Chapter Sixty-Six: The Sky's Still Blue
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Selatapura, Usea.
November 1st, 2019.
0745hrs.
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"Strider 1 has returned to radar!"
Naomi felt herself gasp for a breath as she could finally breathe without straining, all of her senses returning to her full force as her body finally adjusted. It took her a moment to register Long Caster's voice and her surroundings, and she realized she was still climbing up into the blue sky overhead. As a series of cheers and laughter rang out she couldn't help but let out a giddy, relieved laugh of her own.
"Yeah! Woohoo!" several of the Osean and Erusean pilots cheered over one another.
"They did it!" Tailor gleefully cried out.
Clown jumped in as well, not that she would have expected otherwise. "That's our Trigger!"
"She's a damn hero! Haha!" Knocker proudly said, sounding like he was wearing a mile-wide grin while he spoke.
"No doubt, she's better than me," Jaeger said with a chuckle of his own.
"Wait, where's Strider 2?" Húxiān asked, probably more concerned than Naomi had ever heard her. "Dammit, does anyone have eyes on Count?" She paused, then carefully pressed, "Trigger?"
Naomi opened her mouth, finally finding her voice, and even though it was a longshot she radioed him, "Count, can you hear me?"
There was a pause, then Count's voice came over the radio. Naomi felt a flood of relief as soon as she heard him, even more so when he casually said, "Wish y'all could have seen that. Not too shabby a landing if I do say so myself."
"Wha – landing?" Húxiān echoed through a breathy, relieved laugh.
"You damn fool!" Tabloid butted in before Count could answer, and Naomi could picture the grin on his face perfectly. He sounded playful as he questioned his wingman. "What's your position, you asshole?"
"I'm watching Trigger climb...God, this is beautiful," he said with a sigh. He chuckled. "I guess it's my fate to watch from down below, though, huh?"
"Yeah, well, we're all in the same boat there," Húxiān pointed out to him, and they almost made Naomi feel bad about leaving them down there. She didn't want to stop climbing just yet, though. She had too nice of a view.
"Yeah, well, I guess we are," Count pointed out. He took a breath, then called out to Naomi as he said, "See, I knew you could make it! How's the view up there, Trigger?"
"Why don't you get up here and see for yourself?" Naomi teased him through a smile, closing her eyes for just a moment and letting everything sink in. The sky was completely clear up here, fading into a dark blue. She'd probably be stalling out before long, but for now she just wanted to admire everything around her. A perfectly clear, peaceful sky. "Are you holding up down there alright?"
"Yup, though I don't think Avril's gonna be too happy with me," Count remarked with a short laugh. "But I'm still breathing."
"We'll send some help your way to get you out of there. Not gonna be much of a celebration if we're not going home with everyone, right?" Long Caster joined in, focusing on his job as well as their victory. "Give us your coordinates."
"Directly under the space elevator, elevation is minus 500 meters," Count replied quickly, and if he wanted to get out of there Naomi couldn't blame him for it. She wanted him back safe and sound as soon as possible.
"Minus?" Húxiān said. She let out a short whistle. "Okay...damn."
As Naomi kept flying, Avril suddenly joined in on the conversation from the carrier. "Hey, Trigger, you dumbass," she greeted her with a chuckle, but then she paused and she sounded a bit...serious at first. But then Naomi realized her tone was something closer to wonder. "Tell me something...what color's the sky up there?"
Naomi raised a brow, not that Avril could see her, and she took a breath. "Dark blue, as far the eye can see," she replied, turning her head to see outside as she flew between the cables of the space elevator. She wished she could have reached out and touched it, like it was somehow better than every other time she'd flown. It just felt...different to see it now. "I wish you could see it, Avril, it's beautiful. Never seen anything like it."
Before their celebrations and conversation could continue, the same transmission Naomi had heard trying to come through finally became clear through the static. It was a woman's voice, delicate and calm, maybe even noble. Finally she heard what was being said. "...on our way back from our seven year mission to the asteroid belt. I can't tell you how proud I am to be the first to land at this spaceport."
"Wait...what was that transmission?" Long Caster asked.
The answer came from Kathryn, who must have also been watching from the carrier, and she sounded happier and more excited than Naomi had ever heard from her. Although probably a little vague, she gave them a clue as she answered, "She's finally home."
Naomi was left wondering what she meant by that, but the transmission from the woman continued. And as Naomi stared up, towards the edge of the cable, she saw a distant speck of light descending. Too bright to be any star that Naomi knew of. "This is Captain Kei Nagase, of the spaceship Pilgrim 1," the woman's voice said, and the name stood out. It was years ago, but the spaceship that Harling had launched...that was its name, if Naomi remembered correctly. This must have been its pilot. "The ocean of stars in our galaxy is finally within our reach. To the pilot who generously gave this spaceship a place to dock, I don't know what trials you must have faced to bring you here, but we are forever grateful."
Naomi listened in stunned silence, never expecting the woman to address her, even if not by name. She knew a lot was riding on this mission, she knew the space elevator was better off left standing, but even with everything that she'd learned and all that had happened she never would have expected something this big. She hadn't even remembered the ship until she heard its name. The spaceship and its captain. They were a part of Harling's vision for the future. All along...was he protecting her?
"You've no idea the path you've helped pave for mankind," Captain Nagase continued her speech, and Naomi felt chills running down her arms and legs. Not from fear, but...admiration and astonishment. Shock, maybe even happiness. "The universe lies ahead of us, waiting to be discovered. And now, at last, we have a gateway to ascend to it. Over and over again."
"It's all comin' together for me...how could I forget," Clown remarked, sounding unusually soft. He let out a chuckle. "Today was the day. The moment of her return."
"Harling's mission to space...I'd completely forgotten, but..." Long Caster breathed out through his own amazement.
"I salute the pilot who gave us all a future," Captain Nagase said, and Naomi felt a swell of emotions she hadn't expected at the words. The woman didn't even know her, didn't know what had happened, and Naomi would have argued that she didn't even deserve the praise, but it finally hit her that the war really was over. They did it. They'd won.
Naomi's aircraft hit its max ceiling, and with ease she pulled her plane into a Kulbit maneuver, feeling a thrill that forced out a laugh from her as she twisted her Raptor through a series of spirals before flying straight towards the base of the elevator. She flew through the space between the supporting pillars, pulling up and into an aileron roll before she leveled out, catching her breath as she tried to ride out the adrenaline rush. She felt the grin stay plastered to her face though as she set her course back towards the carrier.
One by one the rest of her wingmen fell into formation behind her, followed by what remained of Golem and Mage Squadrons, then Sol Squadron, and the rest of the Osean and Erusean fighters within the coalition, creating one of the most incredible things Naomi had seen in a while. After everything they'd been working for, it had finally paid off. A formation of Oseans and Eruseans, at peace once again. They finally did it.
"Alright everyone," Naomi told them, leaning back in her seat. "Let's fly home."
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0800hrs.
The deck of the Admiral Andersen looked golden as the early morning sun finally passed through blue hour and gave everything a soft, warm feeling to it. It wasn't home but it was the closest thing they had to go back to, and it was a stunning sight to return to after the morning they'd all had. One by one they all landed and taxied out of the way to clear the deck until it was finally Naomi's turn to touch down and get the rest she was practically dying for as the adrenaline started to wear off.
They guided her down until her wheels made contact with the deck. The force of the landing was only a bit jarring, jostling her forward against her harness slightly before knocking her back against the ejection seat. Considering the state she was in, she didn't think she did too bad on the landing. She was the last one down which gave her just a moment to lean back and relax, lifting her visor and ripping off her oxygen mask while the canopy opened. As soon as she was down, everyone had come running, and as she was unstrapping herself from the ejection seat she was greeted by the faces of her wingmen and the crew they'd left behind all cheering and eagerly waiting for the chance to share their victory with her.
Naomi gave them all a tired smile as she lifted herself out of her seat, not waiting for them to bring a ladder for her before she threw her legs over the side and dropped down. Apparently she hadn't used up all her chances to be stupid, since she didn't think for a moment about how her arms and legs felt like jelly before she shoved herself off the side. Her legs hit the tarmac and let out underneath her, still getting used to the fact they had to support her after an hour in the cockpit. Thankfully though Tabloid had seen it coming and reached out to grab her arms, catching her upper body and giving her a chance to steady herself. When she finally straightened up he leaned down to press his forehead to hers before he pulled her into a hug.
"You're a war hero now, Trigger! How does it feel?" she heard him ask her over the various cheers and conversations, pulling away from her. Again he pressed his forehead to hers in a platonic gesture, able to lower his voice a bit as he asked her, "You doing okay?"
"Yeah. Still trying to take this all in," Naomi managed to reply, and he gave her a grin and a pat on the shoulder before stepping aside to allow the others to step in.
By now Cyclops Squadron and everyone else that was able to had come up to the deck, including Bandog and Avril, and they all pushed their way through the crowd and over to Naomi. Avril surprisingly reached them first and pulled Naomi into one of the tightest hugs she'd ever had in her life before handing her off to Húxiān, who did the same thing. Then Clown grabbed her and gave her a bear hug, actually lifting her off her feet and slightly over his shoulder before he set her back down. It made her laugh, though almost being thrown over her old flight lead's shoulder like a sack of potatoes had nearly forced whatever was left in her stomach out. Cyclops Squadron and Jaeger all brought her into a group hug, Sol Squadron exchanged a friendly pat on the back, and all of Golem Squadron, Faun included, went the group hug route as well. Bandog even offered her a fist bump and a smirk, which was one of the friendliest gestures she was probably ever going to get out of him.
As Naomi accepted a handshake and a hug from Kathryn, Hans, and Genette, and then made her way through the rest of the crowd to accept congratulations, praise, and even more handshakes and pats on the shoulder, the others gave their own wingmen hugs while they all enjoyed the brief celebration. Húxiān gave Bandog a kiss on the corner of his mouth, then one on his cheek before she pulled him into a hug, while Tabloid and Avril pulled one another in for a victory kiss as well. Naomi wasn't exactly surprised but she hadn't seen it coming either. She was happy for them. She was happy for everyone. About the only thing that could have made it perfect was if her father was able to come up to the deck, or if Count and Long Caster had gotten to the ship yet.
While Naomi made her way through the crowd, she noticed one other person missing. Then she picked out a head of blonde hair standing a little ways off to the edge of the crowd and recognized the Princess, looking nervous and unsure if she should even be there. Naomi shouldered her way through the crowd, and it was only when the Princess noticed her that she moved towards the group of people. They met halfway, and the Princess opened her mouth, but didn't seem to know what to say. So Naomi decided to give her a hand.
"Hey, the war's over now. You don't wanna join in the celebration?" Naomi asked, glancing around and vaguely gesturing to the group of people chatting and cheering excitedly around them.
"I...I didn't know where I was welcome. Or if I was welcome at all," the Princess admitted, raising her voice a little to be heard over the crowd.
"I don't see why not," Naomi told her. It was true, they hadn't started off on the best of terms, but if Naomi wasn't already willing to work at some kind of friendly relationship after what she did at the Lighthouse then she was definitely willing to now. She wasn't going to say that the girl saved her or anything, but what she'd said at the end had helped Naomi snap to her senses. She figured she at least owed her thanks for that, too. "I heard you. Before I flew out of the space elevator. I heard what you said."
The Princess gave her a nervous, half-hearted smile. "Oh? I guess it really did go through, then," she said. She looked down at her hands for a moment, but then seemed to force herself to make eye contact and straighten up. "Look, Major, I know that we've had a hard time together over the last month, but I want you to know I never thought badly of you. You really are a good leader. And if there's anyone that deserves to be called a hero, it's you. So what I said, about a light in a world of darkness, I meant it. You're the beacon of light – of hope – that we need, especially moving forward."
Naomi was a bit caught off guard by that, giving a nervous laugh. "Damn, you really do have a way with words, huh? I'm not that great."
"Look around!" the Princess said, letting out a laugh of her own. Naomi did what she was told, though a bit reluctantly, and the Princess went on. "All of these smiling faces, the victory, the end of the war. All of that was you."
"Thank you," Naomi said, not sure what else she should say. Or what else she could say. The Princess gave her a soft smile and Naomi held out her hand for her to shake. As soon as the Princess went through with the gesture, Naomi tightened her grip on the girl's hand and pulled her back towards the crowd. It seemed to catch her off guard, but Naomi did it anyway, laughing a little. "Now c'mon. Come congratulate everyone."
The two of them returned to the crowd, with Tailor the first one to greet the Princess, pulling her into a hug. From there, the others gladly shook her hand when she offered it, though no one treated her any differently from anyone else gathered around. Naomi wasn't sure how long it went on before the sound of rotor blades could be heard over the sound of conversation and cheering, and her attention was immediately drawn towards the sound. She looked up and squinted against the sun, just in time to see a rescue helicopter heading for the carrier.
She was pretty sure her heart skipped a beat when she saw it, but she didn't run for it right away. The helicopter made its approach, hovering in place over the spot on the carrier until it slowly set down. Naomi pushed her way to the edge of the crowd once more, this time moving towards the nose of her aircraft so she could get a better view of the helicopter. It finally touched down, the blades starting to slow their rotation, and three people jumped out and onto the deck. First Boggard hopped out, looking unscathed but soaking wet, then Long Caster hopped out before he turned to help Count step out. She watched Count give his shoulder a grateful squeeze before he looked like he told Long Caster he was good to walk. The three of them all looked towards the crowd, and she felt like crying tears of joy as soon as Count caught her eye.
At first she hesitated, ready to go sprinting right up to him, but she didn't want to abandon the others. Then she felt someone shove her forward and looked back to find Tabloid and just about every other member of the LRSSG giving her their own playful grins or smirks. She wasn't sure if she was playing dumb or she actually was, but without thinking about it she just blurted out, "What?"
Tabloid chuckled and then nodded towards the helicopters. "Go. Trust me, he's waiting for you."
Naomi hesitated just a second longer before she gave them all a grateful smile and took off across the deck. Her legs were still sore and a bit unsteady but she didn't let that stop her. Actually, she stopped noticing it after a while. She didn't care about how tired she was or whether or not everyone was staring at them, all she cared about was having her wingman back safe and sound. All she cared about was seeing him again. It wasn't really a long run but it felt like an eternity before she finally reached him.
Count had jogged forward a few steps to try and meet her halfway but Naomi reached him first, practically crashing into him full force as she threw her arms around his neck. He caught her weight, stumbling off balance a bit and having to catch them both, swaying with her slightly as he returned the embrace. She buried her face against his chest, feeling him bring one of his hands up to the back of her head to hold her tighter to him, if that was even possible. For a moment they just stayed like that, both having to catch their breath and find the words, but Naomi eventually pulled away.
She pressed her head against his, bringing one hand up to his face to trace his jawline. She knew he was there, safe and sound, but she was still trying to process that. Everything was over, the war was won, and everyone she cared about had made it through. Count had made it through. He'd scared her half to death but he came back in one piece. She didn't know what to say to him that wouldn't just amount to her scolding him for nearly giving him a heart attack or maybe just sputtering about how much he meant to her.
Before she could say anything though, he cupped her face with both hands and first pressed his lips to her forehead then the bridge of her nose, and finally he put his lips to hers. For a second she froze, expecting it, wanting it even but still somehow caught completely off guard. But she leaned into the kiss before he got the wrong idea, letting instinct take over while her heart tried to beat out of her chest. She felt the kind of thrill and excitement she'd felt at least a hundred times while flying but this time it was brought on by him.
One hand slipped down to wrap around her waist and pull her closer to him, and every touch just made her heart race more. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck to pull his head closer to hers, wanting the moment to last as long as possible. Although they were both a bit rough with their hands, the kiss was anything but.
His lips were soft and warm and neither one of them cared that they were both still sweaty from the operation. She would have stayed like that forever, but both of them had to break apart for air. Naomi pulled back slightly, just to be able to see his face. On some level she'd always found him handsome but looking at him at that moment she found him...beautiful. One of the most wonderful things she had ever seen.
When she didn't say anything right away, Count let out a breathy laugh and broke the silence. His smile was always perfect. "I said I was coming back didn't I?"
"You scared the shit out of me, you idiot," Naomi said through a laugh of her own, feeling herself start to tear up a bit. If anything they were tears of joy. She chuckled again. "All of that for a kiss, huh?"
"Not all of it...you're my flight lead. I wasn't gonna leave your side," Count replied, shrugging slightly. His cheeks and his ears flushed slightly and he blew out a breath through his nose. "I guess 'flight lead' doesn't really sum it up though."
"'Wingman' doesn't really sum it up for me either," Naomi said. 'Wingman' didn't sum it up. 'Friend' definitely didn't. But he was both of those things and so much more to her.
"Guess we'll just have to figure that part out, huh?" Count asked her and all she could do was nod. When he noticed she seemed suddenly shy, maybe even nervous at what he said, he asked her, "You good, Trig?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good," Naomi answered, nodding quickly. She paused just to press another kiss to his lips, though she broke away after a second or two. They'd figure things out. Together. She'd been waiting for a day like this, to finally move forward with everyone by her side. With Count by her side. And now they'd finally got there, and she could stop worrying. It was freeing, and she felt happier than she had in a long time. She put on her best smile, resting her head on his shoulder and pulling him back into a hug. "Actually, I'm great."
She closed her eyes as he returned the hug, taking in the warmth and safety she felt full force now. Barely above a whisper she muttered out, "We're gonna be alright."
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Pixy sat by himself in the sick bay, nervously clawing at his arm as he waited for any kind of news on the operation. He'd heard some idle chatter and it made him nervous, every alarm in his head telling him that something had happened and he jumped at everything he heard. He wished he could have at least gone up and monitored the operation, or at the very least been allowed to pace the room to alleviate his stress, but instead he was stuck in bed and in pain. He was scared to death that at any minute the door was going to open and someone would tell him that his daughter was dead.
He wasn't new to stuff like this, but no matter how many times he accepted that anything could happen as a soldier that didn't keep him from worrying about his children. They were adults, they likely didn't need him, and they were good at their jobs. But they were his children. They meant everything to him. He couldn't bear to see them hurt or scared or sad, let alone cope with them dying. He was still mentally kicking and cursing himself for nearly getting himself killed and scaring Naomi like he had. She had a perfect opportunity to pay him back here, even if it wasn't intentional.
No matter how old she got or how good of a pilot she was, she was still his baby. He was as proud and supportive of her as he could have been when she blurted out that she wanted to be a fighter pilot one day, and eventually he had to accept that she was a lot more than the bright-eyed, outgoing kid that he'd raised. In a lot of ways she was the same, but she'd grown up a lot. Especially over the course of this war. Still he reserved the right to be worried about her, and nothing was going to change that. He worried about all his kids.
As he sat in that bed all Pixy could do was think about all the ways things could go wrong, though he never would have admitted to Naomi that he was worried about it. She had enough on her plate with her own fears, he wasn't about to add more to that. He hoped everything was okay with not just her but with her wingmen as well, especially Count. She cared about them a great deal and it was obvious, and losing any more of them would completely destroy her. The only thing to keep him from worrying too much was reminding himself that if anything happened he would have heard from someone by now.
The only thing he wanted at that moment was for his child to walk through the door. Or to be able to get out of the bed and go see what was going on. Or for everything to be over so he and Naomi could go back to their family and leave all of this as some kind of bad memory. Unfortunately, no amount of wanting was going to get him anywhere, and he was still stuck on a carrier with a tube in his chest, with no idea if his daughter was okay or if the war was over. He hated being powerless.
Pixy wasn't sure how long he was laying there since Naomi left, waiting for some kind of news. His nerves were shot and he wasn't even the one heading into battle. It had to have been over an hour since they'd left for the operation. Against his better judgment he finally got fed up with it, throwing the blanket off of him and sitting up in his bed. He ignored the tightness and soreness he felt in his rib cage, protesting his every movement.
Just as he'd made up his mind to try getting out of bed, now sat all the way up on his own without any support, the door finally burst open. He froze in place, expecting to find a medic or one of Naomi's wingmen or anyone else that might be the bearer of bad news, but he was met instead by the face of his daughter herself. He stared up at her, stunned for a moment, processing the fact she was actually standing in the doorway.
Naomi looked out of breath, like she'd run down there, and she was still in her flight suit. In spite of the fact she looked exhausted, her hair damp from sweat, she grinned at him and let out a breathy laugh. At first she seemed at a loss for words herself, pausing for a few seconds, but eventually she managed to tell him, "We did it. We won."
Pixy blinked, his brain finally registering what she'd said. The war was over. She did it. "Oh my god," he managed to say, unable to hold back a smile at the news. "Holy shit, Naomi, that's amazing!"
He held out his arm to her and she crossed the room in a matter of seconds, leaning over to wrap her arms around him in a hug. She buried her head in his shoulder, sounding like she was trying to hold back cries of joy and relief as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her as tightly as he could. Although her words were muffled, he could hear her say, "It's finally over."
"I'm so proud of you," Pixy told her, feeling himself starting to tear up a bit as well. She'd finally done it. He should have known she could. He'd had faith in her, no matter how worried he had been about her. He let out his own sigh of relief, gently stroking her hair. He pulled away from her some so he could see her face, urging her to look at him. "Hey, look at me, kiddo." When she complied, looking like she was still fighting off tears, he gave her the best reassuring smile he could. "You just saved the world, Naomi. You're a freaking hero!"
"That's what everyone keeps saying," Naomi said with a smile of her own, seemingly embarrassed by the fact. She started to ramble, still smiling a bit but clearly trying to wrap her head around the whole thing. "But I was scared to death the whole time. Count got hit again, I had to leave him underneath the space elevator, and –"
"Whoah, whoah, slow down a minute," Pixy said, completely caught off guard by the last thing she said. He blinked a few times. "What do you mean 'under the space elevator'? You...what on earth was he doing...?"
"It's...a really long story," Naomi said, her smile turning to an awkward one as she nervously laughed. "I wouldn't know where to start."
"Look, I don't care what happened as long as you're safe," Pixy told her, letting out a breath through his nose. He had a pretty good feeling that whatever happened was going to leave him more stressed out for her safety, even if she made it through it unharmed. "The story can wait, right now I just wanna know that you're okay."
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fantastic," Naomi replied. She actually seemed a bit giddy, almost blushing as she seemed to think about something, the smile still practically glued to her face. "I've never felt better." She straightened up from their hug and paced in a small circle beside his bed, like she was both restless and tired at the same time, and she looked down at him. "I don't know what the hell happened or how, but we pulled through...you're probably gonna flip when you hear about it."
"I'll bet it's one for the history books, huh?" Pixy asked her, and she nodded. He chuckled to himself, ignoring the twinge of pain he felt. Right now he was too happy to care. "That's my girl." He paused, looking her over, feeling a mix of emotions. Overwhelming pride being one of them, relief she was alright being another. He sighed. "Are you ready to head back home?"
"You have no idea," Naomi said through another laugh. "I'm tired."
"Yeah, you and me both," Pixy said. There wasn't really anything he could do to speed that along for them, but if there was anything she deserved it was to be able to go home. He reached out to grab her hand. "We're going home. Sooner or later, if nothing else."
Naomi nodded again, giving his hand a light squeeze before she moved to sit down next to him, leaning against him. Pixy put an arm around her shoulder, lightly squeezing it and asking if she was alright. She responded that she was, and he guessed that at that moment she just wanted a hug from her dad. They were the only family they had out there at that moment, and it was probably one of the few comforts they had until they could get back to the states. But it wouldn't be long now that she'd won the war.
They were going home.
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Shilage, Usea.
November 16th, 2019.
0900hrs.
Mihaly had never settled into domesticity well.
With the whole world celebrating the end of the war, Mihaly had been left behind to lick his wounds while he tried to cling to some hope his granddaughters might have made it out alive. As Shilage put themselves back together, Mihaly was allowed to return to his family home out in the countryside, wheelchair bound and unable to do much else but figure out how to live life now. To be young and able to choose your own life was one thing, but to be forced into retirement was something else entirely.
The air had been sweeter, though, he had to admit. As the whole world tried to get back online, the news networks had managed well enough to get themselves established once again. Mihaly witnessed the broadcast at the space elevator, live footage of two different battles raging on the ground and in the air, two of his own wingmen that he had encouraged to leave and fight flying right alongside Three Strikes. And sure enough she had pulled through, just as he expected. The war was won, all of the drones had been destroyed, and the Radical Faction lost their leader and everything they had left.
He couldn't say he was unhappy about that particular situation. But as he waited for his family to return and could hear agricultural aircraft and commercial flights passing overhead or in the distance it just made him feel powerless. Whether he'd wanted the war or not he'd helped create it, and now he'd be paying for that. He would have preferred a different punishment, but if he had to make sacrifices to put things right somehow then he'd accept his fate.
As he sat outside on a somewhat chilly afternoon, just over two weeks after the end of the war, he was accompanied by what remained of his wingmen. After they were left behind following the Oseans' supply raid, Roald and Hermann stopped by every day. There wasn't much they needed to do. Although Mihaly had chosen to keep a humble home and family in spite of his lineage he had housekeepers that had served that family for sometime. All his wingmen did was offer some company, play boring games to try and entertain him, and fuss at him to eat and take the medicine he'd been prescribed. Honestly, they were worse than Ionela.
That particular day, though, they were all waiting for Wit and Seymour's return. Phones were at least working within a certain range and Wit had managed to call them not long after the battle on the 1st and told them he was trying to arrange for transport, though for what Mihaly didn't ask. If Ionela and Alma were dead or alive or injured he didn't want to know over the phone. No matter the answer he would have just been needlessly worried or upset. So he was content to enjoy his chess match with one of his wingmen on his front porch while he waited for some kind of news or visitors.
"Checkmate." Mihaly set the piece down on the board with a like thunk and ended the second round of the morning. Most of the games usually ended the same, but Hermann and Roald were determined to take turns challenging him. Apparently when there were no aircraft for them to fly this was how they got their competitiveness out. They were worse than children. "You need to take your time and observe the board. You're too hasty."
"Sorry, Mihaly," Roald apologized as he started to clean up the board, returning the pieces to their proper places. "I've never really been good at chess."
Mihaly let out a grunt, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. "Then why do you insist on playing?"
"It's a game of strategy. That's a valuable skill to hone," Roald pointed out, not picking up on the mild annoyance in Mihaly's voice.
"Your strategy is fine, you just second guess yourself too much. You let yourself be intimidated into making the wrong move," Mihaly said, crossing his arms. He opened his eyes, tilting his head so he could look out off the porch. His house was tucked away among Shilage's farmlands, and his house overlooked a vast field with trees lining the edge of it. One rather large tree sat right by the house, offering shade from the sun but not blocking out his view of the sky completely. He sighed. "In any case, there's not much you're going to learn playing games. If you want your strategy to improve then you need real experience."
Roald was quiet for a moment, then he let out a sigh of his own. "You know, with all due respect sir, I didn't come all the way out here for lectures."
Mihaly tried not to give away his slight irritation. Deep down he realized that his frustrations weren't really directed at Roald that much. "Well besides lectures there isn't anything I have left to offer you," he said. "I was a pilot and a mentor. Without either of those things I'm just an old man that's wasting your time."
"Please don't say stuff like that," Roald said, easily the least well-spoken out of the four of Mihaly's wingmen. Mihaly glanced over at him, and he looked genuinely upset. "I don't know what it's like to lose your purpose, or feel like you've lost it, but you still mean something to all of us. I'm sure your granddaughters would argue the same."
"Maybe." Mihaly wasn't all that convinced. What was he if not a pilot? He certainly wasn't a ruler. And he might not even have grandchildren to speak of any longer. He didn't feel like he meant anything at that moment. He wasn't usually one for self-pity, but to be completely disabled after battling with already declining health was a lot for him to process. "I still don't see what else there is for me to offer you."
"Well, you still have plenty of wisdom to pass on," Roald said, shrugging. He set the last chess piece back in place, giving a small smile. "I may not have come out here for a lecture today, but that's just because I'm trying to keep your mind off of stuff. Not burden you with work while you're still trying to heal."
"Ah, keeping me company out of pity," Mihaly let out a dry chuckle. "What a shocker."
Before Roald could say anything, Mihaly heard the sound of the front door squealing open as Hermann stepped out, bidding farewell to someone on the phone before he hung it up. He took a breath and crossed the porch until he reached the table they were sitting at, moving to where they both could see him. He didn't look worried, more tired if anything, but all of them were still trying to get used to some kind of normal life while everyone else fought the war for them. Today Mihaly noticed his eyes and his step were a little lighter than usual.
As he reached them, he leaned against one of the porch support beams, informing them without any hesitation, "I just got off the phone with Seymour. He and Wit got in a little while ago, they're on the road now. I asked if they needed a ride from the airfield, but they already worked that out. Should be here in a few minutes."
"They flew here?" Roald asked, furrowing his brow.
"Yeah. Nothing happened to their planes, apparently," Hermann said.
Roald snorted, dropping back in his seat. "Then what's been taking them so long to get out here?"
"The threat of an attack doesn't just go away once the war is over," Mihaly reminded him, sitting up in his wheelchair with some effort. His wingmen both looked over at him, suddenly attentive. Maybe he was still a good mentor after all if he could command a conversation just like that. "The ceasefire is a temporary one until actual peace negotiations can be made. No doubt things in Selatapura and across the continent have been shaky at best the last couple of things. Don't forget that the news is still full of talk about rebellions."
"Mihaly's right," Hermann said. He looked back down at Roald. "And this leave they have is only temporary, for us too. Seymour said if the doctor clears us we oughta reorganize the squadron, deploy back to Selatapura ASAP...apparently there's a lot of people that need help."
"That's unsurprising," Mihaly commented, trying not to pay attention to the pang of grief he felt. It had only been a few weeks. He shouldn't miss flying as much as he did. He went on. "I imagine Erusea has a lot to answer for...Osea too, for that matter. It may have been a war between them but the whole world is paying for it."
Roald looked between Mihaly and Hermann, swallowing his hesitation as he almost nervously asked, "Do you think that...they'll allow Shilage and Volsage to maintain our independence?"
"Frankly, it doesn't matter what they allow," Hermann said with a scoff, waving a hand dismissively. "If we have to keep battling for our independence then so be it."
Mihaly stayed quiet on the matter. He truly had no strong attachment to Shilage. He may have built a house here and raised a family, even been the heir to the nation at one point, but this was never what he considered his home. It was a beautiful land, there was no doubt about that, and he could understand that the others wanted to fight for it. They were raised in a different time, detached from their own parents and grandparents, trying to fight to have something to connect them again. After everything the Voslagian Air Force had done for Erusea, the country owed them at the very least the independence Selatapura had desperately maintained over the years.
The sight of the town turned into a warzone had been an unpleasant one, if only because his heart ached for the people. He didn't want a war brought here, especially when he could no longer do anything to help it, but he couldn't exactly blame them if they continued fighting. Both physically and politically if they must. But his opinion didn't matter. He wasn't their ruler, he wasn't a politician, and he had nothing to offer them as a soldier. So he kept his mouth shut. He couldn't do anything but sit back and watch them shape the future they wanted.
"I don't know if I'm ready for another war when this one isn't even over," Roald admitted, drumming his fingers against the edge of the table. "Well, not really over, I mean."
"You might not have a choice. You think I'm thrilled about it?" Hermann said. He let out a huff. "I'm kind of starting to think the war doesn't ever end."
The three of them all went silent to that. It wasn't anything they hadn't heard before, it was just a reality they had to come to terms with. Mihaly wasn't going to just repeat the same things they'd already heard or get down to the psychological and philosophical discussions of it all. Everyone came to terms with that at some point in their service, usually pretty early on if they were one of the unlucky ones in this world. Three Strikes was a prime example of one of the unlucky ones.
The conversation became mundane after that, with none of them wanting to discuss the matter any further. After Mihaly pointed out the chess games were getting old Roald packed the board away and Hermann went inside to find a deck of cards which made the next hour or so far more entertaining than the early morning had been before. They didn't have much to gamble away but they still managed to make an intense game of poker out of it, though Mihaly usually didn't partake in the game often. It was a much better distraction and challenge than Mihaly had expected, and he almost started to have a bit of fun.
It was a little over an hour when they were interrupted by a car pulling into the gravel drive. There was a good distance from the road to the edge of the property, since the house was situated further back for the sake of privacy, but they noticed it pull in and heard it as it drew closer. Mihaly admitted he was a bit excited when he heard the car pull up, but he hid his emotions behind a blank expression like he usually did, working to maneuver himself around with the wheelchair on his own to go and greet his guests. The car's brakes whined to a halt, gravel crunching underneath it, just as Hermann and Roald finished helping him get down the porch steps.
It was a bumpy ride, but he forgot about it a moment later when the car doors opened and Alma practically jumped out of the back seat. Although she was normally well mannered and reserved, she went running right up to him and threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Completely caught off guard, Mihaly didn't know what else to do but give her a stiff pat on the shoulder, not sure how else to respond. He mentally cursed himself for it, realizing it seemed distant for how relieved he was to see her home safe and sound.
He looked back towards the car as Ionela stepped out, followed by Wit and Seymour. When she saw him she just froze in place, letting the car door slam shut before she balled her fists up. He nervously met her eyes and noticed how...upset and angry she looked. Wit said something to her that Mihaly couldn't hear, likely encouraging her to go and reunite properly like Alma had, but she just shook her head without breaking eye contact with Mihaly. Both of the pilots gave in, slowly approaching and offering Mihaly a handshake and a shoulder squeeze as he still held onto Alma.
Eventually the girl let go of Mihaly, stepping back and looking over at her sister. On the other side of the car, the familiar face of the Princess suddenly stepped out. Compared to Ionela, she gently shut the car door, gently prompting Ionela like Wit had done. She responded by looking her way, almost glaring, and he could tell there was some tension just from that exchange alone. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew his granddaughter well enough to know she'd been pushed well past her breaking point by now.
Eventually, he swallowed his pride, taking the first step. "Ionela." She barely even flinched, staring him down. He motioned for Alma to step away so the wheelchair didn't catch her toes, then he wheeled himself forward a short ways, still keeping some distance between the two of them. "Ionela...I know that I've made life difficult for you the past couple of months, but please believe that I was never trying to hurt you."
Ionela looked down at the ground, and for a moment he thought she was going to ignore him. Then she managed to shakily answer, "I know that."
"But you've been hurt regardless," Mihaly said, choosing his words carefully. He wasn't ever good at stuff like that, always finding it awkward and difficult. He took a deep breath. "I'm truly sorry for that. I never meant to hurt or worry you. I just want you to know that...I'm glad to see you're alright."
Ionela looked up at him again, taking in the condition he was stuck in before she looked up at his face. He didn't know if he had anything but a blank expression, but it hurt to see her upset. It hurt more than it had before and he couldn't shove it down and shake the feeling as easily as he used to be able to. Maybe his brush with death had made him soft. He was fully prepared for her to march right past him after the way she was staring at him, but she took a few quick strides forward and did exactly what her sister did.
Mihaly heard her stifle a sob as she hugged him as tightly as she could with him in the chair. Just like he'd done with Alma, he reached up to return the hug, letting out a sigh of relief. She sniffled, her voice muffled when she finally responded, sounding like she was fighting off tears. "I'm glad you're alright, too...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..."
"There's nothing for you to apologize for," Mihaly reassured her softly, for once not caring if he let his usual mask slip in front of his wingmen. Ionela pulled away from the hug, straightening up and wiping her eyes with one hand while Mihaly gently held onto the other. He'd forgotten how small and fragile both of his granddaughters were. When he'd first met and held Ionela a few days after she was born he'd been afraid he was going to drop or break her somehow. He realized how much he'd come to take them both for granted. He didn't know if he could ever make up for that. "Are you going to be okay?"
Ionela nodded slowly, managing to give him a small smile. "I'll be fine."
Before an awkward silence could settle in, Wit headed for the trunk of the car and announced, "Well...let's go ahead and get your bags inside."
"You won't need to worry about mine," the Princess said suddenly from where she stood, still not leaving her place by the car. Mihaly noticed she looked different than usual. She had her hair in an ordinary ponytail, and the clothes she was wearing were the most basic civilian clothes he'd ever seen. A simple t-shirt and a pair of jeans. When Wit gave her a confused look, she just said, "I'll need a drive back to the airfield. I'm not going to be staying long."
"But we just got here," Alma said, looking disappointed. She didn't whine, though, simply made an observation. "You came all the way out here, you can't just leave."
"I...only wanted to accompany you two and speak with your grandfather," the Princess said, glancing at Ionela. She didn't make eye contact, and every word and movement seemed deliberate. She turned her attention to Mihaly instead, slowly making her way around the car. "Which reminds me, General, could I have a moment of your time?"
"I don't see why not," Mihaly told her. He wasn't close to her, but she'd been a good friend to the family and for that he treated her like he did his granddaughters. Maybe not quite as vulnerable around her, but he didn't keep his guard up either. And for all intents and purposes, she was his superior. As she approached him, he narrowed his eyes on her, trying to sound apologetic as he said, "I'm sorry I can't get up to greet you properly. I'm also sorry for your loss." She seemed a bit surprised, so he explained. "The news about the King of Erusea dying isn't something easily kept under wraps. Not even by a mass communications outage."
"Evidently not," the Princess said, but she gave him a gracious smile. "It's something I'll have to deal with moving forward. Something the whole country will have to deal with, but that's not what I'm here to discuss."
Mihaly straightened up as best he could in his seat. "Go on."
"Well...it's not really much of a discussion, either, just something I needed to say," the Princess said, taking a deep breath to steady and prepare herself. "To put it simply, I want to thank you for everything you've done for Erusea. But I know that's not nearly enough for everything that's happened and everything you've sacrificed." The words were to the point, only tripping her up here and there as she tried to keep her emotions down, and Mihaly had to wonder how long she'd had to rehearse for this one. Not that rehearsing it made it any less genuine, of course. "This war...never should have happened. And more than thanking you, I wanted to offer an apology. I should have protected my people better, and my people included my friends...and my military. I'm sorry."
To Mihaly's surprise, she clasped her hands together in front of her and bowed her head slightly, something that made the gesture all the more sincere. As he stood there stunned, she straightened back up, looking between him and the girls before she cleared her throat. "Anyway...that's all I needed to say. I wanted to see Ionela and Alma off safely, and I wanted the chance to speak with you in person," she said quickly. "Now that that's done, I'll take my leave."
She spun around, the flats she was wearing crunching on the path beneath her feet as she made to walk back to the car. Mihaly looked up at Ionela, watching her friend...or former friend turn and leave with a stunned, almost guilty look on her face, and he didn't want to stay silent. "Your Highness, wait a moment, please." When the girl stopped, turning back around with a curious look on her face, he turned to face his granddaughter again and sternly prompted, "Ionela?"
Ionela glanced at him, momentarily caught off guard, then she sighed. "Look, Cossette, you don't have to rush off like this. I know Leo and Henri are back in Selatapura, but..." she paused, looking like it was difficult for her to swallow her pride and let go of whatever she was holding onto. But she did it regardless. "You're welcome to stay a couple of days if you'd like. We...well, I suppose I wouldn't mind your company."
The Princess blinked, hesitating. "You're sure I wouldn't be imposing?"
"Of course not," Ionela said. Then she offered her the slightest, barely noticeable smile. "That's what friends are for, right?"
"Thank you. All of you," the Princess said, offering her own smile in return. "I'll stay for a few days, then, I suppose. As long as you'll have me."
"I'll set up the guest room for you," Ionela said, reaching out her hand to invite the Princess to follow her up to the house. She paused only to place her other hand on Mihaly's shoulder. "Do you want to come inside?"
"Not yet. I'll stay out here until Wit's finished," Mihaly told her, and she left it alone. Although he wanted to spend time with his granddaughters, he'd have plenty of opportunities for that in the future. No doubt they'd make him watch a movie or one of their ridiculous TV shows with them before the day was out, and he wouldn't complain at all.
Ionela pressed a kiss to the top of his head before she walked off, while Alma raced back to give him another hug and kiss his cheek before she bolted off towards the front porch. As she ran he heard her say to her sister, "Is there anything to eat? I'm starving."
"You should have eaten on the flight over. I brought plenty of stuff," Ionela chastised her.
"You brought military rations Schroeder and the Oseans gave you," Alma said. "Those are nasty."
"Hey, I can whip something up for you guys if you'd like," Hermann called out, and Mihaly heard him turn to follow them into the house. "Just let me know what you'd like. Been making your grandfather keep a stocked fridge since he's been home."
"Ooh, can you make crepes?" Alma asked him eagerly."
"Uh...I'll do my best."
"Lieutenant, do you think you could teach me how to cook them?" the Princess chimed in suddenly. "I learned a few things from my mother about stuff like that, but I want to try..."
He couldn't hear the rest of her conversation before they were out of earshot, and it faded completely behind the sound of the screen door slamming shut as they went inside. Mihaly couldn't help but shake his head a bit. It was easy to forget sometimes, but the three of them were still children, they probably always would be in his eyes even if he expected so much of them. Even the Princess, now no doubt bearing the weight of the entire country, never got the chance to really be a normal person. He'd have to invite her to stay more often and all of them could figure out how to have a normal life together. Whatever happened between her and Ionela needed mending too, but that would take a bit of time. He couldn't force it.
At the very least, it seemed Ionela was willing to move on. She was far too similar to him, which is why he pushed her sometimes. And why she pushed him at times as well. But at the end of the day she was his family, and his family was back safe and sound where they belonged. Even if this wasn't truly his home, his girls needed a safe place of their own to call home, and this was where they'd been born and raised. Though he was certain they probably would have been content anywhere as long as they all stayed together.
As Wit and Seymour grabbed as many suitcases and bags as they could carry at one time, handing a few off to Roald, Wit paused and looked Mihaly over. "Are you going to be okay, Mihaly?"
"Of course," Mihaly said, and as the remainder of his wingmen headed back towards the house Mihaly did his best to maneuver his wheelchair back around, moving himself up the driveway after them. If not, I'm sure I'll come around eventually.
It wasn't perfect by any means. He wasn't exactly where he wanted to be, he had very little left to hang onto, but the little bit he did have was precious to him. He wasn't an optimist by any stretch, yet he found himself trying to talk himself into looking on the bright side. It wasn't the sky, but maybe it was enough. Maybe in some ways, all would be well.