Top Gun 3: Chapter 3

 Chapter Three

Squadron Picks

Maverick leapt into the cockpit of the Mustang and reached under the seat, pulling out his pistol. Without a clear idea about what he was going to do, he roared down the runway and into the air.

The spy jet was flying a few hundred feet ahead, and it was stretching its lead.

Maverick opened the canopy and stuck his arm out. He aimed as best he could and fired.

From what Maverick could see, the bullet had hit but did little.

Suddenly, another jet flew in behind Maverick and fired a missile at the jet.

The enemy plane burst into flames.

As Maverick turned his plane around and closed the canopy, he waved at the pilot of the jet.

The pilot flipped up his visor and grinned at Maverick, who was shocked to find that Payback was the pilot.

Payback had been one of the pilots on the last mission.

Maverick grinned and gave Payback a thumbs up before the jet rocketed off toward the base.

Maverick descended and landed on the runway.

“Did that jet get him?” Rooster asked.

“Yeah, and can you guess who was flying the jet?” Maverick said.

“Who?” Hangman and Rooster asked together?

“Payback!” Maverick exclaimed.

“What? I thought he was stationed in Maine,” Rooster said.

“Apparently not,” Maverick said. “I wonder if he’d want to come fly the Mustang.”

All three pilots looked at eachother and, in perfect unison, cried, “Payback is going to be on my squadron!”

“No,” Rooster said. “He’ll be on mine. He was on my team on the last mission.”

“I’ll give you your fifty bucks back,” Hangman offered.

Rooster shook his head. “Nope, I at least get to ask him first.”

“I get to ask Coyote first,” Hangman declared.

When no one objected, Hangman looked at Maverick and Rooster.

“After the G-Loc experience, I’ll let you have him,” Maverick said, shrugging.

Rooster nodded his agreement.

“How much steep climbing do you think there will be needed?” Hangman asked.

“I’d say a fair amount,” Maverick said. “Maybe not as steep or as fast as our last mission, but a fair amount.”

“Who are you going to ask to be on your team?” Rooster asked, looking at Maverick.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” Maverick said with a grin. In truth, Maverick had no idea who he would pick for his squadron. Payback would have been a good pick, but it was more fair to let Rooster ask him first. Suddenly, an idea popped into Maverick’s head. He only needed to pick four pilots or so. Then his four can each pick one of their own. Now the only problem was picking four men.

“Well, can I fly the Mustang?” Hangman asked.

“Go ahead,” Maverick said, waving his hand. “Just put on a parachute first.”
“I’ll come with you,” Rooster said, shrugging into a parachute.

The plane flew off of the runway and Maverick walked toward the hangar, thinking about who he could pick. It was unusual for a squadron leader to pick the pilots for his squadron. He wanted to make the most of his opportunity. He wanted to pick at least one person who he knew would stick with him until the end. And suddenly it was clear.

Maverick flipped open his phone and clicked on one of his contacts.

The phone rang a couple of times before a voice answered it. “Hello?”

“Hi Thunder,” Maverick said. “It’s Maverick.”

“Mav?” Thunder asked. “What’s up?”

“The sky,” Maverick answered. “The sky is normally up.”

“True,” Thunder agreed. “Unless you’re doing a barrel roll or something. Why’d you call?”

“I can’t reveal much,” Maverick answered. “But I was wondering where you were stationed and if you could come down here and do a mission or two with me.”

There was a long pause before Thunder finally answered. “I wish I could, but I’m stationed in Maine. I’m supposed to be here for a few years.”

“I’ll see if I can get you down here,” Maverick said.

“My fingers are crossed,” Thunder answered. “Anything else?”

“Yeah," Maverick said slowly. “Do you know any Naval Aviators who are all-around great pilots?”

“Yeah,” Thunder answered. “One of them is actually in California. His callsign is Whip.”

“Awesome. Could you tell me his number so that I can call him?” Maverick asked.

Thunder told him the number and again asked if there was anything else Maverick needed.

That’s it,” Maverick said. "I’ll hopefully see you soon.” He hung up.

Maverick had taught Thunder after Maverick had been booted from teaching at Top Gun for the first time. Thunder had been extremely skilled at doing stunts and when he was supposed to fly in formation with the Blue Angels in Washington state, he’d earned the callsign Thunder. Last time Maverick had met Thunder, the boy had not been great with guns, so he’d had to rely on missiles. Hopefully, the pilot had gotten over that.

The Mustang roared overhead, doing barrel roll after barrel roll.

Maverick typed the number that Thunder had given him into his phone.

“Hello?” a voice on the other end answered.

“Hi,” Maverick said. “Are you Whip?”

“That’s me,” the man said. “Can I ask who you are?”

“My name is Pete Mitchell,” Maverick said. “My callsign is Maverick and Thunder suggested you to me.”

“You know Thunder?” Whip asked.

“Yeah, I was his teacher for a little while,” Maverick said. “He said that you were currently stationed in California.”

“Yeah,” Whip answered. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you much until you agree,” Maverick said. “But I was wondering whether you’d be willing to fly a mission or two with me.”

“I don’t know when I’m going to be done where I am, but maybe,” Whip said. “I’ll talk to my commanding officer.”

“Okay, sounds good,” Maverick said. “If you want to meet me, you can fly my plane. I want to know how good you are.”

“What type is it?” Whip asked.

“It’s a two-seater P-51 Mustang,” Maverick answered. “From World War 2.”

“I’ll text you when I’m available,” Whip said.

“That’s all,” Maverick said. “Bye,” he hung up.

The Mustang flew almost twelve thousand feet overhead, and a shape jumped out of it. It plummeted toward the ground and then a massive parachute billowed out and the figure started floating toward the ground.

Meanwhile, the Mustang turned around and started dipping toward the runway. It dove nearly straight down and only pulled up when it was about five hundred feet from the ground. Hangman leveled the plane out and landed it smoothly on the ground.

“Nice landing,” Maverick complemented when Hangman climbed out of the cockpit. He gestured at the parachuter. “Is that Rooster?”

With an almost straight face, Hangman looked at Maverick. “No. It’s his twin brother.”

“Ha, ha,” Maverick said. “What’s his name? Ostrich?”

“No,” Hangman said, as if Maverick were stupid. “It’s Limu Emu.”

Maverick laughed.

Rooster whooped from the parachute, but was so far away that it was hardly audible.

“That sounds a lot like Rooster,” Maverick pointed out.

“So does Limu Emu,” Hangman reasoned with a grin.

Suddenly Maverick’s phone buzzed. He looked down at it. It was from Whip. It read only two words: I’m available.