Flight Suit Attitude Ch. 1

"Fighter pilot is an attitude. It is cockiness. It is aggressiveness. It is self-confidence. It is a streak of rebelliousness, and it is competitiveness. But there's something else - there's a spark. There's a desire to be good. To do well; in the eyes of your peers, and in your own mind."

-Lt. Col. Robin Olds, USAF
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"Snapshot!"

Nothing but blackness, the vaguest hint of light in her vision.

"Snapshot! Pull out of it!"

Consciousness slowly came back to Capt. Max Caulfield, and her vision cleared up. "Snapshot, you alright back there? Max!"The use of her name snapped her back to reality. She looked around and took inventory of her surroundings; the rear cockpit of her and her pilot's F-15E Strike Eagle, nothing but clear skies outside of the canopy.

"Chloe…?" She said, in a daze, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it.

"I'm alright!" She called out.

"Good, you went quiet back there," her pilot said. Just the sound of that voice calmed her down; Maj. Chloe Price, her pilot and girlfriend.

"Yeah, I'm good," she affirmed, clearing her throat. A female voice piped up on the radio.

"Lighthouse 1, sitrep," the voice demanded.

"A-OK. Wizzo suffered G-LOC, but all good now," Chloe responded.

"Roger," the radio voice said, "Picture clear, airspace sanitized. All callsigns, RTB."

Max's faculties were still slow to return; it took her a moment to remember the female voice on the radio belonged to their squadron's flight controller, AWACS Cheerleader. Max looked at the wings and saw they were clean, despite her explicitly remembering them taking off with a full load of AMRAAMs.

"Misfit, we're clean? What happened?" she said.

Chloe turned her head back briefly like she was looking back at Max.

"Jesus, how hard did you fall out? You don't remember anything that just happened?"

Max wracked her brain for a second to try to recall something, anything, but everything after takeoff was a blank.

"Better have the docs take a look at you when we get back," Chloe said, as they banked to their return vector and levelled off.

Max switched to the private closed-circuit radio channel that they shared. "What... did happen?" she asked uncertainly.

Chloe was silent for a moment.

"12 unknowns blew in outta nowhere an hour ago, and the nerds upstairs called 'em hostile. We got up here to intercept and it was more of Prescott's drones. These were good, too. It was a helluva fight to clear 'em out, but we did. I was pulling hella G's back there, I'm not surprised you blacked out. I keep forgetting you're not as tough as I am," Chloe said, looking back towards Max briefly.

Max chuckled. "Shut up! Most wizzos aren't usually paired with crazy pilots."

"Yep, yep, I'm fuckin' insane in the brain!" Chloe said, laughing and pulling off a quick aileron roll. Max smiled and shook her head ruefully. Chloe always knew how to make her feel better. She looked off to the right and saw one of their wingmen, an EA-18G, come up alongside them. Another female voice piped up on the radio. "This is Lighthouse 4, Snapshot, what's your status?"

Before Max could answer, Chloe cut her off.

"She's fine now, she just couldn't handle my sick maneuvers."

Max could see the EA-18G's pilot shaking her head.

"Misfit, you be careful with that girl," she said in a chastising tone.

"I'm alright, thanks, Kate," Max said. The EA-18G tipped its wings and fell back to a trailing position behind them.
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The sun descended towards the horizon as Max sat on the bench in the locker room, lost in thought, exhaustedly rubbing her face as her thoughts swirled around in her head. The sound of footsteps shook her from her reverie. She turned around, and saw that it was Chloe approaching. "Hey," she said softly, coming up to the bench and sitting next to Max, "Are you alright?"

The witty banter from earlier was gone, replaced now by a tone of genuine concern.

Max nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Chloe stood up, pulling Max to her feet and into a hug.

"You really scared me," she admitted. "I'm sorry, I got way too aggressive up there."

Max chuckled.

"You always are," she said with a smile.

Chloe smiled slightly as they pulled apart and sat back down again.

"So what exactly happened to you?" Chloe asked, squeezing Max's hand.

"I don't know... I remember taking off, and then I came to when you were calling out to me, I don't remember anything else."

Her tone was worried, and Chloe didn't miss it, sitting in thought for a moment.

"I've never heard of anything like that," Chloe said.

"Chloe," Max started, "I've been through G-LOC before. In training and all that. This was nothing like that. You black out, and then you come back after a moment. Today was like I got hit in the head with a bat, everything was foggy and my head has been hurting ever since."

Chloe sat silently for a long moment.

"Do you want me to pull you off the line for a couple of days? We can have Steph or Mikey ride behind me for a bit," she said.

Max shook her head.

"No, it's alright. I'll see how I feel tomorrow, and we can talk about it then."

Chloe nodded.

"Alright," she agreed, leaning over and kissing Max again. "Come on," she rose to her feet, "It's been a long day, you should eat something. We both should."

Max stood as well.

"Alright. Thanks, Chloe," she said, wrapping her arm around Chloe's waist.

"I'd do anything for you, Max. You know that, right?" She said. Max's reply was to return a kiss.

"Right."
_________________________________________

The briefing room was unusually quiet as Maj. Wells strode back and forth in front of the projector screen, describing the day's operations.

Typically briefings were like a high school classroom when there was nothing more important than a CAP planned for the day, but the prospect of actual combat had everyone much more tense than usual. Wells pointed at a diagram of their immediate airspace, into which 12 red arrows penetrated from the northwest.

"This is the expected incursion vector, same as last time," he said, "Long range radars detected the telltale returns of MQ-99 rotary launch patterns out at sea at 0440 this morning. Currently we're not sure if they were deployed via aircraft or surface vessel, but that's part of what you're going to find out. According to the intelligence projections, the UAVs should be penetrating our airspace in about an hour, same as usual. Your objective is to shoot down all hostile aircraft, and then proceed out into Pacific airspace and attempt to ascertain the UAVs' launch method before it slips away."

"Any questions?" he added, as the screen went blank and the lights flicked back on. Dead silence.

"Alright. Dismissed, and good luck up there," he said with a curt nod, proceeding out of the door to the right of the screen. The assorted crewmen in the room stood up in a hustle and crowded to the equipment room. The usual hustle and bustle of the base, the sounds of people cutting up, equipment being moved around and assorted conversations was all gone. The entire base was dead silent, and dead serious, as if they were at war. As they donned their flight suits and harnesses, Chloe went into detail about the formation she wanted them to fly.

"Drew, you're #3 element lead. Watson, you fly on his wing. Caulfield will ride behind me. Marsh, be speedy with your ECM, I want you to stay low and out of the fight. Scott, stay down with Marsh and cover her 6 o'clock."

Everyone nodded or otherwise acknowledged their understanding.

"Graham!" She barked. Warren Graham, the nugget of the bunch and a habitual oaf, looked at her meekly. "Gonna have you fly #2 on my wing. Gotta keep an eye on you, or who knows what you'll get yourself into." She finished, tightening the last of her harnesses. Warren said nothing, his face betraying little emotion besides fear. The entirety of Lighthouse was tense and quiet, but Chloe, as usual, was the same confident flight lead she always was. She was cool-headed and proud; a combat professional.

The pillar of the squadron, Chloe exuded an air of invincibility. Her confidence rubbed off on the others as they prepared, and the uneasy tension was replaced by a sense of focus and determination as they made their way out to the flight line. Max had been pretty much silent all morning, anxious as ever. Chloe, as usual, didn't miss a thing when it came to her. As they arrived at their plane, Chloe turned to her.

"Are you ready?" she asked. As with the previous day, the confident 'flight lead' demeanor was replaced with the gentle care of a lover.

Max nodded.

"Yes, I'm good. I feel way better than yesterday."

"Good," Chloe said, drawing Max into a hug.

"We'll tackle this thing together, like we always do," she added, pulling away.

"Like always," Max said with a smile, leaning up and placing a kiss on Chloe's lips. Chloe smiled widely as well, then took a deep breath and slipped her flight suit attitude back on, like a mask, along with her helmet.

"Now that we got the mushy shit out of the way, I feel like flying! Let's light those fuckers up!" she said, slapping Max on the shoulder and stepping up to the cockpit ladder. "Clear!" She called to the flight line crew, and they returned the call and started the F-15E's engines. Endowed with fresh confidence, Max donned her helmet as well and climbed her own ladder into the rear cockpit, strapping herself in and switching on all of her weapons displays and instruments. The rest of Lighthouse Squadron was starting their own engines as well, and soon the flight line was roaring with the sound of jets. Chloe exchanged a hand signal with the flight line crewman to the left of their plane, and then closed the canopy. The cacophony from outside was shut out, replaced by the loud rumbling of their own engines.

"Ready back there?" Chloe chirped from up front.

"Ready!" Max called back, confidently.

"Hell yeah," Chloe said, the grin audible in her voice.

Crewmen trotted all around them, removing equipment and fuel accouterments out of the way. The chocks were pulled, and soon the crewman in front of them was signaling to begin taxiing. Chloe applied a little throttle and the Strike Eagle began to move forward. Despite the nature of their mission, the promise of the speed yet to come and the freedom of the open skies was a never-ending source of excitement and Max was eager to get in the air.

"Tower, Lighthouse 1, ready for takeoff," Chloe said over the radio.

"Lighthouse 1, cleared for takeoff, runway 9L," the control tower replied.

"Cleared runway 9L, Lighthouse 1," Chloe piped back, and turned onto the taxiway. The sun shone brightly in the sky, and the clouds were plentiful and voluminous; perfect conditions for a flight.

"Lighthouse 1, taking off," Chloe announced into the radio, and lined up on the runway. "Here we go," she said, under her breath, and pushed the throttle all the way forward. The low rumble of the engines increased to a mighty roar, and the Strike Eagle leapt away, speeding down the runway. Chloe deftly pulled back on the stick, the nose pulled up and they effortlessly climbed into the air. Max gazed at the sky as Chloe raised the landing gear and banked right.

"This is Lighthouse 1, we're airborne. Holding short until the rest of the gang is up here too. Hurry your asses up!" she added, as Warren took off after them, followed by Drew, Kate, Juliet, and lastly Brooke.

"Form up," Chloe ordered, turning to the direction of their objective. The rest of the Squadron formed up on her wings in an arrow formation, with Kate above and behind them. "Lighthouse, proceed to your objective. Good luck," The control tower said, and Lighthouse sped away.

-Notes-

Wizzo - WSO

WSO - Weapon Systems Officer, responsible for operation of all onboard weapons systems

G-LOC - G-force induced Loss Of Consciousness

RTB - Return To Base

AWACS - Airborne Warning And Control System

AMRAAM - AIM-120 Advanced Medium Range Air-to-Air Missile

Clean - All external weaponry expended

Bogey / Bogies - Unidentified radar contact

UAV - Unmanned Aerial Vehicle

CAP - Combat Air Patrol

ECM - Electronic Counter-Measures

6 o'clock - Directly behind

Nugget - Rookie

Element / Element Lead - Core principle of the 'Finger Four' formation. Flight of four aircraft divided into two 'Elements' of two aircraft each. #1 and #3 aircraft are Element Leads and are typically more experienced. Aircraft #2 and #4 are less experienced and fly as 'Wingmen' to their Element Leads. Combat initiative is taken by Element Leads; Wingmen are tasked with the immediate protection of the Element Leads only, unless instructed to engage independently or otherwise dismissed from those duties. A fifth aircraft may be attached to the #3's Element as an extra Wingman. Additional aircraft would be organized into further Elements, with all odd-numbered aircraft as Element Leads and all even numbered flying as Wingmen.
This formation becomes unwieldy and inefficient in numbers greater than 6 or 8.