1991 (02/11)
Yes, starbuck92 involves herself in things other than Lord of the Rings, David Wenham and Faramir. Shocker, I know. *g*
TITLE: 1991: Chapter 02
AUTHOR: Starbuck92
Disclaimer in part 01.
“You told Brayden Wells to what!” O’Neill exclaimed in disbelief.
A furious flush blazed across Carter’s cheeks. She knew she should have left that detail out!
“It’s not like he heard me, sir! He was well out of earshot,” she protested.
“Lucky for you, or else you might have gotten that punishment after all!” the colonel retorted, clearly amused by the choice of words she had used against her former commanding officer.
She remained obstinately silent, attentively dusting off her boots and keeping her gaze fixed on a suddenly fascinating flower by her foot. O’Neill grinned, unwilling to let go of such a golden opportunity to give his major a difficult time.
“Have you ever told me to suck a lemon, Carter?”
“No, sir,” she hurriedly responded. The serious expression on her face vanished as a slow, mischievous smile crept across her face.
“Not yet, anyway,” she added cheekily in afterthought.
“Have you ever told General Hammond?” he shot back.
“No!” Carter shouted, unable to stifle her laughter.
It had been far too long since she’d had a really good laugh.
Over the past few months, there had been no respite from one grueling mission after another: the colonel stranded on Edora with a buried Stargate, covert operations with the Asgard and Tollan, crystal skulls and giant aliens, techno-bugs intent on overrunning Earth… It felt wonderful to have a temporary break from the action.
“So why did you tell old Brayden to stick a piece of fruit in his mouth?”
Carter glanced at him with a wry smirk before returning her gaze to the ground.
“Major Wells was always on my case, sir.”
The colonel took a good, hard look at his second-in-command, appearing mildly surprised at her uncharacteristic petulance.
“You know why, don’t you?”
No reply.
“The man had a rep for pushing his best people hard. He swore by the Air Force motto. ‘Integrity first, service before self, and excellence in all we do.’ Hell, I wouldn’t have lasted a minute under his command ‘cause he would’ve had me booted out with my attitude!”
A reflective expression crossed her face as she absorbed this information.
Over the past ten years, she had gained much more insight into the world than she had possessed at the age of twenty-five. What she had believed to be harsh discipline and outrageous training routines had actually been Major Wells gauging their skills, keeping his eyes peeled for exceptional work and dedication.
She hoped she had given him that.
The inborn yearning to achieve perfection had always driven her. Beneath her notice, Major Wells had strengthened that attribute in her during her time with his squadron, always pushing her to strive for nothing less than the best.
That same dedication had fueled her desire to unlock the secrets of the Stargate when she was first assigned to the project, and that same commitment now compelled her to work hard under Colonel O’Neill’s command in SG-1.
“I never considered it in a positive way, sir,” she quietly responded. “It’s easier to appreciate his relentless attitude almost a decade later, but back then…”
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Major.”
“Yes, sir.”
O’Neill and Carter remained silent for a few moments, each allowing his or her thoughts to take flight. On the rare occasion they spent time alone together, it seemed as though all of the formal military rigidity usually present between them melted away. Their conversations typically carried along comfortably, whether the discussion steered towards the latest hockey scores or talking about their shared interest in astronomy.
Far from the confines of the Air Force and the SGC, Carter found that she was adding talking about the past with her commanding officer to the list of things to discuss, almost too easily.
“So you were messing around with doohickeys like the UAV since your Academy days?” he questioned.
She nodded, and the colonel couldn’t help but smile.
“Never pegged you as a troublemaker, Carter.”
The bittersweet look that came over her made his smile disappear.
“That wasn’t the first time we were caught with the UAV, sir. It was the last time.”
* * *
Monday, November 5, 1990
Sam Carter peered down at the beautiful Arizona sierras and mesas as she soared above them in her F-16 fighter jet, streaking across the cloudless sky.
As far as the eye could see, the land remained untouched by the hands of mankind. Cacti and shrubbery grew in abundance among the dunes and playas, and the boundless sky was a bright baby blue. The desert stretched out for miles, the golden sand shimmering as rays of bright sunlight shined down upon the billions of tiny granules.
She could easily imagine how the Old West settlers must have seen this land more than a century ago as they traversed across the North American continent in search of a better future.
Although times had changed, the longing to attain a better future was still a fixture of the American way of life. The working class set aside money for that elusive ‘someday,’ parents sent their children off to college to garner a good education, and the nation fought to protect its assets, both at home and abroad.
Bearing that in mind, it came as no surprise that the United States openly condemned the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait. The oilfield running beneath the two countries was an allegorical gold mine, a rich supply of oil reserves that would benefit whoever claimed it, and inevitably the land became the source of a rising conflict between the countries.
Kuwait had fallen to the opposition’s stronger military regime, and the incursion immediately attracted the undivided attention of the world. Concern escalated further when enough evidence was gathered to determine the Iraqis were planning a possible invasion on the borders of Saudi Arabia, another wealthy, oil-reliant country.
Diplomatic missions were dispatched, but to no avail. The situation remained unchanged, and more militaristic approaches were being considered.
Since September, her squadron had joined many others across the U.S., steadily beginning to earnestly train for battle. As the months passed by, more fighter wings and squadrons had been deployed to the Middle East, strengthening the manpower of the thousands of American and coalition forces already stationed in the Gulf. She knew it was only a matter of time before her squadron would be sent overseas to join Operation Desert Shield.
Shaking her head, she gently pushed the stick forward, lowering her altitude.
Personally, she couldn’t care less about the oil. Intellectually, Carter understood how valuable the region was to her country, but her heart warred with her head. There were people in Kuwait and Saudi Arabia who needed their help, and in her eyes that was what mattered the most.
The unmistakable sound of a pair of jets falling into formation at her sides jerked her from her musings. She glanced to her right, smiling behind her oxygen mask as Thompson gave her a thumbs-up sign. She gave him a short wave before turning to her left.
First Lieutenant Matthew Lovell was swinging his shoulders from side to side, performing his victory jig as best he could in such cramped quarters. Carter couldn’t help but giggle at the antics of the man whom she thought of as a surrogate big brother.
Something had clicked between them the first time they’d met, inexplicably drawing them together. The pair became all but inseparable after Major Wells assigned Lovell to supervise her progress during the first two months following her assignment to the squadron. From running difficult flight training missions to picking apart the engines of their fighter planes, the duo had developed an unbreakable bond, and Carter learned to place her trust in Lovell without question.
However, as much as she trusted him with her life, she’d also discovered no one could make her laugh like he did. She always enjoyed spending time with the twenty-seven year old mechanical engineer, but never more than when he was in a joking mood.
“Careful, Matty. If you head swells up any more, you’re going to accidentally eject yourself out of that cockpit,” Carter teased.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to rag on me, little sis,” Lovell responded playfully. “You’re up next!”
Almost immediately after his retort, the radio crackled to life once again. The sound of Major Wells’s voice transmitted through the audio speakers in Carter’s helmet as he issued his comments and instructions to the squadron.
“Good job, Magician. Excellent flying, Knight. Wizard and Warlock, you’re up. Rendezvous at the Range.”
Thompson and Lovell wished her luck, and Carter accelerated her engines, heading back toward the Goldwater Range.
Over the last two months, Wells had hailed the 421st Fighter Squadron before the crack of dawn for full days of training. After a quick breakfast, the group would man their fighter planes in the pre-dawn chill and travel down to Arizona’s Luke Air Force Base, the largest fighter plane training facility in the country, where they would receive their itinerary for the day.
Thus far, no two days had been the same.
One day would be spent conducting intense air-to-air training, battling against other squadrons in mock combat. The next day might find them assigned to the Goldwater Range for hours of air-to-ground bombing run simulations. Half the time, the squadron was comfortably situated in their personal F-16s, while at other times they logged hours for recertification aboard the F-117A Nighthawks, stealth planes loaned from the 37th Training Wing stationed at Tonopah Test Range in Nevada.
Today had been no different.
A weary Carter had risen from her bed at 0430, two hours before sunrise, feeling like she was back in basic cadet training. Her life had dwindled down to a rudimentary routine: train hard, eat right, and get a good night’s sleep. Spare time had become nonexistent. Her doctoral thesis and work on the UAV sat in her quarters collecting dust.
It was uncharacteristic for her to leave her work alone for such a long period of time, but exhaustion had steadily crept up on her, draining the usual infinite amount of energy that always seemed to radiate within her. Regardless of the fatigue, she readily poured her heart and soul into flying her best every day.
Soon enough, the boundary of the Goldwater Range was in her sight. Another F-16 approached from the west, decelerating as the pilot spotted her on his scope.
‘Just my luck,’ she thought as she warily eyed the Warlock call sign painted on the tail of the plane.
As long as she could remember, First Lieutenant Derek Hall seemed steadfast on outperforming everything she did while under Major Wells’s command. Since the day she’d arrived at Hill, the twenty-eight year old aerospace engineer had given her hell. If he wasn’t nitpicking her latest project, he would be criticizing her flying. A day hadn’t gone by without her having to endure his bullying remarks.
Hall was something of a puzzle to Carter. Day after day, she wondered what she could have done to provoke the bitterness he seemed to hold for her. Usually she relished solving such intricate puzzles, but this one had her stumped. She could never predict what he would say or do.
Her feelings on the issue were swiftly shelved as she heard Wells exclaim over the radio, “Warlock and Wizard, you have a go!”
Thrusting herself into her fighter pilot mentality, Carter smiled at the familiar burst of adrenaline that coursed through her body. The rush from the sudden surge of speed made all those long hours of intense training worthwhile. Almost immediately, she had a good lead over Hall, pushing her F-16 to maximum power as she shot over the Range.
“You’re coming up on alpha targets!” Wells informed them.
She had a clean view of the Range from her canopy. The field loomed in the distance, the abandoned buildings and military equipment becoming clearer as she rapidly approached.
The squadron had spent hours reviewing topographical maps of the area, becoming intimately familiar with the territory. Each pilot received the opportunity to fly through the field each morning the 421st was posted there, learning and committing to memory the landmasses and manmade training structures. With one glance at her scope, Carter instantly knew how to maneuver across the field in order to achieve the best possible flight path.
“Targets in sight, sir!” she reported, full of confidence.
Several seconds later, Hall echoed, “Targets in sight, sir!”
“Drop your ordnance!” Wells commanded.
Fixing her gaze on the screen before her, Carter waited until just the right moment to hit the release mechanism, discharging the plane’s deadly ordnance onto the targets below.
“One away! Two away!” she exclaimed as the Paveway II laser-guided bombs dropped to the ground.
The sound of the weaponry hitting their marks faded into the recesses of her awareness as she focused on keeping the F-16 steady under the intense g-forces. Her hand gripped the stick tightly, guiding the plane through the intermittent rocky terrain between the first and second batch of targets.
“Wizard, you are approaching bravo targets too fast,” Wells notified her. “You’re going to miss your marks!”
“I can do it, sir!” Carter replied, her teeth clenched both in concentration and against the mounting pressure gravity was forcing upon her.
She ripped ahead toward the second half of the exercise, studiously maintaining her breakneck airspeed and keeping the targets in sight. Within seconds, she was on top of them and accurately released her ordnance once again.
“Three away! Four away!”
The Paveways plummeted to their intended targets, striking perfectly in the wake of her flyby.
Having completed the run, she eased her death grip on the stick, watching the dial spin down as her airspeed decreased. Pushing her helmet’s visor up with one shaking hand, she wiped away the beads of sweat from her forehead, struggling to catch her breath.
Slowly, she became aware of the excited chatter over the radio. Her fellow squadron pilots were keyed up about something, speaking so quickly she couldn’t understand what they were babbling about. Before Carter had the chance to ask what was going on, Wells made an announcement.
“Good flying, Wizard and Warlock. That wraps it up for the day. Head back to Luke for a refuel, and then we’re going home.”
The group calmed down and fell back into formation, making their way back to Luke AFB. One by one, the planes touched down on the runway and taxied toward the hangar bays where the fueling crews were waiting for their arrival. As the crews busied themselves with work on the F-16s, the pilots took the time to rest aboard their aircraft, chatting quietly with one another over the radios.
Carter leaned back in her cockpit as best she could, closing her eyes and enjoying the few minutes of relaxation allotted to them. A cool breeze fluttered through the open canopy, ruffling her short, blonde locks and drawing out a sigh from the lieutenant.
Despite all outward appearances, she was never truly at rest. Her mind raced over her completed simulation run as she visualized every moment, considering what she had perfected and what she could improve upon.
One factor that continued to intrigue her was the airspeed she had sustained. Throughout her entire training, she had never managed to achieve such rigid control over her fighter plane at such an incredible velocity. She had spent so much time working on the problem with Lovell, logging countless hours trying to master the skill.
None of his ideas had succeeded, and the disappointment and frustration had continued to plague them both. After one close call that had nearly resulted in a crash, the pair had toned down the arduous training. Their only hope was that her inborn talent would naturally emerge, giving her the ability to conquer the only problem she’d ever encountered while flying.
“Good job, Lieutenant Carter.”
Her eyes snapped open, the sound of Major Wells’s voice crackling over the radio startling her. Quickly, she sat up, turning in the direction of the F-16 with the golden crown painted on its tail. Catching sight of her commanding officer, she gave him a small smile.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You showed some spectacular stuff up there, but next time keep the stunts grounded.”
A tiny frown creased her forehead.
“Sir?” she asked, not quite sure she had heard him correctly.
Wells positioned his helmet loosely over his head as his fueling crew completed their work on his plane, and he nodded his acknowledgement to them before answering her.
“I don’t need any of my people trying to play hero, Lieutenant. Is that clear?”
‘Where is this coming from?’ she silently wondered.
“But sir, I wasn’t --”
“Is that clear, Lieutenant Carter?” Wells repeated, his green eyes narrowing slightly, signifying he meant business.
“Yes, sir,” she obediently replied, sliding her own helmet back on as her crew finished up.
Without further argument, Carter began her preflight, working through her confusion as she flipped through a row of switches. She didn’t understand why the major was criticizing such a perfect run. Never before had she maintained such precision engaged in a bombing run, and even less so with live ammunition.
Her hand wavered in midair over the forward panel with her last thought, her eyes drifting shut in realization.
Major Wells was well aware of all his pilots’ strengths and weakness, both in aviation and their individual specialties on the ground. It was no secret to him that she had continually struggled to fly with finesse at intense velocities, exhibiting little progress from consistently overcoming the problem. In his eyes, her boldness cast a shadow over the exquisite bombing run she had completed.
Where she had solely been focused on pulling off something she wasn’t quite skilled at, Wells had seen the potential danger she had placed herself in, particularly with actual bombs. The major expected by-the-book behavior while in the air, keeping a close eye on the hot-dogging pranksters in his squadron like Josh Thompson.
Frowning, she turned her head and caught the dark brown eyes of her friend scrutinizing her. Thompson was tightening the chinstrap of his helmet, not looking very happy.
‘Damn it, how long has he been looking over here?’
As he secured the strap, he used his free hand to key the radio and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Automatically, she replied, “Nothing,” and mentally kicked herself for such a stupid answer. He knew her far too well to let her get away with that kind of a response.
Predictably, he fired right back at her.
“Don’t give me that crap, Sam.”
He had undoubtedly witnessed the entire exchange between herself and Major Wells. Fortunately, he had no access to their radio conversation, but Thompson hadn’t any need for the audio discussion to know something had happened. Over the last several years, he had perfected the ability to effortlessly read every expression that crossed her face.
She sighed as she tugged her own chinstrap, shaking her head wordlessly at him and hoping he’d perceive the silent message in her eyes: please drop it. After a long moment of stubbornly holding her gaze, Thompson grudgingly relented, returning his attention to his preflight check.
Carter released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Thompson knew firsthand of the rocky relationship that existed between her and the major, but now was not the time to be discussing their latest clash. There would always be a more appropriate time and place to discuss such matters.
”Hey Sam?”
Lifting her head, she glanced in his direction again, her eyebrows lifting slightly as he gave her one of his shy smiles.
“You really kicked our asses up there.”
Her expression was perplexed, somewhere between a smile and a frown, as she curiously asked, “What are you talking about?”
Before he could answer, the base air traffic controller stated, “Squadron 421, this is Tower One. You have been cleared for take off. Have a safe trip. Over.”
“Copy that, Tower One. You heard the man, squad. Time to go home,” Wells informed them.
One at a time, each plane rolled out onto the runway, taking flight into the fading sunset. The short journey home was uneventful, and soon enough they were landing on their own airstrip at Hill.
Carter, one of the last pilots to touch down on the runway, gratefully pulled off her helmet and unfastened her straps. As she began the power down procedure, the familiar clank of the ladder being set up beside the cockpit resounded outside. In response, she popped open the canopy, ready to greet her chief crewman, Technical Sergeant Lowe. Instead, she was caught completely by surprise as a pair of strong arms lifted her out of the ejection seat.
“Beautiful flying, Wizard!” First Lieutenant Rupert O’Malley shouted as he squeezed her close.
“O’Malley!” she yelled, squirming to get free. “What are you talking about? What did I do?”
He issued no response to her questions, only holding her tighter to keep her from falling to the ground.
She continued the attempt to wriggle out of his grasp, kicking to find the rungs of the ladder. As her foot finally made contact with a steel rung, she glanced down and blinked in surprise. A fair number of her fellow pilots had encircled her F-16, clapping and calling out words of praise.
O’Malley carefully handed down the wide-eyed Carter to First Lieutenants Robert Fulco and Todd Hickam, who gently set her on the taxiway. The assembled group of pilots gathered around, patting her on the back and congratulating her. Growing more confused by the second, she grabbed a fistful of Lovell’s g-suit and yanked him toward her.
“Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?” she asked in a low voice, trying to remain calm.
Lovell wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her close and kissing her cheek.
“That’s my girl! All the hard work finally paid off, Sammy!”
“Your run was better than anyone else’s, Sam! You shattered the old squad record!” First Lieutenant Jonathan Bennett added, grinning like a fool.
“And better yet,” O’Malley continued, scrambling down from his perch on her plane. “You completely eclipsed Derek Hall! The little snail was choking down your exhaust!”
When the commotion began dying down, Thompson quietly approached her from behind, slipping his arms around her waist in a simple hug. She smiled at his warm, familiar presence, appreciatively leaning into his embrace and only partially listening to O’Malley, Lovell, and Bennett as they rambled on among themselves about broken records.
“I’m proud of you,” he softly murmured, his arms constricting slightly around her.
Carter upheld her silence, choosing to rest her temple against his cheek in a show of affection. For a moment, both remained motionless, merely enjoying each other’s warmth in the cold night air.
Closing her eyes, she considered how their friendship had subtly been evolving the past couple of years. The extended touches and hugs, the longing glances they furtively cast one another…
Things were slowly changing between the pair. They were more than just the best of friends, yet not quite romantically involved. It was a fine line they skirted along, both unwilling to risk ruining their powerful friendship or their promising careers, but unable to withdraw from the devotion they had developed for each other over the course of several years.
Moments like these had become more frequent, yet more often than not, they managed to retain the playful, comfortable camaraderie that was so prevalent in their squadron.
“You keep breaking records like that and you won’t need to do any ass-kissing to get into NASA, Wizard,” Thompson teased, digging his fingers between her ribs and drawing a startled squeak from her.
Before Thompson could realize what had hit him, Carter elbowed him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He released her and, taking advantage of his breathlessness, she swept a leg at his ankles to whisk his feet out from under him.
It all happened in a fraction of a second.
He lay flat on his back on the ground, chuckling and wincing. Eyes shining bright with amusement, Carter smiled down at him while O’Malley, Lovell, and Bennett doubled over with laughter at his expense.
“You were saying, Lieutenant?” she asked innocently.
Thompson rose to his feet, a small grin playing across his lips.
“Um, I’ve gotta go finish powering down. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later, okay?”
Leisurely, he retreated away from them, smiling and rubbing a sore spot on his backside.
The lighthearted laugh from behind them caused the group to whirl around, coming face to face with Captain James Martinez, the second-in-command of the 421st Fighter Squadron.
“Are you four having fun?”
Embarrassed smiles spread across the faces of the junior officers. At their appearance, Martinez laughed heartily once again.
“Well, a little horsing around isn’t a crime, kids, but I suggest you get back to powering down your planes.”
“Is something wrong, sir?” Bennett questioned.
Sobering significantly, Martinez answered, “Colonel Snedden asked to speak with Major Wells when we landed. Something might be up.”
Stony silence smothered the cheerfulness as the younger pilots began putting two and two together.
Colonel William Snedden was the commanding officer of Hill’s 388th Tactical Fighter Wing, which included three F-16 fighter squadrons and several operation support squadrons. His orders were handed down from the higher officials of the Air Force, effectively enabling him to call the shots. Meetings between Snedden and Wells almost always paved the way for a change of orders, and the implications of this particular conference could only mean one thing.
They were being reassigned overseas.
“Finish up with your planes, boys. Major Wells will want to brief the squad at Hangar A as soon as he’s finished talking to the colonel. Dismissed,” Martinez told them.
A chorus of “yes, sir’s” and salutes preceded O’Malley, Lovell, and Bennett’s departures.
Carter considered their retreating figures for a moment before lowering her gaze to the ground. She bit her lower lip as the information they’d been presented with tumbled around in her mind.
War.
When she enrolled at the Academy, she was mindful of the possibility of going into combat if the country went to war. The documents she’d signed before she entered flight training stated that she understood the risks of becoming a fighter pilot, understood she may be called to the frontlines and fly missions deep into enemy territory. She just never thought she’d see the day when it would actually happen.
She was going to war.
Captain Martinez’s gentle voice broke through her tumultuous thoughts, pulling her back to the present.
“You did a good job up there, little girl.”
Raising her eyes, Carter managed to give him a small smile.
“Thank you, sir.”
Martinez had the reputation of being the family man in the squadron. Although he had committed his entire adult life to the Air Force, he always spent his downtime with his wife and children in Salt Lake City.
His love for kids extended down to the members of the squadron, all of whom he considered as much his children as his son and daughter were. Martinez kindly referred to the men of the 421st as his ‘boys,’ and reserved a special place in his heart for Carter, his ‘girl.’
Martinez nodded at her before fixing his gaze on her F-16.
“Finish up what you were doing, Lieutenant. We’ll soon find out what’s going on.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, saluting.
About twenty minutes later, Carter and her crew were completing the power down procedure when she heard the distinct sound of approaching footsteps. Smiling, she peeked over the side of her cockpit, assuming Thompson had returned from powering down his own aircraft. Much to her dismay, she was met by the one person she sought to avoid at all costs.
“So, do you think what you did will make it easier for your daddy to move you up on NASA’s list of candidates for the astronaut corps?” Derek Hall asked sourly.
She purposely ignored him, climbing out of the cockpit after setting the canopy to close behind her. She had sensed that sooner or later he’d find the time to pay her a visit. It came as no surprise that Hall had waited until she was more or less alone before confronting her.
Someone clearing his throat behind her caught her attention.
Ducking her head beneath the nose of the fighter plane, she found her support crew standing at attention, waiting to be dismissed. Her eyes tracked each of their faces.
There was Staff Sergeant Nolan and Senior Airman Edwards, the two newest personnel she had chosen to be a part of her support crew. Both had been recommended by Captain Martinez and Lieutenant Lovell, and thus far proven themselves to her time and again, learning the ropes quickly.
Then there was Technical Sergeant Lowe, the oldest and most experienced member of the team. Carter had intuitively handpicked the strong-willed, accomplished Lowe to be her chief crewman at the beginning of her flight training instruction, and the two had stuck together ever since.
“Thanks for your help, guys.”
Edwards peered behind Carter, nodding her head towards the prowling Hall.
“Sure you’ll be okay, ma’am?”
Carter felt her lips twitch in amusement at the youngest member of her crew.
Senior Airman Edwards was a firebrand, ready for anything that may come her way and fiercely protective of her friends. She was bright as a new penny and not unlike Carter in several ways, which had led the lieutenant to hand-select the plucky young woman into the maintenance crew that would be attending to her and her fighter plane.
“I’ll be just fine, Airman,” she replied. “Thanks once again.”
The three saluted her and walked away, leaving her alone with Hall. With one look at the expression on his face, she decided to try to continue the avoidance tactic and steadily began walking toward Hangar A for the briefing. Hall was not as eager to let go of the situation so quickly.
“Who taught you how to fly like that, Carter? Your old man? Or those crazy flyboys you’re always hanging out with?”
‘He’s not worth the fight,’ she told herself, fighting to keep her irritation in check as she unconsciously squeezed and loosened her fists.
Hall continued along, obviously enjoying himself as he tried to goad her.
“I bet Thompson’s taught you a thing or two about flying…in the air and in the bedroom. Tell me, Carter, do you guys wait to get between the sheets or do you hop to it in a nice, cozy spot in the hangar bays?”
That did it.
When all else fell short, he relied on bringing her association with Thompson into the skirmish, using him to rouse the deep-rooted intensity Carter hid beneath the surface. It never failed to rile her.
Abruptly, she turned on her heel and defiantly stared up into his face, her fiery, sapphire eyes locking gazes with his pale, icy ones.
“What is your problem with me, Lieutenant? Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t be a good fighter pilot!” she exclaimed, allowing her aggravation to take charge. She had tired of endlessly walking around eggshells with him.
“This isn’t about you being a woman, Carter!” he yelled back.
“Then what the hell is it about?”
“Hey, knock it off, Hall!”
With a start, the two lieutenants twisted around toward the sound of Thompson’s voice. Both immediately became aware of the fact they had arrived outside of Hangar A, where most of the squadron had already assembled for the briefing.
Her simmering anger cooled considerably as she spotted Thompson, Bennett, O’Malley, and Hickam making their way to her side. Her eyes lit up as she remembered the nickname Major Wells had bestowed upon his newest hotshots when they had joined the squadron.
The Fearless Freshmen.
All five friends had remained close throughout their instruction at the Academy and flight school, and by either luck or fate, all had been assigned to the 421st upon their graduation.
For weeks, Wells and the older squad members had teased them incessantly, joking that the major must have gotten a ‘buy one, get four free’ deal. The newly promoted first lieutenants had taken it all in stride, sticking close together as they always had.
Eventually, the rest of the squadron had learned to accept the fact that nothing could disrupt the strong camaraderie the five had constructed. They became Wells’s terrors in the sky, successfully displaying their extremely capable flying skills consistently.
Word of their formidable bond spread across the base like a wildfire. Soon enough, all the personnel knew that when one of the Fearless Freshmen was happy, the other four were more than likely also cheerful. Mess with one, and you messed with all of them.
At the present time, none of them looked too pleased.
O’Malley stood by Carter’s side, towering over her and Hall with his fit and trim six foot, four inch frame. The other young men took up positions behind them, offering silent support.
‘Sometimes height does have its advantages,’ she thought as Hall took a conscious step backward, clearly intimidated by O’Malley’s powerful presence.
“Sam, is this little snail picking on you because you whipped his butt?”
Hall quickly cut in before she could reply.
“Of course not, O’Malley! I was just asking Carter where she got her flying lessons.”
He fixed a cold gaze at her, his smile anything but friendly as his eyes sized her up from head to toe.
“Maybe you could show me some of those moves later. Your place or mine, sweetheart?”
In an instant, her anger bubbled and resurfaced at his bawdy remark. She stepped forward and opened her mouth, ready to give Hall the verbal thrashing of his life, when a stern voice stopped her.
“Cut it out!”
Six heads whipped around in swift succession to face Captain Sean McCullough, the other senior officer on the 421st.
“Major Wells is heading back so get your acts together now!” he admonished them.
Defiant looks were exchanged between Carter and Hall before the two backed away from each other, and a blanket of silence fell over the entire squadron as their commanding officer returned.
“Listen up,” Wells began. “As you people have probably guessed, we’ve received new orders from Colonel Snedden. We’ll be heading overseas to join Operation Desert Shield.”
All eyes were trained on the major as he began pacing back and forth in front of them, continuing his address.
“Diplomacy has been going nowhere, so in three days, President Bush will be ordering additional deployments to Saudi. This will give credibility to the offensive option that is mounting. As a part of the 388th Tactical Fighter Wing, we’ll be included in those plans.”
He paused, taking the time to observe each youthful face.
“We’ve been training for weeks now. I’ve thrown every kind of obstacle I could think of while instructing you people, pushing you to your limits and beyond. You’ve passed with flying colors every time.”
Wells halted briefly again, craning his neck to look up at the night sky for a moment, considering his next words.
“I know we’re ready for this.”
Clearing his throat, he added, “We’ll continue to train four times a week until we are deployed on the seventeenth of November, so start getting your business taken care of. If anyone has anything to say, now’s the time to say it.”
Silence was the only response.
Nodding curtly, Major Wells stopped pacing.
“All right, then. We’ll debrief in regards to today’s training at 0800. You’re dismissed.”
With the briefing completed, the squadron broke apart, the pilots and crewmembers sauntering off in small groups to discuss what lay ahead of them.
Carter and Thompson left the taxiway together, wordlessly making their way to the officers’ quarters. Once inside the building, the lieutenants weaved through the decorated corridors that accommodated the pilots of the 421st, the sound of their footfalls echoing through the empty hallways.
As they walked along, Carter glanced at the endless rows of plaques, certificates of commendation, and group photos of past and present squadron members. The pilots of the 421st had maintained a long history of pride and excellence, a tradition Major Wells expected to continue while the squadron was under his command.
Many of the names inscribed on the various awards were familiar, for they had built successful careers in the field of space science after trading in their pilot’s wings. Most had gone on to work at NORAD, U.S. Space Command, and even NASA, where she hoped to find herself one day.
For now, those dreams would have to wait, shelved away until she returned from the Middle East.
Leaning against the door of her quarters, she eyed the unusually quiet Thompson, who was uncomfortably scuffing his boot along the floor. For months, they’d bickered about the reasons behind the military’s involvement in the conflict, never quite seeing eye to eye on the topic. Now they were headed there themselves, unable to avoid the issue any longer.
The awkward silence that had encompassed the pair since the end of the briefing was suddenly broken when they began speaking simultaneously.
“Josh --”
“Sam --”
Tentative smiles crossed their faces.
Carter gestured for Thompson to say what was on his mind.
“I know you’re less than thrilled about going overseas.”
She shook her head, crossing her arms at her chest.
“I may not like it, Josh, but it is part of the job. We’ve been given our orders and we are bound by duty to follow them.”
He bit his lower lip, dropping his gaze to the ground and nodding irritably.
She recognized the look of childlike petulance that crossed her friend’s face. The expression rarely made an appearance, only surfacing when Thompson knew better than to question an order or opinion, choosing to internalize his dissatisfaction. Smiling slightly, she playfully kicked out, her foot lightly smacking his rear.
“Besides, you need someone to watch your butt over there!”
Wide grins spread their lips, and the two lieutenants broke into laughter, the solemn atmosphere dissolving in a flash.
“Yes, ma’am,” Thompson said, chuckling as he stepped closer, breaching her personal space.
The mood between them charged electrically as he gently hooked his forefinger around the chain of her dog tags. Her heart began beating a little faster as he tenderly rested his forehead against hers, his dark brown eyes staring intently into her blue ones.
“You know, I always feel safe when I’m at your side. It doesn’t matter if I’m in the air or here on the ground. I know I can rely on you.”
Carter nodded slowly in accordance, her breath catching in her throat as the slight movement bumped her nose against his.
They were still as statues, feeling the rapid puffs of air on each other’s lips, so close yet so far away.
Her mind raced a mile a minute.
From the very beginning, she had felt an undeniable attraction to him. His gorgeous eyes and easy smile were the trademark appearance of a classic boyish fighter pilot, but beneath the exterior good looks, his inborn charm and unending streak of brilliance had completely captivated her. It was second nature for her to trade complex ideas with him just as easily as it was to poke fun at one another.
She had never known anyone like him.
Little by little, she had begun to see something more in her best friend, and she always wondered if he could ever reciprocate the powerful feelings that coursed through her. Thus far, she’d never made a move, too frightened to jeopardize the cherished bond she shared with him should he not feel the same way.
As if reading her thoughts, he quizzically tilted his head to the side before a lopsided smile spread across his face. Reaching up, Thompson delicately brushed her bangs back from her forehead, winding his other arm around her waist. Her lips parted slightly as he slowly ducked his head toward hers, her eyes drifting shut as she felt him leaning in.
Cheerful voices and laughter rang through the air somewhere down the opposite corridor, the sounds shattering the silence and breaking the moment.
Carter turned her flushed face, jerking away from him. At the same time, Thompson shuffled backwards, nearly tripping over his feet as he quickly put some distance between the two of them.
It was not a second later when Lieutenants Lovell and Hickam rounded the corner, apparently in good spirits as they ambled toward the flustered Carter and Thompson.
“Hey, we were wondering where you guys disappeared to,” Hickam greeted them in passing on his way to his quarters.
“Yeah, the rest of the squadron was planning on where to throw a little farewell party in town the night before we deploy,” Lovell added, eyeing their bright pink cheeks suspiciously.
Carter cleared her throat, quickly averting her eyes, while Thompson’s gaze retreated to the floor, his hand running over the back of his neck.
Lovell grinned at their obvious discomfort, pushing past Thompson to get to the door of his room. As he turned the knob, the older lieutenant paused and looked back, unable to restrain himself from making his friends squirm.
“Next time, try getting inside the room before you start making out, flyboy. Wouldn’t want Major Wells to catch you two in the heat of the moment, now would we?” he joked, winking before he escaped inside his quarters.
Thompson glared at the door, looking embarrassed and angry at Lovell’s words before he heard the soft click of another door opening behind him. Whirling around, he found Carter withdrawing into her own room.
“Sam?”
She gave him an apologetic small smile.
“I have to get some work done. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said softly, closing the door completely.
She rested against the polished wood, her heart still racing from the rush of emotion. Turning on her side, Carter pressed her ear against the door, listening for any sound of Thompson outside, half wishing he would knock and ask to be invited inside.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there before disappointment settled in as she finally heard his fading footsteps walking reluctantly away.
Continued in Chapter 3.
TITLE: 1991: Chapter 02
AUTHOR: Starbuck92
Disclaimer in part 01.
“You told Brayden Wells to what!” O’Neill exclaimed in disbelief.
A furious flush blazed across Carter’s cheeks. She knew she should have left that detail out!
“It’s not like he heard me, sir! He was well out of earshot,” she protested.
“Lucky for you, or else you might have gotten that punishment after all!” the colonel retorted, clearly amused by the choice of words she had used against her former commanding officer.
She remained obstinately silent, attentively dusting off her boots and keeping her gaze fixed on a suddenly fascinating flower by her foot. O’Neill grinned, unwilling to let go of such a golden opportunity to give his major a difficult time.
“Have you ever told me to suck a lemon, Carter?”
“No, sir,” she hurriedly responded. The serious expression on her face vanished as a slow, mischievous smile crept across her face.
“Not yet, anyway,” she added cheekily in afterthought.
“Have you ever told General Hammond?” he shot back.
“No!” Carter shouted, unable to stifle her laughter.
It had been far too long since she’d had a really good laugh.
Over the past few months, there had been no respite from one grueling mission after another: the colonel stranded on Edora with a buried Stargate, covert operations with the Asgard and Tollan, crystal skulls and giant aliens, techno-bugs intent on overrunning Earth… It felt wonderful to have a temporary break from the action.
“So why did you tell old Brayden to stick a piece of fruit in his mouth?”
Carter glanced at him with a wry smirk before returning her gaze to the ground.
“Major Wells was always on my case, sir.”
The colonel took a good, hard look at his second-in-command, appearing mildly surprised at her uncharacteristic petulance.
“You know why, don’t you?”
No reply.
“The man had a rep for pushing his best people hard. He swore by the Air Force motto. ‘Integrity first, service before self, and excellence in all we do.’ Hell, I wouldn’t have lasted a minute under his command ‘cause he would’ve had me booted out with my attitude!”
A reflective expression crossed her face as she absorbed this information.
Over the past ten years, she had gained much more insight into the world than she had possessed at the age of twenty-five. What she had believed to be harsh discipline and outrageous training routines had actually been Major Wells gauging their skills, keeping his eyes peeled for exceptional work and dedication.
She hoped she had given him that.
The inborn yearning to achieve perfection had always driven her. Beneath her notice, Major Wells had strengthened that attribute in her during her time with his squadron, always pushing her to strive for nothing less than the best.
That same dedication had fueled her desire to unlock the secrets of the Stargate when she was first assigned to the project, and that same commitment now compelled her to work hard under Colonel O’Neill’s command in SG-1.
“I never considered it in a positive way, sir,” she quietly responded. “It’s easier to appreciate his relentless attitude almost a decade later, but back then…”
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Major.”
“Yes, sir.”
O’Neill and Carter remained silent for a few moments, each allowing his or her thoughts to take flight. On the rare occasion they spent time alone together, it seemed as though all of the formal military rigidity usually present between them melted away. Their conversations typically carried along comfortably, whether the discussion steered towards the latest hockey scores or talking about their shared interest in astronomy.
Far from the confines of the Air Force and the SGC, Carter found that she was adding talking about the past with her commanding officer to the list of things to discuss, almost too easily.
“So you were messing around with doohickeys like the UAV since your Academy days?” he questioned.
She nodded, and the colonel couldn’t help but smile.
“Never pegged you as a troublemaker, Carter.”
The bittersweet look that came over her made his smile disappear.
“That wasn’t the first time we were caught with the UAV, sir. It was the last time.”
* * *
Monday, November 5, 1990
Sam Carter peered down at the beautiful Arizona sierras and mesas as she soared above them in her F-16 fighter jet, streaking across the cloudless sky.
As far as the eye could see, the land remained untouched by the hands of mankind. Cacti and shrubbery grew in abundance among the dunes and playas, and the boundless sky was a bright baby blue. The desert stretched out for miles, the golden sand shimmering as rays of bright sunlight shined down upon the billions of tiny granules.
She could easily imagine how the Old West settlers must have seen this land more than a century ago as they traversed across the North American continent in search of a better future.
Although times had changed, the longing to attain a better future was still a fixture of the American way of life. The working class set aside money for that elusive ‘someday,’ parents sent their children off to college to garner a good education, and the nation fought to protect its assets, both at home and abroad.
Bearing that in mind, it came as no surprise that the United States openly condemned the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait. The oilfield running beneath the two countries was an allegorical gold mine, a rich supply of oil reserves that would benefit whoever claimed it, and inevitably the land became the source of a rising conflict between the countries.
Kuwait had fallen to the opposition’s stronger military regime, and the incursion immediately attracted the undivided attention of the world. Concern escalated further when enough evidence was gathered to determine the Iraqis were planning a possible invasion on the borders of Saudi Arabia, another wealthy, oil-reliant country.
Diplomatic missions were dispatched, but to no avail. The situation remained unchanged, and more militaristic approaches were being considered.
Since September, her squadron had joined many others across the U.S., steadily beginning to earnestly train for battle. As the months passed by, more fighter wings and squadrons had been deployed to the Middle East, strengthening the manpower of the thousands of American and coalition forces already stationed in the Gulf. She knew it was only a matter of time before her squadron would be sent overseas to join Operation Desert Shield.
Shaking her head, she gently pushed the stick forward, lowering her altitude.
Personally, she couldn’t care less about the oil. Intellectually, Carter understood how valuable the region was to her country, but her heart warred with her head. There were people in Kuwait and Saudi Arabia who needed their help, and in her eyes that was what mattered the most.
The unmistakable sound of a pair of jets falling into formation at her sides jerked her from her musings. She glanced to her right, smiling behind her oxygen mask as Thompson gave her a thumbs-up sign. She gave him a short wave before turning to her left.
First Lieutenant Matthew Lovell was swinging his shoulders from side to side, performing his victory jig as best he could in such cramped quarters. Carter couldn’t help but giggle at the antics of the man whom she thought of as a surrogate big brother.
Something had clicked between them the first time they’d met, inexplicably drawing them together. The pair became all but inseparable after Major Wells assigned Lovell to supervise her progress during the first two months following her assignment to the squadron. From running difficult flight training missions to picking apart the engines of their fighter planes, the duo had developed an unbreakable bond, and Carter learned to place her trust in Lovell without question.
However, as much as she trusted him with her life, she’d also discovered no one could make her laugh like he did. She always enjoyed spending time with the twenty-seven year old mechanical engineer, but never more than when he was in a joking mood.
“Careful, Matty. If you head swells up any more, you’re going to accidentally eject yourself out of that cockpit,” Carter teased.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to rag on me, little sis,” Lovell responded playfully. “You’re up next!”
Almost immediately after his retort, the radio crackled to life once again. The sound of Major Wells’s voice transmitted through the audio speakers in Carter’s helmet as he issued his comments and instructions to the squadron.
“Good job, Magician. Excellent flying, Knight. Wizard and Warlock, you’re up. Rendezvous at the Range.”
Thompson and Lovell wished her luck, and Carter accelerated her engines, heading back toward the Goldwater Range.
Over the last two months, Wells had hailed the 421st Fighter Squadron before the crack of dawn for full days of training. After a quick breakfast, the group would man their fighter planes in the pre-dawn chill and travel down to Arizona’s Luke Air Force Base, the largest fighter plane training facility in the country, where they would receive their itinerary for the day.
Thus far, no two days had been the same.
One day would be spent conducting intense air-to-air training, battling against other squadrons in mock combat. The next day might find them assigned to the Goldwater Range for hours of air-to-ground bombing run simulations. Half the time, the squadron was comfortably situated in their personal F-16s, while at other times they logged hours for recertification aboard the F-117A Nighthawks, stealth planes loaned from the 37th Training Wing stationed at Tonopah Test Range in Nevada.
Today had been no different.
A weary Carter had risen from her bed at 0430, two hours before sunrise, feeling like she was back in basic cadet training. Her life had dwindled down to a rudimentary routine: train hard, eat right, and get a good night’s sleep. Spare time had become nonexistent. Her doctoral thesis and work on the UAV sat in her quarters collecting dust.
It was uncharacteristic for her to leave her work alone for such a long period of time, but exhaustion had steadily crept up on her, draining the usual infinite amount of energy that always seemed to radiate within her. Regardless of the fatigue, she readily poured her heart and soul into flying her best every day.
Soon enough, the boundary of the Goldwater Range was in her sight. Another F-16 approached from the west, decelerating as the pilot spotted her on his scope.
‘Just my luck,’ she thought as she warily eyed the Warlock call sign painted on the tail of the plane.
As long as she could remember, First Lieutenant Derek Hall seemed steadfast on outperforming everything she did while under Major Wells’s command. Since the day she’d arrived at Hill, the twenty-eight year old aerospace engineer had given her hell. If he wasn’t nitpicking her latest project, he would be criticizing her flying. A day hadn’t gone by without her having to endure his bullying remarks.
Hall was something of a puzzle to Carter. Day after day, she wondered what she could have done to provoke the bitterness he seemed to hold for her. Usually she relished solving such intricate puzzles, but this one had her stumped. She could never predict what he would say or do.
Her feelings on the issue were swiftly shelved as she heard Wells exclaim over the radio, “Warlock and Wizard, you have a go!”
Thrusting herself into her fighter pilot mentality, Carter smiled at the familiar burst of adrenaline that coursed through her body. The rush from the sudden surge of speed made all those long hours of intense training worthwhile. Almost immediately, she had a good lead over Hall, pushing her F-16 to maximum power as she shot over the Range.
“You’re coming up on alpha targets!” Wells informed them.
She had a clean view of the Range from her canopy. The field loomed in the distance, the abandoned buildings and military equipment becoming clearer as she rapidly approached.
The squadron had spent hours reviewing topographical maps of the area, becoming intimately familiar with the territory. Each pilot received the opportunity to fly through the field each morning the 421st was posted there, learning and committing to memory the landmasses and manmade training structures. With one glance at her scope, Carter instantly knew how to maneuver across the field in order to achieve the best possible flight path.
“Targets in sight, sir!” she reported, full of confidence.
Several seconds later, Hall echoed, “Targets in sight, sir!”
“Drop your ordnance!” Wells commanded.
Fixing her gaze on the screen before her, Carter waited until just the right moment to hit the release mechanism, discharging the plane’s deadly ordnance onto the targets below.
“One away! Two away!” she exclaimed as the Paveway II laser-guided bombs dropped to the ground.
The sound of the weaponry hitting their marks faded into the recesses of her awareness as she focused on keeping the F-16 steady under the intense g-forces. Her hand gripped the stick tightly, guiding the plane through the intermittent rocky terrain between the first and second batch of targets.
“Wizard, you are approaching bravo targets too fast,” Wells notified her. “You’re going to miss your marks!”
“I can do it, sir!” Carter replied, her teeth clenched both in concentration and against the mounting pressure gravity was forcing upon her.
She ripped ahead toward the second half of the exercise, studiously maintaining her breakneck airspeed and keeping the targets in sight. Within seconds, she was on top of them and accurately released her ordnance once again.
“Three away! Four away!”
The Paveways plummeted to their intended targets, striking perfectly in the wake of her flyby.
Having completed the run, she eased her death grip on the stick, watching the dial spin down as her airspeed decreased. Pushing her helmet’s visor up with one shaking hand, she wiped away the beads of sweat from her forehead, struggling to catch her breath.
Slowly, she became aware of the excited chatter over the radio. Her fellow squadron pilots were keyed up about something, speaking so quickly she couldn’t understand what they were babbling about. Before Carter had the chance to ask what was going on, Wells made an announcement.
“Good flying, Wizard and Warlock. That wraps it up for the day. Head back to Luke for a refuel, and then we’re going home.”
The group calmed down and fell back into formation, making their way back to Luke AFB. One by one, the planes touched down on the runway and taxied toward the hangar bays where the fueling crews were waiting for their arrival. As the crews busied themselves with work on the F-16s, the pilots took the time to rest aboard their aircraft, chatting quietly with one another over the radios.
Carter leaned back in her cockpit as best she could, closing her eyes and enjoying the few minutes of relaxation allotted to them. A cool breeze fluttered through the open canopy, ruffling her short, blonde locks and drawing out a sigh from the lieutenant.
Despite all outward appearances, she was never truly at rest. Her mind raced over her completed simulation run as she visualized every moment, considering what she had perfected and what she could improve upon.
One factor that continued to intrigue her was the airspeed she had sustained. Throughout her entire training, she had never managed to achieve such rigid control over her fighter plane at such an incredible velocity. She had spent so much time working on the problem with Lovell, logging countless hours trying to master the skill.
None of his ideas had succeeded, and the disappointment and frustration had continued to plague them both. After one close call that had nearly resulted in a crash, the pair had toned down the arduous training. Their only hope was that her inborn talent would naturally emerge, giving her the ability to conquer the only problem she’d ever encountered while flying.
“Good job, Lieutenant Carter.”
Her eyes snapped open, the sound of Major Wells’s voice crackling over the radio startling her. Quickly, she sat up, turning in the direction of the F-16 with the golden crown painted on its tail. Catching sight of her commanding officer, she gave him a small smile.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You showed some spectacular stuff up there, but next time keep the stunts grounded.”
A tiny frown creased her forehead.
“Sir?” she asked, not quite sure she had heard him correctly.
Wells positioned his helmet loosely over his head as his fueling crew completed their work on his plane, and he nodded his acknowledgement to them before answering her.
“I don’t need any of my people trying to play hero, Lieutenant. Is that clear?”
‘Where is this coming from?’ she silently wondered.
“But sir, I wasn’t --”
“Is that clear, Lieutenant Carter?” Wells repeated, his green eyes narrowing slightly, signifying he meant business.
“Yes, sir,” she obediently replied, sliding her own helmet back on as her crew finished up.
Without further argument, Carter began her preflight, working through her confusion as she flipped through a row of switches. She didn’t understand why the major was criticizing such a perfect run. Never before had she maintained such precision engaged in a bombing run, and even less so with live ammunition.
Her hand wavered in midair over the forward panel with her last thought, her eyes drifting shut in realization.
Major Wells was well aware of all his pilots’ strengths and weakness, both in aviation and their individual specialties on the ground. It was no secret to him that she had continually struggled to fly with finesse at intense velocities, exhibiting little progress from consistently overcoming the problem. In his eyes, her boldness cast a shadow over the exquisite bombing run she had completed.
Where she had solely been focused on pulling off something she wasn’t quite skilled at, Wells had seen the potential danger she had placed herself in, particularly with actual bombs. The major expected by-the-book behavior while in the air, keeping a close eye on the hot-dogging pranksters in his squadron like Josh Thompson.
Frowning, she turned her head and caught the dark brown eyes of her friend scrutinizing her. Thompson was tightening the chinstrap of his helmet, not looking very happy.
‘Damn it, how long has he been looking over here?’
As he secured the strap, he used his free hand to key the radio and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Automatically, she replied, “Nothing,” and mentally kicked herself for such a stupid answer. He knew her far too well to let her get away with that kind of a response.
Predictably, he fired right back at her.
“Don’t give me that crap, Sam.”
He had undoubtedly witnessed the entire exchange between herself and Major Wells. Fortunately, he had no access to their radio conversation, but Thompson hadn’t any need for the audio discussion to know something had happened. Over the last several years, he had perfected the ability to effortlessly read every expression that crossed her face.
She sighed as she tugged her own chinstrap, shaking her head wordlessly at him and hoping he’d perceive the silent message in her eyes: please drop it. After a long moment of stubbornly holding her gaze, Thompson grudgingly relented, returning his attention to his preflight check.
Carter released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Thompson knew firsthand of the rocky relationship that existed between her and the major, but now was not the time to be discussing their latest clash. There would always be a more appropriate time and place to discuss such matters.
”Hey Sam?”
Lifting her head, she glanced in his direction again, her eyebrows lifting slightly as he gave her one of his shy smiles.
“You really kicked our asses up there.”
Her expression was perplexed, somewhere between a smile and a frown, as she curiously asked, “What are you talking about?”
Before he could answer, the base air traffic controller stated, “Squadron 421, this is Tower One. You have been cleared for take off. Have a safe trip. Over.”
“Copy that, Tower One. You heard the man, squad. Time to go home,” Wells informed them.
One at a time, each plane rolled out onto the runway, taking flight into the fading sunset. The short journey home was uneventful, and soon enough they were landing on their own airstrip at Hill.
Carter, one of the last pilots to touch down on the runway, gratefully pulled off her helmet and unfastened her straps. As she began the power down procedure, the familiar clank of the ladder being set up beside the cockpit resounded outside. In response, she popped open the canopy, ready to greet her chief crewman, Technical Sergeant Lowe. Instead, she was caught completely by surprise as a pair of strong arms lifted her out of the ejection seat.
“Beautiful flying, Wizard!” First Lieutenant Rupert O’Malley shouted as he squeezed her close.
“O’Malley!” she yelled, squirming to get free. “What are you talking about? What did I do?”
He issued no response to her questions, only holding her tighter to keep her from falling to the ground.
She continued the attempt to wriggle out of his grasp, kicking to find the rungs of the ladder. As her foot finally made contact with a steel rung, she glanced down and blinked in surprise. A fair number of her fellow pilots had encircled her F-16, clapping and calling out words of praise.
O’Malley carefully handed down the wide-eyed Carter to First Lieutenants Robert Fulco and Todd Hickam, who gently set her on the taxiway. The assembled group of pilots gathered around, patting her on the back and congratulating her. Growing more confused by the second, she grabbed a fistful of Lovell’s g-suit and yanked him toward her.
“Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?” she asked in a low voice, trying to remain calm.
Lovell wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her close and kissing her cheek.
“That’s my girl! All the hard work finally paid off, Sammy!”
“Your run was better than anyone else’s, Sam! You shattered the old squad record!” First Lieutenant Jonathan Bennett added, grinning like a fool.
“And better yet,” O’Malley continued, scrambling down from his perch on her plane. “You completely eclipsed Derek Hall! The little snail was choking down your exhaust!”
When the commotion began dying down, Thompson quietly approached her from behind, slipping his arms around her waist in a simple hug. She smiled at his warm, familiar presence, appreciatively leaning into his embrace and only partially listening to O’Malley, Lovell, and Bennett as they rambled on among themselves about broken records.
“I’m proud of you,” he softly murmured, his arms constricting slightly around her.
Carter upheld her silence, choosing to rest her temple against his cheek in a show of affection. For a moment, both remained motionless, merely enjoying each other’s warmth in the cold night air.
Closing her eyes, she considered how their friendship had subtly been evolving the past couple of years. The extended touches and hugs, the longing glances they furtively cast one another…
Things were slowly changing between the pair. They were more than just the best of friends, yet not quite romantically involved. It was a fine line they skirted along, both unwilling to risk ruining their powerful friendship or their promising careers, but unable to withdraw from the devotion they had developed for each other over the course of several years.
Moments like these had become more frequent, yet more often than not, they managed to retain the playful, comfortable camaraderie that was so prevalent in their squadron.
“You keep breaking records like that and you won’t need to do any ass-kissing to get into NASA, Wizard,” Thompson teased, digging his fingers between her ribs and drawing a startled squeak from her.
Before Thompson could realize what had hit him, Carter elbowed him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He released her and, taking advantage of his breathlessness, she swept a leg at his ankles to whisk his feet out from under him.
It all happened in a fraction of a second.
He lay flat on his back on the ground, chuckling and wincing. Eyes shining bright with amusement, Carter smiled down at him while O’Malley, Lovell, and Bennett doubled over with laughter at his expense.
“You were saying, Lieutenant?” she asked innocently.
Thompson rose to his feet, a small grin playing across his lips.
“Um, I’ve gotta go finish powering down. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later, okay?”
Leisurely, he retreated away from them, smiling and rubbing a sore spot on his backside.
The lighthearted laugh from behind them caused the group to whirl around, coming face to face with Captain James Martinez, the second-in-command of the 421st Fighter Squadron.
“Are you four having fun?”
Embarrassed smiles spread across the faces of the junior officers. At their appearance, Martinez laughed heartily once again.
“Well, a little horsing around isn’t a crime, kids, but I suggest you get back to powering down your planes.”
“Is something wrong, sir?” Bennett questioned.
Sobering significantly, Martinez answered, “Colonel Snedden asked to speak with Major Wells when we landed. Something might be up.”
Stony silence smothered the cheerfulness as the younger pilots began putting two and two together.
Colonel William Snedden was the commanding officer of Hill’s 388th Tactical Fighter Wing, which included three F-16 fighter squadrons and several operation support squadrons. His orders were handed down from the higher officials of the Air Force, effectively enabling him to call the shots. Meetings between Snedden and Wells almost always paved the way for a change of orders, and the implications of this particular conference could only mean one thing.
They were being reassigned overseas.
“Finish up with your planes, boys. Major Wells will want to brief the squad at Hangar A as soon as he’s finished talking to the colonel. Dismissed,” Martinez told them.
A chorus of “yes, sir’s” and salutes preceded O’Malley, Lovell, and Bennett’s departures.
Carter considered their retreating figures for a moment before lowering her gaze to the ground. She bit her lower lip as the information they’d been presented with tumbled around in her mind.
War.
When she enrolled at the Academy, she was mindful of the possibility of going into combat if the country went to war. The documents she’d signed before she entered flight training stated that she understood the risks of becoming a fighter pilot, understood she may be called to the frontlines and fly missions deep into enemy territory. She just never thought she’d see the day when it would actually happen.
She was going to war.
Captain Martinez’s gentle voice broke through her tumultuous thoughts, pulling her back to the present.
“You did a good job up there, little girl.”
Raising her eyes, Carter managed to give him a small smile.
“Thank you, sir.”
Martinez had the reputation of being the family man in the squadron. Although he had committed his entire adult life to the Air Force, he always spent his downtime with his wife and children in Salt Lake City.
His love for kids extended down to the members of the squadron, all of whom he considered as much his children as his son and daughter were. Martinez kindly referred to the men of the 421st as his ‘boys,’ and reserved a special place in his heart for Carter, his ‘girl.’
Martinez nodded at her before fixing his gaze on her F-16.
“Finish up what you were doing, Lieutenant. We’ll soon find out what’s going on.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, saluting.
About twenty minutes later, Carter and her crew were completing the power down procedure when she heard the distinct sound of approaching footsteps. Smiling, she peeked over the side of her cockpit, assuming Thompson had returned from powering down his own aircraft. Much to her dismay, she was met by the one person she sought to avoid at all costs.
“So, do you think what you did will make it easier for your daddy to move you up on NASA’s list of candidates for the astronaut corps?” Derek Hall asked sourly.
She purposely ignored him, climbing out of the cockpit after setting the canopy to close behind her. She had sensed that sooner or later he’d find the time to pay her a visit. It came as no surprise that Hall had waited until she was more or less alone before confronting her.
Someone clearing his throat behind her caught her attention.
Ducking her head beneath the nose of the fighter plane, she found her support crew standing at attention, waiting to be dismissed. Her eyes tracked each of their faces.
There was Staff Sergeant Nolan and Senior Airman Edwards, the two newest personnel she had chosen to be a part of her support crew. Both had been recommended by Captain Martinez and Lieutenant Lovell, and thus far proven themselves to her time and again, learning the ropes quickly.
Then there was Technical Sergeant Lowe, the oldest and most experienced member of the team. Carter had intuitively handpicked the strong-willed, accomplished Lowe to be her chief crewman at the beginning of her flight training instruction, and the two had stuck together ever since.
“Thanks for your help, guys.”
Edwards peered behind Carter, nodding her head towards the prowling Hall.
“Sure you’ll be okay, ma’am?”
Carter felt her lips twitch in amusement at the youngest member of her crew.
Senior Airman Edwards was a firebrand, ready for anything that may come her way and fiercely protective of her friends. She was bright as a new penny and not unlike Carter in several ways, which had led the lieutenant to hand-select the plucky young woman into the maintenance crew that would be attending to her and her fighter plane.
“I’ll be just fine, Airman,” she replied. “Thanks once again.”
The three saluted her and walked away, leaving her alone with Hall. With one look at the expression on his face, she decided to try to continue the avoidance tactic and steadily began walking toward Hangar A for the briefing. Hall was not as eager to let go of the situation so quickly.
“Who taught you how to fly like that, Carter? Your old man? Or those crazy flyboys you’re always hanging out with?”
‘He’s not worth the fight,’ she told herself, fighting to keep her irritation in check as she unconsciously squeezed and loosened her fists.
Hall continued along, obviously enjoying himself as he tried to goad her.
“I bet Thompson’s taught you a thing or two about flying…in the air and in the bedroom. Tell me, Carter, do you guys wait to get between the sheets or do you hop to it in a nice, cozy spot in the hangar bays?”
That did it.
When all else fell short, he relied on bringing her association with Thompson into the skirmish, using him to rouse the deep-rooted intensity Carter hid beneath the surface. It never failed to rile her.
Abruptly, she turned on her heel and defiantly stared up into his face, her fiery, sapphire eyes locking gazes with his pale, icy ones.
“What is your problem with me, Lieutenant? Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t be a good fighter pilot!” she exclaimed, allowing her aggravation to take charge. She had tired of endlessly walking around eggshells with him.
“This isn’t about you being a woman, Carter!” he yelled back.
“Then what the hell is it about?”
“Hey, knock it off, Hall!”
With a start, the two lieutenants twisted around toward the sound of Thompson’s voice. Both immediately became aware of the fact they had arrived outside of Hangar A, where most of the squadron had already assembled for the briefing.
Her simmering anger cooled considerably as she spotted Thompson, Bennett, O’Malley, and Hickam making their way to her side. Her eyes lit up as she remembered the nickname Major Wells had bestowed upon his newest hotshots when they had joined the squadron.
The Fearless Freshmen.
All five friends had remained close throughout their instruction at the Academy and flight school, and by either luck or fate, all had been assigned to the 421st upon their graduation.
For weeks, Wells and the older squad members had teased them incessantly, joking that the major must have gotten a ‘buy one, get four free’ deal. The newly promoted first lieutenants had taken it all in stride, sticking close together as they always had.
Eventually, the rest of the squadron had learned to accept the fact that nothing could disrupt the strong camaraderie the five had constructed. They became Wells’s terrors in the sky, successfully displaying their extremely capable flying skills consistently.
Word of their formidable bond spread across the base like a wildfire. Soon enough, all the personnel knew that when one of the Fearless Freshmen was happy, the other four were more than likely also cheerful. Mess with one, and you messed with all of them.
At the present time, none of them looked too pleased.
O’Malley stood by Carter’s side, towering over her and Hall with his fit and trim six foot, four inch frame. The other young men took up positions behind them, offering silent support.
‘Sometimes height does have its advantages,’ she thought as Hall took a conscious step backward, clearly intimidated by O’Malley’s powerful presence.
“Sam, is this little snail picking on you because you whipped his butt?”
Hall quickly cut in before she could reply.
“Of course not, O’Malley! I was just asking Carter where she got her flying lessons.”
He fixed a cold gaze at her, his smile anything but friendly as his eyes sized her up from head to toe.
“Maybe you could show me some of those moves later. Your place or mine, sweetheart?”
In an instant, her anger bubbled and resurfaced at his bawdy remark. She stepped forward and opened her mouth, ready to give Hall the verbal thrashing of his life, when a stern voice stopped her.
“Cut it out!”
Six heads whipped around in swift succession to face Captain Sean McCullough, the other senior officer on the 421st.
“Major Wells is heading back so get your acts together now!” he admonished them.
Defiant looks were exchanged between Carter and Hall before the two backed away from each other, and a blanket of silence fell over the entire squadron as their commanding officer returned.
“Listen up,” Wells began. “As you people have probably guessed, we’ve received new orders from Colonel Snedden. We’ll be heading overseas to join Operation Desert Shield.”
All eyes were trained on the major as he began pacing back and forth in front of them, continuing his address.
“Diplomacy has been going nowhere, so in three days, President Bush will be ordering additional deployments to Saudi. This will give credibility to the offensive option that is mounting. As a part of the 388th Tactical Fighter Wing, we’ll be included in those plans.”
He paused, taking the time to observe each youthful face.
“We’ve been training for weeks now. I’ve thrown every kind of obstacle I could think of while instructing you people, pushing you to your limits and beyond. You’ve passed with flying colors every time.”
Wells halted briefly again, craning his neck to look up at the night sky for a moment, considering his next words.
“I know we’re ready for this.”
Clearing his throat, he added, “We’ll continue to train four times a week until we are deployed on the seventeenth of November, so start getting your business taken care of. If anyone has anything to say, now’s the time to say it.”
Silence was the only response.
Nodding curtly, Major Wells stopped pacing.
“All right, then. We’ll debrief in regards to today’s training at 0800. You’re dismissed.”
With the briefing completed, the squadron broke apart, the pilots and crewmembers sauntering off in small groups to discuss what lay ahead of them.
Carter and Thompson left the taxiway together, wordlessly making their way to the officers’ quarters. Once inside the building, the lieutenants weaved through the decorated corridors that accommodated the pilots of the 421st, the sound of their footfalls echoing through the empty hallways.
As they walked along, Carter glanced at the endless rows of plaques, certificates of commendation, and group photos of past and present squadron members. The pilots of the 421st had maintained a long history of pride and excellence, a tradition Major Wells expected to continue while the squadron was under his command.
Many of the names inscribed on the various awards were familiar, for they had built successful careers in the field of space science after trading in their pilot’s wings. Most had gone on to work at NORAD, U.S. Space Command, and even NASA, where she hoped to find herself one day.
For now, those dreams would have to wait, shelved away until she returned from the Middle East.
Leaning against the door of her quarters, she eyed the unusually quiet Thompson, who was uncomfortably scuffing his boot along the floor. For months, they’d bickered about the reasons behind the military’s involvement in the conflict, never quite seeing eye to eye on the topic. Now they were headed there themselves, unable to avoid the issue any longer.
The awkward silence that had encompassed the pair since the end of the briefing was suddenly broken when they began speaking simultaneously.
“Josh --”
“Sam --”
Tentative smiles crossed their faces.
Carter gestured for Thompson to say what was on his mind.
“I know you’re less than thrilled about going overseas.”
She shook her head, crossing her arms at her chest.
“I may not like it, Josh, but it is part of the job. We’ve been given our orders and we are bound by duty to follow them.”
He bit his lower lip, dropping his gaze to the ground and nodding irritably.
She recognized the look of childlike petulance that crossed her friend’s face. The expression rarely made an appearance, only surfacing when Thompson knew better than to question an order or opinion, choosing to internalize his dissatisfaction. Smiling slightly, she playfully kicked out, her foot lightly smacking his rear.
“Besides, you need someone to watch your butt over there!”
Wide grins spread their lips, and the two lieutenants broke into laughter, the solemn atmosphere dissolving in a flash.
“Yes, ma’am,” Thompson said, chuckling as he stepped closer, breaching her personal space.
The mood between them charged electrically as he gently hooked his forefinger around the chain of her dog tags. Her heart began beating a little faster as he tenderly rested his forehead against hers, his dark brown eyes staring intently into her blue ones.
“You know, I always feel safe when I’m at your side. It doesn’t matter if I’m in the air or here on the ground. I know I can rely on you.”
Carter nodded slowly in accordance, her breath catching in her throat as the slight movement bumped her nose against his.
They were still as statues, feeling the rapid puffs of air on each other’s lips, so close yet so far away.
Her mind raced a mile a minute.
From the very beginning, she had felt an undeniable attraction to him. His gorgeous eyes and easy smile were the trademark appearance of a classic boyish fighter pilot, but beneath the exterior good looks, his inborn charm and unending streak of brilliance had completely captivated her. It was second nature for her to trade complex ideas with him just as easily as it was to poke fun at one another.
She had never known anyone like him.
Little by little, she had begun to see something more in her best friend, and she always wondered if he could ever reciprocate the powerful feelings that coursed through her. Thus far, she’d never made a move, too frightened to jeopardize the cherished bond she shared with him should he not feel the same way.
As if reading her thoughts, he quizzically tilted his head to the side before a lopsided smile spread across his face. Reaching up, Thompson delicately brushed her bangs back from her forehead, winding his other arm around her waist. Her lips parted slightly as he slowly ducked his head toward hers, her eyes drifting shut as she felt him leaning in.
Cheerful voices and laughter rang through the air somewhere down the opposite corridor, the sounds shattering the silence and breaking the moment.
Carter turned her flushed face, jerking away from him. At the same time, Thompson shuffled backwards, nearly tripping over his feet as he quickly put some distance between the two of them.
It was not a second later when Lieutenants Lovell and Hickam rounded the corner, apparently in good spirits as they ambled toward the flustered Carter and Thompson.
“Hey, we were wondering where you guys disappeared to,” Hickam greeted them in passing on his way to his quarters.
“Yeah, the rest of the squadron was planning on where to throw a little farewell party in town the night before we deploy,” Lovell added, eyeing their bright pink cheeks suspiciously.
Carter cleared her throat, quickly averting her eyes, while Thompson’s gaze retreated to the floor, his hand running over the back of his neck.
Lovell grinned at their obvious discomfort, pushing past Thompson to get to the door of his room. As he turned the knob, the older lieutenant paused and looked back, unable to restrain himself from making his friends squirm.
“Next time, try getting inside the room before you start making out, flyboy. Wouldn’t want Major Wells to catch you two in the heat of the moment, now would we?” he joked, winking before he escaped inside his quarters.
Thompson glared at the door, looking embarrassed and angry at Lovell’s words before he heard the soft click of another door opening behind him. Whirling around, he found Carter withdrawing into her own room.
“Sam?”
She gave him an apologetic small smile.
“I have to get some work done. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said softly, closing the door completely.
She rested against the polished wood, her heart still racing from the rush of emotion. Turning on her side, Carter pressed her ear against the door, listening for any sound of Thompson outside, half wishing he would knock and ask to be invited inside.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there before disappointment settled in as she finally heard his fading footsteps walking reluctantly away.
Continued in Chapter 3.