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Maverick and Goose have been paired up since flight school when their instructors discovered they were both the same flavor of batshit. It wasn't intentional on their part, but once Nick volunteered himself to fly with Duke Mitchell's kid after rescuing him from an ass-whooping the night before, there was no denying they'd permanently bonded themselves together.
However, because of this, neither of them ever realized their instructors were purposely giving them the sketchiest plane in the hangar. Pete, who already had his pilot's license long before arriving at flight school, knew every plane behaved a little differently, and he thought this was an extension of that. When he'd ask a question about certain aspects of the plane, he was assured it was completely normal.
So, when they were finally placed in an F-14 Tomcat and had their names stenciled on it, there were many things neither of them knew weren't normal.
Certain breakers shouldn't require Nick to nudge them in place again every minute and a half to "keep them calibrated."
The F-14 flight controls shouldn't heavily favor one side or the other.
The landing gear should not stick for a couple seconds at the halfway point when extending or retracting.
Hydraulics should not need an excessive amount of adjustment before each and every flight.
It didn't make a difference to them, because they were used to their planes having these "quirks" and assumed they were all like that. They adjusted accordingly and flew around them. They had no idea the Navy was waiting for them to fail only to be unpleasantly surprised by their triumphant return.
This all changed when they came to Top Gun and got a new F-14.
"Uh.... Goose?"
Goose sounds just as unnerved as Maverick. "Yeah, Mav?"
"Is there something weird about this plane, or is that just me?" Maverick says, staring blankly at the fuel gauge that he didn't have to tap on to get it to come on. Maybe it's a new model? "You adjusted the-"
"It was fine," his RIO responds. "Didn't have to change it."
Maverick glances over at their ground crew, taxiing on their command and frowning when his throttle lever doesn't hitch. That can't be safe. "Okay...?"
Goose fiddles around a little in the back while they move out to the runway, and when they finally get lined up, he says, "The fuses back here are really tight, Mav. I mean, seriously, like zero play in any of them. Everything working okay up there?"
"I guess. It's definitely... off? Strange?"
"It's beeping at me," Goose mutters. "I don't like it."
Pushing down his unease, Maverick gets a green light for takeoff and gets them in the air. There's no mild hiccup when they hit two-hundred knots, and the landing gear retracts smoothly without stopping. Goose opens comms with a slight noise of discontent.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just.... This thing is weird, Mav."
Mav hums. "I know. It can fly a straight line for a while without my hand on the stick. And there's no clicking noise under my console."
"No, really, Mav. Like, the radar is beeping. We aren't even tone-locked. The only thing here is Jester's plane. I don't know what's wrong with it."
Jester's voice crosses over the line with slight concern. "What are you boys on about? That's normal."
"Respectfully, sir, this plane is not normal," Mav insists.
"Explain."
Goose snorts. "Well, besides the beeping, I barely had to adjust anything during preflight. Makes me nervous to feel like I didn't actually do anything. And the breakers don't move. I'm supposed to push those every once and a while, but there's no give to 'em."
Mav rocks their F-14 side to side, disconcerted. "I have an entire list, sir. The throttle and stick move without much friction, the landing gear didn't stop in the middle, the fuel gauge isn't touch-"
"Again, that's normal. It's supposed to be like that. And what the hell is a 'touch' fuel gauge?"
"As in, I touch it to wake it up, sir?"
Jester is quiet for a long time. "Bear with me for a minute here, Mitchell, but why don't you show me what you were talking about with the stick."
"Uh...." Mav levels out and lets go of it, letting the F-14 proceed on its merry way without issue. "Just this, sir. It's kinda supposed to cant to the right. You know? Like cars to avoid oncoming traffic? This one just kinda flies straight until I hit some wind resistance or something."
"Lieutenant, I'm not sure what exactly your experience has been thus far with an F-14, but I assure you, that plane is working perfectly fine. That's how they're supposed to fly."
Goose huffs. "Next, you'll be telling us the radar doesn't need a cool-down every ten minutes."
Jester goes quiet again. When he does speak, his voice sounds strained. "Run that one by me again, Goose?"
"You know, a cool-down, because if I don't switch it off for a couple minutes every once in a while, it gets hot and shorts out. That one's not really in the NATOPs, so we went through a few different fuses before I figured it out, and it works perfectly fine now."
"Land."
"Sir?"
"Land your damn plane, Mitchell."
"Sir, our hop-"
Jester cuts him off, sounding angrier by the second. "I don't give a damn about the hop, kid. Put your plane on the ground right this second!"
Maverick does as he's told. He and Goose skulk over to their instructor, standing at attention and waiting for some kind of scolding. Instead, the older aviator leads them off to Viper's office and demands they explain the whole mess with their new F-14. So, Pete does.
Goose and Maverick watch their CO slowly but surely grow pale.
Then, after a long period of silence, Viper leans forward in his seat and picks up the phone, dialing and holding up a singular finger to tell them to be silent. "Yes, hello. I need to get word to Tom Jardian of the USS Enterprise.... Yes.... It's a matter of urgency, sir." He pauses while the person on the other end speaks. "Yes. I need you to tell him not to let anyone near Lieutenant Mitchell's plane pending an investigation. I have the sinking suspicion that if anyone so much as looks at it wrong, it might explode.... I'd like security posted if possible, and I want the agent afloat briefed."
Mav blinks, sharing a look with Goose out of the corner of his eye.
After a few more minutes of talking, Viper puts the phone down and leans back with a sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
Viper arches a brow. He looks mildly amused by the fact that Maverick bothered to ask. After a short period of consideration, he twitches his mustache and clicks his tongue. "Granted, Lieutenant Mitchell."
"What was that about? Respectfully."
"You want the honest answer?"
Maverick dares to meet Viper's eyes, his brows creasing. "Sir?"
The older aviator puffs out another, much wearier, sigh. "The honest answer, son, is that I believe the Navy as a whole has violated the code of ethics and covered up the fact that they are trying to kill you."
Goose jolts. "What?"
"Seeing as you believe all of these details you've given me are everyday behavior for a military plane, I'm under the impression that anything you've raised a potential complaint about from flight school to now has been explained to you as commonplace. Let me assure you it is not. Every plane has its quirks, but these? These are not quirks, lieutenants. These are malfunctions that should long ago have been fixed."
Maverick shifts anxiously. "Are we in trouble, sir?"
Viper smiles weakly and shakes his head. "No. No, you're not in trouble, but I am going to make some calls and get a full work-up of your plane just to see what other things might be going on that the technicians seem to have glossed over. As for your hops, well...."
"You won't kick us out, sir?" Goose asks lowly, sounding worried.
"Kick you out?" Viper's brows shoot up. "Why would I do that? On the contrary, I'd love to see how you fly in a plane that isn't held together with spit and an ace bandage. This situation was simply a precaution, and Commander Heatherly and I will ensure your current plane receives the proper maintenance."
Maverick relaxes. "Thank you, sir."
"That said, I do expect you to train on the simulators here before you go up again. I'll now be operating under the impression that any you've used in the past have been jerry-rigged to blow and you escaped by sheer luck, incredible dumbassery, or any combination of the two."
"Is dumbassery a technical term, sir?"
Viper smirks at him, his eyes warm and fond. "Yes, lieutenant. It is. Now, why don't you and Goose head out and get changed? I'll reschedule your hop for tomorrow when the others are getting homework. I trust you'll be able to handle the catch-up?"
"Yes, sir," they promise.
"Good. Dismissed."
As soon as they leave and the door swings shut behind them, Goose looks at Maverick with wide eyes. "What the hell, Mav?"
Mav blows out a breath. "You're telling me. That escalated fast."
Goose nods, wrapping an arm around Maverick's shoulders and steering him toward the locker rooms. He glances around the hall before murmuring, "I know the Navy doesn't like you much, but do you really think...? Would they...?"
"Wouldn't shock me," Mav shrugs. "Everyone's been waiting for me to either fail or turn out like my dad, so I wouldn't put it past them to try to guarantee it."
"Holy shit, Pete. I mean, holy shit."
"No kidding."
The two of them enter the locker room together, finding the other guys talking about their hops with Jester. Wolfman grins and laughs as he tells the harrowing tale of the commander's disappearing act.
"How about you two?" Slider asks. "Did the infamous Maverick get Jester?"
Goose shrugs with a bright smile on his face. "Nah. Didn't even get to finish the hop. Turns out that we were the target of a huge conspiracy to commit murder and no one knew until today, so they had to ground us temporarily and put a call out to the Big E to lock down our plane."
Even Iceman stops at that. "... Is that some kind of joke?"
"We wish, man." Goose kicks off his boots with a sigh. They may not have completed the entire hop, but it still gets hot under all the gear.
"Wait, so what's wrong with your other plane?" Slider asks.
Mav shrugs, not really wanting to share the full extent of just how much bullshit he and Goose have been fed about their plane. "A lot."
"And you didn't notice?" Ice leans back against his locker with crossed arms, a skeptical brow raised high.
"Oh, we noticed," Goose assures him. "Every instructor and tech we've ever mentioned anything to would tell us it was fine, and Viper is pretty sure it's because they all wanted Mav to burn in."
Slider shoots the tiny aviator a concerned look. "That's fucked up."
"It's not like I'm not used to it by now."
"Now that is fucked up," Hollywood asserts. "Not only were the techs letting shit slide left and right and telling you it was fine, but you're used to that kind of thing? That happens a lot?"
Mav hikes his shoulders defensively. "What the hell do you care?"
Wood raises his hands in surrender. "Whoa, geez. Sor-"
Ice cuts the other pilot's pending apology off at the knees. "Don't apologize. You have a point. If it's happening that much, we have every right to be concerned. No offense, Mav, but if they've messed with your plane, Viper probably has a point, too."
"It's not a big deal," Mav says weakly, his breaths drawing short when the guys step closer. "Seriously, back off!"
Goose squeezes his shoulder and lifts a hand, barring the others from him. "Whoa, fellas. He's keyed up enough without you trying to corner him. We both just had an unpleasant shock and interrogating him won't make him feel safer."
All of them ease off in an instant, apologies flowing freely. Mav changes as quick as possible, ready to slink away from the locker rooms when a hand lands on his shoulder. It's bigger than Goose's.
"Hey," Slider says, something new and oddly soft veiled in his eyes. "You want, like, ice cream or something?"
Mav blinks in confusion. "What?"
"Ice cream sounds fantastic, Sli," Goose answers, slinging his arm around Mav's shoulders and coaxing a grin out of his pilot. "You want chocolate, right?"
"I-...." At Goose's insistent look, Mav caves instantly. "Yeah, sure."
"Come on, Ice," Slider says, beaming. "We're headed to the nearest ice cream place."
Wolf and Wood tag along. Goose drives and Mav takes shotgun so he can see where they're going. The guys all probably think they're being subtle in the back as they discuss how messed up Mav's situation is, but when Goose cranes his neck to tell them to shut up about it already, Mav stops him. As difficult as the situation they've found themselves in is, it almost sounds to Mav like the other guys care. It doesn't make any sense, because, while some people are a little insulted by the way the majority of the Navy regard him, most treat him with mild indifference.
This? This kind of thing is entirely new to Mav.
So, he's confused when Slider snatches his wallet away when he tries to pay and treats him to ice cream himself. He's confused the next day when Hollywood accompanies him and Goose to the simulators. He's confused two days after that when Wolfman brings them a copy of the notes from the classes they missed. Mav is certainly confused when Viper's investigative team returns his plane stateside at the end of the week and Iceman volunteers himself and Slider to sit in the cockpit and troubleshoot with the tech team.
Mav has never heard so many 'what the fucks' in a row. He peers dubiously at the medics standing nearby waiting for something to explode.
"What's our timer at?"
Slider's voice crosses over the radio Goose and Maverick are listening to from inside the hangar. For all they wheedled, Viper refused to let them get any closer than visual range, his reasoning being that if they were present and helping, things they see as 'normal' would get skipped again rather than captured for the record. "Eleven minutes. Radar screen's hot, just like Goose said. It hasn't shorted yet-.... Nevermind."
Viper's voice, faint over the whine of the engines, crosses the line. "Well, Kazansky? Would it fly?"
"Obviously, it would since Mav's been doing it for at least two years, but I personally would like to live. So, from a well-advised person's point of view, I'm going to say no. Maintenance in this thing is substandard at best. That clicking noise in the console? I finally found it, and it's a dead fucking cockroach rattling under the dials, and those bastards are near invincible. The only thing keeping this jet in one piece at this point is Maverick and Goose."
Okay. Maybe that shouldn't make Mav feel proud, but it does. He and Goose kept their plane in the air by sheer force of will and pure stubbornness. The brass wanted Mav dead, but here he still is.
Fuck 'em.
"All right, gentlemen, that's enough. Between the boys' edited NATOPS they turned in for evidence and this disaster of a systems check, I've got more than enough. I'll put a call in to Stinger and have him arrest anyone who had access to this poor thing for maintenance purposes. Not to mention a few other people from previous assignments and certain flight instructors. Shut her down."
"Yes, sir."
The line goes dead.
Before long, the hangar swarms with techs, and Slider and Ice run over to Maverick and Goose, their eyes wide and horrified as they chatter over one another about everything wrong with their plane. Maverick flushes red when Slider praises them for surviving, and Ice calls the pair of them evil geniuses for thwarting the Navy at their own game.
Goose merely grins, a feral look in his eyes that Ice and Slider have never seen before. The Navy messed with the wrong pilot, that's for damn sure. "You know what they say, fellas. All is fair in love and war. And this? This is war."