Chapter 3 - The Woman Behind the Visor
Nora hadn't worn a flight suit in three years.
The fabric felt heavier than she remembered.
Or perhaps the weight came from everything it represented.
The aviation equipment technician adjusted her harness while Captain Sloan observed.
"Pressure points?"
"None."
"Range of motion?"
"Good."
"Helmet fit?"
"Secure."
The technician stepped back.
Nora looked into the mirror.
For a moment, she didn't recognize the woman staring back.
The mechanic with grease beneath her fingernails had disappeared.
In her place stood a naval aviator who looked painfully familiar.
But there was no rank insignia on her collar.
No active-duty pilot designation.
And no guarantee she would ever wear wings again.
Sloan noticed her looking.
"Something wrong?"
"No, ma'am."
"Then come with me."
They entered the flight simulator building.
Nora stopped in the doorway.
The simulator was configured to reproduce the cockpit layout and flight characteristics of a Super Hornet.
Its screens were dark.
Its controls waited.
Sloan pointed toward the seat.
"We don't have the luxury of a comprehensive refresher."
"I understand."
"But I need to know whether your emergency procedures and basic handling remain reliable."
Nora stared at the cockpit.
Sloan's tone softened slightly.
"You can refuse."
Nora shook her head.
"Not while Dale's still up there."
"Then get in."
Nora climbed into the simulator.
Her hands found the controls.
For a few seconds, she did nothing.
She simply sat.
The familiar geometry of the cockpit surrounded her.
The displays.
The throttle.
The control stick.
The canopy frame.
The instrument arrangement that had lived in her muscle memory for years.
A voice sounded over the simulated communications system.
"Valdez, this is Captain Sloan."
"Reading you."
"Start with a normal departure."
Nora moved deliberately.
She knew speed would not impress the captain.
Accuracy might.
The simulated aircraft came alive.
She worked through the required checks.
Her first movements were cautious.
Then smoother.
The jet began its takeoff roll.
Nora lifted into the artificial sky.
For one brief instant, her fear fell away.
She remembered.
Not everything.
Not perfectly.
But enough to recognize the language of the airplane.
Sloan directed a series of controlled maneuvers.
Nora completed them.
Then the simulated weather changed.
Visibility deteriorated.
An instrument warning appeared.
Nora responded, talking through her priorities.
"Maintain aircraft control."
She checked the relevant indications.
"Confirm the malfunction."
A new warning sounded.
Sloan's voice remained even.
"Your wingman is unresponsive."
Nora's breath caught.
The simulated horizon seemed to tilt.
She saw the dark ocean again.
The fractured moonlight.
The instrument panel that had become a wall of meaningless colors.
"Nora?"
She gripped the stick.
"Nora, respond."
Her pulse hammered.
Then she heard Briggs's voice from earlier.
You don't make claims you can't support.
Nora focused on the artificial horizon.
"Aircraft under control."
Sloan said nothing.
Nora continued.
"Maintaining safe separation."
Her breathing slowed.
"Request updated position and condition of the second aircraft."
She completed the maneuver.
The simulator returned to level flight.
Sloan waited several seconds.
Then spoke.
"End exercise."
The cockpit screens went dark.
Nora remained seated.
Her hands were shaking.
Sloan entered the simulator bay.
"Talk to me."
Nora looked down.
"I hesitated."
"Yes."
"For four seconds."
"Closer to five."
Nora swallowed.
"That could get somebody killed."
Sloan rested one hand against the simulator frame.
"Sometimes."
Nora looked up.
The captain continued.
"But you recognized the problem, stabilized yourself, and recovered."
"That doesn't make me current."
"No."
"It doesn't erase three years."
"No."
Sloan crossed her arms.
"It tells me you still possess the underlying skills, and that you know what your limitations are."
Nora exhaled.
"Will you clear me?"
Sloan didn't answer immediately.
"Not for routine fighter operations."
Nora felt her stomach drop.
Then Sloan continued.
"For this restricted emergency sortie, under the conditions approved by command, I will recommend clearance."
Nora's eyes widened.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet."
Sloan leaned closer.
"If you experience another oxygen-system anomaly, you do not continue because you think you can manage it."
"I won't."
"If your aircraft behaves unexpectedly, you put your own safety first."
"Understood."
"And if Ketterman cannot recover, you cannot make the impossible happen."
Nora looked away.
Sloan's voice became quieter.
"Do you understand that last part?"
Nora nodded.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Say it."
Nora forced the words out.
"I may not be able to save him."
"Good."
Sloan stepped back.
"Now let's give him the best chance we can."
Outside, Commander Holloway was speaking with the regional air operations director.
His face was drawn.
Nora approached.
"Sir."
Holloway ended the call.
"Sloan cleared you."
"Yes, sir."
He nodded toward the aircraft.
"Maintenance and flight operations have confirmed its release status."
Nora looked at Briggs.
He raised one thumb.
"The jet is ready."
Holloway unfolded a map.
"Ketterman's aircraft is still tracking northwest."
Nora studied the latest plotted positions.
"His autopilot?"
"May be partially engaged."
"Altitude?"
"Twenty-four thousand and descending."
"Fuel?"
"Approximately seventeen percent based on the latest reliable telemetry."
Nora's throat tightened.
Holloway pointed toward a marked recovery area.
"We'll provide the shortest practical intercept route and a recovery plan."
Nora looked up.
"Is the nearest diversion field ready?"
"Yes."
"Emergency services?"
"Standing by."
"And search and rescue?"
"Already airborne."
She nodded.
Holloway studied her.
"One question."
"Sir?"
"When you said Ketterman might be suffering the same failure you experienced, were you making a medical judgment or remembering your own accident?"
Nora considered the distinction.
"Both, sir."
"Explain."
"The symptoms are consistent with hypoxia, but I can't prove the cause from radio recordings."
"And your accident?"
Nora looked at the commander.
"I remember hearing a soft clicking noise inside my oxygen equipment."
Holloway frowned.
"A clicking noise?"
"Three times."
"Was it in the report?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"The investigators called it an unreliable recollection."
"Why?"
"Because my memory was impaired by hypoxia."
Holloway looked troubled.
Nora continued.
"They used the evidence that I was impaired to dismiss what I remembered about becoming impaired."
The commander didn't answer.
Then Briggs hurried toward them.
"Sir, there's something you need to see."
He held a maintenance tablet.
"One of Ketterman's recorded oxygen-system parameters has begun dropping out intermittently."
Holloway frowned.
"Meaning?"
"It could be a sensor or data-transmission issue."
Briggs looked at Nora.
"Or the system itself."
Nora reached for the tablet.
The displayed data made her stomach turn.
A short interruption.
A brief recovery.
Then another interruption.
She knew the pattern.
She'd seen it in her own accident records.
Except those records had disappeared before the final investigation.
"Chief."
Briggs looked at her.
"Can you save this?"
"Already preserved the available maintenance feed."
"With its original timestamps?"
"Yes."
Nora looked at Holloway.
"Sir, we need to secure every available data source."
The commander frowned.
"Why?"
"Because if this is what I think it is, somebody will eventually claim the aircraft was functioning normally."
Holloway held her gaze.
Then keyed his radio.
"Operations, initiate evidence preservation procedures for every Ketterman flight and maintenance record."
A voice acknowledged.
Nora started toward the fighter.
"Valdez."
She turned.
Holloway held out his hand.
For a moment, she thought he was offering a handshake.
Instead, he placed a small fabric patch in her palm.
It was the Blue Wolves squadron emblem.
Nora stared.
"Where did you get this?"
"Your former commanding officer sent it when we contacted him to verify your record."
Her throat tightened.
Holloway continued.
"He said you were the best wingman he'd ever flown with."
Nora blinked rapidly.
"He never told me that."
"Apparently there were several things he never told you."
Nora looked down at the patch.
Then at the ready aircraft.
Holloway spoke quietly.
"Go bring our boy home, Ember."
For the first time in three years, someone used her call sign without contempt.
Nora climbed the boarding ladder.
She lowered herself into the cockpit.
The ground crew completed its final checks.
Briggs stood beside the ladder.
"Nora."
She looked down.
He smiled.
"Try not to give me another airplane to rebuild."
She managed a small smile.
"No promises."
Then her expression became serious.
"Chief."
"Yeah?"
"If something happens to me, make sure they examine the oxygen system."
Briggs's smile disappeared.
"Nothing's happening to you."
"Promise."
He looked into her eyes.
"I promise."
Nora lowered her visor.
Minutes later, the Super Hornet began rolling toward the runway.
Commander Holloway watched from the control tower.
A controller's voice filled the radio.
"Ember One, cleared for takeoff."
Nora pushed the throttles forward.
The engines roared.
The jet accelerated.
And just before the wheels left the runway, a memory she had buried for three years returned with startling clarity.
A man's voice.
Not hers.
Not the investigator's.
A voice from the maintenance office after her crash.
If she remembers the pressure readings, we're finished.
Nora's breath caught.
May you like
Then the runway fell away beneath her.
And she was flying again.
