“No,” Coda said as Moscow’s friends turned to join him. “Wait.”
Moscow stopped in the doorway.
“You’re going to fly some extra simulations, right? So are we. Nothing says we can’t do it together.”
Moscow’s eyes slid past Coda, finding the other three pilots behind him. “You want us to fly with you?”
Coda shrugged. “Why not?”
Moscow’s friends looked at each other warily. Why not? They had a thousand reasons why not. But their common need outweighed them all.
Finally, Moscow shrugged. “Why not?” he repeated then strode into the room.
“Squawks,” Coda said. “Take this one off.” Then a little more quietly, he said to Moscow, “Uno’s flying this one. Let’s try to keep things even, yeah?”
“Sure,” Moscow said. “Bear, you’re up.”
Bear, a female pilot with jet-black hair, had earned her call sign because she had a reputation for going “Momma Bear” when defending her friends. Though she and Uno were both below the failure line, Bear was in the bottom third overall, much lower than Uno.
Coda made for Uno’s simulator, while Moscow and his group went for the other.
Squawks fell into step at Coda’s shoulder. “What are you doing?” His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it.
Coda felt Moscow’s eyes on him. “We don’t own the simulator, Squawks.” Then just loud enough for Squawks, he added, “Besides, who would you rather shoot down? Uno or one of them?”
Squawks grinned. “Good point.”
Coda slapped him on the shoulder. “Just play nice, okay?”
“Only down here,” Squawks said. “I’m gonna kick some ass in the simulator.”
“There you go.” Coda climbed up the ladder. “How you feeling?”
Uno clicked the last latch of the harness into place then set the VR helmet on his lap. “Good.”
Coda could hear the nervousness in Uno’s voice but didn’t mention it. It would only make him more self-conscious, and the last thing Uno needed was to think about himself instead of his opponent.
“All right,” Coda said. “Listen, Bear is slow, and she’s overly reliant on missiles. If you get in close and take her with your guns, she won’t have a chance.”
“Okay.”
Coda wasn’t sure how it was possible, but Uno somehow sounded even more nervous than before. “Hey.” He let the word hang there until Uno met his eyes. “It’s just us. No statistics. No board. No full squadron, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good,” Coda said. “Have fun.”
Coda stepped down the ladder then moved it out of the way. When both pilots gave him the thumbs-up, he toggled the start initiative on the wall panel, and the simulation began.
It was a relatively brief encounter, with both pilots flying tentatively, like a pair of amateur boxers unwilling to commit to the fight. Despite Coda’s advice, Uno kept his distance, making sweeping movements at full thrust. The strategy played directly into Bear’s strength, and Uno met his end when he failed to deploy his chaff in time, allowing Bear’s long-range missile to take him clean in the fuselage.
“Sorry,” Uno said to Coda as he and Squawks swapped positions.
“No need to apologize.”
“I didn’t listen to you.”
“Maybe you’ll fix that next time, huh?” Coda smiled to let Uno know he was joking, but he would’ve been lying if he’d said there wasn’t an element of truth in his words. “Listen, Uno. You’re flying stiff because you’re thinking too much. Just let it go, and before you know it, the stick will be an extension of your body.”
“Is that how it is for you?”
“Me?” Coda asked. “God, no. I’m flying by the seat of my pants too. It’s just something my dad used to say…” Coda winced, wishing he could take back the words. “Anyway, just relax. Stop thinking. Let your training kick in.”
Squawks’s battle was smoother. Unlike Uno, Squawks had all the traits of a talented fighter pilot. Unfortunately, he flew like he talked: fast, confident, and reckless. He took unnecessary risks that worked as often as they got him into trouble. Commander Coleman would have to train that out of him before he ever saw action, though Coda struggled to see how that could be done. Telling Squawks to fly slower and not take as many risks would be akin to telling him to be quiet. It was an assault on who he was.
Maybe not train it out of him then. Maybe the commander can teach him to channel it.
By the time their hour of personal time was nearing an end, everyone had flown except for Moscow and Coda.
“Rematch?” Moscow asked, smiling wryly.
Coda couldn’t tell if Moscow was trying to be an ass, or if his own feelings were still raw from the defeat. He decided Moscow was trying to have fun with it, nothing personal. “Not tonight.”
“Still sore?”
Okay, maybe he is trying to be an ass. “Something like that.”
“You guys here every night?”
“Yeah,” Coda said. “I take it you’re planning on making it a regular thing?”
“That was the plan,” Moscow said. “The group needs the practice.”
“So does mine,” Coda said. “No reason they can’t do it together, right?”
“I guess not.”
Just like that, he found himself in a shaky truce with Moscow. Every night during their hour of personal time, Coda and his three friends logged extra time in the simulator, and every night, Moscow’s group joined them. They didn’t always battle opposing teams. Sometimes, Uno took on Squawks or Noodle flew against Coda, but as the nights wore on, they began to offer each other advice.
“When he’s on your ass like that,” Moscow said to Noodle one night after Bear had gotten in close and killed him with guns, “you can deploy your chaff. At those speeds, it’ll tear her apart. Don’t be afraid to think outside the box.”
By the end of the week, the extra practice was already beginning to pay off. Moscow had cracked into the top five, with Coda right behind him. Noodle had worked his way into the top twenty, and every member of their alliance had broken into the top sixty. After that, it didn’t take long for people to realize they were spending more time in the simulator
