28 December 2020 – Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Fairborn, Ohio

Sabrina Knox-Jones strained against the force pressing down on her, practicing her ‘hick’ breathing while clenching her calf, thigh, and shoulder muscles. Together these are known as anti-G straining maneuvers or AGSM. Fighter pilots use AGSM to try and prevent G-force loss of consciousness – GLOC. There is a point when the body cannot compensate any longer.

Sabrina could barely concentrate on the G meter on her panel as she fought to stay awake. She registered the tightness of the G-suit on her abdomen and down her legs as it tried to assist her. Her vision started to close in from the periphery, narrowing to a dark tunnel. Sabrina pressed harder, but resistance was futile.

She heard voices calling to her from a distance after a short time. She was so tired, and she couldn’t open her eyes. The voices grew closer before she gathered the strength to pry her eyelids apart.

“Lieutenant? Can you hear me?” Sabrina grunted in the affirmative. “Breathe, Ma’am. Nice, relaxed breathing. G forces are almost back to normal, almost back to one point zero. The centrifuge will stop soon.”

Sabrina felt like she was falling as the centrifuge slowed. The fluid shift from loss of motion and drop in force was the cause. Two technical sergeants opened the chamber when it stopped.

“How ya doin’, Ma’am?” one asked gently.

“I don’t remember the last party that made me feel like this,” Sabrina replied. “It’s been a while.”

“Feel up to standing?”

Sabrina unbuckled the flight harness. She firmly planted her feet before levering herself out of the seat. She stood slowly and steadied herself with one hand.

“Looking okay, Ma’am. Ready to head out?” Sabrina nodded. The sergeants followed as she walked to the room where her classmates waited.

“How was it, Sabrina?” Alex Weiss asked.

“I want a refund …”

“Don’t sugar-coat it,” Deacon Ingram said. “Tell us how it really was.”

Sabrina felt better the longer she sat. She also made sure she didn’t turn her head quickly. She felt like herself after about twenty minutes.

“That GLOC thing is no joke!”

“My sister has seizures, and she said the GLOC videos reminded her of seizure videos,” Vic Alvarado said.

“Everything up to about eight, eight point five was manageable, if tiring. But that GLOC hit me like a sledgehammer.”

Her American classmates sat waiting for everyone to finish. Personnel from the 711th Human Performance Wing drove them back to the Unaccompanied Officers Quarters building at the end of the training day.

“Definitely something I’ll keep up my workouts to avoid!” Kolby Vaughn commented at dinner.

“I think all of us agree, Kolby,” Sabrina said, speaking for her classmates.

“So, we start the T-7A training when we report back to Sheppard on 04 January,” Morgan Wade mentioned. “Like Darius did with the class patch, I’ve got an idea for our flight suit nameplates.” Classmates motioned for her to continue. “Use call signs instead of our names.”

“I’m okay with that,” Cameron James said, “but we’ll have to check with our foreign classmates. The only call signs I’ve heard or seen for them have come from us. They may have something more appropriate for their country or culture.”

“We could do first names in large text with the call sign underneath in smaller text.”

“That might work better, Morgan,” Vic agreed.

“Don’t think Kirk’s gonna like his call sign, though,” Morgan said under her breath while glancing at the classmate sitting by himself.

“Why’s that?”

“Sabrina, it’s ‘Church.’”

A glance over her shoulder.

“What?”

“Fergie told me before Phase 2 ended that ‘kirk’ means ‘church’ in Scottish Gaelic. And the boy’s a little uptight … especially when it comes to you, by the way.”

ENJJPT restarted on 04 January 2021. Morgan presented her idea to their foreign friends. They jumped on board immediately. The cadre approved the class’ nameplate styling request, and Morgan placed the order. Skyler Kirk wanted no call sign stitched on his, party pooper that he was. Sabrina blinked at hers when the order came in two weeks later.

“Morgan?” she asked as she held hers up.

“Tell me you don’t like that better than ‘Fletch?’”

“I do … I do.”

Sabrina’s nameplate read ‘Raijū’ – ‘Thunder Beast’ in Japanese.

“Where did you learn about raijū?”

“Google is your friend, Sabrina. So is reading that they take just about any animal form, including dragons. The sound of T-7 engines will bring that word to life.”

Reading classmates’ call signs brought peals of laughter. Stefan Wenzel was “E,” as in “Stefan-E.”” Bernhard “Bear” Schmid. Eirwen “Flake” Biven. Gunnar “Khan” Pohl. Cameron “Jesse” James. Phillipe “Flip” Schoonjans. Til “Later” Hergenröther. Fritz “Nasty” Hoehman. The list went on. With one exception ENJJPT Class 20-06 was a team.

Skyler Kirk did what was required in class but barely anything else. He did not help his fellow students unless the cadre asked. He performed well in the air under instruction but didn’t push himself unless he flew lead.

Sabrina was a bit nervous the first time she strapped on the T-7. The T-7A Red Hawk replaced the venerable T-38C Talon in 2018. It quickly found fans among IPs and students alike. What made Sabrina nervous wasn’t the newness of the airframe but that everyone from students to IPs to operations, was still learning what the airframe could do.

The T-7 was as modern as a plane could be. Designed entirely online, up-to-date avionics, life support systems, better visibility for the student pilot and IP behind them, Mach 1.1 or so (808 miles per hour), agile, responsive. It was the best simulation of a fifth-generation fighter outside of a simulator.

Sabrina’s flight suit now displayed the 469th Flying Training Squadron patch, which replaced the one from the 89th FTS. The Air Education and Training Command, ENJJPT, and Class 20-06 patches competed for recognition there also. She verbalized the preflight checklist as she walked around the aircraft, her IP walking silently behind her. Once her plane was ready, she climbed into the front of the cockpit. She began the ‘Before Startup’ checklist. Sabrina left the canopy open so she didn’t roast in the bright Texas sun, even in the winter.

She let out a deep breath before picking up the startup checklist. Sabrina flipped switches and pressed buttons in the specified order. She cross-checked displayed gauge values and screen displays against the list before moving to the next item. Sabrina did so in an orderly manner but at a pace that wouldn’t put someone to sleep. Finally, she looked outside at the airman waiting on the tarmac. She gave a thumb’s up.

The airman held up one finger and signaled Sabrina to start engine one, the left engine. Once the engine spooled up and the gauges read correctly, she did the same with the right – number two. Sabrina called ground control for permission to taxi. The airman guided the aircraft toward the taxiway when Sabrina signaled readiness. She followed the airman’s commands until they reached it. The airman fired a salute at the taxiway and signaled her to proceed. Sabrina returned the salute.

Sabrina called ground control again once on the taxiway. She repeated – read back – ground control’s pre-takeoff instructions and stopped her plane at the edge of the active runway. This was familiar to Sabrina as a credentialed pilot, but things felt like they were moving too fast. Upon receiving clearance, she moved her T-7 onto the runway apron and made one last check.

The twin jet engines strained against the plane’s brakes. The Red Hawk bolted down the runway once the brakes were released. Sabrina watched in amazement as the speed indicator shot up and the runway blurred past. Rotation speed approached, and she began pulling back on the control stick. The Red Hawk leapt off the runway at a high angle of attack.

“Jesus, that was fast …” Sabrina muttered to herself. Or so she thought.

“Surprised you, did it?” her IP Peyton Bell asked from the back seat.

“Sure as shit,” she whispered back.

“In a Cessna, it’s easy to stay ahead of the aircraft, at least in comparison to this jet. Plan ahead. Don’t fall behind because you won’t catch up.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Okay, turn left, heading zero two zero for the Sheppard Two M-O-A. Climb to ten thousand feet AMSL.”

“Roger.”

An hour of flight instruction followed. Sabrina barely kept up with the aircraft. Things flew at her – no pun intended – but she kept up. Bell finally gave the order to head back to Sheppard. Sabrina stuck the landing but felt it was luck more than skill. They secured the aircraft, checked in with the crew chief, and walked to the briefing room.

“Feeling overwhelmed?” Bell asked once they sat. Sabrina nodded and he continued, “I pushed you on purpose today, Sabrina, but you did well. Most other students would have broken. You found a way to make it work, found the very edge of that aircraft’s envelope. Stay ahead of your aircraft. Your flight instructor back home must have said the same.”

Sabrina nodded and heard Hamish’s voice echoing in her ears.

“All right. Pack up and get ready to head out of here at 1800. Classroom learning for you tomorrow while more of your classmates fly.”

Tommy noticed how tired and worn out his wife looked when she walked in. This possibility was why he liked to have dinner waiting for her.

“Jambalaya is ready when you are, Badass.”

Sabrina gave Tommy a tired smile as she walked to the bedroom to change. He liked her nickname ‘Badass,’ and her new call sign had him laughing and nodding when he heard it. He wrapped her in a hug when she came back to the dining room.

“How was the first flight in the T-7?”

“Scary,” Sabrina snorted. “Peyton Bell was my IP for the flight. He admits he pushed me today. He also wanted to demonstrate how precarious the hold on your aircraft could be. Hamish tried to show me the same thing, but a Cessna’s different than a jet fighter.”

“So I’ve noticed …”

“Be nice, or I’m taking you for a ride without a G suit!”

“I like the rides we take without a G suit, Sabrina!” The dead man wagged his eyebrows. And got punched in the shoulder.

“One-track mind, I tell ya!”

Sabrina pushed her T-7 through the sky. The Mach meter climbed as she approached the speed of sound for the first time. Point eight … point eight-five … point nine … nine-five … <BOOM!>

“MIGHTY MACH ONE!” she crowed. Her IP, Jim Spencer, laughed from the back seat.

“Cadet Squadron One, huh?” First Lieutenant Jim Spencer was a 2018 graduate of USAFA.

“Yessir! And CS Thirty-three, King Ratz, after my shuffle.”

“Ha!” Spencer laughed. “I was Eagle Eight and Stalag Seventeen.” His oxygen mask hid a smile powered by fond memories. “All right, pilot, let’s work on your training.”

That day’s flying was fun for Sabrina, even though it was strenuous. She was still adjusting to the speed of the T-7, but it thrilled her. Part of her wanted to push the Red Hawk and find the edge of its performance, but she wasn’t a test pilot – yet – and Jim Spencer would not be happy if she tried it.

Tommy was happy when she returned home that day.

“Someone had a good day of training!” he exclaimed once their kiss ended. “Can I get my tonsils back, though?”

“You had your tonsils out when we were five! You went on and on about getting ice cream!”

“What’s wrong with ice cream?”

“I’m taking a shower before dinner,” she grumped as she turned away. “And, no! You cannot help! I want to eat sometime tonight!”

They curled up on the couch together after dinner.

“You’re almost bubbly tonight! Did you do something new today?”

“Sort of,” Sabrina admitted. “Everything’s new in the T-7, given the speed it happens at. Moving that fast makes me want to find the edge of the plane’s performance, to ‘push the envelope’ as test pilots do.”

“Is that going to be your next job? Test pilot?”

“I need to build street cred before I become a test pilot. That’ll take a while.”

“I doubt that Thunder Beast. Or Rocket Girl, as I prefer. So, if I remember right, Introduction to Fighter Fundamentals comes next?”

“That’s assuming I get selected for the fighter track,” Sabrina reminded him. “I might not.”

“Yeah, okay!” Tommy scoffed. “You were born for that!”

Class 20-06 continued to push through Phase 3 of ENJJPT, though not everyone remained with them. Gunnar Pohl and Phillipe Schoonjans departed for their heavy transport track training. It was hard to see friends leave, but it was something everyone needed to come to grips with as they started their military careers.

“Phillipe and I will run into you again at some point, Raijū,” Gunnar said with a smile on his last day. “NATO is not that large, and we train together often.”

“And if I get posted to Kadena?” Sabrina fired back, mentioning the US air base in Japan.

“That is a short tour compared to our careers,” he replied with a shrug. “We will see each other again, Sabrina. Do not fear. Auf Wiedersehen, my friend.”

Sabrina’s thoughts returned to the present and reminded her to watch her flight leader. Formation flying in a T-6 was one thing. Double the air speed in a T-7, and it was quite another. The stakes would rise again when they transitioned from two-ship formations to four next week. Flight and classroom training merged with simulator time and became a giant blur.

The final weeks of ENJJPT approached, as did the spectacle of Drop Night. Students would learn the track they would continue on and which airframe they would base their careers on. From there, they would wait on follow on assignment orders.

“What are you hoping for, Sabrina?” Tommy asked. “Fighters, obviously, but 15s? 16s? 22s, 35s? You haven’t said.”

“HIKE!” she joked back with a laugh. “Any of those will be awesome, Tommy, but the newer, cutting-edge ones would be cool.”

“And bases? Are you still hoping for Kadena as your first assignment?”

“It’d be nice at some point to use the two languages I’ve learned since birth alongside each other. Visiting my cousins while posted overseas would be neat, too.”

“And, so?”

“I’ll get C-130s out of Westover.”

“They have C-17s at Westover now, Sabrina.”

“Yeah, until they post me there! They’ll bring the -130s back!”

Sabrina and her classmates were on pins and needles until Drop Night. Classes picked the night’s theme – the Olympics, James Bond, Animal House, etc. – and made silly videos. The real excitement was opening that envelope with your name and learning about your future.

Class 20-06 picked a game show for the night’s theme. They dressed in silly outfits, and their families looked on and laughed. Finally, it was Sabrina’s turn. Sabrina remembered sitting in her seat. Then she stood in front of everyone holding THE envelope. No memory of the events in between. She let out a breath and tore the paper.

“Raptors!” Sabrina cried out with her arms up over her head. She would fly the F-22 Raptor. More importantly, she would fly – not that it was much of a surprise given the Air Force had sent her here. IFF training lay between the end of ENJJPT and a nine-month F-22 B-course at Tyndall Air Force Base near Panama City, Florida. Then her first assignment and her ten-year commitment would start.

“Where are you doing your IFF?” Tommy asked when she sat back at their table.

“Doesn’t say.”

“I’ll get ahold of the Johnsons and ask about a month-to-month lease if you get assigned here.”

Which is what happened. Some classmates would ship to Columbus Air Force Base in Mississippi, Randolph Air Force Base outside San Antonio, or remain at Sheppard with her for IFF. Sabrina and Tommy would occupy their rental house for another two months after their original lease expired. The Johnsons, their landlords, were used to this.

Out-processing preceded graduation night. ENJJPT students don’t draw much from Sheppard, not much more than their flight suits. As officers, they paid for and kept those. Students preparing to PCS to other bases for IFF or B-course training completed more paperwork. Students remaining didn’t do anything besides administratively transferring from ENJJPT to IFF. They stayed in the 80th FTW as part of the Devil Cats of the 97th Flying Training Squadron. Tommy had already created a squadron patch display at home for Sabrina.

Unlike Drop Night’s silly outfits, students wore their dress uniforms for graduation. Tommy still appreciated the Air Force’s choice of a long, slit skirt for female dress uniforms, especially in Sabrina’s case. British, Belgian, and West German dress uniforms were a welcome change from the usual.

The Americans ‘only’ received their USAF pilot wings for completing ENJJPT. The foreign pilots received those in addition to their country’s wings. Foreign friends would now leave the United States for their B-courses. The exceptions were Marijn Vandewiele, Fritz Hoehman, and Bernhard Schmid, who would train for F-16s at Holloman Air Force Base in New Mexico.

IFF training started on 06 July 2021 because of the July 4th holiday. Sabrina and Tommy spent the weekend before IFF relaxing at Lake Wichita Park. A young family who had seen them at the park over the past year introduced themselves. The now six-member strong group spent Saturday and Sunday together. Sabrina’s years of teaching young karate students, and hanging out with Felicity and Mia Gallardo, helped her connect with the Tylers’ young Ricky and Isa almost immediately. This also allowed Jessica Tyler to relax when Sabrina ‘took over’ watching the kids.

The 97th’s briefing room looked similar to the ones at ENJJPT, though maybe a bit newer. Her new squadron saw about as many students as ENJJPT’s squadrons did, so the newness surprised Sabrina, given its use.

Sabrina wore a generic non-ENJJPT nameplate on her flight suit. Wings, flight and jump, her name, rank, and ‘USAF.’ No call sign, though that didn’t matter. Vic “Cado” Alvarado, Darius “Hootie” Bennett, Kolby “Vince” Vaughn, and Alex “Edel” Weiss joined her in the 97th from ENJJPT, along with ten students from other UPT classes. “Raijū” was known.

Introduction to instructor pilots and other cadre followed a familiar pattern, one Sabrina recognized from USAFA and ENJJPT. IPs were slightly higher in rank, captains, and the occasional major, as opposed to first lieutenants and the rare captain. Where ENJJPT T-7A training was all about controlling the aircraft and not hitting the plane next to you, IFF was about how to do your job – protecting your lead aircraft. Your lead could be the designated flight commander or the lead in the segment you wound up in after splitting from the pack.

The learning curve was there, but not as steep as ENJJPT. Two months passed quickly. Sabrina and Tom began packing the week IFF wrapped up and were ready to ship out before the graduation ceremony. Dealing with Joint Personal Property Shipping Office – South Central in San Antonio, some three hundred miles to the south, was a challenge. They didn’t have much to ship, but what they started with had grown to fit the house in Wichita Falls. They would be at Tyndall for nine to ten months as Sabrina completed the F-22 training, then would be on the move again.

The moving contractor packed the couple’s belongings into their truck on 13 September, the week after Labor Day. Sabrina and Tom would drive the eight hundred-plus miles from base to base in twelve to thirteen hours, while the moving truck did the same. Their cars would move faster than the truck, so each carried a backpack with two days’ worth of clothes, hygiene supplies, and copies of Sabrina’s orders.

They stayed at a mid-priced hotel for the evening before reporting to Tyndall the following morning. The drive ensured they slept well. The couple opted for on-base married housing this time and were assigned a modest duplex ranch with two bedrooms. Sabrina would spend ten to fifteen minutes traveling to and from their house, but she could deal with that for nine to ten months.

Tom found work at the legal aid office as a tax prep assistant once again. He discovered he preferred working on-base over off. Working for a personnel section also seemed a better fit.

Sabrina reported to the 43d Tactical Fighter Squadron on 20 September 2021. F-22 training would start a week later, on 27 September. The first change she noticed was the Tactical Air Command patch on flight suits instead of the Air Education and Training Command patches. There had been talk of shuffling units around, shuttering TAC, Strategic Air Command, and Military Airlift Command, and creating new major commands, but nothing had materialized.

“You’re the one they call ‘Raijū,’ aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Sabrina rapped to the captain next to her. “Sabrina Knox-Jones, Ma’am.”

“Captain Bree Wallace,” the taller blonde said, holding her hand out. “Welcome to the 43d TFS.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. Very glad to be here.”

“We’ll see you next Monday, Knox.” With that curt statement, the captain left the office. Sabrina was left scratching her head at the encounter.

The rest of the week involved getting established on Tyndall. Housing was set; but ensuring their IDs had correct access permissions, knowing where to park, and all the other little details covered took most of their time. She and Tom spent another weekend unpacking at a new residence. Sabrina knew military families did this more than most civilians, but she wasn’t enthused about having to do it so often.

Monday found Sabrina back in a classroom, one with posters of a new set of controls to learn. The thing Sabrina would need to adjust to the most and the fastest, were the side controls of the Raptor. The pilot’s ‘stick’ was mounted on the right side of the cockpit, the throttle to the left. The ejection handle was the only ‘control’ between the pilot’s legs.

Classmates filed in one at a time. Sabrina wasn’t the first student in the room, but not the last either. Her class size was about that of ENJJPT’s, but entirely American in makeup.

“ON YOUR FEET!” came the barked command. Everyone complied immediately.

The instructors milled around, checking out their latest victims. They shook their heads as a group and returned to the front of the classroom. The instructors gave students materials on the F-22 Raptor to study. Students were told to commit data to memory. Sabrina remembered emergency procedures being the main early focus in UPT and vowed to memorize those first.

Tom noticed Sabrina muttering to herself that night. He looked over her shoulder and saw the emergency procedures tabs.

“Gonna be doing standup again?”

“That’s my fear,” Sabrina replied morosely.

“I bet you’d kill it if you did a regular standup routine!”

“Yeah, ‘cause jokes about home invasions get all the laughs!”

“Why are they bringing back UPT standup?”

“New airframe, new procedures to learn, gotta get up to speed quickly.”

“When’s your turn?”

“Sooner than I want it to be, I’m sure.”

Sabrina was right. It happened the next day.

“Knox!” People used the short version of Sabrina’s last name during classes. ‘Knox-Jones’ could be a mouthful at times. “Get up here!”

Sabrina did so, snapped to attention, and the standup routine started. Instructors fired the name of another Raptor emergency procedure as soon as Sabrina finished one.

“Take a seat,” Sabrina heard after reciting a fourth procedure. Much better than “sit down.” That meant you screwed up.

Sabrina sat and let out a long, slow breath of relief. Her eyes narrowed when they fell on Captain Wallace. She didn’t expect to be best friends with any of her instructors. Sabrina expected a bit more … understanding, compassion, empathy, something … from another female. Captain Wallace should understand the pressure Sabrina felt.

“Lieutenant?”

Sabrina knew that voice. She turned and went to attention again.

“Ma’am!”

“At ease, Lieutenant. Please.” Sabrina hesitated but eventually relaxed.

“How may I help you, Ma’am?”

“I’d prefer if we could have a less-uptight relationship than you might be familiar with between student and IP.”

“Why, Ma’am?”

“We’re some of the few female fighter pilots in the Air Force. Yes, military courtesy, the chain of command, and all that, but I’d like to take a softer approach with you if I can, Sabrina. Can I call you Sabrina?” Sabrina nodded yes. “Thanks. I’m one of the primary instructors for the F-22, and you’ll be here until the end of next June or so. We’ll see a lot of each other.”

“Haven’t encountered a female IP outside the academy yet, Ma’am. Not sure how to handle it.”

“There’s a fine line between comfortable interaction and fraternization. As officers, the line’s a bit blurrier. That doesn’t mean we can’t try to get along outside of duty hours. I won’t cut you any slack on learning the aircraft, though. That’s a recipe for disaster down the road.”

“My husband and I would welcome the chance to make friends here. Sheppard was easy. Many of the foreign ENJJPT students brought wives who felt out of place. With the virus, they felt even more isolated, too. We befriended them, made them feel as welcome as we could.”

“It’s not much different here. The Air Force isn’t allowing visitors on-base without a good reason, but married B-course students? Yup.”

“Tom feels awkward in the spousal groups. At least he did at Sheppard.”

“Probably one of the few guys in any of those.”

“He was the only male spouse in ENJJPT. He said some of the talks made him feel left out.”

“He should be glad he doesn’t bleed every month!”

Sabrina laughed at that.

“He did bring that one up.”

“How much more do you have on your in-processing checklist?”

“Still a fair amount, but housing and access aren’t on the list. Tom already has his CAC, and we’re already in a duplex over on Thud.” ‘Thud’ is the nickname of the Republic F-105 Thunderchief, a Vietnam-era fighter. Sabrina’s duplex was on Thunderchief Drive.

“Those are on the older side, but not terrible.”

“I’m sure we’ll learn about terrible on-base housing if I stay in the Air Force for some time.”

“Can I invite you two to dinner off-base tonight? There are some decent places nearby.”

“We’d appreciate it, thanks. We haven’t unpacked the kitchen stuff yet. Just you, or your other as well?”

“Jenna will be glad to meet you both also.”

“When and where?”

“A place called Uncle Ernie’s at 1930? That’ll give us time to get cleaned up, gather our better halves, and meet up.”

“Thanks, Ma’am.”

Uncle Ernie’s was a delight, as was meeting Jenna. The quartet relaxed, enjoyed the sunset, and shared stories until 9:30 that night.

“We should cut this short,” Jenna Jamison said regretfully. She enjoyed spending time with these newcomers. “These two war hawks have an early morning ahead of them.”

“You’re right,” Tom chimed in. “We can at least go back to sleep once they leave the house.”

“A stellar idea, Tom!”

The USAF officers looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

“Is she always so humorless?” Jenna asked Tom while nodding at Sabrina.

“Ask her about The Killing Time at some point,” Tom muttered as he finished his beer. “Kinda colors her outlook on things.” Jenna’s eyes widened as Sabrina’s narrowed.

“Like if you’re sleeping on the couch?”

“See?” Tom asked Jenna as he rose and held Sabrina’s chair. Jenna and Bree laughed when Sabrina pretended to throw Tom an elbow.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Ma’am,” Sabrina said as she turned Tom toward the door. “Jenna, it was great to meet you. I look forward to the next time. That'll be after I find Tom a muzzle, of course.”

Sabrina and Bree Wallace acted as if nothing had changed the following morning. They knew they made friends with each other, but they had to maintain the student-IP relationship at 49th TFS. The rest of the IPs and students learned about the dinner together. They didn’t care so long as things at the 49th remained unchanged.

Sabrina quickly proved she was the best student in the squadron once again. Rapport with the aircraft allowed Sabrina to wring every bit of performance from it. There were times when IPs almost called for Sabrina to stop, but they were also amazed by the new pilot’s ability.

“How do you get that kind of performance from the Raptor?” Dale Connaughton, another of the IPs, asked.

“Can’t really explain it, Sir. I know when to do that stuff.”

“Amazing, Knox. Just use that knowledge judiciously.”

“Understood.”

Sabrina became the go-to person fellow students asked questions of, when by themselves. They asked IPs when present. Sabrina would shrug when her classmates asked about her performance.

The holidays were spent at Tyndall. Once again, they only saw their families online. Both understood this would be the norm during Sabrina’s career, though they wished a better way existed. Their families did, too.

After New Year’s, the training stretched through the Florida coast winter. Tyndall enjoyed nearly the same training-friendly weather as Sheppard, though the landscape was more colorful.

Sabrina pulled farther away from her classmates in total performance score. None were surprised because there was one in almost every class. One unusual item was a new call sign for Sabrina …

“My new call sign is ‘Thud?’“

“It kinda fits, Sabrina,” classmate Joe Sugarman pointed out.

“‘Thud?’ It sounds like I fell on my ass and am the worst pilot ever, Joe!”

“What does Raijū mean?”

“Thunder beast.”

“Thud. Thunderchief. You’re at the top of our class, Sabrina. None of us dispute that or have a problem with that. You’re damned good, Sabrina. So: chief.”

Sabrina sighed and looked down in acceptance. Any further complaining would saddle her with the name forever. If she kept quiet, maybe it would change, later.

She kept her head down and pushed through the rest of the training. The end of June arrived before she knew it.

“What did you put down for preferences, Sabrina?” Frenchie Courtemanche asked.

“Kadena would be my first choice, then Langley, then Lakenheath. Elmendorf is at the bottom of the list.”

“Tired of the snow? You grew up with it.”

“But I’ve been here in the South since graduation, Frenchie.”

Orders came out the same week as graduation.

“Oh …” Sabrina gasped when she read hers.

“Elmendorf?” Jake Tappier asked.

“No.” Sabrina handed him her orders. Jake read them over.

“So, does this mean you need a German language course on CD?”