Two planes soared over the sparkling ocean, the water glistening in the bright midday sun. The planes, a pair of Fulcrums, were out on a routine patrol, looking for an enemy that didn't exist. If either pilot looked out their cockpit, the dazzling ocean would give way to towers rising up to the clouds, the skyscrapers of Farbanti. It was peaceful, dreamlike and picturesque.

But then suddenly the clouds rolled in. Daylight turned to murky darkness as the storm began to lash the planes with lightning, thunder drowning out the sounds of their engines. Hurriedly, the lead plane turned away and headed back towards the sunny skies behind them, the second plane close behind. However, the storm was not about to let it's prey escape so easily.

With an angry howl, wind buffering the jets so bad the pilots had to fight for control, a bolt of bright light smashed into the second Fulcrum. The aircraft lost power, and began tumbling helplessly towards the thrashing waves below. The pilot desperately yanked at the ejection handles to no avail, and could only watch as the plane dived closer and closer to the darkness that reached out to grasp them…

"Thomasin!"

I awoke with a start, sweat glistening on my skin. I struggled to catch my breath, panting as my heart hammered in my chest before the lights were flicked on to blind me. As soon as my vision cleared, I saw my roommate by my side, her brown hair disheveled and her brow creased with worry.

"Tom, it's me, you're okay." She soothed, her cold hands clasping my own hot and clammy ones. "Damn, you were really thrashing about, another nightmare?"

I nodded, my breathing slowly returning to normal. Another nightmare, the same nightmare that often plagued my dreams and always ended with up with me in a hot panic and Erica bringing me back to reality. I took a deep breath, slowly releasing it and willing my heart to slow down.

"Thanks." I whisper meekly.

Erica smiled, patting me on the shoulder as she stood. "Anytime. You want me to get you a blanket? Or maybe tuck you back in and read you a story?"

"I think I'll live." The grin came naturally, Erica knew exactly how to cheer people up. I pushed her away, looking over to see the neon green light of my alarm clock glowing 02:54. At least I could still get three hours sleep, if I was lucky.

My roommate padded barefoot back across the two man room to her own bed. "Big day tomorrow. Better get some sleep if you can." She rolled gracefully back under the covers, switching the light off as she did. "Goodnight Vampire."

I settled back down, flipping the pillow to the cool side. "Night, Brownie."

The big day was finally here, and despite the excited chatter over breakfast I could only focus on keeping heavy eyes open and forcing the excuse for scrambled eggs and hash brown down my throat. Brownie cast me a concerned look, but thankfully before she could say anything she was caught up in a debate about the best tactics to use in the upcoming sortie.

"...then all I gotta do is hit the brakes, let him overshoot me and boom. I win." Benjamin 'Sparky' Westland, the course's blond haired motormouth could easily be heard above the rest.

"This isn't Top Gun dumbass." Brownie immediately shot him down. "If he's behind you then you're dead."

"So what about you, Vampire?" Sparky turned his attention to me. "What's your plan?"

I washed the remains of the over-oiled eggs down with orange juice as the older man waited impatiently for my answer. "Get in, survive, get out." I replied simply. I wasn't a woman of many words, in fact I preferred not to talk at all. However, not talking was impossible around someone like Sparky.

"That's boring. You're not even going to try to win?" Someone else pipped up, Manbat they called him. It had taken all of three seconds to decide his callsign, given his actual name was Wayne Bruce.

I shrugged, and that was that. The conversation shifted across the table where they discussed if diving out of the clouds was a viable option. But as usual the plan was dismissed in favour of someone else's idea. "Man, your head's already too far in the clouds…"

By the time our group reached Sand Island's hot and stuffy briefing room the debate had turned into a heated argument between Sparky and the course's other loudmouth, Earthquake. He wasn't called Earthquake because of his size, in fact the guy was skinnier than I was. He was appropriately named for his unearthly snoring that often led to his unlucky roommate moving to a room much further down the corridor and sleeping on someone's floor. So obviously, that unfortunate pilot was called Nomad. The 'discussion' was ready to boil over to a most certainly one way physical conversation before the flight operations officer came out and hushed the room with a single cough.

And so for the next half an hour, I struggled to keep my eyes from closing as he droned on about weather conditions, the hard deck, sortie times and the rules of engagement. As hard as I tried to concentrate, my mind kept returning to the nightmare that had kept me awake since three that morning. The peaceful skies, the lightning, the pilot helpless as the plane plummeted towards thrashing waves below.

"...now as you all know, this is Advanced Recruit Combat Training Course Week One Consolidation." The officer was speaking, his boring voice a drone in my ears but I forced myself to listen. "This involves a one on one engagement with an instructor, your objective is to get into a good kill position like you've been shown, or disengage and escape..."

I caught Manbat looking over at me as the officer spoke. I shrugged in response. I knew that all the other recruits wanted the kill, but there was one lesson I'd taken in above all others during my training here and back home. Survival is just as important as getting the kill. It was a point I was eager to show, what better way than to go for a disengagement during the first consolidation?

"...you will face off against the 333rd Aggressor Squadron flying their MiG-21s. The instructors will observe from the air and as always, the data from your aircraft will be downloaded and analysed for individual and group debriefs…"

As we were dismissed for a morning of preparation and revision, Brownie pulled me aside. I felt a flash of irritation which I quickly shunned aside. I knew she cared, but I didn't like the attention. "Hey," She said, her voice matching her concerned expression. "You okay? You look spaced out."

I smiled. "I'm fine." A lie, and Brownie probably knew. Masking my tired eyes behind the reflective aviators every hotshot pilot wore, my gaze moved from the taller girl to the gaggle of recruits continuing the debate from breakfast as they headed towards the beach. "Just a little jaded."

Brownie nodded, I could tell she didn't believe me but she knew better than to push for answers and for that I was grateful. "We're all heading to the beach for some revision." The last word was met with air quotation marks. "You wanna come?"

"Absolutely not." They didn't call me Vampire for my long black hair. My reluctance to spend any longer than necessary in the bright hot rays had become a kind of joke, yesterday had been the hottest day so far and Sparky had walked around with a pan and brush least I "burst into flames and turned to ash." The day before that, he'd picked up the fire extinguisher from the front of the classroom and placed it next to my table.

Pretty much any silly joke, prank or wind-up could be blamed on the good looking blonde. His mischievous blue eyes were always on the lookout for someone or something to mess with.

"Thought as much." Brownie clapped my shoulder and turned to join the others. I watched her run to catch up before I turned in the opposite direction towards the tea bar and it's glorious air conditioning. I could already feel my body crying out for cold air and a nap.

Slow hours passed until it was time for the first pilots, Albino and Bambi, to face their instructors. I joined the rest of the course sat just outside the main hanger where our F-5E Tigers lived when they weren't all lined up on the pan, and watched as our opposition took off in their Fishbeds. The Yuktobanian jets looked their age, but I knew that in the right hands they were still formidable opponents. Then two F-5E Tigers taxied, and added to the rolling thunder with their own afterburners.

The day had only grown hotter, and as I followed the weaving contrails off the coast I felt more sweat ooze down my spine to soak my waistband. After half an hour, Albino and Bambi landed, and were replaced by Brownie and Earthquake. They were soon followed by Jester and Manbat, then Nomad and Sparky. As the pilots landed and came over, the verdicts came in. Bambi, Earthquake and Manbat had all been 'killed', while the rest had been somewhat successful.

As Sparky's rear wheels left the ground, I snubbed out my cigarette into the repurposed ammunition tin nearby and began the long walk to my jet parked on the far end of the pan. I cursed the ground crew, feeling my fair skin burning as the sun cooked me. Pulling on the rest of the g-suit was hell, and I grimaced as the sweaty flight suit was pressed against my skin. Then with a deep breath, I reluctantly pulled myself into the greenhouse that had become my cockpit. By the time the ground crew had assisted with the startup and my engines were running, my flight suit was drenched. The small air conditioning that I had switched on as soon as possible was nothing like the one in the tea bar but the cool air was unbelievable.

And then, as I sat there with my jet ready to go, the nerves began to kick in. I became acutely aware of the hammering in my chest and an overly dry mouth. Relax, you've done this before! This time is no different...just a different place, in a different plane, against a different opponent… My attempts at calming myself down were only marginally working and became pointless when the Tower came over the radio to tell us that finally, it was our turn to taxi.

"Vampire, this is the Tower. Cleared to taxi, hold short of runway. Your callsign for this sortie will be Whiplash Alpha, and your opponent will be Whiplash Bravo. Zen, your callsign will be Jaywalk Alpha…"

This was the moment I'd waited all day for. I slowly applied power and after a quick brake check, followed the yellow taxi mark or the 'yellow brick road' as some of our course had come to call it. My peripheral vision caught sight of Brownie waving at me from the hanger but by the time I'd registered it I was past her, and holding short of the runway. The sun was blinding, and I slipped the polarised visor of my olive flying helmet down to fend off the glare.

Another five minutes passed before Osiris landed, then Sparky straight after. I had no time to wonder how they had performed, as the Tower gave me my clearance to get airborne. I rolled forward and lined my nosewheel up with the dashed white lines that seemed to stretch into infinity. A last check, fuel was okay. Readouts okay. Control surfaces okay. It was time to go.

I exhaled deeply and pushed the throttle to the max. The lightweight jet leapt forward and everything outside my cockpit became a blur as the Tiger roared and accelerated. Halfway down the runway, I pitched up gently and the eager fighter pounced off the tarmac, the landing gear retracting at the move of a lever. The altimeter span clockwise, counting the feet I climbed until I leveled out at seven thousand, banking left towards my engagement area.

"Whiplash Alpha is on station. Whiplash Bravo, radio check?" I squinted and peered off the nose of my jet, looking for the speck of my opponent. He was out there somewhere, waiting for his next victim. I for sure was determined not to let him have me.

"Whiplash Bravo, read you loud clear. Standby, initiate on my mark."

That was all I got. None of the usual hints, tips or pointers the instructor usually gave out in the week, this was it. The first test. I kept the Tiger straight and level, and I focused on my HUD readings. There was no more time for nervousness, no time to bother about how bad I must smell. It was just me, the skies, and my opponent…

"Whiplash Bravo...mark!"

Immediately I saw a dark outline on the horizon and growing fast, at my one o'clock position. The MiG was going to pass me head on, and my guess was confirmed seconds later as the Fishbed shot past with a howl. My flaps and slats were already in a combat position, I knew the Tiger almost inside out. But I had one advantage the others probably did not. I also knew the Fishbed, and it's superior thrust to weight ratio. In a turning fight, I could beat him. But the Fishbed could out climb me. If I was in the MiG, booming and zooming would be the tactic I would use.

And sure enough, as I put the Tiger into a steady five g turn, I saw out the top of my cockpit the contrails of the MiG sweeping up above me. I swore, my voice strained with the forces. Somehow I had to force the MiG to turn with me. Otherwise, I was pretty much screwed. And now there was no real chance of me escaping. I had to fight.

Running out of time and options, I went with the only idea I had, and that was to head for the hard deck. Pushing my nose down and feeling my stomach lurch, I dived. I was careful to keep the MiG in sight, now just a black speck once again high above me. Any minute now and I knew he would dive down like a kingfisher, onto my tail for a shot to then pull away. But if I was at the hard deck, maybe I could force him down into a turn fight.

Either way, I was committed…

"Whiplash, knock it off. I say again, knock it off."

What?

I pulled the F-5 gently out of the dive, the altimeter reading seven hundred feet above the hard deck. Quickly, I checked my instruments and confirmed that the Tiger was running smoothly as ever. I had not breached the boundaries needed to escape.

What was going on?

"Whiplash Bravo roger." I strained to look above me, and saw in the distance the MiG begin a gradual descent. In contrast to how I was, the MiG pilot sounded calm and relaxed, another day on the job. "Overwatch Actual, is there a problem?"

"Jaywalk, knock it off. Whiplash Bravo, Jaywalk Bravo, join with Alpha and remain in your areas. Standby and await further instructions."

Something was wrong, but what? The MiG formed up on my wing, I looked over and saw the pilot give me a short wave. He acted like nothing was abnormal but I felt an itch, like the two instructors in the F-4 nearby, Overwatch, were not telling us something.

Maybe it's just a lost plane that's stumbled into our airspace, I thought to myself. The adrenaline from our seconds long engagement had since worn off, and now I felt annoyance creep in to replace it. Now the MiG pilot knew my tactic, I would surely have to rethink for when we eventually restarted. Out of curiosity, I looked at my radar and saw the Jaywalk duo formed up out in their own area. Overwatch was in between us, no doubt keeping an eye over the whole thing. But then two other blips, friendlies, caught my attention. They were closing, and closing fast.

"Overwatch this is Harpey Actual, OMDF. We'll take it from here." The voice was new, and must have come from the two new aircraft. He sounded sincere, and meant business. I began to wonder what the two Osean Maritime Defence Force jets were doing out here, perhaps that rouge aircraft I was thinking about was actually true?

"Whiplash Alpha, do you copy?"

It took me a second to register that Harpey Actual was talking to me, and another few seconds to break out of my confusion to respond. "Roger Harpey Actual."

By this time the two fast moving aircraft had reached our formation. A pair of F/A-18 Super Hornets, one pulled up next to me close enough for me to make out his weapon complement. Live missiles hung from his wings, the second jet was behind me. This was an intercept, and I was the target.

Now my heart really was pounding overtime.

"Whiplash Alpha, proceed directly to Sand Island and land. Do not divert from this flight path. Failure to do so will be treated as hostile action. Do you understand?"

I had to clear my throat and lick dry lips before I could reply. "Uh, roger Harpey." The MiG had since pulled away, leaving me alone with the two Hornets escorting me. I was incredibly cautious not to make any sudden moves as I banked towards Sand Island's main runway, ignoring the circuit and going straight to finals.

"Harpey Actual this is Overwatch. What's going on? This is just a training exercise."

"Orders from Intelligence, Overwatch. They want that pilot down and in for questioning. That's all I can say."

Osean intelligence? My stomach dropped, now I knew exactly what this was about. There was nothing I could do, given the Hornets behind me ready to shoot at a moment's notice. I touched down gently, probably my best landing ever, and used the entire length of the runway to slow down before pulling onto the taxiway and following the 'yellow brick road' all the way to the pan where the jets were lined up.

Everything became a blur after I shut down the engines and opened the canopy. Two black SUVs screeched to a halt next to the aircraft, and soldiers dressed in black kicked open each door. One reached up to pull me from the access ladder the ground crew had fitted and I hit the ground hard, feeling a sudden pain in my knee that almost brought tears to my eyes. Someone's knee pressed against my shoulderblades, my arms were roughly yanked back and another soldier tightened cold handcuffs around my wrists. As they hauled me to my feet, I saw in the distance the other pilots watching with bewilderment at the scenes unfolding in front of them. One of them, I could only guess it was Sparky, tried to run towards us but was quicky stopped by a third soldier.

"Thomasin!" I heard Brownie call out to me but I didn't respond. I had fully accepted the situation, and how much shit I was in. I felt nothing as I was bundled into the back of the SUV between two soldiers, and my world became black as a hood was thrown over my head plunging me into darkness.