Fox One - Competitive Air Combat

I rose to my feet at the top of the spectator stands as the jets began a low pass over the runway. The deafening scream of their engines tore through the air as they flew by, drowning out the cheering crowd. The lead jet of the three peeled off vertically, doubling back toward the runway and flipping its belly back toward the ground. Its partners turned wide and circled back with it, trailing behind.

As the flight of three crossed the runway a second time, the lead plane’s nose flipped upward. The fighter pitched up, leading with its belly and bleeding off its speed. Its wingmates overshot it as its nose lowered back down into normal flight. This time, the crowd’s cheers drowned out the sound of the planes’ engines. Their excitement filled the air. The cheers and clapping persisted as the fighters returned, descending to land.

Their airbrakes deployed. Their flaps extended. Their landing gear swung down into place. Smoke and dust kicked up from their wheels as they touched down. The three fell into a line as they exited the runway. The taxiway back to their hangar brought them right past the patch of grass where the stands that held the crowd my father and I were in stood. The lead pilot opened his canopy as he taxied, waving to the crowd, blowing kisses, giving thumbs up.

His visor was down. I couldn’t see his face, but I felt he was looking straight at me. He made a “V” with his fingers. Entranced, I did the same. The pilot nodded, giving a small informal salute with his two fingers before putting his eyes back on the taxiway ahead.

My father had told me about these people. He told me that a very long time ago, kings entrusted knights with the protection of their lands and people. Knights were defenders of the realm, responsible for beating back marauders and keeping rival militaries at bay
.
And back in those old times, during times of peace, the knights would hold tournaments. They would test their strength and skill against other knights, to see who the better warrior was.

He told me that these pilots are like distant descendents of those knights. They protect our people from pirates. And when they’re not doing that, they compete against each other to see who the best pilot is. They’re celebrities. Companies had started broadcasting their impromptu airshows and mock dogfights on the internet. That’s how I got obsessed.

As my father and I got ready to leave, I looked over toward the hangars. The three jets had come to a stop. As their engines spun down, I could see the ground crew pour out of their hangars. As we turned to leave, all I knew was that I wanted to get back home to my simulator and try my best to recreate what I saw.

I wanted to be a knight.

I pushed in the latch, locking the door of the cargo pod with a duffel bag of my belongings stuffed inside. I turned around and looked off toward the taxiway, tracing the path my father and I watched those fighters take to the hangars ten years ago. The spectator stands had been well-maintained. They were still clean and sturdy, though there hadn’t been an airshow here in years. The territory had expanded further south. As a result, fighter pilots seldom landed here anymore. Every now and again, a cargo plane would visit, carrying supplies, but most of the traffic since had been civilians on personal travel, like myself.

As I continued going down my checklist, I saw a woman approach me from behind one of the other planes on the ramp. With her, she carried a black bag, slung over her shoulder. Like me, she wore a regular olive flight suit. As she approached, I bounded around to the front of the left wing. “Perfect timing! I just locked up the other cargo pod.” I slapped the cargo pod underneath the left wing. “Stuff your bag in here and we can get this show on the road.”

She hesitantly lifted her bag up and placed it in the empty cavity inside the pod. Once it was inside, I flipped the door closed and closed the latches. I turned toward her and put my hand out. “You must be Miss Shizuka Abe.”

She shook my hand and smiled. She was slightly taller than me, with a head of azure hair that arranged itself seemingly at random until terminating atop her shoulders. “And you must be Miss Camillia Ryder. Thanks again for letting me fly with you.”

“Don’t mention it,” I replied as we started walking toward the ladder. “Lucky thing you and I share the same home airport. We’ve probably passed each other on the tarmac at some point and never realized it.” I let her up the ladder first. She carefully climbed up and settled into the back seat. I followed her up and swung my leg into the front seat. Setting myself down, I turned to the left and operated a small hand crank. The boarding ladder slowly retracted into the body of the plane.

“Let’s see… Seatbelts on. Battery. APU.” A high-pitched whine filled the air as I rolled the canopy closed. “Avionics master. Radios on. HUD. Navigation.” I put my headset on turned around, leaning around the seat. “Get your headset on.”

With a flip of a final switch, the plane’s engine began to spin up.

“Okay… How’re you hearing me?” My voice came in through my own headset loud and clear, muffling the rumble of the plane’s engine.

I could see Shizuka nodding and her mouth moving, but her voice was faint. I pointed to my headset’s microphone. “Have this thing almost right up against your mouth.”

She adjusted her microphone. “L-like this?”

“Perfect, you’re coming through loud and clear. Now just give me a second to get the weather and our taxi clearance.” I listened carefully, noting information on my kneeboard before switching frequencies and keying my radio. “MIM-one-five-two-six ground, Sentry one-one-zero-two-niner is at the center ramp, with Yankee, ready to taxi for departure.”

The response came quickly. “One-one-zero-two-niner, taxi runway five via Charlie.”

“Runway five via Charlie, one-one-zero-two-niner.” I turned to Shizuka. “And off we go.”

I stopped the plane short of the runway and keyed the radio. “MIM-one-five-two-six tower, Sentry one-one-zero-two-niner is holding short runway five, ready for takeoff, departure north.”
“One-one-zero-two-niner, cleared for takeoff, left turn north.”

“Clear for takeoff, left turn north, one-one-zero-two-niner.” I advanced the throttle and took the runway. As I turned down the runway, I pushed the throttle to its limit. The acceleration pushed Shizuka and me back in our seats as the plane gained speed. With a gentle pull on the stick, the wheels left the runway. Our seats pushed up into us as lift overcame gravity. I lifted the gear lever to stow the landing gear, and gave the stick a subtle tilt to subtle tilt to put us in a gentle bank left as we climbed.

“First time in a jet fighter?”

Shizuka nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been in little planes a few times, mostly when I was a kid. But since then I’ve mostly flown commercial.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Really? Even with air pirates out there? You ever been intercepted?”

“Once. We got diverted for a few minutes, but some mercenaries came and chased them off before we got too far off course. It was scary, though. I didn’t know what was gonna happen to us.”

“Yeah, I remember seeing on the news a while back that some pirates had taken a whole airliner hostage and held all the passengers ransom for a week or so at some random airfield before a PMC came and rescued them.”

“I saw that. I keep telling myself that that kind of thing doesn’t happen to most flights.”
“That’s why I just fly myself in a small plane like this. They never go after the little planes unless they know there’s somebody important onboard.”

“Maybe it’s weird, but I’ve always felt safer on an airliner, even with the risk of pirates.”

“Prefer the smoother ride?” I jokingly rocked the wings a bit.

Shizuka giggled. “No, no, I can handle it just fine. I just… I don’t know anyone who owns a plane, and it feels awkward getting in someone’s plane who I don’t know, y’know? At least you and I work for the same company.”

“Makes sense. Speaking of which, what’s your story, anyway? The company guys told me you’re a singer?”

“Yep! I’m Kisaragi’s guinea pig for their talent management branch. I guess you’d consider me an idol singer.”

“Oooh! You didn’t tell me I was transporting royalty! Maybe we’ll get intercepted after all!”

Shizuka giggled. “Stop it! I’m not famous yet. I’ve really only just passed the audition and some of the training and rehearsal. They want me to make my debut at Fox One.”

“An idol concert at an airshow? I guess it works. I do kinda wonder why a media company’s getting involved in mock air combat, though. Usually it’s PMCs facing off, like the Dunemar Agency or High Beat Industries.”

“I had the same question! The way they explained it to me was that, since everyone’s eyes are on Fox One whenever it’s happening, it’s an excellent marketing opportunity.”

“That makes sense. They gotta be marketing something big, though. ‘Cause participating would mean buying jets and equipment and hiring ground crews and all that.”

“I figure they have a plan.”

“Yeah, and part of it probably involves you making it big, huh? You ever been in front of that many people before?”

“Nope!”

“You don’t seem that nervous about it.”

“Oh, if you put me in front of that big an audience right now I’d probably pee my pants, but I figure I’ll be able to at least fake like I can handle it by the time the big show comes. Besides, it’s not like what I’m doing is dangerous, like trying to shoot people in a jet.”

“It’s not really that dangerous. It isn’t war. If you’re careful, you’ll be fine.”

“It just seems like so much to keep track of at once. All those screens and gauges. I’d be scared of flying too low and running into the ground.”

As I opened my mouth to respond, an airplane passed us by on the left. I watched as it slowly lost speed and drifted from side to side as we caught up to it. As it came alongside my Sentry, I surveyed its design. “A Tucano.” The two pilots in the straight-winged turboprop looked right at me. I could see them talking to one another. I studied the plane some more. “Machineguns, at least two Tanto missiles.”

Shizuka avoided making eye contact with them. “Are we in danger?”

“I don’t think so. They’re probably looking to sucker-punch actual PMC pilots passing through the area.” I kept my eyes locked on the Tucano. It slowed and dipped its right wing as it descended. “It’s passing underneath us.” I turned my head to keep the plane in sight as it emerged beyond our right wing. The pilots were still talking to each other. The one in the rear seat glanced at Shizuka. He spoke at his partner in the front seat, who looked at her as well.

“Are you sure we’re not in danger?”

“They can’t shoot us from this angle. And I don’t think we’re on any hit-lists. We could probably outrun them in a pinch, but we’d have to dodge their missiles.” The Tucano descended and dipped its left wing. My gaze met it as it leveled off to our left. They were still talking. The pilot in the back was yelling at his partner in front and shaking his head. He looked left and behind, scanning the sky. I took the opportunity to look at the plane’s tail. It had an insignia: A coiled snake in front of a setting sun. I looked back to the pilots to see them both scanning the sky. “Either they see something or they know they’ve spent too long looking.”

As I finished my sentence, the Tucano flipped onto its left side and banked away hard. I made sure to watch it leave until it was out of sight. “There we go. It’s gone. An actual fighter will probably shoot it down at some point. Tucanos that get greedy like that don’t last very long.”

Shizuka breathed a sigh of relief. “A Tucano’s a kind of plane?”

“Yeah. Small-scale bandits fly them a lot because they’re pretty cheap and can carry weapons. Some people even call the bandits themselves ‘Tucanos.’”

“How do you know so much about sky pirates?”

“When I was a kid, I wanted to be an air mercenary. I still kinda do, but I figure maybe I can make a name for myself flying for Kisaragi.”

I kept the numbers “30” just above the cowling in my view as I descended toward the runway. As our plane passed over the tarmac, I leveled out and pulled the throttle back, letting the plane fly down the runway until the main gear touched down. I pressed my toes into the brakes and pushed gently with my left foot to turn off the runway. “Whew. We’re on the deck.” I keyed the radio. “Tower, one-one-zero-two-niner is clear runway three-zero.”

The controller responded swiftly. “One-one-zero-two-niner, taxi to the ramp via Alpha.”

“Taxi via Alpha, zero-two-niner.” I grabbed the throttle, slowly advancing it while letting my right hand rest in my lap. As the plane started to move, my feet steered it down the yellow center line of the taxiway. I looked around. We and the equipment spinning atop the control tower were the only moving things at the airport. The fuel trucks looked about a decade out of date. Grass had begun to crack through parts of the taxiway and some of the hangars were missing doors and sections of roof. “This place looks dead,” I commented.

Shizuka nodded. “It looks like it hasn’t been used in a long time.”

I swung the airplane around and stopped at a parking spot before setting the parking brake and shutting the plane down.

As I opened the canopy, the first thing that hit me was the heat. After that was the quiet. Wind, the creaking of a chain-link fence, and the intermittent pop of the cooling engine were the only things to hear.

I extended the boarding ladder and Shizuka climbed down first. She walked over to the left wing’s cargo pod as I stepped my way down the thin stick of a ladder and circled around the plane to retrieve my own bag from the opposite pod.

Shizuka waited patiently as I walked around my airplane with my stuff. As I emerged from behind the nose, I heard a voice call out, “Miss Ryder! Miss Abe!”

A woman in business attire was waving as she walked toward us, coming from one of the better-looking hangars. She seemed immune to the heat, wearing a navy blue skirted suit and jacket. She looked somewhere between “secretary” and “flight attendant.” Shizuka and I walked up to meet her.

She smiled as we approached. “We’ve been expecting you. I’m Yuzuki Takahashi. I’m with the company. Let’s get out of this heat, shall we?”

We followed her toward the hangar. She walked quicker than I expected, especially in heels. She was either very used to walking in heels, or really wanted to get out of the sweltering heat radiating off of the tarmac. She had an impressive figure: Tall and hourglass-shaped. Her hips naturally swayed side to side as she walked. Her jet black hair was cut no longer than the bottom of her head.
As we approached the hangar, she held the door open for us. Relief hit me as I passed into the climate-controlled environment of the hangar. I dropped my bag and let my arms hang at my sides, taking in the cool air. Shizuka dropped to the floor and laid back on the cool concrete.

Hearing Miss Takahashi shut the door snapped me back to reality. I opened my eyes and looked around the hangar.

Then I saw it.

Two of them, in fact. Fighters. Not museum pieces or scale models. Not a simulation or a video game. Real fighters. I/F-25s.

With an excited gasp, as if the nine-year-old me who wanted to become a knight had been waiting these ten years for that moment, I screamed, “Those are- Those are Watchmen! Real life I/F-25s!”

I walked toward the jets, transfixed. Being so close to real fighters that I would actually get to fly hypnotized me. I reached out and placed my hand up against one of the engine intakes. It felt both new and old at the same time, as if someone had meticulously built an airplane that looked like it’d been put through its paces.

Miss Takahashi put her hand on my shoulder, breaking my trance. “What do you think?”

I looked at her, then back at the fighter. “Are these real? I get to fly one of these?”

“They’re real, all right. Take a look at the root of the left wing.”

The gunport. I blinked, then looked back at the jet. Crouching down, I passed underneath it in front of the landing gear and stood on my tiptoes to look at the wing root. Where I expected to see a dark hole, I found a lens, set into where the barrel of a thirty-millimeter cannon should be.

Shizuka joined me, curious to see what the fuss was about. “Is that a laser?”

I looked at Miss Takahashi. “You’ve integrated it into the airframe.”

Miss Takahashi nodded. “That’s right!” She looked at Shizuka. “Normally they field-modify jets before doing mock air combat. They’ll do things like unload all the ammunition from the gun and retrofit a laser onto it that’s linked to the trigger. And then they’ll place receivers on different parts of the jet that give off a signal if the laser hits them. They use modified missiles too.

“All of those features are directly integrated into these airframes. They’re built like normal jets, but underneath the skin, they’re MAC-jets: Jets purpose-built for mock air combat.”

I turned away from the jet to face Miss Takahashi. “Why go through all that, though? Wouldn’t it be cheaper just to buy some used fighters and modify them like PMCs do?”

She chuckled. “Sure, it’d be cheaper, if that’s all we had to do. But then we’d have to build those modifications to the gun ourselves, as well as the sensors to attach to the outside of the plane. Those sensors also ever so slightly change the aerodynamics of the airplane. The PMCs accept it, since they use their planes for other things most of the time, but since we’re not mercenaries, we can build without that compromise.

“Not to mention, then we’d have to train you to fly a normal Peacekeeper, as well as the normal version of any other plane we want to put you in. The avionics in these jets are modified too, and they’ll be pretty standard across all the MAC-jets the company has manufactured. Kisaragi is a media company, not a security contractor. These planes are built to win competitions and that’s it.”

“Don’t take that to mean they’re built for showing off, ladies.” A man’s voice echoed through the hangar, followed shortly by the man himself emerging from the other side of the aircraft. He wore a tan flight suit, peeled down like a banana, with the sleeves tied around his waist and a plain black t-shirt on his upper half. “These planes are made to defeat opponents in MAC. They’re the best dogfighters that don’t carry real guns or missiles.” He held out his right hand. “You must be Camillia.”

I looked up at him and shook his hand. “Camillia Ryder.”

He nodded. “Nice to meet you, Ryder. I’m Merlon Weaver. Callsign ‘Jackal.’ Sounds like Vixen’s been doing a good job giving you the rundown.”

Shizuka and I both blinked. “Vixen?” I questioned.

Miss Takahashi peeked her head out from behind Mister Weaver. She gave a slightly embarrassed smile and a small wave. “Vixen’s my callsign. Everyone on the team will have one. Even you, Shizuka.”

Mister Weaver nodded. “Another time, though. C’mon. You two must be hungry after the flight. We ordered food at the office. We’ll eat and go over the whole plan.” We gathered our bags and he led us out the back door of the hangar. The four of us started walking toward the terminal building.

I couldn’t help but ask, “Hey, Mister Weaver. Are we the only people here?”

He nodded. “Besides the people in the office, yeah, we are. The company purchased this airfield not too long ago, but it was mostly abandoned until then.”

Shizuka chimed in, “That explains the state it’s in.”

He nodded again, “This far away from the frontier, away from major trade corridors, and not that far from a bigger airport, this place doesn’t get many visitors anymore. But that’s exactly what makes it perfect for practice.”

Miss Takahashi added, “And that’s part of why the owners sold it for so cheap.”

As we approached the terminal building, Mister Weaver turned, walking backward through the automatic door. “Also, no need to be so formal. Just call me Jackal.”

We crossed through the building and reached a door to a small office space. The four of us entered into a small conference room, with a table in the center and a whiteboard on the far wall. A blonde-haired woman in a shirt and vest sat in the chair nearest the whiteboard, staring at a stack of three pizza boxes in the middle of the table.

She jumped as the sound of the door closing woke her from her trance. “Oh! Oh, good, you’re here. I’m starving and I didn’t want to start eating until the rest of you got here ‘cause how would that look, am I right?” She chuckled nervously as she lifted a box from the stack and placed it in front of her. “Go on, dig in! Let’s get started.”

As the woman took a slice from the box, the four of us sat down. Jackal took a box for him and me, while Miss Takahashi shared one with Shizuka. As we began eating, the woman set the crust of her slice down inside the box and stood. Her pantyhose-clad legs suggested she hadn’t been outside in the sweltering heat at all.

“Thanks for coming, everyone. My name’s Mary, I’m the marketing VP at Kisaragi in charge of ensuring our demonstration team’s success. I’m the one who originally proposed this program, so I’m here to see it through. My callsign is ‘Mama Bear.’”

She turned to the whiteboard, uncapped the marker, and started writing the word “Kisaragi” at the top of the white space, with several lines extending downward from it. As she spoke, she filled in the spaces at the ends of her lines. “We’re partnering with several companies to make this happen. Each of them has done us a favor in return for the hopefully positive marketing they’ll get for being associated with our demo team.

“The MAC-jets you’ll be flying are all built by General Aerodyne, and their avionics are made by Sentinel Electronics. Nova Corporation manufactures the missiles you’ll be using. As for you, Shizuka, you’ll be working with Sabercat Records on music, and we have a merchandise deal with Shin-Akiba to look forward to, should this all succeed.

“We have just over five weeks until Fox One. Our ground crew and our stage crew are coming in tomorrow morning. Camillia, you’ll be going up with Jackal every day. You’re a good pilot already, but Jackal will make you good enough for Fox One. Shizuka, you’ll be working closely with Vixen. She knows how to put on a show.

“It’d be a bit of an understatement to say we have a lot riding on this. You four are our stars. If there’s anything you need, let me know and I’ll get it for you. Welcome to Unicorn Squadron! Now let’s eat!” She eagerly sat back down and lifted another slice of pizza from the box. “We’ve set up a bunch of trailers in the parking lot for everyone to stay in. After we’re done eating, find one, write your name on the door with a marker, and it’s all yours. Get plenty of rest. We’ll get started early tomorrow.”

I shut the door to my trailer and set my bag down. It was small, just enough room for a bed, a small table, a bathroom, and some storage space. I reached for my flight suit’s zipper, but my gaze was caught by something else. I could see the hangar where the Watchmen were stored from my window. I quickly fished my camera out of my bag and left.

The sun was near setting, and the temperature outside was finally bearable. I briskly walked over to the hangar’s rear door. Quickly glancing around, I carefully turned the handle and slipped inside, slowly closing the door behind me. I turned back around and released an excited squeal as I ran up to the Watchman on the right. I crossed from right to left, running my hand along the two massive engine nozzles, the closed airbrakes separating them, and the parachute fairing in the center of the tail.

Remembering my camera, I brought the viewfinder up to my eye and walked around the plane, snapping photographs of everything I could think to look at: The engines, the tailfins, the wings, the intakes. As I approached the left side of the nose, I looked up. I hadn’t noticed earlier, but the canopy was wide open. I let my camera hang from its strap and frantically looked around the hangar. “There!” In the corner, a red stepladder was leaned up against the wall. I slung my camera around my neck and ran over to the ladder.

It was heavier than I expected as I lifted it off the wall. I leaned over and let it rest against my shoulder, lifting it just off of the ground and shuffling over to MiG. A metallic clang rang out as I set the ladder’s feet on the ground and opened it next to the MiG. In an excited scramble, I grabbed up my camera and bounded up the ladder.

Standing at the top of the ladder, I took a moment. I could see the entire top of the airplane. My vision traced every smooth curve up the jet’s back, until my gaze settled on the canopy. I carefully stepped one foot onto the top side of the airplane and dipped the other into the cockpit. Crouching down, I slipped into the cockpit, sitting down in the seat.

On instinct, my right hand found the stick and my left hand found the throttle. I wiggled my hips, settling into the seat and resting my head back against the headrest. The base of my ponytail pressed against the headrest. Lifting my head, I quickly raised my left hand and pulled the ribbon from my hair, shaking my hair loose before setting my head back against the headrest.

“How did I know I’d find you in here?”

I jumped as a familiar voice echoed through the hangar. I looked left, peeking over the side of the canopy. Jackal was standing at the foot of the stepladder, looking up at me. He chuckled and climbed the ladder, sitting down on the top step. “I could tell you were eager. I was coming back to make sure everything was set up for training tomorrow, and I thought to myself ‘how much you wanna bet that girl’s in here, skulking around at dusk like a bobcat?’” He paused. “Matter of fact, yeah. A bobcat. A lynx. That’ll be your callsign: ‘Lynx.’”

I blushed, an embarrassed smile on my face. “I guess I’m in no position to argue. Am I in trouble?”

Jackal pointed at my camera. “Just don’t show any pictures you took to anybody. That, and now you get to sit through my lesson on the instrument cluster.” He smirked and stepped onto the plane, standing beside the cockpit and leaning on the edge as he pointed at the plane’s instruments.

I recognized things like the navigation instruments, altimeter, vertical speed, and airspeed indicators from my time flying. Almost everything else was quite intuitive: Angle of attack, airspeed in Mach numbers, engine heat and RPM. Jackal even turned the electrical power on to explain the HUD and the single multi-function display.

As I left the cockpit with strict instructions to get some sleep for tomorrow, I welled up with excitement. Tomorrow I would get to use all of those instruments, see them lit up and moving, all to help me fly a real fighter jet.

I flopped back onto my bed, staring at my flight suit hanging from a hook on the back of the door. Jackal had told me that we’d be going up tomorrow afternoon, right after lunch. The ground crew would arrive in the morning. They would pull the Watchmen out of the hangar and preflight them for us.

As I drifted to sleep, I wondered what Shizuka would be up to tomorrow.

I stepped out of the shower just in time to hear a knock on the door of my trailer. I peeked out the window to see Jackal walking away, toward the hangar. After quickly getting dressed and zipping up my flight suit, I opened the door to see a paper bag sitting on the ground at the bottom of the steps. A sticky note was attached to it: “Breakfast. Hangar at 0800.”

I took the bag inside, dropped it on the table, and opened it. At the bottom laid a can of orange juice and a foil-wrapped sandwich, with an index card on top of it. I took the card and turned it over.

“Good luck on your first day! I’m rooting for you! -MB.”

I reached in and took the sandwich, unwrapping it. Bacon, egg, and cheese. It looked homemade. I looked off in the direction of the airport terminal. “Mama Bear, huh?” With a chuckle, I clapped my hands together in thanks before sitting down to eat.

As I neared the hangar, I heard the roar of a cargo plane’s engines growing louder as it descended toward the runway. The sound subsided as I closed the door behind me. The two Watchmen rested in the hangar where they were left last night.

As I stepped toward them, I heard Jackal call out to me. “Lynx! Glad you’re on-time! Come over here, let’s get started. We’ve got a lot to cover before your first hop.” I looked left to see Jackal, sitting at a folding card table, waving to me.

I walked over and sat in the folding chair opposite him. He immediately slid a tablet over to me and tapped it, starting a video. It was a mock dogfight, filmed from a camera mounted in the cockpit of a Wotan State Armory G-45, looking forward. The fighter was chasing a GAN-F-1. The pilot broke left with his target, pulling hard to get an angle on the F-1. Radio chatter came through, “Almost on his tail. He’s all mine.”

“Wheels, I lost his buddy, and you’re getting too far out. Rejoin.”

“I’ve almost got him!”

“The other one could be anywhere. Can’t catch up to you. Rejoin now, Wheels.”

“Just a little more!” Just as the pilot finished his sentence, another F-1 crossed in front of him. He turned hard to address the new target. The second F-1 pulled up into a steep ascent. Wheels, the pilot, followed. An intermittent low, muffled buzzing sound resounded through the cockpit before a long, low-pitched tone interrupted it. An “X” flashed over the radar screen.

The pilot sighed. “Wheels, dead.” He rolled his plane and pulled the stick to bring it level before rolling upright. He stared off to his left as he guided his plane back to base. Soon, his wingman’s voice sounded over the radio, “Scooter, dead.” The pilot shook his head, bringing his hand up to give his helmet a frustrated knock as the video ended.

Jackal slid the tablet back over his way and picked it up. “Tell me about what you saw. Why are Wheels and Scooter dead?”

I thought for a moment. “Well, I guess Scooter had lost the other fighter while Wheels was chasing the first one, and then both of them went after Wheels, and after that, Scooter didn’t have anyone to support him when they both went after him.”

“Good eye, good ear,” Jackal praised. “It’s a pretty straightforward tactic, but when it works, it works. That’s why we fly in groups. The first thing to know about MAC is that it’s a team sport.” He jabbed his finger into the table for emphasis. “If I get a kill up there, that means both of us got a kill up there, because I had you supporting me. If you leave your wingman, he can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. It helps to be aggressive, but don’t get greedy.”

Jackal set the tablet down on the table and slid it over to me again. “Now let’s talk about rules.” The tablet displayed a webpage with a list of rules and regulations. “Your plane will let you know when you’re dead with a loud beep and an ‘X’ over your displays. You might’ve seen that in the video. When you’re dead, level your plane, rock your wings, and report that you’re dead, then return to base

“Some hops will let you respawn. In that case, it’s a touch-and-go at the airfield, and then re-engage. Most of the time you’ll have what’s called a ‘hard deck.’ That’s a specific altitude where engagement is forbidden at that altitude or lower. It’s a safety buffer between you and the actual ground.

“Every plane is inspected before each match to make sure nobody’s running real weapons. You already know about the laser replacing the cannon and the dummy missiles. They’ll also inspect the airframe to make sure all the hit sensors work. That all happens before we jump in the cockpit.

“No one company really runs Fox One, at least not yet, but all the PMCs participating agree on the rules. This isn’t war. We’re here to put on a good show. With me so far?”

I nodded.

“Good.” He slid the tablet back over to him and picked it up. “Now, let’s talk about these planes. You already learned about the instruments, so now we’ll talk about their flight characteristics.”

The two of us looked up from Jackal’s tablet as we heard the hangar doors start to open. We’d been discussing the specifications of the Watchmen for hours. I’d almost forgotten we were in the hangar with them. Jackal turned his chair to observe as a small platoon of men and women in flight suits streamed into the hangar and surrounded both planes. He pointed to them. “Pay close attention.”

They worked in teams. A pair lifted a ladder onto the side of the Watchman I sat in last night. Another immediately climbed up and into the cockpit. A fourth climbed up the ladder and onto the fuselage. He began waving a device on the end of a stick over the plane’s body. A pair standing beneath each wing brought a similar device up to each wingtip, then each wing root. “That guy on top and the ones beneath the wings are making sure the sensors work properly,” Jackal commented.

The team that had lifted the ladder turned to inspect the gunport as the man atop the plane’s fuselage climbed down to the ground. As a pair of tugs approached the hangar, the ground crews pulled the chocks from both planes’ wheels. They stood clear as the tugs began pulling the fighters out onto the ramp, one after the other.

As the hangar door closed, Jackal stood. “They’re gonna finish the preflight out there and start both of them up for us. In the meantime, let’s get ready.” He turned to a rack attached to a nearby wall and took a vest down from it, turning and handing it to me. “Survival vest. This is in case something happens and you need to eject. Hopefully you won’t have to use it.” He pointed to a holster on the vest’s lower left side. “This is the only real gun allowed in MAC. This is if you drop in the middle of nowhere and a bear attacks you or something. It stays in its holster at all times unless you need to use it. Got it?”

I nodded and took the vest.

“Good.” He turned to the rack once more and took a plain black helmet down from it. Attached was a facemask and a hose. He handed the helmet to me. “This is your helmet and your mask. Put everything on and head on out. Climb into the cockpit, hook in, and the crew will make sure you’re all set.”

When the crewwoman unhooked the ladder, I felt my hands start shaking. I took a deep breath through my oxygen mask. I looked to my left just in time to see Jackal climb up into the cockpit. As a crew member helmed him settle in, I looked to my right. Shizuka was out on the tarmac, along with a woman I hadn’t seen before. Shizuka wore a plain t-shirt and a pair of shorts and running shoes. She must have taken a break from Miss Takahashi’s training to see us take off.

The woman standing beside Shizuka wore a short pleated skirt and a crop top with a plunging neckline. A pair of white, cross-laced boots reached all the way up to her thighs. Her hair, a light silver, cascaded down her shoulders and her back, as well as covering her left eye, and a pair of pointed fox ears of the same color sat atop her head. As she turned to say something to Shizuka, I noticed she also had fox’s tail to match her ears.

The fox woman noticed me staring and waved at me. I nervously waved back, wondering if she was someone I should know. She smiled and curled her right arm, placing her left hand on her bicep and giving me a resolute nod.

As I racked my brain trying to figure out the fox woman out, I heard Jackal’s voice in my helmet. “Lynx, you up?”

Startled, I faced forward and scanned my surroundings. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Good. You’re now Unicorn Two. I’m Unicorn One. We’ll take off to the north and familiarize you with your airplane.”

I nodded. “Sounds good.”

“One thing before we get rolling,” Jackal explained, “You probably don’t taxi your Sentry with the canopy open, but when we’re flying for an audience, we taxi with our canopies open so we can greet them. We’ll be doing that every time so you can get used to it. We’ll taxi now, just fall in behind me and take it slow. Don’t worry about keeping up.”

I looked over to Jackal’s plane. Its ailerons and tailfins moved up and down for a moment, before Jackal’s voice came in over the radio again. “Unicorn Group, two-ship, taxiing for departure, runway three-zero, departure north.”

Mama Bear’s voice responded, “Runway three-zero, departure north for Unicorn. Good hunting, you two!”

“One rolling.” Jackal’s plane began slowly pulling away from the hangar and turning onto the taxiway.

I took one last look at the fox woman. As I released the brake lever and advanced the throttle, she gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up and yelled something I couldn’t hear over my plane’s engines. “Uh, two rolling.”

Jackal and I slowly rolled down the taxiway. I was careful to keep my distance, but I could see his plane slowly pulling away from mine. As we approached the runway, I heard his voice over the radio. “I’ll take the near side of the runway. You roll through behind me and take the far side. Much gentler turn. Easy on the rudder pedals.”

“Roger.”

We closed our canopies and as his Watchman pulled onto the runway, it made a tight turn, pulling forward out of the taxiway’s path. “Unicorn, taking the runway.”

As I took the runway to his right, Mama Bear’s voice sounded through my helmet. “Unicorn, clear for takeoff. Good luck.”

“One rolling.” Jackal’s Watchman’s engine nozzles opened up wide, spraying flames as his plane sped down the runway.

I hesitated. My left arm froze. Through my right hand was shaking, I brought it over and used it to push my left hand forward. My breathing quickened as the plane accelerated. My right hand found the stick. “T-two rolling.” My chest felt heavy and my back pressed against the seat. I felt the plane start to lift up into me and I pulled back the stick.

The wheels left the ground and I looked back to see the airfield shrinking into the distance behind me. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my left hand down before lifting it from the throttle to pull the gear lever up. Mechanical whirring and clanking resonated up through my butt, confirming that the landing gear was stowed.

“You good, Lynx?”

Jackal’s voice jarred me back out of my own head. “I think I’ll be okay. Just a little bit freaked out. Never really flown anything this powerful.”

“Take it slow. We’re up nice and high now, so ease off the afterburner.” I nodded, coaxing my left hand to cooperate and pull the throttle back. “Good, good. Listen. You’re scared. That’s fine. But the one thing you can’t do up here is forget to fly the airplane. Focus. Learn it. Fly through your fear. That’s what we’re up here for. I can’t fly your plane and mine at the same time. Understand?”

I nodded and took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I understand.”

“Good. Gentle on the stick, turn heading zero-three-zero and we’ll get started with some basic fighter maneuvers when we reach the training area.”

I tilted the stick right and pulled back gently. The plane rolled into a gentle right bank, and I leveled off as my heading indicator pointed to thirty. I took another deep breath and pushed the hat on the stick forward. The stick gently tilted itself forward until the plane’s nose was level with the horizon.

I took a moment to look outside the canopy. Jackal and I were flying along a river. To our right, fields of farmland, pastures, barns, and silos stretched out across the plain. Trucks carrying supplies and produce traversed dirt roads, past grazing cattle and cornfields. To our left, a town dominated my view. Its water tower stood tall above all its houses and buildings.

I remembered my first time flying. As I pulled back on the yoke and I felt our plane leave the ground, I started panicking. My father could tell something was wrong. He told me to hold the yoke steady in a climb and look out the window to my left. As I turned my head, my anxiety was overtaken by wonder. Everything I had known and grew up around was below me. I was looking down at my own town and my own neighborhood. Places I knew well from ground level, but had never seen from above.

Everything looked so much closer together. The world looked so much smaller. And in the distance, a landscape I didn’t know and had never seen. Mountains I couldn’t name and cities I’d never been to. As we leveled off, my panic and anxiety had disappeared completely. I had ascended up through my mind’s own fog, like flying up through clouds.

Ever since then, looking down always cleared my head.