Disclaimer: I do NOT own Jag or any of its characters. The only ones I do own are Bark and Spoon. If you wanna borrow them, email me and ask.

A/N: I did the preliminary work on this fic 4-5 years ago. I just rediscovered this and decided to beef it out and post it. Yes it's my first published fic, and no, I don't mind constructive criticism. Flames will be used to BBQ chicken and other things. And there are definitions to some of the terms at the end of the story.

Summary: Just another enemy encounter resulting in Harm's squad ragging on him. One-shot. Dunno where this fits in.

Dogfight

"Pappy, dogfight at angels 24! Get your six over there after you refuel."

Harm heard that over the squad frequency.

"Roger that, Maverick." Jeez, right when I'm refuelin', too.

"Pappy, you're clear to scram."

"Roger that, Texaco."

He rolled the F-14A Tomcat into a right banking turn away from the refueling plane.

"Spoon, you got the coordinates for that dogfight Maverick mentioned?"

"Yeah, 206 by 604 by 106 at angels 24."

"Ok. 'Bout how far from us?"

"Roughly three miles."

"Gotcha. Going supersonic." He turned the jet towards the coordinates and rose to twenty-four thousand feet. He engaged the afterburners and pushed the throttles forward to the stops. The plane sliced effortlessly through the air, trailing sonic booms. He disengaged the afterburners when they were within a mile of the battle.

"Harm, bogey on our seven high!' yelled his RIO over the ICS. He quickly pulled the fighter to vertical then looped in behind and fired off a Sidewinder which flew up the Mig-23's tailpipe and blew it to bits as Harm turned onto another Mig's six. He quickly did the same for this plane as well.

"Pappy, Mig on your six!"

"Roger that, Bark!" He tried to pull a loop to the Mig's six, but it got its guns into his left wing fuel tank and set it on fire. Aw, HELLS BELLS!

"Pappy, our wing tank's on fire!"

"I know! SHIT!" He practically screamed the last word but got his temper under control and shut off the fuel flow from that tank.

"Harm, we're now at bingo fuel. I suggest we get back to the carrier NOW!"

"Heading back, now! Guys, sorry to do this but..."

"We know, Pap, we saw the incident." Harm had already turned back towards the carrier and radioed the Air Boss about the situation.

"Pappy, we moved the others back in the landing slot."

"10-4." He struggled to try to keep the wings level, due mainly to the weight difference. When they came in, he concentrated on trying to keep on the ball but bolted.

"Aw, hell!" Harm growled.

"Pappy, come back around, and try again."

"Roger that." Harm felt the hydraulics starting to go, and radioed the Air Boss to inform him of the now-dead hydraulics and that he was going to have to eject.

"Harm, ya crazy-" Bark yelled when Harm walked in the ready room.

"Hey, yell at the ass who shot me, Bark!" Harm replied.

"Would if Spooks hadn't shot 'im down."

"Eh?" Spooks asked.

"Nothin', Spooks." Harm shot at the preoccupied pilot. "So, when's the next mission?"

"HARM!"

"Ya like jinxin' us, ya nut!"

Dogfight: an aerial battle

Six: directly behind a plane

Seven: a couple degrees to the left of six o'clock

High: above your plane

Texaco: pilot jargon for a refueling plane

ICS: Internal Communication System

Sidewinder: one type of missile that an F-14 carries

Bingo fuel: the absolute minimum that a plane needs to get back to a certain point

Three-wire: one of four arresting wires stretched across an aircraft

carrier's deck; the one any pilot should aim for when landing on a carrier

Angels: feet per thousand above sea level

10-4: ok, roger that

RIO: Radar Intercept Officer

Suggested reading: Flash Point by James Huston

Any how... Yeah, I know it probably sucks, but I started this when I was around 13 or 14... Read'n'review, please?