Hal parked in front of the brand-new building labeled "Academy" and hopped out of his Challenger, not even bothering to lock the door. People here were basically like family. When Hal walked inside, there was no receptionist like at the Wayne-Ferris Academy near Metropolis. Instead, clearly-marked hallways led to the main offices, where Hal was supposed to meet Carl Ferris.
Carl was Hal's father's best friend and boss. He was also the one who founded Ferris Air, and somewhat of a legend in the aircraft engineering business. He wasn't an engineer himself, merely a businessman, but he was smart enough to let the engineers and pilots lead the way while keeping them in line when necessary. Hal always thought of him like an uncle. Probably was closer to Carl than to most of his real family anyway.
Hal stopped at the door with Carl's name on it, knocked casually once, then opened it. Instead of the slightly rotund and aging man Hal expected to see, he found a dark-haired, gorgeous young woman with piercing blue eyes.
The girl almost did a double-take. "Hal?!"
"Carol?!"
Carol Ferris stood up and walked over. "I... what are you doing here?!"
"I transferred here after the thing in Metropolis. Didn't your dad tell you?"
"...No. He didn't."
"That's weird; I thought you'd be the first person he'd tell."
"We were friends when we were eight, Hal. We weren't married."
"Yeah, but still... wow, Carol, I barely recognized you for a minute there."
Carol squinted. "Why?"
Hal glanced her up and down for a second. "Well... you're all hot now."
Carol slapped him hard enough to echo down the hallway.
"I'm your boss now, Hal. Don't you dare try to flirt with me."
Hal rubbed his cheek. "Wait, boss? How? Id've thought you'd be a pilot cadet."
Carol reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her Ferris Air ID. "I am. But I'm also in charge of the entire team of cadets. Including you."
Hal couldn't resist grinning at her.
"What?!" said Carol, frustrated at Hal's complete lack of respect.
"Nothing," Hal replied, "you're just as bossy as you were when you were eight."
Carol might have slapped him again if not for Carl Ferris suddenly walking up from behind Hal.
"Hal!" Carl said, shaking Hal's hand. "Nice to see you back in Coast City!"
Carl eyed the red patch on Hal's face. "I see you and Carol have been catching up."
"Yeah," said Hal. "Fun times."
"Your targets are F-22s," Carl said. The display screen behind him showed a 3D diagram of an F-22 Raptor.
"You'll be flying F-35s. As you probably know, F-22s are superior to F-35s in air-to-air combat, but not by a lot. With enough skill, you might be able to take them down."
The room full of cadets focused intently on Carl's instructions, but Hal wasn't even looking at the screen. Across the darkened briefing room, he'd spotted Jillian Pearlman—Cowgirl—the blonde country girl he met at Wayne-Ferris. Apparently she'd transferred, too. Hal wondered if she followed him on purpose. Then he wondered if that thought made him a narcissist. It probably did.
"Mr. Jordan?" Carl said, snapping Hal's attention back to the front of the class. "Perhaps you'd like to tell us some of the technical specifications of the F-35 in comparison to the F-22."
"Yes, sir," Hal replied quickly. "The F-22 is approximately 50% faster than the F-35, with twice the altitude limit. The F-35's only real advantage in air-to-air combat is its larger fuel supply, which probably won't come into play in most combat situations."
"That's right," Carl said, suppressing a grin. Hal might not be one for strict behavior, but he sure did his homework. "You'll be at a disadvantage in nearly every way, so be ready. Dismissed."
Hal and the rest of the cadets made their way to the hangar, where they strapped into their cockpits and ran through startup procedures. Ten minutes later, they were in the air and ready for combat.
The sky was a mess of chaos. Hal rolled his eyes; most of these cadets had no idea what they were doing. They knew how their planes worked, but they didn't have the feel for them that Hal, Carol, and Cowgirl did.
This is ridiculous, Carol thought. We're flying against automated pilots and we still can't get a shot on them.
"Sapphire, this is Highball. What do you say you, me, and Cowgirl split off and take these guys on by ourselves?"
"Negative, Highball," Carol replied, "we stay with our group."
Hal read the subtext in her voice: Or they'll all get shot down without us.
"We can't avoid target locks and keep using countermeasures forever," Hal insisted. "If we stay on the defensive, we'll never win."
Cowgirl's voice crackled over the comm channel. "Ah'm with Highball on this one, Sapphire."
Carol sighed inwardly. They were probably right. "Okay. Highball, Cowgirl, with me. The rest of you, try to keep yourselves safe."
The trio broke off from the tangle of planes circling each other and curved back around from a different angle.
Hal fired a burst of machine gun fire over the top of an enemy craft, then immediately pitched down and fired a missile. Sure enough, the F-22 ducked reflexively under the brief hail of bullets but slammed right into the missile's path. Hal let out a whoop, and Carol was happy enough to have at least one target down that she didn't scold him.
Cowgirl let a Raptor get on her tail, then dipped, cut the engines, and flipped her plane end-to-end without stopping, effectively flying backwards. She fired off a missile and hit her target dead-on.
"Fancy moves there, Cowgirl," Hal said. "Where you learn to fly like that?"
"My daddy was a stunt pilot; I learned from the best."
"Cut the chatter, ladies," Carol interjected as she landed a hit on an enemy F-22. "Highball, you've got one on your tail. Watch it."
Hal dodged back and forth a bit, diving into a few corkscrews and even a couple of those drifting tricks that Cowgirl made look so easy, but this particular pilot couldn't be shaken. All the usual options were out; it was time to try something a little crazy. Hal let the enemy creep up on him from behind, slowly closing the distance. Hal cut his engines and pitched up slightly, suddenly dragging backward along a path that would take him right over the enemy. But, of course, Hal knew that wouldn't work. This pilot seemed a bit too good. He wouldn't fall for one of the oldest tricks in the book. Instead of letting the plane fall behind the F-22, Hal punched his engines to maximum thrust right as he flew over the target, blasting the Raptor with 34 tons of fiery force. The F-22 spun downward like a swatted fly and exploded before it hit the ground.
Something clicked in Hal's mind. These enemy pilots were literally unable to account for more than a few potential threats at a time. They were completely unprepared for unorthodox tactics. Hal turned back toward the tangle of fighters and dove in, skipping from target to target, firing a missile here and a burst of cannon fire there. He pushed the F-35 to its limit, running at full speed while twisting in every which direction. Eventually, Hal tried to pull the plane into a sharp climb but the plane simply stopped, drifting forward. Hal pulled and pulled on the stick, but it wouldn't move. Finally, Hal's plane slammed into an F-22 and exploded.
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