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The suns sets quickly in the Mediterranean. You follow your RIO's coordinates back to your carrier. Pop the speed brake and drive through the darkening clouds. Home is a postage stamp floating on a foam-flecked sea.

Your carrier is dead ahead. You can barely make out the twinkle of landing lights through the rain squalls that beat on your canopy. The flight deck pitches erratically. You search for the glide path... drop your hook... ignore the low fuel warnings... listen the landing deck officer... watch the ball... Red ball.. You're too low... add power... the deck pitches up... Anything is possible!

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