A/N This chapter will probably be edited later, possibly lengthened. I just wanted to get something written and posted because I've been so busy with two jobs and if I didn't sit my tail down and write something, it wasn't going to get done! lol!
I'm still doing research (ahem, mainly badgering former military personnel on Quora, watching Youtube etc), so if you are former military (particularly former aircraft carrier personnel), and you see something that doesn't line up, please let me know! That being said, some artistic license is being taken, because...It's Top Gun. Some things in those movies are definitely things that would not happen in the real military.
If you have an idea or event you'd like to see in the story, or something you'd like to see fleshed out more, leave it in a review or send me a pm! (Pm's are best if you have a detailed idea).
Rooster looks around the ship's Dirty Shirt Mess to see if he can spot any familiar faces.
Finding none, he sits at a table on his own, although he's sure someone is bound to come over and introduce themselves.
Crapshoot and Giant wander in, along with a guy who is comically skinny for his height. He's even taller than Rooster.
"Mind if we sit with you?" Crapshoot asks, already sitting. The other two wait for Rooster's reply.
"Sure."
"Looks like the others haven't found their way yet." Giant glances around the room in a dramatic fashion.
"You know all of them already? There were at least fifteen of them." Rooster's eyes widen.
"Giant here has a very good memory. Far better than he has a right to, being so short." The tall, skinny guy says. "He can read a book once and recite just about any paragraph in it, and tell you what page it's on."
"Seriously? I'll bet college was a breeze." Rooster starts forking food into his mouth to avoid saying anything that might give away how envious he is.
"Hardly." Giant huffs. "I was there with students four or five years older than me, on average. Talk about a difficult social life."
"Wait, how old were you when you graduated?!" He takes a break from food to stare slackjawed at the little man.
"I graduated at seventeen. The first time. I got another degree at twenty one."
Giant looks like he gets this all the time and is tired of it.
"How old are you?!"
"Twenty five."
"You don't look a day older than..."
"Nineteen. I know. And going by size alone, not accounting for muscle, I could be mistaken for thirteen. I've been told."
Rooster's had about enough, and it looks to him like Giant was done with this conversation when it started. So, instead of offering another wide eyed response and asking more questions, he turns his attention to the new guy.
"I don't believe we've met."
"I'm Dwarf, his WSO." The guy gestures to Giant as he speaks.
"Ok. I get the picture." Even sitting down, Dwarf is three inches taller than Rooster.
"Yeah, originally he was going to be "Littlebit", but when he got assigned to be my WSO, our bar buddies at the time changed it to "Dwarf". It just fits. And he hated it even more." Giant shrugs.
"It's really not right that you at least have a callsign that would intimidate the bad guys." Dwarf mutters.
"It's just how callsigns work. I don't like it, I don't hate it."
"You don't like or hate anything. You're too busy analyzing it all." Crapshoot interjects with a laugh.
"It would be more difficult not to."
"So, does anybody know where we're going? I heard a rumor we might be stopping in Hawaii." Rooster decides to change to a less irritating topic, before someone asks for his callsign story.
"No idea. I noticed we're not up to capacity. I decided to explore and map out the ship while I still had the time, and I noticed the hallways still look a little empty."
Giant stares at his plate, seemingly in a debate on whether or not he wants to eat his mashed potatoes.
"Is he always like this?" Rooster asks, glancing at Dwarf.
Crapshoot beats him to an answer.
"Yes. Yes, he is. Annoying, talks a lot, lucky with the women, wins every game, including games of chance, and is almost always right whenever he opens his mouth. The rare occasion that he isn't is cause for celebration, as long as nobody got killed."
Giant studiously ignores the conversation, deciding at last to choke down the mashed potatoes.
"Why eat it if you hate it?" Rooster asks. He would have been happy for second helpings of the taters.
"Because it's food and it's there." He replies in a flat, no nonsense tone.
"Huh?" Rooster's mind draws a blank.
"Really, dude? That's the best you can come up with? Nothing on nutritional content? No analysis of the possible benefits and drawbacks?" Crapshoot laughs, but looks as confused as Rooster feels.
"It's the truth." He shrugs and goes back to making a face as he swallows more of the mushy stuff.
"So, if I go over there and request extra rations of mashed potatoes for you and bring back over here, you're going to eat it?" He moves as though he's getting up to go back over to the food line.
"Yes. If nobody else here would want it."
"I'll take it!" Rooster hears another voice sound off with his own. He and Dwarf glance at each other, glaring. Then, grins break out on their faces.
"Sorry fellas, offer's only for Giant here."
Giant offers no further response or indication that he even heard. Mashed potatoes finally gone, his eyes are glazed over and staring at a point somewhere past the wall. Probably reading a flight manual in his head.
Crapshoot walks back into the food line and exchanges a few words with one of the servers (who at first seems grouchy at having yet another request for seconds).The man behind the counter eventually gets what can only be called an evil genius smirk and piles a very large helping of mashed potatoes onto the tray and hands it back to 'Shoot.
"Here you are, little buddy. Something to make you grow big and strong." The tray lands in front of Giant. He glances at it for a moment, then looks to Dwarf.
"I believe you said you wanted seconds?" He asks.
"Well, actually..."
Rooster realizes he's the only one who really wants that food. Really, really wants it.
He shares a quick glance at the struggling Dwarf, then one to Giant, who wordlessly hands him the tray and goes right back to staring at whatever he's got on his mind's projector screen.
Rooster ignores Crapshoot's emphatic protests.