Page 90 of Moonlight Feels Right
"That will be enough."
"I hope so."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Friday morning dawned clear and bright, perfect flying weather. Hunter arrived at the airfield at 0900, his stomach tight with anticipation. This was it—the final hurdle before the review board. An actual flight with his CO, Colonel Sullivan, observing and testing not just his skills but his psychological readiness to return to duty.
"Good morning, Captain," Sullivan greeted him on the tarmac. "Ready to get back in the saddle?"
"Yes, sir."
Sullivan gestured to the AH-1Z Viper helicopter waiting on the pad. "She's fueled up and ready to go. Maintenance checked her out this morning—she's in perfect condition."
Hunter's gaze moved over the aircraft, taking in the sleek lines, the efficient design, the same type of helicopter he'd flown the night of the crash. Sullivan clearly wanted to make sure he could handle the memories.
"Pre-flight checklist is complete," Sullivan continued. "You'll be pilot in command. I'll be monitoring and occasionally directing the exercise. Lieutenant Danson will be your copilot today."
A young woman in a flight suit approached, offering him a crisp salute. "Lieutenant Maria Danson, sir. Looking forward to flying with you, Captain Kane."
Hunter returned the salute. "Likewise, Lieutenant."
As the lieutenant moved toward the helicopter to prepare for the flight, Sullivan said, "Danson is one of our best new pilots. Graduated top of her class last year. Reminds me a bit of you when you were coming up. She's meticulous and highly skilled."
Hunter nodded, happy to hear that, but it felt strange to be the veteran now, flying with someone who had no doubt heard about his crash, who might be wondering if he was still reliable.
"The flight plan is straightforward," Sullivan continued. "Standard patrol route, then some tactical maneuvers at the designated training area. I want to see how you handle the aircraft, how you communicate with your copilot, and how you respond to any challenges I might throw your way."
"Understood, sir."
"One more thing, Kane." Sullivan's expression grew serious. "I know what today means to you. Don't overthink it. Just fly the damn helicopter."
"Yes, sir."
Minutes later, Hunter sat in the pilot's seat, completing his pre-flight checks. Everything felt simultaneously foreign and intimately familiar—the vibration of the engine, the smell of hydraulic fluid, the weight of the helmet on his head. His hands moved to the controls, the touch of them like greeting an old friend. He could do this.
He radioed the tower, following standard communication protocol. Then he took off. As they ascended, the base spread out beneath them, the Pacific Ocean just ahead. For the next hour, he guided the helicopter along the patrol route, acclimating to the aircraft's responses, rebuilding the intuitive connection between pilot and machine. Lieutenant Danson proved to be a capable copilot, anticipating his needs and maintaining clear communication.
As they entered the designated training area—a remote section of the base used for tactical exercises—Sullivan's voice came over the comms, instructing him to demonstrate tactical maneuvering. He took the helicopter through a series of complex maneuvers—low-level flight, rapid ascents and descents, tight turns that pressed them against their harnesses.
Then Sullivan asked him to make a humanitarian drop, with heavy fire expected from the ridge to his three o'clock. His heart hammered against his ribs as he knew that Sullivan wanted him to experience the same circumstances as the night of the crash. Only that night, there had been no heavy fire expected. If there had been, he would have acted differently.
As his tension increased, he heard Gary's voice in his head. You didn't do anything wrong then, and you're not doing anything wrong now. Just fly the way you know how to fly.
His tension eased. Gary was right. He just needed to do what he'd done a thousand times before.
"Simulated hostile fire from the ridge," Sullivan announced. "Evasive action."
He banked hard, dropping altitude, his body moving on instinct honed by years of training. The maneuver was textbook perfect and so was the rest of the exercise. When it was over, he returned to base, the landing precise and controlled. After exiting the helicopter, he thanked Lieutenant Danson and then turned to Colonel Sullivan.
"Good job, Kane," Sullivan said. "I'll send my report to the review board. Good luck."
"Thank you, sir."
Sullivan's two simple words were apparently all he was going to get, but it didn't really matter, because he knew he'd executed all commands correctly and with confidence.
Now, the board would decide his fate. He couldn't imagine they wouldn't clear him for duty. He'd passed every test, and he knew he was ready, both physically and mentally. But whatever happened, it was going to change his life in a significant way.
Emmalyn got off work on Friday afternoon, feeling like she was living through the longest week of her life. Hunter had texted her that his flight went well, and she'd been happy to hear that, but she knew the final hurdle was this afternoon when he went before the review board. It certainly seemed like Hunter would be released for active duty, which meant he'd be leaving. But she didn't know where he'd go or how soon.
