Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
FORT NOVOSEL
Shannon climbed into the left seat, helmet already strapped, checklist tight in her lap. Mara Esten slid in beside her and didn’t say a word. This wasn’t a classroom anymore. This was flight.
The bird rumbled smoothly and heavily, alive under them. Shannon called torque, airspeed, and horizon. Esten pulled collective, and they rose with a perfect lift.
They cleared the hangars and banked into the first leg of the pattern, skimming low over sunbaked grass and chain-link fencing. The wind was cross-angle, stuttering over the ridge unpredictably.
Esten flew it fast. Too fast for comfort. But Shannon didn’t blink.
“Drift five right,” she called. “Watch your descent. LZ coming up hot.”
Esten corrected a breath late. They hit the pad smooth enough to pass for butter. The comms buzzed again.
“2B copies. Tracking 2A. Visual confirmed,” Krueger’s voice came, flat and professional.
But Shannon heard it. For the first time in years, she didn’t feel smaller. Didn’t feel trapped. Didn’t feel fifteen seconds from freezing.
She was flying. And she was better than him.
They ran four landings in total. Variable terrain, wind shear from the east. Esten let Shannon take the controls on the final leg.
Shannon slid into command. Her hands didn’t shake. Her voice didn’t waver. “2A beginning final descent.”
The bird came down like it had been born for her. Straight. Controlled. Textbook.
The dust blew up in a spiral. Esten grinned. They didn’t even jolt.
Back on the tarmac, engines winding down, Esten pulled her helmet off and nodded once.
“That was clean.”
Shannon just sat there for a second. She let the hum settle out of her bones, then nodded back.
Esten added, quieter, “Don’t let him get behind you. Ever.”
Shannon turned her head. “I don’t plan to.”
In the second bird, Krueger was still in his seat, helmet off. He was watching her, his expression blank but his jaw tight.
Rhodes, his co-pilot, said nothing, but she saw it too.
The barracks were quiet that late morning. The fan turned lazily overhead. Shannon lay back on her bunk, her flight suit rolled halfway down to her waist, undershirt clinging from the sweat of the day. Her phone buzzed once on the blanket beside her.
Dante.
She picked up before the second vibration. “Hey.”
His voice came low, familiar. “You sound tired.”
“I flew today.”
“That why you’re not talking?”
She almost smiled. “I flew clean.” Her throat caught for just a second. “Got the final approach solo.”
“That’s my girl.” Then his voice dropped a little further. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She stared at the ceiling. “Nothing important.”
“You sure?”
“I’m fine, Dante.”
He was quiet long enough to make her stomach twist. “Okay, for what it’s worth, I wish I’d been there.”
“Me too.”
“I’ll be watching soon.”
“I know.”
She didn’t say good night. Neither did he.
Just silence and connection.
THE TARMAC
The sun was already hot by the time Shannon was called back to the tarmac. Marston waited in the shade of the hangar, clipboard under his arm. “You flew clean today,” he said without greeting.
Shannon nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“Better than clean,” he added. “Esten runs high-speed patterns. Most rookies bleed under that kind of pressure.”
“I kept up.”
“You led,” Marston corrected. “On that last descent? That was your bird. Not hers.”
She waited.
He didn’t smile. “I’d watch her,” he said. “And I’d watch your back. Not all pilots are team players.”
Shannon stood a little straighter. “Understood, sir.”
He handed her a copy of the flight log. Signed. Initialed. “Good flying, Johnson.” Then he walked off.
BARRACKS STEPS
Later, Shannon sat outside on the back step, boots off, elbows on her knees. Esten dropped beside her without a word and tossed her a half-warm bottle of water. “You stole the day.”
Shannon unscrewed the cap. “Wasn’t the plan.”
“That’s why it worked.” Esten didn’t press, but after a beat, she added, “He was watching.”
“I know.”
“You made him look small.”
Shannon didn’t smile. “Not small enough.”
Esten tilted her head. “He’s going to try something.”
“I’m ready.”
“You shouldn’t have to be.”
Shannon’s fingers curled around the bottle. “Life’s not fair.”
Esten looked straight ahead. “No. But I am.” And that was all she said.
They left something on her bunk. Small. Folded. Tucked just under the edge of her blanket. She found it an hour later. Alone. It was a page from the flight manual. Emergency autorotation. Malfunction response. Someone had circled Pilot error remains the leading cause of fatality.
There was no name. No threat. Just fact. And her stomach turned to ice.