Hazel left the de-briefing room and headed up the corridor. She was the last of what remained of Gold section to be seen, being the leader. She walked along bouncing her flight helmet off of her thighs as she went with her head down in an absent minded cloud of fatigue, she looked up and saw Boss heading towards her for his turn at telling the truth. Like her he was still in his flight suit despite it being two hours since they landed.

She smiled “Hi, just going to get something to eat” (I am going to the bar for the rest of the day, come and pull me out of it please)

Boss gave a small smile “You could use some food” (Your going to the bar, maybe see you there?)

“Thanks for saving our arses today” (Thank you thank you thank you.)

“It was my idea, the Angel thing so I guess it was my turn to be a hero. You will get your go soon enough. Then you can save me.” (Don’t get killed. Just give up flying and do something else will you. Hazel - just don’t die!)

“I lost two good pilots today” (Fuck! What did they look like? Oh shit have I become that detached already?)

“Hazel, Tyco and Willum lost themselves. They were good, but you know the criteria for really good pilots? Remind me to tell you one day” (At least you won’t have to watch them burn later in the bar you keep in your sleeping head – please not tonight, I don’t want that nightmare again tonight)

“Thanks, but they were in my section. My pilots. I know you trained us all but they were under my command. Yeah, we were in a bad situation and any one of us could have got it, but still” (Are you and Ruby sleeping together? Is she good? Christ Hazel, where the fuck did THAT come from! Shit.)

“Don’t do that to yourself. There will be two new pilots in the section tomorrow and that’s it. We loose people, we find people. Look, I have to go in now” (stop thinking stupid thoughts about hugging her you idiot)

Boss reached out and put his hand on Hazels shoulder and gently squeezed.

“Don’t fall apart –you have responsibilities now, you lead a section” (How the fuck did my hand get there!)

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry” (Don’t let go! Please please don’t. I need to tell you about the things I see when I am trying to go to sleep! That place, the hill, the Moon - I don’t think this is all real, I need you to…)
Boss moved past and headed towards the de-briefing room door.

“Boss, how do you know a good pilot then?” (If I know what you know maybe I can live a bit longer)

“Huh, easy! A good pilot is one you see for breakfast three days in a row.” (Stay breathing Hazel)

A pure clear blue sky above, a vast expanse of brilliant white cloud below. Off in the distance the flashes of sunlight on the cockpit canopies of four wildly flying fighters can be seen, as they fling themselves around the cold sky in an effort to stay alive. Somewhere beyond them hide two fully equipped Howling fuck up monkey fighters dispensing the missiles the four are trying to avoid.

The clouds in the foreground erupt as a sleek fighter blasts up through them, shining bright in its white anti radiation flash paint.

“Why the old school paint jobs boss?” asked the old man.
“I want those bastards to see us coming for miles and know they’re up against a fully kitted out SU37. I want them to know what they are getting. And I want our planes to know we are coming as well”

Boss is hunched over the controls trying to throw the plane through the sky by force of will. “Fly you bastard!” he mutters as he scans his radar. The four remaining fighters of gold section are twisting madly on the extreme of his scopes range but they are heading in his direction, fighting for home. The nearest one to him shows Hazels ID.

“We need more than three planes!”
“Boss, that’s all we can spare. They will be flown by all pilots in rotation, one aircraft on standby or flying with each section on each mission to cover them into and out of combat. Without radar or air-to-air missiles they are vulnerable outside the Monkeys jamming fields. It’s only a matter of time before the monkeys try to get them on the way in or out. That’s what the Angel section is for.”

Boss was closing fast, his hand hovered over the missile selection and target acquisition controls. “Come on, come on!” he scanned the far edge of the radar screen. They were there somewhere. Two fighters hanging back and launching QRAM’s at Gold section, thinking they were safe “Just wait till I see…”

“Anyway it’s only a stopgap, till we get garden path up and running”
“Ah yes” sighed boss “the much heralded jamming beam that the tech boys say will let us fly home safe from attack from fully kitted out fighters. When will that be ready?”
The Old Man lit another cigarette.
“Soon. We do not have limitless resources”
“Unlike the Monkeys.”

There! Extreme range! “I seeeee you!” said Boss, selecting both targets and allocating two missiles to each. It was too far to guarantee a hit but “this’ll make the little buggers jump!” said boss as he fired. Two missiles dropped away from each side of the fighter and roared into life, streaking off for their targets.

Boss resumed scanning the display of the scene ahead of him, the nearest Gold section fighter, Hazels, stopped its wild gyrations and headed straight for Boss. “Must have shaken the missile, good girl. Now just don’t blink” Boss watched the four radar indicators showing the missiles from his fighter head straight for Hazel, then split and fly past on either side as they hunted for Monkies.

Boss looked up and saw the rapidly growing dot of Hazels plane speeding towards him. As they flashed past each other he thought he could see her face looking up at him through the canopy. He clicked on his throat mic –

“Morning beautiful, we must stop meeting like this!”

And the white plane blasted by and was gone.

Hazel thought she had never heard a more welcome voice in all her life.

The pressure suit squeezes her legs and forces the blood up into her torso to prevent a black out. The SU37 rips the air and clouds form behind the wings in a tight turn. Her neck aches from constantly throwing panicked looks over her shoulders with a heavy flight helmet on. Sweat is stinging her eyes. She breathes too fast and tries to control it. Where the fuck is the horizon? Which way is up? It does not matter. Missile lock alarm is still beeping frantically in her ears and she feels sick. Her arms and legs hurt.

The beeping stops.

How long was that? Seemed like forever. A quick glance over her shoulder shows the missile dropping upwards towards the ground, its fuel spent. She rolls the plane over and hits autopilot and jams the throttle full open – the plane can take her home now.

“I did it. I’m going to live”. She realizes she is shaking and lifts her head up to look out over the nose towards home.

Hazel stops breathing.

Coming straight at her are four vapour trails from AA missiles at high closing speed.

No time to turn.

One of the bastards must have flown round and got between her section and home.

“Fuck I’m going to die after all,” she thinks.

Out loud she says

“I never told him”