Three Strikes [✓]

Solution

Chapter Fifty-Three: Solution

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Shilage, Erusea.
October 20th, 2019.
1130hrs.

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Erusean forces weren't so easily deterred, and those that knew of the stockpile of supplies in Shilage Castle had made a desperate attempt to launch an attack. But unfortunately for them, they were intercepted before they were even within visual range of the town. Not by Sol Squadron, though they had been eager for a chance at another dogfight, but instead by other Voslagian pilots. Mihaly knew his wingmen and their aircraft were far too valuable to waste on a simple intercept, but looking at how disappointed they were at having missed out on the fight he almost felt bad for them.

They wanted to defend the land that had been taken from them, just like their comrades-in-arms, and while they had celebrated the other pilots' victory they clearly wished they could have done more about it. Wit in particular, as much as he looked up to Mihaly and was willing to obey him. It was clear that as honorable and loyal as he was, he was still a bit eager for a fight, which wasn't something Mihaly could really fault him for. He was like that, too, once upon a time. Idealistic and impulsive.

Of all of the pilots Mihaly had ever flown with, most of which even taught by him, Wit bore the closest resemblance to Thirteen in any pilot he'd ever met. Though he had a bit more of a reckless side if his temper ever got the better of him, and though he was blinded by admiration, Mihaly couldn't think of a better pilot as his successor. Even if he felt bad comparing him to Thirteen when he didn't hold the others to the same high standard, the truth was it was the highest honor Mihaly could think of. He'd trained them well, every last one of them, and he was certain now that without them they could stand on their own. Well, he still had much he wanted to teach them, though.

Figuring he may as well start now, Mihaly looked to where Wit sat. They were back at the civilian airstrip, biding their time and staying out of the way, waiting for Three Strikes to show up. Mihaly had a gut feeling it would be any day now, but if it wasn't her then it would be some other cocky squadron picking a fight out of desperation. Until he could be certain Three Strikes wasn't coming, which he doubted was the case, he wasn't going to push them to fly more than absolutely necessary. On the ground, they still had things to learn and study, and lately they'd been trying to think up a worthwhile strategy against the Snowbirds.

"Wit." All of his wingmen looked up as Mihaly called Wit over, surprised and maybe even concerned. There was a good distance between them all, enough that a private conversation could be had but not so much he needed to raise his voice much to be heard. Mihaly took a breath, certain in what he wanted to say to Wit. "I want a word with you."

Not protesting, Wit excused himself and approached without hesitation. He seemed a bit confused for a moment, but he quickly put on a poker face as soon as he reached Mihaly. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all," Mihaly replied, glancing at the others to be sure they weren't listening in. They had gone back to their own discussions, the only attention they gave Mihaly and Wit being the occasional glance their way here and there. Satisfied, he was willing to continue. "There's something I wanted to discuss with you, that's all. Being a pilot...is that something that's important to you?"

Although Mihaly wasn't watching for his reaction, Wit sounded almost taken aback by the question when he answered. "Of course it is. Otherwise I wouldn't be here. The sky...it feels like home to me."