Trophy by Julian Jay Savarin

Starfighter had got away.
    “Knock it off, knock it off,” the nailed Eagle hadthen called disgustedly, using the prescribed signal for termination of an engagement.
    As the two Italians now headed towards Rimini, Baldassare said: “How does it feel, Capitano ‘E1 Greco,’ to have zapped the mighty Eagle?”
    Bagni knew his wingman was gleeful. A small legend was in the making. Bagni decided to enter into the spirit of things.
    “Just a normal day’s work for an artist.”
    “Oh to be a great sky magician,” Baldassare began wistfully. “What are we poor ordinary pilots to …”
    “Check my tail!” Bagni interrupted suddenly, voice sharp.
    Though taken by surprise, Baldassare immediately positioned himself behind the other aircraft in order to do a visual inspection.
    “There’s nothing wrong with your tail.”
    “The fire warning light is giving me the slow blink. Have a good look.”
    Seconds passed tensely while Baldassare carefully manoeuvred his aircraft as he gave Bagni’s tail a more detailed scrutiny.
    “Still nothing. No extra smoke.” The J79 turbojet often tended to leave a slight trail. “Perhaps you’ve got a malfunction with the light.”
    “I hope so. Keep with it and warn me the moment you see anything.”
    Baldassare acknowledged.
    Fire is every pilot’s horror and in a fast jet, withall that high-octane fuel about, it is even more so. Given his own secret battle with landing, it was Bagni’s worst nightmare come true. He crossed himself, praying devoutly that someone had not checked the light properly. Already, despite his terror, his mind was clinically assessing the choices of action if there was indeed an incipient fire.
    “Still nothing,” came Baldassare’s voice.
    Bagni made a wry grimace in his mask. He was being repaid for being so unashamedly pleased by the Eagle pilot’s discomfiture. Still, it felt good to take an Ego Driver down a peg now and then. The chance did not come very often.
    “How is it looking?” he now asked his wingman.
    “Still clean. And the light?”
    “I’ve still got it. Engine temperature’s normal, so far.” Perhaps he would make it down all right, after all. He didn’t fancy ejecting, but that would be better than trying to land with a burning engine that might die at any moment.
    He checked his instruments. All had normal readings. If they were to be believed, the engine appeared to be in perfect health. He told himself to remain calm. He could not ignore the winking light, but he would not let it panic him.
    As if on cue, Baldassare’s voice said in his ear: “You’re still looking good.”
    Bagni decided to warn Rimini of a possibleemergency. “Striker One to Goddess,” he began, using the day’s call sign. “Striker One to Goddess.”
    “We have you, Striker One.”
    “I have a fire warning. Repeat. A fire warning.”
    He could almost see the sudden stiffening in those who’d heard that message and knew its implications. When the voice came on again, it was measured, as if trying hard not to spook him.
    “Roger, Striker One. Understand fire warning. We’re getting ready for you.”
    His smile was bitter, only a grim twist of the lips. Getting ready. By now, the fire engines would be racing to take up station, followed by the ambulances …
    No. Put that out of your mind.
    “Advise on your current state,” Goddess was saying.
    “All readings normal except fire warning. No engine surge.” He checked that his straps were secure, just in case.
    “Vittorio?” he said to Baldassare.
    “Looking good,” came the reply. “You’re clean, Nico.”
    They continued their descent, having been given priority over all other traffic heading for the base. For Bagni, it would be a straight run in. Baldassare would wait until he was safely down, then come in for a normal landing.
    The Starfighter was handling perfectly. If onlythat light would behave itself! He felt as if he were sitting on a bomb, waiting for it to go off.
    Baldassare