“Nothing.” It wasn’t that he had anything in particular to say to her. It was that he was remembering the day she’d been given the call sign.
Sometimes, call signs could be almost disparaging, given at the comedic expense of the recipient. Like Stem, for example, who was given the name because after two beers, every part of his brain except the stem shut down. Or Frag, who was the social equivalent of a hand grenade. Alegria was the opposite.
Her call sign meant joy, happiness, and even freedom.
His first solo had been technically perfect. He told himself over and over again not to mess up. He was procedurally focused in his clinical approach. It was only after he saw the look on Manon’s face when she climbed out of the aircraft after her first solo that he realized he’d done it all wrong.
What he saw was unadulterated joy. She’d slipped the surly bonds of earth, and flown. When the Portuguese pilot standing next to him murmured alegria, Mantis immediately knew it should be her call sign.
When he stepped forward to spray her with the requisite Champagne, he’d also bestowed on her the name most knew her by.
Where was that joy now? That happiness? That sense of freedom? Where was the fiery Flygirl he’d done battle with again and again as they competed over everything from aeronautical engineering grades to PT scores?
That was the woman he wanted back. The last time he’d seen her was right before he told her he was taking the mission she’d asked him not to.
It was time to prepare for their descent and landing. Once they were on the ground, he planned to do everything he could to get that Alegria back. Even if she couldn’t be his.
His first landing of the SF50 was terrible. He flared too high, and his recovery was ham-handed, too. The entire approach was kin to Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, with multiple episodes of plus or minus ten-knot wind shear and squirrely, gusty winds once they arrived above the tarmac.
The good news was that even with the high flare, a short recovery, and a bit of a bounce, he still used less than half of the runway’s length—in spite of, not because of, his brilliant technique.
“That…was…pitiful.” Alegria was laughing so hard she could hardly speak, and soon he was too.
“Wait until you try to land this thing,” he challenged.
“I wouldn’t have to try very hard to do better than that,” she said, wiping away her tears of laughter. “Jesus, how long did you say it had been since you flew?”
There she was, he thought to himself as she continued spewing trash talk. By the time she got her clearance to fly again, instead of getting a momentary glimpse of the woman she used to be before he took away her joy, he’d do everything in his power to give it all back to her.
—:—
“I had to see your face to believe you were really coming with him,” Mantis’ mother shouted as she ran down the steps of their front porch. “Come here, sweet girl.”
When Minnie Cassman put her arms around Alegria, she almost cried. It had been almost two years since she last saw Mantis’ family, and until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed their warmth and affection.
“Kip couldn’t wait up any longer. He asked me to tell you he’d see you both in the morning.”
“Hi, Mom,” said Mantis as his mom wrapped him in a hug like she had Alegria.
“I don’t care how he managed it, I’m just glad you’re here,” said Minnie, linking her arm with Alegria’s as they walked up the steps. “I heard you had quite an ordeal. When was your surgery?”
She really didn’t like to talk about it, or the gunshot that had necessitated it, but Minnie had a way of getting her to.
“I’ve been out of the hospital a little over a month. They couldn’t operate right away. They had to wait until my condition stabilized.” Alegria told Minnie about her time in the ICU and about how rigorous physical therapy had been.
At one point, she looked over at Mantis, whose expression was one of awe.
“What?” she asked.
“I didn’t realize how bad it was,” he said quietly.
“Well, it explains the neuropathy, I guess.”
“What’s this?”
Soon Alegria was explaining what had happened at her last checkup, something she hadn’t gone into detail with anyone about.
“I’ve volunteered to help her get her medical clearance.”