He could only see the blue of the sky, white blotches of clouds, the pale sides of the canyon around him, and - there, in the distance, the burning wreck of his plane. It took him a moment more of blinking and squinting (and wincing through the neck pain as he turned his head) to realise he’d lost his glasses. The fight-or-flight was probably still protecting him from the worst of it. Now he was aware of it, his back was aching, too, from the forces he was subjected to during the ejection. He turned his head, left, right, looking for Phoenix. It was a long way down from twelve thousand feet, even falling at this speed. He’d ejected over the deepest rift in the narrow canyon below him. Not screaming fast - the chute was still intact - not drifting and slow, but falling nonetheless.įaintly, he noted that he was still breathing too fast. He gripped the straps on his chute so hard that the coarse fabric could have dug into his hands were he not wearing gloves. His mask dangled to the side of his face - he couldn’t remember ripping it off, but muscle memory must have kicked in and ran the checklist for him. He sucked in a breath, then another, chest heaving, blinking away the mess of a control panel that he could still see in the back of his head. The sound of rippling fabric and a hot wind on his face jerked him back into the present. The altitude warning had sounded once, twice, and they’d punched out before they met with the fireball on the side of the mountain that used to be a plane. She’d already extinguished the left engine - that one was no more good - now they had no more engines - shit, why - what did they think was going to happen? No more thrust, no more control, a completely and utterly unrecoverable dive, spinning towards the ground - no hydraulics, no, couldn’t control the surfaces anymore, because both engines were extinguished. Still, his mind pressed on, phantom lights flashing in his eyes from the dual engine caution. Why? Why? The engines are too close together for asymmetric thrust to force them to depart. ‘It’s still spinning! Try to restart it!’ Throttles should have been set to minimum practical first, before Bob spun around to check the side on fire… Why was everything going so fast? That- that’s not how the checklist should go. ‘Shutting off fuel to left engine! Extinguishing fire!’īob’s brow twitched into a frown. Phoenix’s alarmed calls echoed in the back of his skull. Shut up, he thought to himself, but the sentiment was lost as he replayed the scene again. No, but- wait, go back- why did a couple of birds kill their engines? The F/A-18 can eat twenty birds for breakfast and not even belch – why did a couple measly bundles of feathers cause catastrophic engine failure?! His and Phoenix’s plane ate a bird, and they lost control, spiraling towards terrain until it dawned on them that the plane was unrecoverable, and they punched out. His mind, though, was paralysed, paused, as if stuck back up there – or down there, now – in the burning cockpit. Adrenaline was still racing through his veins, making his fingers prickle and his stomach pulse, heart beating with enough desperate force to shake him in his parachute straps. Or falling.īob stared blankly at the blue sky above him. Stats: Published: Completed: Words: 37,022 Chapters: 11/11 Comments: 45 Kudos: 111 Bookmarks: 22 Hits: 2,464 everybody in this fucking movie needs therapy.but author did read the f18 natops for like three scenes.Jake "Hangman" Seresin Is A Bitch (Slash Pos).sir they're my emotional support pilots.i have watched the bar scene fifty times.Dagger Flight Group (Top Gun: Maverick).author is staring intently at the friends to lovers tag.the line between platonic and romantic is a thin one and i am dancing on it like the giselle solo.i see them as platonic but you can read it as romantic if you want.Pete "Maverick" Mitchell is a Little Shit.i solve this by making them hug each other.Robert "Bob" Floyd/Natasha "Phoenix" Trace.Robert "Bob" Floyd & Natasha "Phoenix" Trace. Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings.
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