"We're reading all systems green. Super Hornet 22, you are cleared for takeoff."
Gonna be an A+ run, the pilot thought to herself. No mistakes; just visualize and execute. Momma, I'm so gonna make you proud.
After igniting the thrusters, the FA-18 Super Hornet sped down the runway, 350 mph, 400 mph, and with the precision worthy of Boeing, the fighter jet lifted off and into the air. Getting a feel for being in the air, the pilot took the jet through a few basic maneuvers and then brought the fighter up to cruising altitude. Channeling her mother, the pilot elected to show off a little, putting the Super Hornet through a small roll enroot to the target. A brief admonishment came over the radio and the pilot rolled her eyes and leveled out. Bunch of squares never let her have any fun. Checking her GPS, she noted that she was approximately two minutes out from the target area.
"ETA to target is two minutes," the pilot called. "Arming payload now." Bringing her radar targeting system online, three beeps sounded, signifying that the fighter had a good lock on the building. "22 has sweet lock. Request permission to fire."
"Permission granted 22," the radio tech replied. "You are clear to fire."
The pilot fingered the trigger and released the homing bomb. This was going to be one heck of an explosion so she threw the jet into a rise and banked away from the target area. The bomb continued on the assigned trajectory and the pilot counted down the seconds until detonation. The cockpit shook slightly, catching the tail end of the shockwave.
"Super Hornet 22, we are tracking three MiG-29s headed for your location"
Crap! FA-18s had no chance of outrunning MiG-29s so she'd have to turn and fight. She threw the fighter into a hard left bank. Her radar had spotted the three bogies and she could just make eye contact. Just another minute…and she had radar lock! She triggered her AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles and quickly fired. A siren sounded, signifying that one of the other fighters had a lock on her. She threw her fighter into evasive maneuvers and released the countermeasures. Flares spewed forth underneath, throwing off the heat seeking capabilities of the missile and sending it clear into the ground. The pilot brought the fighter back around. She thought she'd change it up and use M61 Vulcan gun mounted on the front. She'd almost gotten on the tail of one of the fighters and clamped down on the trigger. A flurry of .787 inch shells spewed out and hammered into the hull of the enemy fighter. She'd scored a few hits but nothing decisive. The MiG pilot juked around, trying to throw off his pursuer, but she wasn't having ANY of it. Holding off as long as she could, she fired the nose gun once more, striking the fuel tank and making the MiG ignite in a massive fireball.
One more; just leaves one more.
Without warning the cockpit began shaking and damage alarms began sounding. The final MiG was on her tail, hammering the fighter with bullets. Weaving and darting, the Super Hornet sped all over the sky. She was able to get out of the immediate line of fire but the MiG was still tight on her and she couldn't shake him. If this kept up, the MiG would blow her out of the sky. What would she do? What would she do? Her fighter couldn't take much more damage and she was running out of fuel. She'd probably never hear the end of it but she had a gutsy idea. Waiting until the fighter was close enough to her six o'clock, the pilot slammed down on her brakes, forcing the enemy fighter to shoot clear over her. Throwing her speed back up, the radar locked. The pilot switched to her longer range AMRAAM missiles and fired. The missile closed the distance, seemingly inch by inch, and the MiG ignited in a massive fireball.
The screens suddenly went blank, the words "SIMULATION COMPLETE" scrolling across the screen.
The cockpit hatch buzzed open and an older woman in a Global Justice flight suit ducked inside. The woman was a pitch black brunette and had a unique pale almost green skin tone. The pilot lifted her helmet and looked up at the older woman expectantly.
"Gracie Possible, where did you learn that?"
Gracie smiled at the compliment, glad that she didn't disappoint her mother. "Billy's Dad showed us this awesome movie called Top Gun. I've been working on the move on the simulator at home."
"Not even close," George, Gracie's naked mole rat squeaked.
Gracie Possible, 14 year old teenager and world saver in training, shucked off the safety harness and climbed out of the flight simulator, shaking free her auburn mane of hair that had been encased in her helmet. Global Justice usually began training of potential junior agents at Gracie's age. Shego was an expert pilot with nearly every form of aircraft and had encouraged Gracie to gain proficiency as well. And at 14, Gracie Anne Possible was very much living up to the Possible family name. Upon beginning training, Gracie passed her prop engine qualifications in two months, the only junior agent ever to do so. She'd finished the classroom work for jet fighters almost two weeks ago and was over the moon to be in a simulator learning actual combat maneuvers.
"Well the move you made was clever…but if you'd been just a few inches off he would've plowed right into you," Shego gave her impulsive teenage daughter a stern look, leading her over to the locker room so they could get changed. "Fancy flying is all well and good in a simulator but it's a whole different animal in a real plane. 'Girl, you're writing checks your body can't cash!' Besides, your Mom and I want you to live long enough to give us some grandkids."
"Well, Billy and I WERE talking about…"
"Grace Anne Possible, so help me, if that boy touches you I will burn off his manhood, strap a plasma enhanced chastity belt on YOU, and lock you in a tower!"
Gracie laughed as her Momma shoved her into the locker room. "Kidding Momma; I was only kidding." She turned and gave her mother an apologetic look. "I promised you and Mom and I meant it. I don't want to have kids for a long, LONG time."
"Good; keep it that way!" Shego growled, shedding her own flight suit and workout cloths. She took a look at herself in the mirror she kept in the locker she maintained at the local GJ branch. Though nearing 40 years old, Shego Possible was pleased with how she'd been able to maintain her fit and curvy body over the years, as had her Kimmie after giving birth to three kids. Thinking of her wife made a shiver go down her spine. 14 years; they'd been married for FOURTEEN years and Kimberly Anne Possible still made Shego's knees feel like jelly. She stowed her work clothing inside and dressed in the floral print dress she'd worn to the facility. Gracie's locker was right next to Shego's and she was quickly dressed in jeans and a Middleton Mad Dogs T-shirt.
The pair entered the GJ parking bay and stopped at Shego's 2012 Ford Mustang convertible. Gracie tossed her book bag into the back and hopped over the door into the passenger seat. Shego dropped her duffel in the back, plopped down into the driver's seat and fired up the engine. It was a beautiful May afternoon and the women elected to leave the top down, letting the wind flow through their flowing locks. Shego threw the car into drive and pulled out of the structure, a warehouse to the outside world.
"Muffin, I know you were trying to be funny…but please don't ever joke about things like that," Shego sighed, turning onto the main drag through town. "You and your sisters are the greatest things that ever happened to your Mom and me but…"
"I know Momma. You two have told me this story a million times."
"Young lady, don't just dismiss this," Shego took on a stern tone.
"Momma, I stood in front of the entire church and promised you and Mom that I would wait."
"Good," Shego held her daughter's hand. "Because we don't want you to have to go through what your Mom went through."
"You mean getting pregnant and almost getting killed by a nutbag cheerleader because Mom gave her enough verbal rope to hang herself with? Yeah, I'd like to avoid that happening to me too."
Shego rolled her eyes. Of all the traits Gracie could've inherited from the elder, why did it have to be Shego's penchant for sarcasm? "Mmm, Qui-Gon's defiance I sense in you. Need that, you do not!"
Gracie chuckled; her Momma was such a geek, especially when it came to Star Wars.
The pair traded impersonations for the remainder of the trip home and Gracie was just finishing up her Jar-Jar Binks impression when they came to a stop in front of the Palace. Kim was out on the porch working on her latest novel, enjoying the weather, and Shego's younger twin daughters were just off the porch, working through their Crane-style exercises under Kim's eye. As with their older sister, Zoë and Emily Possible seemed to have a natural affinity for the Five Animals Kung-Fu style. And like their older sister, it was a perfect outlet for their sky high levels of energy.
"Hey you two," Kim smiled, looking up from her notepad. "How'd the simulation go?"
"Well Red-5 here pulled it off but took a big chance doing it," Shego mussed up her older daughter's hair as she came around the car. Gracie shook her off and ran up to the porch to kiss her Mom.
"Hey, no risk, no reward," Kim replied, removing her reading glasses and returning her daughter's kiss. "Way to go sweetie. Shego, how many teenagers do you know who get their pilot's license before they get a driver's license?"
Gracie took a seat next to Kim and proceeded to give her a play by play of her simulator run. Part of her felt a stab of pride at her daughter's accomplishment but Kim reiterated her wife's concern that Gracie be more careful when not in the simulator. All the same, Kim was immensely proud that her daughter was coming along so well. At the rate they were going, the second generation of Team Possible would be a force unlike any other. Villains everywhere would tremble before their massive power.
Gracie ran inside to call her friend Mary and Shego took the vacated seat, watching her younger daughters train. "Sometimes I worry about her. She wants to learn so much so fast that sometimes I'm afraid she isn't seeing the danger. She's much too young to be attempting maneuvers like that."
"What are you saying?" Kim asked, putting down her notepad. "You think it was a mistake to start her flight training?"
Did she? It WAS Shego's idea to have her daughter become a pilot like her but…was she beginning to regret it? Being a proficient flyer had helped Shego escape from numerous scrapes by commandeering an aircraft, both as a villain and a hero, and she wanted Gracie to be able to have that way out. But what Kim had said, about Gracie having her pilot's license before her driver's license, was sticking with the older woman. Oh damn it; Shego had no idea what she was thinking.
"I just hope she's not making a habit out of flying like that. I know its cliché and something out of Top Gun but I don't want her writing checks her body can't cash."
"Well Gracie's smart," Kim patted her wife on the shoulder. "She's young and eager but she knows her limits. You're the expert pilot though. If you think it would be safer to finish this training when she's a little older, I'll stand by you."
Shego mulled those thoughts over for a few minutes. Their daughter WAS very responsible for her age. As long as Gracie didn't make a habit out of reckless flying, there wouldn't be any harm in Gracie continuing. "No, no I don't think we need to stop. I guess she just reminds me a lot of myself at that age."
"Oh? You mean intelligent," Kim leaned over and began planting kisses up her wife's arm. "Beautiful, strong, and independent?"
"Hey, you didn't know me then," Shego leaned over kissed her wife's luscious red lips.
"Doesn't matter! Gracie is taking after YOU, the most wonderful person I've ever known, and that could NEVER be a bad thing."
"Oh Princess," Shego sighed and planted another kiss. "Have I told you lately how lucky I am that you married me?"
"Yes…but I still love to hear it. Tell me again."
KPKPKPKPKPKPKP
Gracie and Shego, once again clad in their GJ issue flight suits, marched out onto the GJ training airfield outside of Middleton. There was no training set for today but the training field held dozens of aircraft, some state of the art and others long since retired. Gracie had loved Top Gun so much that she insisted that they rent it the previous night. Her daughter practically drooled over the F-14 Tomcats they used in the movie. Shego liked to get a bit of flying time in every week and after church she offered Gracie the chance to go along, knowing that GJ had three old F-14 Tomcats they were working on refurbishing. Gracie would be training in one after her simulator training was complete and Shego didn't see the harm in giving her daughter a little sneak preview.
Gracie spotted the Tomcat and instantly ran up to it, fawning over it like you would a puppy. She ran her hands along the sleek fuselage like she was petting it.
"Oh MAN," Gracie crooned. "F-14 Tomcat, introduced into the US Military September 1974. Standard armaments include M61 20mm Vulcan Gatling gun mounted on the nose, two AIM-9 Sidewinder short-range missiles, four AIM-54 Phoenix long-range missiles, and two AIM-7 Sparrow mid-range missiles."
"And I thought 14 year olds only knew that much about boy bands and fashion," Shego laughed at her daughter.
"Thrusters capable of achieving speeds in excess of Mach 2," Gracie continued to marvel. "Service ceiling of 50,000 ft. Momma, do we get to take THIS up?" In response, Shego pointed to the helmet perched on the edge of the open cockpit. Gracie let out a squeal of glee and clambered up the ladder. "Come on Momma. I feel the NEED!"
"The need for SPEED!" Shego chuckled as she climbed up the ladder into the pilot's seat. She was never going to hear the end of that fracking movie! She pulled on her own helmet and got comfortable in the pilot seat. "Okay Muffin, talk me through the start-up sequence. First, I close the cockpit." There was a buzzing as the hatch lowered and a whoosh of air as the cockpit was pressurized. "What next?"
"Engage left and right generator buses," Gracie replied proudly.
Shego worked through the keystrokes and switches. "We have power. Keep going"
"Next is the onboard environmental control systems," Gracie continued. "Switch them to on."
Another series of keystrokes and flipped switches and Shego encouraged her daughter to continue. Gracie walked her mother through the rest of the checklist, going through the cockpit blowers to keep the windows clear, lights, engine start-up, stability augmentation, fuel, and computer systems. By procedure's end, the fighter was purring like a kitten.
"And in powering up the HSD young lady, what else have I powered up?" Shego asked.
"Avionics are fully functional," Gracie replied smartly. "Now we just need to ask for clearance."
"Roger that," Shego smiled and broadcasted a call to the tower. "Tower, this is Sierra Papa 17 requesting clearance for take-off."
"Sierra Papa 17, permission granted. You are clear to taxi to the runway."
Shego guided the fighter out of its hangar and onto the tarmac. A mile of runway lay in front of her and one of the best jet fighters known to man lay around her.
"Sierra Papa 17, the skies are yours; happy flying."
"Punch it Chewie!" Gracie called from the back.
Shego engaged the thrusters and the fighter burst forward. 100 mph, 200 mph, 300mph. Shego pulled up on the stick and the fighter crept up off the ground. Once she cleared the runway, Shego brought the Tomcat into a climb. Gracie, meanwhile, was in the navigator's seat, cheering her head off like she was on a rollercoaster. She was every bit the adrenaline junky that her mothers were. Shego was putting the Tomcat through maneuvers that would make the average person pass out and her daughter only shouted to go faster.
"Hey Gracie, take a look," Shego spun the Tomcat upside down. "Say hello to Lake Ontario."
Author Notes:
I just couldn't help it. Only a Possible, and especially a Possible whose mother was also Shego, really WOULD have her pilot's license before she got her driver's license. Gracie is really becoming one of those awesome girls who can be a girly girl but sure as shooting can run with and surpass the guys. She could tell you everything about the O Boyz and also recite the full armament and specs of every major fighter jet in the last twenty years. And of course, you can't do a story about fighter jets without mentioning "Top Gun".
Kim Possible and all associated characters are the copyrighted property of the Disney Corporation and the intellectual property of Bob Schooly and Mark McCorkle. Gracie Anne Possible, George the Naked Mole Rat, and Abigail Normal are the intellectual property of Poetheather1. Top Gun is the copyrighted property of Paramount Pictures and the intellectual property of Jim Cash and Jack Epps Jr.