Top Gun II — Time Marches On

A Sequel Concept Idea, Written in 2008

After an introduction sequence showing the evolution of aircraft in the United States military since the original Top Gun film, filled with scenes of engineers and researchers performing tests and building prototypes and test pilots taking the hardware for a spin, there’s a familiar scene presented to the audience. It’s from the first story, the brief exchange with Maverick and Goose just outside the office of their Commander moments after Cougar turns in his wings based on his family-oriented reasons. Once they pull into the home port, he gets off the carrier, overjoyed to see his wife and kids waiting.

Cougar sitting in a college classroom, older than most of the students. Time passes. The classes get smaller and he spends time working alone in a well equipped Engineering workshop / laboratory. A professor comes in one day, accompanied by a Birkenstock wearing long-haired graduate student type. The professor makes a brief introduction and leaves the room. The young looking beatnik flashes a DoD badge and is all smiles.

Back at his somewhat poverty-like small home, the kids quite a bit larger, at least a couple years, and they are cramped for space. He sits with his wife, Lietia, and discusses the subject openly with her. She is comfortable with the subject, somewhat, sternly pointing her finger down to represent that she expects him to have a home life, to be there with her and with the kids. He nods, pulls out a small slip of paper from his pocket, and makes a phone call.

The next build up chain of events is based on Maverick, shortly after the big aerial battle climax and his invitation to become a Top Gun Instructor. It looks for a little while like he is going to settle down with his love interest, ‘Charlie,’ but instead of taking the Miramar gig, he opts to be on active duty as much as possible. They argue for a few days straight, each time louder and eventually she tearfully lets her anger get the best of her and she tries to punch him. A look in his eyes that shows he’s a born fighter.

Grabbing a box of trash bags, he calmly hands them to her.

“Get your things, and leave. If you don’t, I’m calling the cops and will do it myself.”

In an emotional shutdown, she complies with a zombie-like cold cooperation. Maverick is surprisingly mature, apparently having gotten over the biggest hurdle in his lifetime, that of proving himself worthy of his attitude when it comes to being a combat aviator. For the next few days, he’s calm, reflective, sells off his motorcycle, some other things, and takes a vacation with full understanding and liberty from the Navy.

A spare bedroom at the house of Goose’s widow, Carole, and their toddler son. It’s a bonding thing, her there to give support just as much as he brings a familiar face into the home, maybe to help the boy adjust a little easier to not having his Dad anymore. Maverick sees it as a way to fill in another hole, that of his own Father’s death when he was a teenager. There’s no romance between him and her, just a major bond of friendship.

Recharged, he leaves them to return to active duty and a base from which he can get deployed. It so happens that the Navy sends him to Miramar. He’s not being pressured to change his mind about being an Instructor, especially with ‘Charlie’ still employed and showing no signs of leaving — which would definitely be too much for him to handle. Instead, it’s a more casual reunion with the Commander, Viper, and his eventual successor, Jester. Over beers at Jester’s ocean side patio, Viper is very candid about his plans and vision. In about six years, he’s going to retire and barring any dramatic change, Jester will take charge. Viper knows Maverick wants to get out into combat again, and he thinks that’s a positive.

The F-14 is slated for retirement, a new jet is coming in, and he drops hints that another one is in development that will shame them both. He wants to leave the program in good hands, and knows change is inevitable. The common bond between the two, Viper sees and describes, is that Jester made his military commitment his career, and his career the core of his life. If Maverick is considering following through as much as possible, he and Jester could make Top Gun better than ever, whatever that may be.

Maverick ships out, and within 10 months, he’s on the front lines for a full scale assault and invasion on Iraq. Plenty of action, a couple new and old faces that will return through the forthcoming story — like Iceman and the tough talking Captain — and change becomes evident as leaps in time take place. First the transition from F-14 to F-18. Then going from the air superiority missions to ground attack roles in Bosnia and Kosovo.

Then being tapped to become a covert test pilot for new hardware, most importantly, the F-22 Raptor. It doesn’t have the capability to be a carrier based aircraft, but its use to the Navy and Marines — considering the ground support missions — is undeniable. Already having succeeded in one jump, he does well again in the next. His development as a professional is intercut with time spent being friends with Carole, who eventually finds a new man, which after some time and evaluation, Maverick approves of and sees as a new friend. One completely different from his military life.

Soon after the F-22 becomes a known entity, Maverick is about ready to have served his full commitment and the extension he willingly volunteered for. Another is upcoming, and about 9 months before the deadline to sign another one, he starts getting contacted by big time military aircraft manufacturers. Viper was right, there was another plane in the pipeline. This time, the stakes were higher for the contract.

Tempted, he spends a few months thinking it over. Growing pissed off that the recruiters for the companies keep calling and checking in. He signs his renewal early.

Iceman, also a career-oriented aviator, doesn’t feel the same way nor is a part of the clique like Jester and Maverick seem to be in. It doesn’t bother him. The offer to become a test pilot and pitch-man comes with a really, really big paycheck and potential bonus money that could set him for life. He signs up and participates in a very long program that eventually brings the story into the present.

Along the way, he has to bail out twice, wrestles with the commitment to be positive while wondering how many pilots the plane would kill if it was chosen the winner in the competition. Which it isn’t. The F-35 contract is going to his competitor, and though the money was good and he came out in the same condition he went in, for the most part, he watched the Lightning II become a reality in record time. When 9/11 takes place and the military goes into full assault mode on Afghanistan, though it isn’t publicized, Iceman knows the F35 is there.

Jester and Maverick take part. Iceman does not. Cougar isn’t on the front lines, but it soon becomes evident that the Predator drone is his handiwork, several years after seen making the phone call. He stands in a dark room and watches the Joint Chiefs of Staff with their full attention on the screens displaying Jester and Maverick performing a covert assault in an aircraft that technically was still in the testing process and not approved for active duty.

The video screens show Maverick in the lead with Jester as his wingman, the two flying sub-sonic but still hauling ass low over the ground, probably at about 250 feet. Like held at the altitude by elastic bands, they book it over ridges and rocky terrain. They roar over a herd of goats that disappear from view as they scatter. Their radio chatter is being broadcast over a speaker system.

“SAM SAM SAM!” Maverick yells.

Breaking formation by rolling in opposite directions, the shoulder mounted and outdated missile rushed toward them as they flew by, instead of being fired at their backside as they kept going forward.

“Idiot,” Jester says, “we were going to be clear anyway.” “Just checking to see if the good Professor still has his chops,” Maverick chuckles.

Without restraint and not by the books, Jester taps a couple buttons and quickly works the controls. He climbs momentarily, then flips over into an inverted position and jerks over above Maverick’s cockpit. The Joint Chiefs are stunned, their collective attitude one getting worked up with anger. Cougar, concentrating on one of the small screens to the side of the horizontally split view of from Maverick and Jester’s planes which is capturing everybody’s attention, can’t help but look.

He turns his eyes just as the Predator drone flies over the scene the planes passed just 30 or 40 seconds earlier, goats scattered and re-spooked by the noise from the remote controlled machine passing overhead, also low to the ground. One being flown by a pilot in a simulator in Lawrence, Kansas, on the other side of the globe from Afghanistan.

The view is wild — even though the video feeds are separate, with Jester flying inverted directly over Maverick, the view stitches roughly together to form one solid image from ground to sky. He shifts his attention to the two helmet camera views on the other side of the screen from the Predator feed. Jester is looking down at Maverick, who slowly tilts his helmet upward.

Jester extends his left hand and flips Maverick the bird, saying “Of course I still have my skills. Good to know you brought your ego.”

Returning his hand to its place on the controls, he climbs by pointing the yoke downward slightly, then performs a perfect roll that puts him directly underneath Maverick’s plane. Not pretty close, but exactly under. The proof is in the shadow.

Because of the terrain, it doesn’t last long. He reduces power and takes a rearward position, slightly to the left because Maverick’s roll protocol is to the right, which worked perfectly last time around. The planes duck into a canyon like area, more mountainous than ever, yet they maintain speed and look like a pair of renegades in Ferraris tearing through a twisty road. The high-intensity action is broken up by quick glances at instruments and the Heads Up Display, which soon begins to flash red.

“Here we go!” Maverick says as he pulls up, opens the payload doors, and starts to climb at a 60 degree angle. Jester follows suit, and soon each drops a pair of creative conventional smart-bombs designed to penetrate deep underground and deliver a heavy dose of explosives. Once the screen shows the bombs are in play, the duo close the compartments, point upward to 90 degrees, and hit full afterburner.

The main screen changes its feed, removing the view from the aircraft and now displaying a real-time satellite image. Cougar watches the feed from the drone, which is just moments behind the image of the four weapons landing in the rocky ground. After a split second, there is a massive disruption and the dirt and sand and boulders in view are pushed upward as an underground warehouse containing 60,000 square feet of military equipment explodes. A dust cloud rises, tinted orange from the flames and quickly turning black. It obstructs the satellite view.

The Predator arrives on the scene. Just as the smoke is starting to clear. One of the Joint Chiefs orders the view to switch to the drone. Cougar watches intently. The pilot, comfortable in Kansas, doesn’t make a mental connection that the conditions will endanger the engine of the Predator. Cougar knows it, and can do nothing as he watches the view show a perfect image of the now caved in and somewhat exposed munitions armory.

The feed shakes, and the view begins to point downward. With an abrupt nose dive, the Predator heads toward the ground and crashes. The static fills the screen and lights up the room in the worst kind of way. The same member of the Joint Chiefs that called for the drone view curses loudly.

“Piece of shit. Put it back on the planes.”

A beat, just long enough to show time passes, and then the briefing room at Miramar’s advanced aviation school comes in to view. Instead of hearing Jester introduce Viper, a familiar voice takes charge. It’s Maverick and he is delivering a potent lead in to the fresh class of students. The throaty voice of Jester takes control.

Instead of focusing on the subject of flying, Jester lays out a current events scenario. It’s a quick history of the program and brings in the present challenges — to keep “the powers that be” convinced pilots still have a role in modern combat. He narrates a presentation about how the dissolution of the Soviet Union and state of technology basically makes the manned aircraft a relic of a former age. An image of the Predator drone pops up. Then a global map showing “hot spots” of recent and presumed war theaters is displayed.

“Over 70% of these potential combat zones are known to be without a noteworthy air force — part of the problem is the widespread use of guerrilla ground tactics. Cars packed with dynamite instead of planes loaded with bombs. This is the problem that threatens our role, but the reason you’re here is because we have the equipment and ability to train you to be of unquestionable value to the well-being of our military endeavors.”

He pauses to light a cigarette and take a drink of water.

“Air-to-air combat is all but finished in the minds of politicians and the public. Satellites for reconnaissance, modern aircraft where the weakest link is the physical limitations of pilots, and a culture quickly adapting to video games.”
A fast paced cockpit view video of an attack helicopter sweeping through a desert urban area and spraying 50 caliber rounds and rockets at trucks and strongholds plays on a projection screen behind where Jester stands. Then a high resolution picture of a Predator aerial drone appears, rendered huge on the screen. Without turning, he points over his shoulder.

“We’re competing now not only with enemy forces across the globe, but also with overgrown R/C planes here at home. Now, the powers that be are strapping weapons to them, changing their role from reconnaissance to strike capability. Compared to the value of a pilot in an F-35, the Predator is cheap. And cheap turns a lot of heads.”

The screen changes, displaying a Predator drone parked next to an F-35 Lightning II aircraft, the much anticipated and capable Joint Strike Fighter. 3 versions, 3 roles, 1 platform.

“Comparing the F-35 to the Predator is like running down a Vespa in an armor plated Corvette. More power, more technology, and because you’re in the seat and in the moment, better equipped. You’re a trade off — expensively expendable in a way, like the aircraft you pilot, but if you possess the right skills, you will always be better than the drones.”

At stake was learning how to be a combat worthy pilot in an $83 million dollar airplane, no matter how it was configured. Dogfighting was important still, but times changed. Miramar had a new curriculum.

Jester steps away from his speaking position, trades places with Maverick who walks into the center of attention. It’s obvious he enjoys the position of authority, especially as a rebellious creature himself. He gestures to a stack of manuals on the desk behind him, in front of the projection screen. All business, he delivers a fast-paced lecture on how Top Gun will pump their heads and nerves full of knowledge and reactions so that they can fly the F-35 in all three versions — air superiority, ground support, and VTOL. A slide show of images and technical drawings.

The screen changes to display a bright white background with a thick black lined bell curve. There’s a red hash mark up on the high side.

“According to simulations, medical records and other factors, the person able to fly the F-35 in all three roles must have a cumulative score of this, or higher.”

Dots begin to appear, one by one and in apparently random order — or alphabetical, if quick enough to notice they were not grouped by score. Many were above the hash mark, and roughly a third of the class was either on the cusp or below the threshold.

“And just for the sake of posterity,” Maverick says, dramatically lifting the remote and pointing over his right shoulder to the screen at his back, “this is where I score.”

Right in the middle of the pack below the espoused minimum, his red dot blinks.

“Some of you won’t achieve to your ability — I’ve seen it happen — and some of you will exceed based on the intangibles. The things that make us human. Gentlemen, it’s all up for grabs here. All we care about is sending the best out there.”

A technical montage featuring the F-35, Jester and Maverick familiarizing pilots as a class. The class keeps getting smaller. Rather than keep all until the very end, due to budgeting and a need to use the equipment in combat, those who wash out do so pretty fast. Times have changed. There’s an expediency to the arrogant swagger now.

Iceman is at a fancy-pants martini and sushi bar, hosting and entertaining a handful of out-of-uniform military types. It’s easy to tell based on the haircuts and razor shaven faces of the four men at the private table with him. One is familiar from an earlier scene, as it’s the member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff that had been vocal about the role of the unmanned drone during the combat mission.

It’s Iceman giving a performance, mixing personal narrative with current events and what he’s selling — still industry secret, highly classified military remote control vehicles. He is a familiar face to them, having been on the losing side of the contract for the Joint Strike Fighter that became the F-35 Lightning II, when his company decided to fold its military branch, a large one with a great tradition, Ice did what was in his best interest and got a gig working for another legacy firm, the one that didn’t compete for the JSF contract.

A quick back-story sequence of different nights, different company and always been on the button with what he was selling. All sorts of modern R/C heavy equipment. Cars that could set off IEDs and save convoys, choppers the size of a pinball machine that could take out snipers and suicide bombers with built in guns, and the golden ticket — the biggest and baddest unmanned aerial planes in development.

While it’s a running joke that the U.S. government overpays for simple things, and when developing a complex something-a-rather, it usually is buggy and flaky and doesn’t live up to expectations, well, Cougar’s role in the story is a major one. The machines he creates always work like they’re supposed to work. Tough, reliable, built with the operator in mind.

The proof comes at an exhibition, one Iceman was talking about in the earlier scene. A test in a way, because if it fails in front of a big-wig audience, then the project is pretty much scrapped, which is a nice way of saying the military stops cutting checks. Cougar is present, lets Ice do the talking, and the action is fast-paced. Demonstrating what the next generation of fly-by-remote aircraft can do, the baseline for comparison and discussion is the Predator. Just like at Top Gun.

Iceman teaches flight school for piloting drones. Some building suspense. Introduce the public through investigative journalism, kept at arm’s length, being used by Iceman as a way to get ahead — his self interest in the success of the program is both personal and fiscally professional. Money talks, but he can’t quit the excitement of combat. Yet he’s too vain to want to be in the line of fire anymore. Makes for an ally with Cougar the Engineer with Principles.

It’s a few months after the scene at Miramar, and the class once thought of as integral to the story has graduated and moved on. There are rumors of an assault on another Middle-East country. Not an enemy, but an ally on the surface — Saudi Arabia. A cash grab of sorts. There won’t be another incoming class for a while. So Jester and Maverick have some time — and they are sent as official representatives to the first public demonstration of what Cougar’s latest masterpiece.

A reunion of Jester and Maverick and Iceman, with Cougar present though detached from the interactions. Everybody knows each other. On one end of the spectrum of attitudes is Jester, and on the other, Cougar. In the middle ground, Maverick and Iceman are surprisingly cordial. Like Ambassadors. Each has their position and each can see the merit in the other’s mission. It’s heavy foreshadowing of the final scene.

For a good amount of time, the story focuses on Maverick’s obsession with learning about the new competition. He works Jester hard and they eventually get their hands on some simulator time. Iceman pulled some strings, and it’s a major secret under the already strict military lockdown. His loyalty is still with the pilots. Which, in contrast to his brotherhood mentality exhibited, Iceman goes after ‘Charlie’ and makes her his woman.

It’s an espionage like feel that takes over for a little while, with Iceman doing everything he can swing to keep the Top Gun brothers in the loop. All of them know what’s coming. An official exercise. Against every rule and code in the book, Maverick shares the current events with Carole. She exhibits concern, but also wants him to do what he feels is right. She encourages him.

Three F-35s and five XG-8s. The Lightning IIs would have a lead role, and the eXperimental Ghostpilot version 8 unmanned but remote controlled machines would be tagging along — able to fly at the same speeds, able to pull harder gforce turns, and the underdog, the event was a test of the pilots for both pieces of equipment. The F-35 flyboys had to succeed in all three roles of the Lightning II — as for the men and women in simulators somewhere in Montana, the unspoken but known challenge was to maintain a combat mentality in otherwise safe and comfortable conditions.

And that’s how it went. Disappointment with the drones, because while the machines were capable of incredible feats, the jocks behind the controls couldn’t live up to the moment. The opposite was true for the F-35s. On the whole, their maneuvers were more clean, their shots better placed, and in each scenario, the drones lost.

Unable to stop watching his machines fail, Cougar’s wife grows really angry as his absence goes from two days to three. By the time he does come home, fatigued and dejected and drunk, she unloads. She’s right. The drone project had slowly come to the point of being almost worse than when he was an active duty combat aviator. In his stupor, he recognizes her point, sees the hurt in her eyes and hands over his security card and tells her that his laptop is in her car. He doesn’t plan on going to work in the morning, he says on his way upstairs and to bed, or ever again.

Instead of getting the itch to ditch, Ice privately thinks about what can be learned from the situation. He calls up Maverick. They meet up at a Vegan place that serves specialty booze, way off the normal track, and talk some shop. After enough drinks, they team up to score some women — a MILF hunting that may require bar hopping. It does.

Walking from one place to the next, they have a chance to talk shop. Maverick and Ice both know their stance — that there’s no replacement for a pilot in a high-performance plane — so when Maverick explains how the R/C hotrods can be used in a support role for the three objectives of the F-35, Ice has a great laugh because he knows it’s right.

“I’m thinking Pinot Grigio,” Iceman says as they take a look at the low-light high-class atmosphere rife with sexually charged middle-age women having wine in little groups of two to seven strong, “what do you think?” “It’s a Cougar den,” Maverick says just loud enough for Ice to catch, “let’s celebrate.”

A few of their graduates going down, non-combat related things. Gives the guys flying the F-35s a bit of the shakes. Trust for the equipment has been shaken. Jester is called in, Maverick is too, but only to stand by at the base while the crew goes on sortie. In leading the way and rebuilding confidence of his former students that are now war-weathered, Jester falls prey to the type of mechanical failure that forces him to eject.

Too old for the front lines, in theory, a rescue mission is needed. Maverick gets tapped to lead the way, and instead of accepting the plane he is assigned, he points out a VTOL two-seat trainer sitting close by, one used to keep pilots fresh with testing. His tone is direct, one understanding of the stakes and the concept of being a volunteer member of the United States Armed Forces — one must choose to be put in the line of fire.

“It’s faster than a chopper, and with some XG-8s overhead, I don’t think landing and getting out will be a problem, Sir.”

And it comes to pass. Jester lays low, uses his technological gear and a muffled voice to arrange strategic strikes against those trying to salvage parts from the plane, and instead of booking it to the pick up point, he does some unauthorized recon. It means that to follow through with the rendez-vous, the crew is going to have to engage a number of enemies. It’s his way of taking a stand.

Iceman is one of the XG-8 pilots, and as the scene unfolds with a heap of action and suspense and close calls, it’s his plane that gets shot down for being reckless. As the burning and falling craft plummets toward the ground, he manages to navigate it toward a small gathering of enemy soldiers. It’s a kamikaze move, knowing full well he was safe inside an air conditioned control room.

The explosion is noticeable as Jester climbs into the student seat, the front one in the tandem configuration. Neither Maverick or Jester have their helmets on, but the plane is still idling and the turbine wail is loud. As the ball of flames rise skyward, Jester flinches and visibly mouths a “What the fuck was that?”

Slowly rising from the ground, the canopy isn’t even fully closed. The F-35 is on its way out, and Iceman is sitting in his chair, watching a cockpit view camera of Maverick and the rescued Jester. He pulls out a flask.

After reaching altitude and putting the throttle on three-quarters of the way, Maverick pulls a flask out of the left breast pocket of his flight suit. He unhooks his face-mask unit and holds down the plane’s intercom.

“I think you deserve a drink,” he says, the noise of the turbine going full in the background.

Jester takes a look at the flight-plan that ends in England which means a ride home in something other than a VTOL F-35. He unhooks his mask and reaches back over his shoulder. The flask soon hits his palm.

Taking a long pull, he drinks the Scotch down. Exhaling loudly, though quiet compared to the noise of the plane, he looks pleased. Suddenly plane begins to move to the left and upward and…over…

“You little shit,” Jester says over the mic, turning the flask upside down to keep the fluid inside while they’re inverted.

Maverick laughs.

“Don’t get too comfy.”