Authors: Adrianne Byrd
“What?” she challenged, a little more defensively than she intended.
“Nice smile.” He shrugged.
Sydney rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. You’d like to see me in a dress with my hair down, too?”
Mohr’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “I honestly don’t think my heart could take the shock.”
She smiled again and strolled off to the locker room. There, she removed her Velcro insignia patches and slid into her G-suit. If captured, this was to keep the enemy from knowing the name of their units. Name, rank, and serial number was all they would ever get out of her.
Less than thirty minutes later and after a series of pre-flight checks, Sydney sat strapped in a F-16D, helmet and oxygen mask on. After giving the crew chief the thumbs up signal, the cockpit ladder was detached and the chocks were removed from the wheels of the plane.
Sydney switched on the power and started the small engine. She took hold of the throttle while the engine roared to life. Her heart pounded with giddy excitement ready for take off. It was the same rush she’d always felt since the time her father first brought her around planes. She was born to fly. Nothing on earth had ever given her the same exhilaration as blazing through the sky.
That’s not true.
A pair of gold-colored eyes twinkled from a memory. She sucked in a breath from the unexpected image and her hand flew to the silver band looped on a chain around her neck.
“Is everything alright, Delta 6-6?”
Nothing ever made it past tower control. “Never better.” Minutes later, Sydney was cleared for take off and she rolled down the runway at full thrust. Once the afterburner kicked in, she rocketed into the air. The earth along with its troubles disappeared beneath her.
Captain James “Jett” Colton gazed up and watched as the two F-16Ds rocketed up the skyway. Though he was grounded, it didn’t stop the rush of adrenaline from coursing through his veins. There was nothing close to the grace or beauty of a jet or viper plane.
Maybe no thing, but certainly someone.
He laughed at the renegade thought, turned, and then continued his march to Colonel Mickelson’s office. After a series of salutes and cordial smiles, he was quickly led into Mickelson’s office. He entered with a salute and held it while the Colonel finished with his phone conversation.
“Sandy, I don’t care which dress you wear to the Brigadier General’s party. You look good in everything.” Mickelson nodded and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling while ‘Sandy’ tugged on his ear. “Uh, huh. We’ll discuss it later, honey. My new airman just showed up.”
There were a few more niceties exchanged before Mickelson terminated the call. “Women.” He finally saluted. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them. Lucky you never married, Colton. Trust me.”
“I married once, sir,” Jett informed him and judging by the Vice Commander’s face, this information surprised him.
“Really? I must have missed that bit of intel in your files.”
“We’ve sort of have been separated for three years.” Mickelson’s expression wrinkled. “How long have you been married?”
Jett coughed. “Three years.”
“Where are you from, Colton? Hollywood?”
A genuine smile melted across Jett’s face. “No, sir. I’m a Georgia boy-with Hollywood tendencies.”
Mickelson barked a hearty laugh and gestured to a vacant chair. “Have a seat, airman.”
Jett complied with the order and held his commanding officer’s gaze.
“I hear you’re a damn good pilot, Colton.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And an equal pain in the ass,” the Colonel added with narrowed eyes. “We don’t tolerate any of that hotshot shit around here. Being a hotshot in Korea will get you killed.”
Jett swallowed, held his anger in check, and maintained eye contact.
“File says that a pilot error cost our fine military an eighteen million dollar plane in Afghanistan. Is that true?”
“That’s what the report states,” Jett responded in a clipped voice.
“That’s not what I asked you.” Mickelson’s polished gaze remained leveled.
“In that case, Colonel.” Jett straightened in his chair. “No. That report is a load of crap. I believe then as I do now that my actions saved lives.”
“But cost millions.”
“I’m not aware of the cost of a human life-let alone fifty-eight of them-sir.”
The air thickened with a palpable tension. Mickelson’s beady eyes felt like a human CT Scan and though Jett kept his back straight, his chin up, and his eyes leveled, he couldn’t help but wondered what his new base commander saw.
“Well someone else must think this report is full of it, too, seeing how this ‘pilot error’ didn’t end your career. It also makes me the lucky S-O-B who gets to take you under my wing.”
Jett staved off a smile while another thick layer of tension crammed into the room.
Apparently, Mickelson decided he liked what he saw and his face split with a wide smile as he stood. “Welcome to Osan.” He thrust out his hand over the desk.
“Thank you, sir.” Jett stood as well and accepted the handshake. “I’m thrilled to be a part of the family.”
Mickelson stopped pumping Jett’s hand, but didn’t release his grip. “Family you may be, but I’ll still have my eye on you-make sure you follow the house rules.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mickelson released his hand. “Dismissed.”
Coasting through the crystal blue sky and bursting through scattered clouds, Sydney almost forgot she was barreling through the sky strapped to high explosive missiles-almost. She glanced at her center console, double-checked her airspeed, altitude, and bearing. To her left the threat warning system lit up.
She blinked, somehow, momentarily unable to register her dire situation. “I’ve been...”
“Missiles in the air,” Puck shouted into the airwaves.
She looked around-couldn’t see. What the hell was going on? Then at last, she saw it. A large missile was blasting toward her. Sydney pulled up, trying to out distance it-an unlikely feat given how close it was on her when she spotted it.
Go towards it.
An unmistakable voice from her past spoke as though he rode shotgun in the cockpit. She ignored the command and proceeded to try to out maneuver the missile, but no matter what she did it remained hot on her trail.
Go toward it.
Sydney rocked her wings and caught sight of the missile again. As quick as she could manage, she readjusted her position and this time headed straight for the missile. This maneuver would cause the missile’s obvious heat seeking capabilities to slow down and wait for her. Once she drew close, she would switch or perform a glide and roll in the opposite direction. By then, the missile would be unable to adjust and it would lack the power to speed up again to give chase.
Calm, she stated her position, and timed her maneuver as best as she could. Face to face with the missile, Sydney thought her heart was beating outside of her chest, but she was determined and focused. “Now,” she commanded herself and did a perfect glide and roll. However, there was more than one missile airborne.
The second missile slammed into her. In the next nanosecond, smoke billowed into the cockpit and flames licked all around her. “I’m hit!” She coughed, choked, and felt for the eject handle.
Ejecting out of a jet wasn’t as textbook as it sounded. It was more or less something a pilot read about, but only an elite few ever put it to practice...and lived to tell the tale.
Fear stalled her hand for another nanosecond. Would it work? Would she slam into something and become paralyzed? One thing was for sure, if she did nothing, she along with her plane would become a blazing fireball long before it hit the ground.
Whispering a prayer, Major Sydney Garrett pulled the handle and ejected...somewhere over North Korea.
Chapter 2
All hell broke loose at the Osan Air Base.
Jett just opened the door to his car when the base went on full alert. Soldiers peeled out of buildings and squadrons to race to unknown destinations. His heart kicked up a notch as adrenaline rushed through his veins.
Still standing with his car door wide open, he caught sight of Colonel Mickelson marching out of the building as if the devil himself chewed at his heels. A soldier for more than half his life, Jett was ready to spring into action—but technically he wasn’t a part of the team until tomorrow. He hadn’t even met his direct commanding officer. Never a bystander, Jett closed his car door and followed the crowd of airmen.
Entering a squadron building for the 51
st
Fighter Wing, Jett melted into the crowd and picked up small tidbits of what was going down.
“Bastards shot one of our F-16’s out of the sky,” an airman to his left griped.
“I heard we’ve lost all radar frequencies,” another man said. “Whole damn base is blind. We can’t even contact Kunsan.”
Although Jett was new to Korea, he certainly recognized the name to the only other Air Force base in South Korea. But what did the airman mean that the whole base was blind? Before Jett voiced the question, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.
“Aren’t you in the wrong area?”
Jett turned toward a gigantically tall, gold leaf, African American airman, and quickly saluted. “Yes-no-I mean, I don’t know, sir.” He cringed at how much of an idiot he sounded like.
Major Brian Mohr, according to his nametag, frowned before he returned Jett’s salute. “Well, which is it, Captain-” He read Jett’s nametag as well. “Captain James Colton.” Now his eyes narrowed. “Colton,” he repeated. “Why do I know that name?”
“I’m new to the base, sir. When the alarm sounded, I simply followed the running men, sir.”
Mohr was already nodding his head halfway through Jett’s explanation.
“Your patch identifies you as a member of the re-established Black Knights.”
“Affirmative, sir.”
Mohr eyed him a second longer and then said, “The 21
st
Special Operation Squadron is on the other side of the base. Lieutenant Colonel Nick Bradley is your C.O.”
Jett nodded and, given his obvious unwelcome reception, retreated.
Mohr snapped his fingers. “You’re the hotshot everyone has been talking about, aren’t you?”
“I don’t pay too much attention to idle talk.” Jett kept his face passive though his chest swelled with pride.
Mohr seemed to read straight through him. “You’re not in my squadron, Captain Colton. But I’ll let you in on a little secret...being a hotshot in Korea-”
“Will get me killed,” Jett repeated Mickelson’s words and was unable to keep sarcasm from dripping into his tone.
Meanwhile Mohr went from looking mildly annoyed to down right pissed as he stepped forward. “That’s right, Captain Colton. It
will
get you killed. Up until a few minutes ago this air base lost Major Garrett one of our finest jet pilots.”
Jett’s chest tightened. “Garrett?”
Mohr’s features softened. “You know her?”
Her?
Jett swallowed. He wasn’t feeling like his normal brave, take-no-prisoners self.
“Major Sydney Garrett. Guys call her-”
“Serious,” Jett answered for him again. He knew her handle because he’d been the one who had given it to her years ago. Long before they parted ways, long before he fell in love with her, and long before for they were married.
Sydney couldn’t catch her breath as she plummeted thousands of feet in the sky. Her panic was held in check by years of training and discipline. The scrap metal that had once been a fifteen million dollar Prince of the Sky tumbled faster away from her until it became a glowing ball of fire.
Though she was the poster child for training and discipline, Sydney hadn’t performed a textbook ejection—but at least she was still alive.
For now.
Tumbling out of control, miles above the earth, still strapped to her ejected seat, Sydney’s thoughts slowed down so she could make sense of the jumbled words. And worse, her shock gave way to pain.
Severe pain.
She hadn’t felt it before, but she now remembered the fire in the cockpit and its flames licking at her face. And now the cold air raked at her exposed skin like a cat of nine tails.
She wouldn’t know the extent of her injuries until she reached the ground.
If
she reached the ground alive.
Right now, she prayed her parachute would operate once she reached fourteen thousand feet and her ejected seat would fall away. Just as the textbook said it would.
What if it doesn’t open?
She glanced around, trying to note her surroundings; but unable to notice anything other than the long green carpet of earth rushing to meet her. Fear reminded her of the toggle switch on her seat pan to send out a distress signal. A complete rag doll in the wind, Sydney braced herself to accept death.
But there is so much I still want—
She forced herself not to finish the thought. However, she had no control of the images flashing though her mind: the first time she’d touched a jet plane on her father’s air base, her father’s funeral, marching at the Air Force Academy, her first day at flight school, graduating at the top the class, making airman of the year three years running, her first assignment to Special Operations School...meeting the love of her life.