W.S.O: Weapons Sleepy Officer
The stakes were so high. Lives, his team, Maverick, the whole Navy. It was on his shoulders. If he didn't do his part perfectly the whole mission would go up in flames. They had trained from dawn till dusk. Pulling g's, re-practicing maneuvers over and over again. Bob had been up since 2:00am going over his F-18's operating systems. He poured over his class notes more than a hundred times, adding more as the hours passed by. Now it was 10:00pm and the hard deck swam with tan lieutenants.
"Orange 13 corner pocket.", said Payback as he made the perfect shot.
"Nice!", clapped his teammate Hangman.
"Not bad.", said Phoenix his opponent.
"Come on Bob wipe em' out, I can't stand that cocky grin.", said Rooster.
No response came from his teammate.
Bob's head rested in his hand, his elbow propped on the surface next to him. His tight eyes were closed below his unusually ruffled hair. His glasses fell crooked halfway down his nose. The evening light came in through the window softly illuminating his soft tan skin and the circles under his eyes.
"I'm so glad I'm not a WSO.", said Coyote.
"What do you mean?", asked Phoenix.
"I went back to grab something last night after the bar before going to bed and saw Bob in his cock pit. He had his notes and was as focused as a hawk.". Coyote shook his head. "I don't think I'd get any sleep either. The stakes are in those operations systems working perfectly without fail. Not to mention still having to do analysis while pulling up to nine g's.".
"It's true.", said Fanboy being the other very stressed WSO.
They pondered on that a minute staring at Bob's exhausted form.
"Let's all hit the hay come on. We'll beat you tommorow.", said Hangman.
Phoenix ruffled Bob's hair to wake him up before leaving. He quickly opened his eyes rembering tiredly where he was.
"Come on fly boy let's get some shut eye.", said Rooster pulling Bob off the stool steering him out the door.
A/N: Short but sweet(: Please please review with thoughts!