Out of Depth
Caitlyn was trained to complete night operations with nothing but the night-vision goggles built into her helmet.
She was trained to push her jet to the peak of exhaustion to complete a mission by any means possible.
She was trained to obliterate targets with precisely-aimed Sidewinder missile bombings as Mach-2 speeds, then to circle around to do it again.
She was trained on ironsight firings, letting her aiming system go deadeye, just in case it ever happened in the real world (which was a very real possibility).
But trying to tame an unruly aviator who thought her shit didn’t stink and refused to obey commands?
There were no textbooks, no training manuals, no virtual reality simulators that could ever prepare Caitlyn for that.
And suffice to say, she was well out of her depth.
First impressions meant everything to Caitlyn; a lot more than the regular individual would weigh up. And her first impression of Lieutenant Violet Vanderson was that she could feel the heat radiating from her eyeballs as she stared her down during the captain’s first arrival to their classroom.
In another world, this contact, this attention, should have made Caitlyn flush and flounder with her words. By no means was Vi difficult on the eyes; perfectly capped shoulders popped out of her service khaki shirt, the sleeves rippling to contain the bulging biceps beneath. Intricately designed tattoos snaked from her triceps, barely peeking out beneath the hem of her shirt, following up her back, leaving plenty to the imagination, all the way up to a single gear design inked into her neck (Caitlyn assumed that the Zaun Navy had different regulations when it came to visible tattoos on-duty; the Royal Piltovian Air Force’s rule was that if a tattoo was visible in a passport photo, you’d need it removed or be dishonourably discharged).
Vi had the tiniest scar on her right upper lip, which fluttered whenever her face contorted into that infamous shit-eating grin she kept flashing every other second. Her hair, unruly as the girl beneath it, was a shade between pink and red. Ridiculously straight white teeth which flashed every time Vi so effortlessly laughed or smiled with her fellow aviators.
If they had met anywhere else, perhaps a bar or coffee shop, Caitlyn would have without a doubt had the guile to stare right back. Perhaps even approach her, ask for her number, take her on a date and maybe even bed her.
All those fantasies of an alternate reality were shattered as soon as Vi came out with her first flippant mark. Then the next.
It disintegrated completely when she broke the simulated dogfight rules by dropping below the hard deck without a second thought.
There was a nagging sensation deep in Caitlyn’s cortex that spurred her to prove a point against the rebellious pilot; an inferno which blazed much harder for Vi than any of the other aviators enlisted in the Top Gun programme. Not just because she was a little shit, and had a clear problem with authority, but because Caitlyn knew what she was capable of.
After their first encounter Caitlyn had taken the time to review each candidate’s personal and military record, taking extra long on Vi and Ekko’s files. For research purposes, obviously.
Lieutenant Ekko Lanes was Vi’s wingman, and by stringing the two of their files together, Caitlyn gathered that they’d been together for a very long time, working hard and well like two peas in a pod. Ekko’s file was flawless. Incredible training scores in all aspects of his trade training as a weapons operator, countless successful missions, commemorations and medals awarded by the Zaun Navy for skill and bravery.
It was Vi’s record which dragged them both down. While her mission logs were relatively impressive, it was the large list of formal warning and advisories which the pilot had been given which tarnished an otherwise impeccable track history. Every disciplinary action taken against her revolved around one of three things: foul language, disobeying direct orders, or lack of respect for the chain of command. It painted a very clear, very daunting picture.
Lieutenant Vanderson didn’t like authority, and authority didn’t like Lieutenant Vanderson.
Which of course explained her stinking attitude towards the captain.
It was there that Caitlyn learned exactly why the pair had been sent to Top Gun, too. For pulling a dangerous stunt way too close for comfort against one of Piltover’s own. Caitlyn had heard whispers within the ranks of what had happened. She had found it quite amusing at first, but all that humour was swiped when she realised that it was Vi who had pulled it off.
The Zaun Navy had sent Vi and Ekko to Top Gun as a last resort; not just because they were good pilots. And if Vi didn’t pass the rigorous training, Caitlyn had no doubt in her mind that Vi’s naval career would well and truly be done.
She felt pangs of empathy for both of them. Mainly Ekko, who she presumed had little to no input on Vi’s dangerous stunts; there wasn’t much you could do from the backseat. But she felt sorry for Vi too, because she knew what passion looked like, and could tell just from her face how much being a pilot meant to her.
There was another mystery shrouding her report, however. Vi’s callsign: Vanguard.
Every other aviator had a brief description of their nickname and how they obtained it. For obscene stories, they were mainly watered down or had an entirely different recollection, but for Vi’s the field was just blank. No explanation, just white space.
Another piece of the puzzle missing. And if Caitlyn loved anything, it was solving intricacies.
Unlike the other officers, Caitlyn had no quarrel with her own callsign. When she went off to flight school, she was terrified she’d end up with a hideous or demeaning nickname, one that would make her shrivel up with defeat whenever someone asked for the backstory.
There were plenty of features the captain didn’t like about herself which would make easy pickings for a derogatory callsign. Every possible combination had run through her mind in an anxious flurry. She awaited something like Longlegs on account of her height, or Rabbit, poking fun at the slightest gap between her two front teeth. She half-expected a nickname to stem from her mother’s position on the council, too, like Princess or Nepo.
But when she’d moved into her first unit, and her fellow pilots saw her fly, saw the perfectly laid-out hitsheet she came out of every dogfight she was in, there was no room for demeaning callsigns or crappy nicknames.
Thus Killshot was born.
Caitlyn was a menace in the air. Anyone with a remote inkling of aerial knowledge could see that. But getting people to listen to her? In particular, unruly Zaunite pilots with clear issues with authority?
Oh, it was a whole other kettle of fish.
***
At the first review of the simulated dogfight from two days ago, Vi was still pissed off.
Pissed off because Caitlyn had humiliated her in front of everyone. Pissed off because she only dropped 200 feet, yet the captain acted as if she’d veered their jet straight into the side of a boulder in a fiery inferno. Pissed off because she felt defeated, even though under any other circumstance, they would have won that dogfight fair and square.
Indistinct murmurs rippled through the stuffy classroom. Each pilot had sat themselves at the same desk they’d found on the first day, off pure instinct, talking amongst each other while they awaited the arrival of their instructor.
Vi had gotten to class earlier than usual. Not particularly by choice, but she’d finished her morning workout quicker than expected, and didn’t see the point in traipsing back to her dorm just to come back in the same direction. So, after washing and dressing, she headed straight to the training room.
As she pushed through the door, she expected to be the only one here this early, the only one ready to bear the brunt of whatever lecture Caitlyn was about to give.
But as she entered, and saw the back of Jayce’s head hunched over his own desk flicking through an F35 training manual, she felt a stab of guilt.
Jayce Talis wasn’t just a good aviator; he was a good man. Helpful, always wanting to do the right thing, offering advice and mentorship to those around him even if they didn’t have the guts to ask.
And Vi had lashed out at him over a stupid joke. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The lieutenant stumbled into the classroom, awkwardly trudging over to her seat in front of him. “Hey,” she mumbled as she passed.
Jayce looked up and didn’t say anything. He gave her a tight nod before looking back down at the manual.
Vi dropped down into her seat and folded her arms over her chest. She wasn’t the best at apologies, a fact about herself she’d learnt the hard way many times before.
“I’m, uh, I’m sorry for the other day,” she finally managed to spit out. She swung her arm over the back of her chair and twisted around to face him.
Jayce’s gaze flickered up momentarily from his page. “S’okay, Vi,” he said gently. “You aren’t wrong. I’m working on it though.”
An air of awkward silence settled between them, before he added with a thin-half smile at the corner of his lips, “Besides, I’ll get you back when we get to dogfighting against each other.”
Vi huffed a laugh, shoulders relaxing as the tension eased. “You’ll have to catch me first, Talis.”
“That I can do,” he muttered absentmindedly before returning to his paperwork.
Not long after that, the rest of the trainees trailed in, followed shortly by Captain Kiramman.
The captain strode straight to the front of the class, avoiding the glares and stares from the other pilots. She stood tall, arms tucked behind her back in an at-ease position. Beady eagle eyes flittered between the rows of faces before she began to speak.
“Good morning, all,” she greeted curtly; the last bit of warmth before she jumped straight into her lecture.
“Not a single group was able to shoot me down on our previous training mission. One group came close, however their result is barred on the premise that they dropped below the hard deck.”
She shot a painfully obvious look to Vi before continuing.
“One thing I noticed about each of your flights is that many of you were not aware of my position until I was within firing distance. This isn’t on account of the fact I was hidden; I presented myself plenty of times and gave lots of opportunities to be spotted before honing in for the kill. Once again, only one group were able to see me before I was within target distance.”
Vi’s eyebrows furrowed. Was she talking about them again?
Caitlyn inhaled, nostrils flaring. “It’s been made clearly obvious to me that not enough of you are utilising your weapons operators to their full extent. They aren’t just your guns up there; they’re your eyes and ears, too. And for the weapons operators, if you were to know that, plenty of you would have spotted me; perhaps even before I spotted you.”
A fury of whispers broke out between the respective pilots and operators. The captain raised a palm to silence them.
“For your next training session, we will be conducting formation flying. A standard echelon; four jets up in the air at once. Only this time, the visors of your helmets will be restricted so that only your operators will have a clear field of view.”
More murmuring rose from the trainees again, much louder this time. Vi groaned and ran her fingers through her hair. She and Ekko had been working in tangent with each other; wasn’t collective punishment a crime under the Geneva Convention?
“Before you finish for the day, I ask all pilots to drop their helmets off at the armoury. You will be permitted to collect them once again before we commence our next session. And now, I offer you all an early dismissal; I’m sure that there’s plenty of things you can all be working on.”
The sound of chairs scraping and disgruntled huffing filled the classroom as the pilots began to trickle out one-by-one. Vi got up to leave, before a voice called out to her.
“Vanderson, stay behind for a tick?”
Not a question. An order.
Ekko’s worried gaze met Vi’s, who just chuckled airily and shrugged. “Meet you outside, Little Man.”
The lieutenant dropped back into her seat just as the last few stragglers left. The room plunged into silence, interrupted only by Caitlyn dragging the office chair from behind her desk around to be in front of Vi.
Caitlyn settled into the seat quietly, folding one leg over the other. It was the first time Vi had seen her so relaxed, so laid-back. Maybe she wasn’t here for a chew out.
“It was a smart move you pulled up there,” the captain said bluntly, piercing cerulean eyes grazing over Vi.
Vi huffed a laugh. “Textbook cobra, Cap. Should’ve seen it coming.”
“Perhaps if the hard-deck was 500 feet lower, I would have,” Cait shot back relentlessly.
The lieutenant just grunted and folded her arms over her chest defiantly. Her eyes rolled. “I saw an opportunity. Took it. Trust me, if the hard-deck was real ground, I wouldn’t be so stupid as to go into it.”
Caitlyn’s lips pursed. The topic of conversation shifted. “You don’t like me.”
Barking a laugh, the lieutenant shuffled in her seat, finally looking back at the instructor. “It’s not that I don’t like you, captain. I just think you’re a hardass.”
Cait hummed. “So, your files aren’t lying.”
“How the f- how the Hell have you got our files?”
It was Caitlyn’s turn to laugh now: dry and humourless. “Of course I’ve got your files, Lieutenant. Anyway, I’m not here for you to like me; I’m here to teach you how to be a better pilot. That’s not the lesson you need, though, Vanderson.”
Vi sneered. “What lesson do I need, then?”
“You need to learn where you stand on the pecking order. Which, in case you didn’t realise, isn’t all too high at the moment.”
Suddenly, Caitlyn’s glare softened, and she leant in ever so slightly.
“You’re a formidable pilot, Vi. And I can tell you worked hard to get where you are today. Don’t fuck this up because your ego can’t take a little bruising.”
The curse-word, and her actual name, slipping so casually from the captain’s lips made Vi’s eyebrows shoot up with surprise. She opened her mouth to respond, but Caitlyn interjected.
“You’re dismissed.”
Vi stood up, offered the captain a salute, and left the classroom. On her way back to the dorms to find Ekko, she couldn’t stop replaying their conversation.
And couldn’t stop the confusion as to why there was a sudden burning pit of something settled deep in her stomach.