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Spending the entire day standing in a classroom was more exhausting than being in the cockpit. Watching every flight, grading performances, giving feedback to disappointed aviators. Rinse and repeat from sunrise to sunset. Maverick would rather take on a squadron of fifth generation fighters alone. At least he would be in control in that situation.
“Why are you dead?” he asked the detachment again and again. It was a classic military instructor question, one he hated hearing in flight school. Some instructors were real assholes about it, comparing something as simple as a misplaced pen to a full-blown catastrophe. Maverick bore the brunt of the yelling in his class. His commanders were certain that his riskier moves would have killed him if not for for dumb luck on his part. Except Maverick knew what he was doing when he attempted each maneuver, the end results carefully calculated before he moved the stick. It worked because he committed to it. It was hesitation that caused disasters.
He remembered his panic when he flew through Ice’s jet wash, instincts and procedures leaving him in those precious seconds where he’s certain he could have recovered.
At least the deaths in the detachment were all hypothetical. Maverick hadn’t expected perfection, but he’d hoped at least one pair would make it to the target on time. The secondary goal was the quell the remaining egos in the room that push-ups hadn’t already obliterated, and he’d managed with all except two.
“Why are you, why is your team, dead?” Maverick asked Rooster, who had the final hop of the day. He was trying to treat Rooster like the rest of the aviators. Trying and failing. But if Rooster had pushed back this much with his previous instructors, he’d never have made it to Top Gun once, let alone twice.
Yes, they were all frustrated. Sure, arriving late to the target wasn’t a guaranteed death sentence. But a dogfight was a risk Maverick wasn’t willing to take. Not with Rooster. Not with any of them.
“It’s not the plane, sir, it’s the pilot,” Rooster finally argued, shooting Maverick a small, smug smile like he’d beaten Maverick at his own game. But all Maverick saw was himself from thirty years ago, feeling invincible every time he went up with Goose in the back seat. Did he not understand?
“Exactly!” Maverick shouted back.
Rooster’s eyes hardened, and Maverick knew he messed up. He’d made it personal. No one else in the classroom made a sound.
“There’s more than one way to fly this mission,” Rooster stated, but before Maverick could reply, his other troublesome pilot spoke up.
“You really don’t get it,” Hangman said, slouched in his chair. “On this mission, a man flies like Maverick here, or a man does not come back.” Hangman turned his head towards Phoenix. “No offense intended.”
Maverick did not like that comment one bit. Hangman seemed to go out of his way to be an asshole. But before he could respond, Bob beat him to the retort with, “Yet somehow, you always manage.”
Hangman turned back to Rooster. “Look, I don’t mean to criticize. You’re conservative, that’s all.”
“Lieutenant-” Maverick started, but Hangman kept talking.
“We’re going into combat, son, on a level no living pilot has ever seen. Not even him.” Hangman glanced back at Maverick, and Maverick couldn’t refute it. “It’s no time to be thinking about the past.”
Rooster lifted his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Rooster-” Maverick tried.
“I can’t be the only one that knows that Maverick flew with his old man-” Hangman continued.
“Lieutenant, that’s enough-”
“Or that Maverick was flying when his old man was-”
Rooster lunged at Hangman, and everyone was shouting. Maverick tried to get between them, but Rooster barreled through him. Only his classmates kept Hangman from being beat to a pulp.
“That’s enough!” Maverick said, finally able to push them apart with the others holding them back.
“I’m cool, I’m cool,” Hangman said, too casual for a man who almost had his nose broken.
“Enough!”
But Hangman didn’t know when to quit. He turned to Maverick and said, “He’s not cut out for this mission. You know it.”
And that was a step too far. Because Rooster could complete this mission, if only he could get out of his own head and fly. But Hangman didn’t care about that.
“You know I’m right,” Hangman said. He let out a laugh before trying to leave the room.
“You have not been dismissed, Lieutenant!”
Maverick’s voice echoed off the classroom walls. Everyone, including Hangman and Rooster, froze.
“Hangman, Rooster, stay! Everyone else, go home,” Maverick said.
A second passed while the class processed his words, then the rest of the lieutenants scrambled for the door. Phoenix lingered the longest in the doorway, staring at Rooster, but she soon followed the others.
When only Rooster and Hangman were left, Maverick leaned turned around to lean over his desk. For all the times he’d been yelled at in his career, he really was shit at this.
The two pilots shifted behind uncomfortably behind him, and Maverick said, “Why aren’t you at attention?”
Hangman snapped to it. Rooster sheepishly shuffled his feet together.
“Do you understand,” Maverick said, pausing for a steadying breath, “the position you’ve put me in, Lieutenants?”
“Sir?” Hangman asked.
“I have to choose a team in less than three weeks,” Maverick said, turning around. “And instead of selecting based on mission parameters, I have to consider which pilots won’t kill each other up there!”
Hangman swallowed and tried to speak, but Maverick beat him to it.
“You are lieutenants in the United States Navy, Top Gun graduates! You should be able to fly with any pilot here, but instead, you may very well compromise the success of this mission.”
Rooster’s eyes were downcast. Hangman picked a spot on the wall to focus on. Maverick stepped up to Hangman first.
“What was your goal in talking to Rooster like that, Lieutenant Seresin? What were you thinking?”
“I wanted Rooster to understand the lesson, sir.”
“And is that your job?” Maverick asked. “Are you the instructor for this detachment?”
“No, but-”
“But what?” Maverick shouted up at him.
“Rooster wasn’t listening to your feedback, sir.”
“The same way you listened?” asked Maverick. “What was the goal of the exercise?”
“To reach the target within three minutes.”
“And?”
“I made it to the target on time,” Hangman said.
“You were supposed to arrive with your wingman, Lieutenant! Where was yours?”
For once, Hangman didn’t give his arrogant answer. He didn’t give any answer.
“I suggest you focus on your own performance before you give feedback to others, Lieutenant. Since arriving in this class, you have left your wingman multiple times and insulted several of your fellow aviators here. And not only that, you appear to lack respect for the women in this class, going by your comments about Phoenix! How am I supposed to send you on this mission with her or Halo, knowing that?”
Hangman was saved from answering by the door opening. Not that any answer he gave would be good enough. Maverick whipped around to get rid of new arrival, but it was just Hondo and Admiral Simpson. Cyclone waved him on, telling him to continue.
Maverick turned to Rooster. “And you, Lieutenant Bradshaw. How am I supposed to trust you with a 66 million dollar aircraft when you can’t even hold your temper in this classroom?”
Another question with no acceptable answer except, but Rooster tried giving one anyway.
“Were you not angry, sir?” Bradley asked, and Maverick deflated slightly.
“Yes,” he admitted, “but I didn’t try to punch a fellow officer. Control yourself, or you will be given paperwork. Am I understood?”
Rooster’s gaze returned to the floor. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Maverick said. “Now, since both of you seem to be struggling with what’s at stake in this mission-” Rooster immediately bristled at that. “-I will give you a preview of what comes next. Following the canyon run, there is a pop-up strike on a target that will require a laser guided bomb. Two pairs will need to hit the target for mission success. No do-overs. No second chances.”
He addressed Hangman first. “If you arrive without your wingman, you will be dropping blind on an impact point less than three meters wide. That would be quite the feat, don’t you think?”
He saw the subtle shift in Hangman’s expression. He understood.
“If the lead aircraft is late on target,” Maverick continued, turning to Rooster, “the second team will be another 30 seconds behind. You might be willing to risk your life in a dogfight, but are you willing to risk the others?”
Rooster understood, even when he acted otherwise. Maverick saw how he put himself in Maverick’s sights to protect Payback and Fanboy. But he’d be too far away to help the second pair if the fifth generation fighters went for them instead.
“I am giving both of you an assignment tonight,” Maverick said. “Decide which position I should put you in, and whose lives I should risk as your wingmen. Tomorrow, 0700, be outside my office in your khakis, ready to give your answer. And then I will decide if you remain in this program.”
He glanced at Cyclone. The admiral didn’t add any comments.
“Dismissed.”
Hangman and Rooster trudged past Cyclone. When the door closed behind them, Maverick collapsed into a seat.
“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
“Well, Captain,” Cyclone said, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
The glare he sent Cyclone would have been more effective if his hands weren’t shaking.
He was still in the classroom when Ice texted, asking to see him. Well, not asking. No doubt he’d heard about the fight.
Ice scheduled time for him late Sunday morning. It suddenly occurred to Maverick that he ordered his two students to wake up early on their one day off during this training detachment. The days already blurred together. Oh well, there were worse punishments in the military.
He couldn’t send both of them home if he wanted to. Even if Coyote and Fritz were his first choices for this mission, they needed a spare.
Before Maverick left the building yesterday, Cyclone had been quick to remind him that hitting the target was the goal.
They wanted him to pick Rooster, no matter what happened to his kid after that plant was destroyed.
Maverick pulled up to the building at 0655, not bothering with a uniform for what would hopefully be a quick meeting. He sat outside on his motorcycle for a minute. Driving off was really tempting. “Come on, Maverick, get it together,” he whispered to himself. He ordered them to be here. Maverick had to show up, too.
Hangman and Rooster were both in the hallway outside his office when he walked in. There were bags under Rooster’s eyes. Maverick hadn’t gotten much sleep, either.
Maverick paused as he opened his door. “Who wants to go first?”
The two lieutenants looked at each other and carried on a silent conversation. Neither wanted to go in, but they didn’t want to wait, either. “I will,” Hangman said first, and Maverick gestured inside.
He caught Rooster’s eyes before following him in. Rooster’s face reddened, and he broke away immediately.
Hangman took his place at attention in front of Maverick’s desk. Maverick sat down in his chair and said, “So, Lieutenant, did you decide who you are flying with?”
“Yes,” Hangman said, “but before I answer, I’d like to apologize.”
“I am not requiring that of you.”
“I know.”
Maverick gestured for him to continue. “Alright, then.”
Hangman straightened his back. “I am sorry for disrupting your class, and for implying that you caused Rooster’s father’s death.”
“And speaking to Rooster as you did? Are you sorry for that?” Maverick asked.
“No,” Hangman said. “He needed to hear it.”
“So you are sorry for when you said it, not what,” Maverick said. “At least you are honest.”
“I try, sir,” Hangman said with a hint of his usual attitude.
Maverick sighed. Sometimes dealing with Hangman was like looking in a mirror. A good flier, a confident flier, but too cocky. Too quick to push back at any criticism.
“Have you ever been in a flat spin, Lieutenant?” Maverick asked.
Hangman frowned. “No, sir.”
“Seen one?”
“No, sir.”
“But you understand the dangers of ejecting during one.”
He didn’t know how deep Hangman had dug into Goose’s death, but he seemed to understand where Maverick was going with these questions. “Yes, sir,” he answered.
“It’s easy to keep pushing, to take risks because you know you can get out of any situation. Until one day, you push too far. And you can’t recover.”
Maverick let those words sink in for a moment. Many people over the years brought up Goose’s death, whether it was to shame him or just see how he reacted or just because they thought he needed a reminder. He never did. He thought about Hop 31 every day.
“Now, then, which team are you with, and who is joining you?”
“You should put me on the second team. With Phoenix and Bob.”
Maverick blinked. “Why?”
“Your concern is that I will leave my wingman behind,” Hangman explained, “but if I’m with the second team, you are eliminating the risk. The first team sets the pace. I have to hold my position to give them time to drop their bombs and clear the area.”
He could just be saying that because he thought it was the answer Maverick wanted. He sounded genuine, though. “And if you end up in a dogfight?” Maverick asked.
“I thought we were making time so that wouldn’t happen,” Hangman said, the grin returning. Maverick raised his eyebrows. “I know how to do my job. I just really wanted to see you do those 200 push-ups, Captain.”
“And how did that work out for you?”
“Still a bit sore.”
Now Maverick was smiling, too. Dammit, this was supposed to be a lesson. “Why Phoenix?” he said, pulling the conversation back to the point.
Hangman hesitated. “I know you think I have a problem with her, and that… it’s not… the comments are an old joke.”
“She doesn’t seem to be laughing.”
“When we were at Top Gun together, we were hanging out one night and I made a comment that she was like one of the guys,” Hangman said. “And she went off about how everyone says things like that, and how all the instructors were constantly talking about how we needed to ‘man-up’ and ‘have some balls.’ And she was the only woman in our class.”
“You were all drunk at the time.”
“Very,” Hangman said. “So, whenever someone used ‘men’ to refer to all of us, I started adding in a ‘woman’ to go with it. Worked better when we were friends.”
“I would say it doesn’t work now.”
“No,” Hangman said. “And I… can see how it appears in the classroom, and I’m sorry.”
“Apologize to Phoenix, not me,” Maverick said. “Why choose her?”
“Even though we aren’t friends anymore, I still know her very well. I know she’ll have my back no matter what I’ve said in the past. And I know she can keep up with me in a dogfight.”
Maverick nodded. Hangman’s assessment of Phoenix was sound. Even when Hangman was being an asshole in the air, she worked with him. If he gave her the same courtesy, they could have taken him down.
“What about Rooster? Could you fly with him?”
“I don’t know.”
It sounded like there was history between them, but Maverick had interrogated him enough. “Alright,” he said. “You can enjoy the rest of your day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The last bit of tension left Hangman. “Thank you, sir.” He reached for the door handle, then turned back. “Should I send Rooster in now, or give you a minute?”
A minute wasn’t going to cut it, but he couldn’t put it off forever. “You can send him in,” Maverick said. Hangman went out, giving Maverick a precious few seconds to be alone.
Rooster soon knocked on the door. Maverick was in the middle of rubbing his face, and he took a deep breath before calling, “Enter.”
His godson shuffled in and took his position in front of Maverick’s desk. His tired eyes found the stapler on Maverick’s desk to stare at.
“So,” Maverick started, “which position are you flying?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Rooster muttered. “I know you aren’t going to choose me.”
Maverick sighed. “That wasn’t the assignment, Lieutenant.”
“Am I wrong?” Bradley asked, now meeting Maverick’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I do. I could be the best one here and you would still find a reason not to pick me.”
The thought of sending Bradley, sending Goose’s son, on this mission sickened him. Someone wasn’t coming back. Even if he had four pilots and two WSOs who could avoid enemy aircraft, navigate the canyon, and hit the target, they still had to deal with the SAMs on the way out. But if it came down to Bradley being the best, Cyclone wouldn’t give him a choice.
“What makes you say that?” Maverick asked instead.
“I am the only one who made it to the target, but you-”
“Yes, you were the only one. Yesterday. But we still have two weeks of training left where the others might catch up and exceed.”
“So you-”
“And if the others can fly it faster than you,” Maverick interrupted, “I will pick them!”
Rooster stared him down, breathing hard.
“Do you understand why the time matters?” Maverick asked.
“Because you don’t think we can win a dogfight,” Rooster said. “You had to spend two days proving that you are the best, and we are just some dumb kids.”
“You could have gotten me. Why didn’t you?”
“I’m not risking my plane on an exercise!”
“Then how am I supposed to know if you’ll do it when it’s real!”
Rooster shook his head. “You already decided I can’t.”
Maverick sighed. “I think you are capable of flying this mission, Bradley. For what it’s worth, I am sorry for saying otherwise. But I’m not looking for someone who could fly it after two months of training. I need someone who can fly it now. Is that you?”
Rooster glared at him. “It is.”
“Then, show me!” Maverick ordered him. “Now, which position should I put you in?”
Silence filled the room. Rooster’s eyes shifted around, avoiding Maverick. “Second team,” he finally said.
“Why?”
Rooster frowned, but he didn’t share his reasoning. Whatever it was, Maverick didn’t think it would instill him with confidence.
“Fine, next question. Who are you flying with?”
“I can fly with any of them, sir.”
Maverick smiled. “I know. That one was more for Hangman, anyway.”
Bradley let out the breath he was holding.
“Speaking of, could you fly with him on the other team?” Maverick asked.
“As long as he focuses on the mission, yes.”
Maverick nodded. “Alright, get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Bradley blinked, almost not believing him. Maverick picked up a random file and pretended to look at paperwork. He planned to leave soon, but he wasn’t sure how Rooster would take Maverick accompanying him to the parking lot.
Bradley took his time walking to the door, waiting for Maverick to call him back with a different decision. He turned the door handle, opened it halfway, then stopped.
“I’m not…” he started, grimacing. “I don’t blame you for my dad. You know that, right?”
The other squadron’s flight schedule suddenly became the most fascinating piece of literature. But Bradley lingered by the door, and he had to say something. “That makes one of us,” Maverick said. “Enjoy your Sunday, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”
He felt Bradley’s eyes on him. For a moment, he thought Bradley would say something else. But the door shut behind him. The words on the page blurred together as Maverick’s eyes grew watery.
Once Maverick was sure that Rooster was gone, he texted Ice that he was on his way and made his way to the parking lot. Fortunately, no one else was around on a Sunday morning. Both Rooster and Hangman were long gone, and his motorcycle was the only vehicle left.
They needed more than one day’s break. They were stressed before the argument, and now two students lost part of their day to relax. If he kept pushing, they would never make it to the mission.
Maverick drove by the beach on the way to Ice’s house, already thinking up ideas. He could call is a team building exercise. Cyclone would never approve, but Maverick knew of at least one admiral who would sign off on it.