had passed by in a flash. Dogfighting instructors, aggressors, and other students from different schools was intense. I wanted to learn everything about the Viper. And learn it I did. The day before the first Air Combat Maneuver training, I received my cousin's favorite necklace. I put it on and vowed to be just as good, if not better than him. And not only that but carry on the name. I flew recklessly, almost crashing my jet a couple of times during the ACM training. That training sortie nearly saw myself and an instructor, who was flying an opposing F/A-18 Hornet, nearly collided when we merged, as I tried to turn pre-emptively. My wingman didn't like flying with me, despite the success, and after getting reamed by said instructor, I fell back in line. I ended up just barely passing the course, but I made it.
The night before I was supposed to ship off to the base of my choosing, I received a call. It was from an unknown number, which was a little scary. I answered the call, just hear a female voice on the other line.
"Is this Jerome Franklin?" she asked bluntly.
"Who's asking?"
"I am. I'm one of the squadron leaders here at Eagle Island. You can call me Chip." She replied. "I knew your cousin." Again, as always, mentioning him always felt like a ton of bricks hitting me at once. "I just wanted to say your cousin was one hell of a pilot, but don't compare yourself to him. Be your own pilot." She said. Honestly, it was something I had been doing. I was trying to become my cousin reincarnate. A couple of the instructors who knew him even commented that I flew just like him. But hearing that from my potentially future squadron leader did put me at ease.
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I said. "One more thing, my callsign is Lightning. I won't answer to any other moniker."
"Dually noted. We'll see you when you get here. Good luck, Lightning." The call then went dead, and I put my phone away. The next day would be a long one.
Steven and I embraced each other upon seeing one another for the first time in weeks. Unfortunately, it was bittersweet, as I had to break the news about my cousin to him. He was happy that it didn't put me off from flying, and of course, gave his condolences.
"From what I know, he went out in a blaze of glory." I said, climbing the stairs leading up to the transport jet.
"Whatever the case, I'm happy you pushed through it. That's the most important part." He had replied. The flight from Unity Island to Eagle Island was a long one. We had to avoid hotly contested airspace and go around storms that had begun to form in the area. Unfortunately, Eagle Island was going through such a storm. I sat in the seat staring out the window, while Steven was asleep in the row in front of me. It gave me time to think about everything. From joining the program to potentially suffering the same fate as Andre. Just like the storm outside, my emotions were turbulent, swirling, and hopefully won't lash out like a lightning strike.
Upon landing at Eagle Island, one thing was very apparent. It was an extremely small airbase. Mainly home to some Airborne Early Warning craft, known as Wedgetails, and a very small fighter complement. The wet runways and taxiways reflected the dark clouds above beautifully, as well as any vehicles, aircraft or personnel that happened to be out when they touched down. Waiting outside with a van were a couple of what I could presume to be pilots. One was unmistakably a male, about my height. His dirty blonde hair was sticking to his forehead, no doubt from the rain. The other was a girl, a bit shorter than the guy, with a jacket on, which was drenched. Once we were allowed to deplane, Bucky and I walked down the air stairs, side by side. The girl was the first to approach the two of us. We stood tall, giving a salute to the girl.
"Jerome Franklin and Steven Beaucanon, reporting," I said.
"At ease you two. Welcome to Eagle Island. Name's Molly Collier, to most though, I go by Chip." She said, calmly. "C'mon, it's cold and I've been out here for an hour waiting for y'all." She motioned for us to follow her, which we did. It was only when I got a little closer to the guy that I could see the shock in his expression, no matter how subtle it may have been. We climbed into the van and the guy stayed eerily quiet on the drive.
"Something tells me he's not the happiest of the bunch," Steven said quietly on the ride.
"Yeah, definitely don't want to get on his bad side," I replied. We zoomed past the large aircraft stand and across the runway. We soon came to a small row of hardened aircraft shelters. Each had a number, from one to eight. The last two were opened, revealing the noses of our respective aircraft. The guy brought the van to a halt.
"Hop out." He said, coldly. We did as we were asked, with the two of them following us behind. "Jerome, on me." Cautiously, I did as I was asked, although it was pissing me off, the way he was ordering me around like a pet. I looked over my shoulder to see Steven and Molly talking amongst themselves while under the nose of the F-15. We stopped in front of the viper, and I was taking it in. The numbers 095 could just be made out on the tail, along with the letters E and I. "You better listen here, Jerome. You fly the way I tell you to fly. You got that?" He said. "I'm not losing you, too."
"You must be Candid." He nodded in response.
"You got it. And I made a promise that if you were to come, I'd keep you alive." Candid grabbed me by the shoulder. "And I don't intend on breaking that promise." He then let go and went into the shelter, motioning me to follow. Inside the shelter was a small staircase to an even smaller room. Candid explained it was for when we had a high possibility of a bomber raid, and we needed to stay close to our aircraft. It was a short tour, but enough of one to see our aircraft. Once the tour was over, we made our way to the barracks, which was about 5 minutes away from the field itself. We were dropped off at the barracks, as the two needed to get ready for the next day's sortie. We were jumping right into the fire.