Whisker
Damnation Dignified
“'Sometimes. Mom doesn't want me smoking around my brother, mostly-flight leads at Redmill generally discouraged it as well.”
AJ shrugged. “Can’t say that surprises me. Smoke’s hell on a pilot’s body, you know. Just the same” – he blew out a long puff, the smoldering embers of his cigarette glowing bright red – “Need something to take the edge off. Remind me I’m not taking a dirt nap in the Banion right now.”
He chuckled then stretched lazily, pulling his arms high up over his head. Unlike the Captain, it was only his first day on station and AJ was utterly wiped though he tried his best not to show it. He leaned against the wall, trying to shake the alluring thoughts of the squadron’s heritage room (or “bar” as it was known in loose terms) and comfortable dorm room from his mind, for there was something else that had been gnawing at him ever since he’d left the debriefing.
“So, what was that all about in there? I gotta tell ya, Cap,” AJ said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve sat in a few tough debriefings before during FTU, but this one . . .” He shook his head. “You’d have thought we fired on the damn SAG instead of responding to their distress call. And a debrief right after we touched the ground? Jeez, they couldn’t have had time to pull the DVRs out and watched the bloody thing.”
His questioning must’ve been close to the mark because the Captain suddenly sighed, her expression becoming rather terse.
“Lieutenant. Despite protecting our allies on the water, we’re still being punished for being the only ones fluttering about when Sarsfield and Wesson picked up the fighters on radar.”
“We’re being grounded. Stripped of our wings until this situation is resolved, as the base commander put it.”
His whole body felt like it’d been crushed beneath the weight of two-ton semi with the announcement.
“Resolved?!” he hissed. Too loudly. A few A-10 pilots going over a mission brief in one of the classroom’s nearby glanced their way, and AJ hurriedly shook his head before lowering his voice again.
“Resolved?” he repeated again, once he was certain the listening ears had butted out. “What the hell is going on here? Jesus, we already told them everything we knew.”
But even as he said the words, AJ knew it was a pointless waste of air. The Captain clearly had had nothing to do with the decision, and there was no arguing with orders pressing down from above.
Fuck it.
He ran a hand through his hair.
“What about qualifiers?” he asked, after a moment. “The expect me to do those entirely in the simulator?”
AJ shrugged. “Can’t say that surprises me. Smoke’s hell on a pilot’s body, you know. Just the same” – he blew out a long puff, the smoldering embers of his cigarette glowing bright red – “Need something to take the edge off. Remind me I’m not taking a dirt nap in the Banion right now.”
He chuckled then stretched lazily, pulling his arms high up over his head. Unlike the Captain, it was only his first day on station and AJ was utterly wiped though he tried his best not to show it. He leaned against the wall, trying to shake the alluring thoughts of the squadron’s heritage room (or “bar” as it was known in loose terms) and comfortable dorm room from his mind, for there was something else that had been gnawing at him ever since he’d left the debriefing.
“So, what was that all about in there? I gotta tell ya, Cap,” AJ said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve sat in a few tough debriefings before during FTU, but this one . . .” He shook his head. “You’d have thought we fired on the damn SAG instead of responding to their distress call. And a debrief right after we touched the ground? Jeez, they couldn’t have had time to pull the DVRs out and watched the bloody thing.”
His questioning must’ve been close to the mark because the Captain suddenly sighed, her expression becoming rather terse.
“Lieutenant. Despite protecting our allies on the water, we’re still being punished for being the only ones fluttering about when Sarsfield and Wesson picked up the fighters on radar.”
“We’re being grounded. Stripped of our wings until this situation is resolved, as the base commander put it.”
His whole body felt like it’d been crushed beneath the weight of two-ton semi with the announcement.
“Resolved?!” he hissed. Too loudly. A few A-10 pilots going over a mission brief in one of the classroom’s nearby glanced their way, and AJ hurriedly shook his head before lowering his voice again.
“Resolved?” he repeated again, once he was certain the listening ears had butted out. “What the hell is going on here? Jesus, we already told them everything we knew.”
But even as he said the words, AJ knew it was a pointless waste of air. The Captain clearly had had nothing to do with the decision, and there was no arguing with orders pressing down from above.
Fuck it.
He ran a hand through his hair.
“What about qualifiers?” he asked, after a moment. “The expect me to do those entirely in the simulator?”