26 December 2026 – Laguna Garden Avenue, North Las Vegas, Nevada

“Are you sure they have the right name on that announcement of students?”

“You’re asking for it, buddy!”

“You know I like it when we crank it up a bit, Sabrina!” Tommy waggled his eyebrows at his wife like he was Groucho Marx.

“‘One of these days, Alice! One of these days …!’”

“The rest of your squadron’s gonna be surprised when I tell them how big a softie you can be!”

Sabrina tackled her husband and tried to tickle him to death. It didn’t work.

“Well, that was disappointing …”

“Yeah, not one article of your clothing came off!” Tom sighed. “I’m losing my touch … Maybe we can try my touch again later?”

”… Pow! Right in the kisser!”

“Is Tiger going to cry in relief or dismay over your departure?”

“I’m not reporting to Edwards until the end of June, Tommy … Plus the class roster was only announced Thursday! I’ve been off-duty since then, so give him a few days.”

“Who really reads stuff the Air Force publishes, anyway?”

“Um, Tiger does! Especially since he knows I apply every six months!”

“Well, I’ll make sure he has enough tissues to last until June then. That’s one hell of a present for you, though, huh? Starting TPS less than two weeks after your birthday?”

“‘… no later than 26 June …’ We’ll have to see if there’s anywhere to celebrate near Edwards, because we need to be there before then and that’s only two days after one of the best dates on the calendar.”

“The best one being the day we married …”

“Ooohhh, I see you’re swinging for the fence!”

“Gotta keep my girl happy!”

That line earned Tommy a series of long, deep kisses.

“And you do, Tommy,” Sabrina whispered.

“So, let’s see … USAFA, ENJJPT at Sheppard, B-course at Tyndall, then Spangdahlem, Nellis, and soon, Edwards. How many more are coming?”

“Might not be too many more before I make it to Johnson Space Center. Once I pass TPS, I’d like a bit of time in test squadrons, but, you know …”

“It’s above my pay grade …” the couple said in unison.

“Test squadrons, where you’ll kick ass, as usual … So, do you think Tiger already knows?”

“I’ll find out tomorrow, if he doesn’t call crying, tonight.”

“Have you cleared out your desk yet?”

“I don’t report to Edwards for another five months, Tiger. I’m gonna guess you’re not sad to see me go …?”

“And why would you think that, Captain?”

“Oh, gee … I dunno, Sir … Could be you rushing to lock the door behind me as I leave …”

“Sabrina, that’s hurtful!”

“Yet, also true.”

“Well … maybe a little.”

“Seriously, Tiger, our flight is solid, right?”

“It is,” Bengali answered with confidence. “Now, you need to find me a solid deputy flight commander before you leave.”

“Too bad Hammer doesn’t fly Raptors,” Sabrina replied. “He’ll be a good choice for an F-35 flight someday. For Delta, for us, Tweed is ready.”

“Tweed?” Tiger asked upon hearing Fran Woolrich’s nickname. “I agree. He’s come a long way in the time he’s been here with you helping him along. GTO’s improved, too. So has everyone you interact with.”

Tweed came to Nellis from Langley Air Force Base and the 94th Tactical Fighter Squadron last year with five years of service under his belt.

“Your leadership abilities must have rubbed off on me over the past fifteen months, Tiger.”

“Don’t make Tommy upset, Sabrina, by claiming I’ve rubbed myself on you. I like your husband. The Air Force will get upset with me, too. Like ‘brought up on charges’ upset!”

“Holy shit … your jokes are as bad as my father’s.”

“Jesus Christ, is this place HOT during the summer!” Sabrina griped as she climbed out of her truck.

“And Nellis wasn’t?” Tommy asked as he locked his. “We’re in the middle of a desert again, Babe.”

“Don’t remind me, Tommy.”

“We’re actually a quite a bit southwest of Nellis, though at a slightly higher elevation. It’ll probably be cooler here …”

“You can stop, noooooowwwwww …” Sabrina sang.

“You think the folks in the office are ready to call Security Forces on us yet?”

“They’ll wait until I start smacking you around.”

“Fine. Go inside and report so we can get our base IDs and check out the housing arrangements.”

Housing for Test Pilot School students was available on the base – reserved, actually – negating the need to buy or rent a house for just one year of training. TPS housing ran to the company-grade officer quality Sabrina and Tommy were used to: a small, condo-style home joined to a second home. TPS students with larger families might get a larger place, if available. Those families sometimes had to make do with the smaller floor plans, however.

“Well, we’ve finally seen this floor plan again,” Tommy said as they looked over their assigned duplex. “Where was that? Sheppard?”

“Yeah, that place off base …”

“When will our belongings arrive?”

“Tomorrow or the next day. Not bad timing, actually. It was nice of them to have the loaner stuff here before we arrived, too,” Sabrina replied as she waved at the generic furniture in their living room.

“Upset we’re not over on Thunderchief Court?”

“As an Air Force Academy graduate, I would have preferred Falcon Way! Still, I can’t complain about our location here on Sturmthal Street. The lots behind us are what passes for parks around here, and it even has lights on that path over there.”

“If it wasn’t for the scrub brush scattered around, it’d be almost like a beach view.”

“Well, that and the lack of water. Not a beach without the water, just a hill.”

“What kind of drive are you looking at in the mornings?”

“About five minutes, probably. Unless I get stuck behind traffic near the coffee place, the gas station, a school bus, or a unit out running PT.”

“There aren’t any school busses or other public transportation on base …”

“So it won’t be an issue then!”

“You’re too much …”

“You keep up well enough,” she purred as she molded herself to her husband.

“It’s all part of my exercise regimen. My favorite part, actually.”

“It better be your favorite part!”

Tommy and Sabrina spent the rest of their week arranging furniture in their new ‘housing unit.’ New base, old routines. Like finding the important places – new restaurants.

“I can’t believe this place is only twenty minutes from the base!” Sabrina sounded amazed.

“And there’s another four or five Mexican restaurants nearby, too.”

“And the Thai place. And that’s just here in Rosamond.”

“Then there’s Lancaster, Palmdale, Mojave, Tehachapi … Plenty of places to explore.” Tommy looked at his wife. “You sound a bit surprised.”

“I guess I thought Edwards was stuck in the middle of nowhere.”

“That’d be Groom Lake.”

“Why are you jinxing me?”

“Any of the test flight squadrons will fly the bleeding edge. Don’t you think Groom would be the tip of the spear?”

“You’re kinda mixing your metaphors, Tommy.”

“I’m a civilian. Sue me.”

The following Monday, Sabrina gazed at the F-104 Starfighter perched on its pylon as she walked from the Test Pilot School parking lot to the building. The Starfighter aimed skyward in a high angle of attack from its post by Wolfe Ave, and embodied Sabrina’s dreams. She imagined many of her fellow students felt the same way.

“It looks like it’s going Mach 2 just sitting there, doesn’t it?” someone nearby asked.

Sabrina glanced over to see a man about her age. He wore a flight suit with captain’s bars as she did.

“Evan Porter,” he introduced himself and extended his hand.

“Sabrina Knox-Jones. Student?”

“Yep. You too?” Sabrina nodded in response. “Where’d you come from?”

“Nellis. 65th Aggressor Squadron, flying F-22A Raptors. You?”

“Eighteenth TFS at Elmendorf. F-16E Falcons.” Porter looked at their destination. “You ready for this?”

“If I’m not,” Sabrina answered with a shrug, “I majored in the wrong discipline.” Porter raised an eyebrow. “Astronautical Engineering. Followed that with an online Aerospace Engineering master’s while in Germany.”

“Shit, remind me to cheat off your tests.”

“I doubt they let you in here if you didn’t have a similar pedigree, Porter.”

“Evan.”

“Sabrina.”

“Don’t you mean ‘Raikou?’” Sabrina gave Evan a sidelong glance. “You have a bit of a reputation.”

“Parts are entirely undeserved.”

“Only ‘parts’ are undeserved?”

“Right. I earned the rest of that shit.”

Evan laughed as they entered their ‘schoolhouse.’

They and their classmates would spend slightly more than a year here unless they encountered problems. This course had the reputation of being ‘GO!’ from Day One, and it was all on the students. The instructors would present the information and expect those taking the course to put information together, build teams, and formulate a plan. No shortcuts but flexible, logical thinking. ‘No spoons, and no spoon feeding’ was the unofficial motto.

“Hey, I’m Harper Dominguez,” a classmate said from his seat in the next row ahead of them. People were still trickling in ten minutes before the start time.

“Sabrina Knox-Jones.”

Evan introduced himself, and everyone exchanged handshakes.

“Where were you before coming here?”

“Hickam flying Raptors.”

“The Gamecocks of the 19th TFS!” Sabrina cried.

“Yeah!” Dominguez replied. “Where you from?”

“Nellis, flying Raptors for the 65th Aggressors. Spangdahlem and the 22nd TFS before that.”

“‘Knox-Jones?’ ‘Spangdahlem?’ Evan, my boy, we’re in the presence of greatness!”

“Oh, Harper … and here I thought I liked you? Don’t worry. Death will be as painless as I can make it. I’m a captain with seven years of service and a pair of shiny wings. That’s it, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Sabrina. That’ll be the last you hear of that kinda stuff from me. I’ve heard how little you like the notoriety.”

“Very little, Harper.”

“Hey, what are your call signs?” Evan asked.

“Harpo,” was Harper’s answer.

“Raikou,” Sabrina replied.

“‘RAY coo?’”

“Raikou,” Sabrina repeated while writing it down. “Japanese thunder god.”

“Goddess, in your case,” Harpo said. “I guess Evan asked my question, Sabrina. Evan, what’s your call sign?”

“Bart.”

”Bart?”

“I’m from Springfield, Illinois,” the bristle-haired blond said, “and I have this haircut.”

“And you have two younger sisters named Lisa and Maggie?” Sabrina asked.

“No, Colleen’s my only sister. She’s the youngest in the family. And don’t tell my younger brother Lester he got renamed ‘Lisa,’ okay? He’s jealous enough of his hotshot pilot big brother.”

Another young woman sat down at Harper’s table, but she made sure she wasn’t next to him. She gave him a disdainful look before turning away. Harper smiled in amusement while looking at his new friends. He turned, faced the front of the room when instructors showed up, and went to attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a colonel began once everyone sat down again, “welcome to the United States Air Force Test Pilot School. I’m Colonel Zachary Lang, the school’s commandant. Over the next fifty-five weeks, you will be pushed, stretched, and challenged by this staff like never before. Successful test flights require a team to plan, execute, and evaluate data from them. Our country needs successful flights for top-quality aircraft. What looks good on paper can fly like the south end of a northbound jackass. Your team will identify strengths and flaws in new aircraft. You’ll all need to be on top of your game.

“Pilots, forget about the ‘hair on fire, Mach infinity’ others said about TPS years ago. And forget about the unpredictable, win-the-dogfight mentality you’ve known until now. Precise, controlled, to-the-flight-plan flight is what we’re looking for. Navigators, we want the best routes to evaluate a prototype aircraft safely within defined test parameters. Engineers, almost all of the pilots and navigators here are also engineers. Don’t get caught in the ‘you wouldn’t understand’ mindset. Your classmates will know what you’re talking about.”

Sabrina, Evan, and Harpo looked over at Harpo’s table mate … she ignored them. The trio looked at each other and shook their heads.

The colonel pointed to on the table to his right.

“On the table you’ll notice a large stack of books and other papers related to your time here. Starting from the back row, come get one of each.”

That took ten minutes for the class to get through. Sabrina was sure the heard the table sigh in relief once the weight of all that paper was gone. She was sure she heard classmates chuckle when someone slapped Harpo on the back of his head as the classmate walked to the table. Harpo introduced Evan and Sabrina to the classmate during their lunch break.

“Bart, Raikou, this is my buddy Mathias ‘Robin’ Hood.”

“‘Ma-TEE-iss?’” Evan asked when he heard Harpo’s pronunciation.

“Yeah,” Robin Hood confirmed. “Looks like ‘mah-THIGH-ess’ and is pronounced ‘mah-TEE-iss.’” He shrugged. “Family name.” The others nodded, each knowing about those.

The foursome introduced themselves to the others in their class during lunch. Except for that one woman, Johanna Salazar, who ignored everyone.

“How does she expect to get through this class without being part of the group?” the man from Sherwood Forest wondered quietly.

“Let me know when you figure that out, Mathias,” Harpo muttered. “She very smaht, tho!”

“You need to work on that Boston accent, Harpo,” Sabrina said with a shake of her head. “I’ve got some friends who can tutor you, if you’d like?”

“Dude, that was terrible!” Evan laughed. “Even I could tell, and I’m from Illinois!”

The first day of TPS was little more than meeting the instructors – more than one were bonafide PhD’s – and learning the lay of the land. Students would barely have time to get their feet under them before forty-eight weeks of non-stop instruction began.

Performance, systems, and test project engineering were the initial subjects. Tommy brought Sabrina several cups of tea while she poured over classwork in their home office. She likened the load to her first year at USAFA where nothing less than perfection was accepted.

“I think my eyes will burn if I look at systems engineering again,” Harpo griped as he rubbed his eyes one morning.

“Just wait until we finish these classes and move on to the next group.”

“I know, Robin, but …”

“Better to make mistakes in here than out there,” Lachlan Johnston, their Aussie classmate pointed out.

“Geez, Ness,” Harpo sighed, “you couldn’t come up with something original?”

“Oh, ‘original?’ Like Lach ‘Ness’ Johnston?” another classmate, Beckett Delaney, asked from his desk across the aisle. “C’mon, Harpo!”

“Hey, give a guy a break, would ya?”

“A break?” Sabrina laughed. “You’re expecting a break at this place? Exact and exacting this place is!”

“Ease up, Yoda,” classmate Franco Dean said from the row behind Sabrina.

“‘Do or do not! There is no try!’” half the room yelled. The other half rolled their eyes.

Another two weeks saw Sabrina continuing to pour over math problems to figure out drag, lift, and other needed values in the initial classes.

“Knox! Puckett!” Major Connor Lawrence called. “You two come with me!”

Sabrina looked like a midget standing next to Izayah Puckett. He was fifteen inches taller than Sabrina, and where she was thin and wiry, he was muscle-bound and solid.

“We’re headed over to Birk,” Major Lawrence announced once out of the TPS building.

The Birk Flight Test Facility is on Edwards’ South Post, one of three posts at the base.

“What’s up, Sir?” Izayah asked.

“You two are the first of your class to start working with the test squadrons here at Edwards. The others will get their chances soon.”

The senior airman driving their van turned left off of Wolfe Ave and onto Lancaster Boulevard. They drove across the arid undeveloped areas of Edwards Air Force Base.

“Okay, you two will work with teams from the 411th Flight Test Squadron. They’re currently evaluating some next generation of fighters for the US military. While the Air Force is the expected primary recipient of these fighters, the Navy and Marine Corps will likely order some as well.”

“Two different fighter prototypes, Sir? Like with the F-22 and YF-23?” Sabrina asked.

“That’s correct, Captain. The YF-51 Mustang II and YF-52 Hellcat II, in this case.”

Izayah Puckett whistled.

“Those are some powerful names to live up to.”

“Yes, they are, Puckett. These fighters are wildly different than those venerable propeller-driven aircraft. They’re prototype seventh-generation stealth aircraft, even more advanced than the F-22s and F-35s you two have flown.” Major Lawrence looked at the two TPS students in the back of the van. “They may very well be the last human-piloted stealth aircraft. Of course, we said that about the Raptor and Lightning so who knows?”

“Like the colonel hinted at, Sir? We’ll learn the ropes with the 411th teams this week, then be expected to participate more next week?”

“That’s right, Knox. Absorb the working of the crew itself, how everyone contributes and works to understand the day’s goals. You’ll put what you learn to use when we form teams at TPS.”

“How long have they been testing these aircraft, Sir?” Izayah asked.

“About a week for these two. They’re just starting what will be a long process. Sometimes – rarely – one plane is the clear winner long before testing is complete. Much more often it’s right down to the wire.”

SrA Kinehan finished the meandering route around three runways to the entrance to the Birk Fight Test Facility. Major Lawrence led the two TPS students inside the modest building.

“Seaver! These two are yours for the next week!”

A no-nonsense major made his way over to the trio just inside the door.

“Your top two are first again?”

“Why not? Their reward for doing so well in class so far.” Lawrence nodded at the others and left the building. Major Seaver pointed at Sabrina after reading her name tag.

“They call you ‘Knox-Jones’ or just ‘Knox?’”

“‘Knox,’ during classes, Sir. Makes things easier.”

“Fair enough. Puckett, you head over there to Major Tran. Knox, you follow me.”

“Okay, Knox, I’m the test pilot in this group.” They approached another four people near one of the many desks in the room. “This is Halle Dodson, our engineer. Captain Rory Barber, our navigator. Over here we’ve got Aiden Fisher and Liam Cox, two of our capable minions who keep us running smoothly.”

“I’m still waiting for my cool pair of minion bib overalls,” Aiden Fisher quipped while shaking hands, “like in the movies.”

“You’d have to be a cool minion, first,” Halle Dodson replied.

“Point taken.”

“So what’s your degree in, Knox?”

“Bachelor’s in Astronautical Engineering, Sir. Masters in Aerospace.”

“And a masters in Aerospace?” Liam Cox goggled.

“I needed something to do between air patrols in Germany,” Sabrina answered with a shrug.

Liam looked down at her wedding ring but wisely kept his opinion of what else she could do to himself.

“Okay, Knox, so we’re into the testing on the Mustang, but here’s the final goal.” Major Seaver pointed out the test schedule over the next ten days. “What I want to see from you over the next hour or two is an outline of what tests you think would be necessary and how you would approach them.”

Nothing like a little pressure to start your day in the military.

Sabrina took the final goal and list of other objectives and sat at an unused desk. Her assigned task proved to be anything but simple. Two hours became two and a half as Sabrina questioned her answers before finally bringing her list to Major Seaver. He looked it over and nodded before handing it off to the rest of the team.

“Not bad, Knox. You missed a few things, but those are minor. You’ve got the idea of what we’re trying to do here.”

“So how far into testing the Mustang are we?”

“We’re almost to flight tests,” Halle Dodson told Sabrina, smiling at Sabrina’s use of ‘we.’ “We’re almost past avionics ground tests and into takeoff, landing, stability, and control testing. We’ll do performance flight testing after that, and will will then add weapons system testing.”

“Man, I wish I could get into that bird during performance testing!” Sabrina sighed.

“I’m right there with you there, Raikou,” Rory Barber agreed, drawing looks from the group at the use of Sabrina’s call sign. “What? Like you guys didn’t know who she is?”

“And who is she?” Dodson asked.

“A pilot you don’t want to mess with, one rather famous for taking apart opponents at the Air Force Academy and during training at Nellis.” Barber looked back to Sabrina. “Elsewhere, too.”

Sabrina gave Barber a blank look.

“Okay, need-to-know, I gotcha. I won’t ask.”

Need-to-know is a well-known and often-used military phrase. Only those who needed to know certain information would be told by those who held that information. In this case, none of the Mustang team needed to know about Schönbrunner Wald. Tommy still didn’t know, and he was more important to Sabrina than the folks she just met, regardless of their security clearance.

“Maybe someday, Barber,” Sabrina said, trying to lighten the moment, “but today is not that day.”

Major Seaver took the moment back by asking Halle Dodson to explain today’s tests.

“We’ll put the Mustang through avionics checks today.” Dodson turned to Sabrina. “We’re still getting up to speed with the basics, making sure things work before we even leave the ground.”

“Still seems like it’ll eventually be ‘Mach infinity with our hair on fire,’ Sir,” Sabrina commented to the major, “even if is it a remote version.”

“Yes, but it’ll be controlled infinity.”

“Oh, right. I understand now.” She didn’t really understand, but she wasn’t about to admit that on her first day as a junior team member.

Major Seaver left to put on his G-suit and grab his helmet. He signed onto the radio twenty minutes after leaving the group.

“Does he go through the checklists even if he’s not lifting off?” Sabrina asked.

“We do when the aircraft are still being tested,” Liam Cox said. “It’s an aircraft you’re not really familiar with, regardless of how many tests you’ve run on it, so you want to take your time. Plus we occasionally pick up errors in checklist sequencing, and something as simple as spelling errors.”

“Makes sense.”

Sabrina drifted back to Birk and Major Seaver’s group for another day or two over the next three weeks, so that she could continue to learn from a working team. TPS began to assemble their students into teams also, though it would be another week before they started to work together.

”ATTEN HUT!” someone yelled during one of Sabrina’s last days at Birk. She faced the door and snapped to a rigid vertical position.

Sabrina watched as a confident, uniformed, gray-haired woman she recognized entered the area. Lots of brass on the woman’s uniform. The woman’s entourage stopped frequently as she paused to talk to each group in the room.

“Well,” the woman said to Sabrina upon reaching her group, “we don’t often see women in test flight squadrons, Captain …” She paused to read Sabrina’s name tag. “Captain Knox-Jones. Even these days.”

“I would imagine not, General, though we’re starting to make our presence known.”

Molly Richardson, the first female Chief of Staff of the Air Force, nodded at the younger pilot in front of her.

“That we are, Captain. How long have you been a test pilot?”

“Begging your pardon, General, but I’m a TPS student, training with Major Seaver’s group. I’m not officially a test pilot yet. I still have ten or so months of training left.”

Now General Richardson’s eyebrows rose.

“Is that so, Captain? Major, do you have any test flights coming up?”

“Yes, General! We’re starting the performance testing on the YF-51A at the end of the week.”

“The -51B is a two-seat fighter, is it not?”

“We are testing both the single and two-seat models, yes, Ma’am.”

“So you will be able to include Captain Knox-Jones on your test flights,” General Richardson said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, General,” Major Seaver replied with a mostly believable smile.

“Very good. Carry on, Major.” The general and her group walked away.

Sabrina gave Major Seaver a look which told him she was as shocked as he was, but one doesn’t casually disobey or ignore the top general of the USAF. Not if you wanted your career to continue.

“Sabrina, it is what it is,” Greg Seaver said in a low voice no one else could hear. “I have to let Charlie Lawrence know about this, since you belong to TPS at the moment, not the 411th. And we have to rework our test schedules to account for use of the -51B and not the -51A.”

“What do you need from me, Sir?”

“You’re gonna be with me in that aircraft, so you’ll mirror my role in all the preflight meetings. You’ll need to know exactly what the plan is, how to execute it, record and evaluate results, all of it. You get to put everything you’ve learned into practice well before your classmates.”

“And I’ll totally throw off the TPS plans for my classmates!”

“Well, that’s on General Richardson’s shoulders more than yours, but that’s why they pay her the big bucks.”

In the end, TPS assigned the rest of Sabrina’s team to shadow the team from the 411th testing the Mustang II. Better to start merging the student group’s knowledge base and skills early than delay it or shuffle the personnel assignments.

“So you get to play Chuck Yeager earlier than you expected?” Tommy asked Sabrina that night.

“I’m hardly General Yeager, Tom.”

“I’m sure the ladies found him attractive, but I have to say I prefer your looks, Sabrina.”

“As the guy who married me that would certainly be preferable! And, yes, the general was a ruggedly handsome man.”

“The general was stationed here back in the day. Is anything left of the place General Yeager and the other test pilots back then used to go?”

“The riding club? Just the pool and chimney, really. The rest of it burned down in the 50s, I think it was.” Sabrina shrugged. “The base firing ranges are nearby, so you have to be careful of when you go there if you don’t want to turn into Swiss cheese.”

“Not a good way to end your day, no. Anyway, when do you fly?”

“A week from next Monday. Ten days from now.”

“And you said you and your group should be running tests at TPS?”

“We should still be learning to run tests at TPS,” Sabrina clarified. “Of course, when the uniformed boss of the Air Force makes a suggestion it’s not really a suggestion.”

“You ready?”

“It’s time to get back in the air.”

“You can join me when I go for my flying lessons, you know?”

“I see you still remember how to buckle everything on,” Major Seaver quipped when he saw Sabrina in her flight and G-suits.

“Glad to see you left the Mets uniform in your locker, Sir,” she fired back. “Do you paint ‘41’ on all the aircraft you fly, too?”

“Damn, kid!” the officer from Long Island replied. “Old school!”

“If you ever meet my father, Sir, you’ll understand. He poisoned my mind with all sorts of ancient trivia.” Sabrina’s smile belied the implied bashing of her father.

“Is he a pilot, too?”

“Oh, heck no, Sir. He once made a living throwing hmself out of perfectly good aircraft! Now he cleans up other people’s messes.”

“Skydiver? Mechanic? Custodian?” Seaver asked.

“Paramedic. Former paratrooper.”

“Same things.” Sabrina looked over at him. “A mechanic for humans, or a guy who drops in to clean people’s shit up.”

“Do you have these written down somewhere, and you just wait for the right time to use them?”

“Hidden microphone linked to an AI. It feeds me appropriate responses through a subcutaneous bone-conduction earphone.”

“You don’t get out much, do you, Sir?”

“What gave it away?”

Greg Seaver turned into a different, more relaxed person on the flight line.

Seaver had Sabrina walk him through the preflight on the Mustang, asking her to comment if it didn’t seem ‘fluid’ or ‘natural.’ Like anything about a brand new multi-million aircraft was natural.

“Time to get this show on the road, Sir!” Sabrina called from the rear seat of the YF-51B. They’d finally finished the preflight checklist.

“Absolutely. Let’s go.”

The Mustang lined up on Runway 04 Left and Seaver floored it. The aircraft was airborne before it reached the taxiway at the middle of the runway. Then the nose pointed nearly vertical as Major Seaver added afterburners.

A sonic boom cracked behind them a minute later. The plane soon rolled inverted and dove for the ground. It finally rolled again before slowing and leveling off at 1500 feet.

“How ya doing back there?”

“When do we take off, Sir?”

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Major Seaver went through every maneuver on the test flight plan in order over the next hour. Sabrina made sure to yawn loudly once or twice. Seaver laughed each time. Only three more maneuvers to go and they could land this bird. The Mustang raced ahead before slewing into a tight lefthand turn.

One that went wrong almost immediately.

“Rudder failure!” Sabrina called out as she strained to sit upright against the forces pulling her to one side. “Right aileron failure!”

Greg Seaver didn’t hesitate.

”EJECT! EJECT! EJECT!”

Sabrina reached down and pulled up sharply on the eject handle. The canopy blew off before the rockets below the pilots’ seats fired. The seats roared out of the doomed plane.

Sabrina briefly watched the prototype fighter spin away before looking up to check her parachute’s canopy. No canopy yet. After a second or two the canopy appeared and Sabrina separated from the seat. She saw the seat fall away before another ‘chute appeared and slowed the seat’s descent to the lakebed.

Edwards looked so far away, even though Sabrina could see helicopters lifting from the base and start heading toward her. Greg Seaver hung below his parachute a good distance away from her. She wouldn’t have to worry about a collision.

The ground remained some distance away before Sabrina prepared for her landing fall. Not the way she wanted to overcome the ‘five jump chump’ moniker. She ran through the steps for the PLF in her head before the ground rushed up to meet her.

“Hey!” Greg Seaver yelled as he jogged up to Sabrina. “You okay?” Sabrina hopped up on one foot, barely putting any weight on her left.

“Rolled the ankle,” she answered with a grimace. “Otherwise I’m fine.”

Rhythmic thumps grew louder before two UH-60 medical Black Hawks appeared low in the sky. They grew larger and larger as they approached.

“I think our ride’s here …” Sabrina said while waving at the closing helicopters.

“I hope those are for us. It’s a fair walk back to Edwards, even if I don’t try to carry you.”