Chapter Twelve: Lesson Learned
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Yinshi Valley, Usea.
July 12th, 2019.
1600hrs.
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"They've got two rearguard. The better one's mine." Mihaly addressed Wit and Seymour, Sol 2 and Sol 3 respectively, making it clear that the F-2 sporting three white lines across its tail was his and his alone to fight. The F-15 and the Hornet he'd briefly tangled with suffered the same fate as the Fulcrum from just a few minutes prior and he was hoping that the rest of the Osean aircraft might put up more of a fight than their allies had.
"Copy that, King," Wit replied. Mihaly instantly felt himself growing irritated by not only the cheery undertone that his wingman's voice had, but the fact that he felt the need to call him by that ridiculous name. Where had that 'King' moniker even come from? Wit and the others barely knew the tale of the fall of their homeland, and Mihaly never cared to relive the story and remind the new generation of a time they'd never get to see. What was the point in longing for something so superficial as a country. There was no point living in the past.
Not pleased by the response, he made sure that his words left no room for any loopholes. "Don't call me that." Each word was low and to the point. Neither Wit nor Seymour found the words to reply, although he could imagine the sheepish look on Wit's face. Wit and Roald were the ones that were always so insistent on doing and saying everything right. They reminded Mihaly of another student of his, long ago. One that he often had to knock down a peg. In the end he became an accomplished pilot and leader. Wit showed the same promise, in spite of his faults.
The storm raging on outside didn't seem to affect the performance of the Osean aircraft and their pilots. Many of them left the operation area following the destruction of their comrade, but the remaining F-15s and two planes bearing the white lines remained in the AO. The pilot of the F-2 seemed unaffected by the weather, heading for Mihaly with little hesitation. Mihaly couldn't help but smile as the plane approached. The unfamiliar warning in his ear indicated that the enemy had a lock. Mihaly evaded and decided to have some fun with his challenger.
The F-2 pulled a sharp turn and followed Mihaly down into the rocks. Mihaly was aware that this pilot was firing every time he got a lock on him, and each time Mihaly simply adjusted his path and the missile slammed into a rock. He's better than I expected, Mihaly thought, gritting his teeth and grunting from the force of a high G turn as he flew out from the confinement of the valley in an attempt to get behind the F-2. He got the attention of the enemy pilot and allowed him to take the chase into the clouds. He's good...like the pilot with two lines on his tail from before. Today is your test. We'll see if you're good enough to survive.
"Sol 1, what's your status?" Wit suddenly asked, his voice laced with concern. They must have lost visual when they started fighting with the other pilots.
"My status?" Mihaly couldn't hold back a dark chuckle as he glanced behind him to check the position of the F-2. A bolt of lightning hit it, but it was fast to recover and refused to give in. "Well, I'm feeling a little excited..." With that, he led the Osean pilot back through the rocks. It wasn't his usual method of toying with the enemy before he took them out, but it was enough to give him the information he wanted. It seemed he'd finally found his rival, someone who could hold their own against him. He heard a missile warning. One shot past him and he felt his aircraft suddenly shake as the enemy pilot fired again. "Impressive...but, let's see what else you can handle..."
Mihaly quickly recovered and pulled up to perform a maneuver similar to the one he tried with the last pilot that tried to chase him through the rocks. The Osean reacted faster than he'd expected, having apparently learned from his wingman's demise. Mihaly craned his neck and looked behind him as he continued through the valley, just in time to see the F-2 level out and continue its pursuit. "Those three lines..." he mused out loud, hearing the missile lock warning but ignoring it. The pilot didn't fire. "What do they signify?"
Another missile warning. Mihaly adjusted his plane and took the first one in a non critical area. It wasn't a direct hit and did little more than scratch the paint. The second one hit his wing. Mihaly grunted as he pulled a high G turn to get out of the valley and behind him once more. "Warning! Warning!" a robotic female voice yelled in his ear. "Over G! Over G!" He got a lock and fired a missile, ignoring the warning, grunting in mild discomfort from the turns. The missile didn't connect and once again he was in the crosshairs. Dammit...Two more missiles hit. Now his wing was starting to trail smoke. "Warning! Systems malfunction! Warning!"
He wasn't giving up that easily. Mihaly ignored how tired he felt himself becoming and managed to get on the F-2's tail. He fired a missile after waiting for the perfect shot and the Osean began to roll to evade. The foolish move did little to help and the missile struck its target anyways. "Target has been hit," Mihaly announced to his wingmen, studying the enemy plane for a few moments. He had a lock. He could finish him off right then and there. But he didn't want to.
"Is he down?" Wit asked hesitantly, occupied with a second Osean aircraft that had jumped into the fray. An Su-33 with only one line on his tail. Wit and the other Osean pilot seemed to match one another move for move, but Wit didn't sound at all fazed by the small game of chase they had going on.
Mihaly turned his attention back to the F-2 as it pulled up from the ground and its pilot undoubtedly began to go over his remaining options. "No..." Mihaly muttered and started to pursue again. "He took it in a non-critical area. I'll teach you how to do that when we get back." He wanted to keep the fight going, but with the weather worsening he knew it wouldn't last much longer. He'd had a taste of what it meant to have a real challenge and he wanted more. This Osean pilot showed promise.
"Sol 1—" Wit began, but Mihaly cut him off.
"My status is fine!" he snapped, not pleased by his thoughts being interrupted. "Do not interfere!"
"General...the clouds are moving in," Wit added nervously after a pause, barely taken aback by how harsh Mihaly's order had sounded. "I think we should head back."
Mihaly thought for a moment, looking towards the dark thunderclouds that were approaching. "Affirmative." He broke off from his pursuit and began to climb, into the clouds to shake off the F-2 that moved to continue their chase. By the time he'd catch up, Mihaly would be gone. Sol Squadron formed up, leaving behind the Osean forces. Positive that they weren't being followed, they adjusted their course to return to the EASA base. "Wit, Seymour, when we get back I have a few things to teach you. I want you both to get Roald and Hermann together when we get back. I need to speak with Dr. Schroeder when we return."
His wingmen muttered in reply and Mihaly began to wonder how he could find out more about the pilot with the three lines. The flying style looked familiar to him, but it was also...different in a way. He couldn't quite understand it or put his finger on it. He needed to know more in case he ever encountered this pilot again. Perhaps it was an ace from a previous war that he'd fought without realizing it? One that he hadn't faced in combat but heard stories of long ago, perhaps. No, it couldn't be. He'd recognize them in an instant.
Regardless, Mihaly knew that he had some research to do. And he also had a request for Schroeder to design a stronger flight suit for him. Once again, the suit wasn't holding up and Mihaly needed to be in top condition if Erusea was expected to win the war. Suit or no suit he wasn't going to be of any use to them unless he was able to fly the way he used to be able to. His body was failing him and if he couldn't fly then he was nothing. He was staying in the air, any risks be damned. And now he had even more reason to fight and want to stay in the air.
The pilot with three scratches got off easy this time. Mihaly wanted to savor however much longer he would have with his new opponent, curious to see if the war would destroy both of them before they got a chance to meet again.
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444th Air Base, Zapland.
1800hrs.
Only four members of the recon team managed to survive the encounter in the valley, and there wasn't any doubt in Naomi's mind that she and Tabloid would still be taking the heat for it. It probably wouldn't be too bad. McKinsey would probably be acting as nice as possible to show off for the regular forces. Either that, or he'd just throw them in solitary with some bullshit excuse about them disobeying. Worst case scenario, Wiseman was just as hostile towards the prisoners as McKinsey was. He didn't strike her as that type of person, though.
By the time she and Tabloid were allowed to land, Naomi was starting to feel like she was suffocating in the cockpit. She had enough air, but she felt like she was trapped. Like drowning. Tabloid let her land first, then he followed. They taxied to the edge of the runway, guided in by one of the guards that also worked with the ground crew. They brought their planes to a halt side by side in front of the hangar that housed their aircraft.
Count seemed to have landed only a short while before them, since Naomi spotted him looking over his plane while he took off his flight gear. Cyclops Squadron and the only remaining member of Strider were just now climbing out of their own planes. Naomi sighed and just watched them, moving at a lethargic pace as she unstrapped herself and climbed out of the cockpit. At least the mission hadn't been a complete failure and most of their allies made it back.
At first she expected the heat to be a nice change from the cold of the cockpit, but as soon as her feet hit the ground she knew she'd rather be stuck in her cockpit again. Her back and shoulders were burning, same with her lungs, and she'd hit an emotional rock bottom. The heat and sweat that began to form made matters worse. Her adrenaline from the dogfight was fading and it was fading fast. She was lightheaded and in pain and she desperately wanted to just drop dead right there. Perhaps the heat was making her a little dramatic, but the closure from Brownie's death that she wanted and expected from facing Mihaly wasn't there and it made her feel even worse than she had when Brownie had died.
Shaking, Naomi staggered into the hangar for some relief from the sun, unbuckling her harness with one hand and holding her helmet with the other. Once she was inside, she slowly took off the heavy flight gear and weakly threw it down. It hit the smooth, filthy hangar floor with a loud clunk and her helmet followed suit. From there, she made her way to the nearest box and sat down, ignoring everything around her as she bowed her head and cradled it in her hands. It was a pathetic sight for sure, but the only thing she knew what to do.
She was barely aware of footsteps approaching and she flinched as she heard her flight gear fall to the ground at her feet. Wearily she lifted her head, looking first at the flight gear at her feet and then at the two men standing in front of her. At first, Naomi was expecting the guards to be standing there, upset with her for leaving her gear lying around. It was almost a pleasant surprise to find Tabloid and Count standing over her instead. Unfortunately, she didn't really want to talk to them. Or anyone. Without a word, unable to look either of them in the eyes, she bowed her head again and looked at her feet.
"Where I grew up they always taught us to pick up after ourselves," Count said with a sigh in his usual condescending tone. "You know and to not leave our shit for everyone else to deal with."
"C'mon, Count, ease up on her a little," Tabloid said in a serious tone. "She pulled her weight out there today, which is more than we can say for you." Naomi didn't look up, but she could imagine the irritated look on Count's face.
"Whatever." Count huffed, then he reached forward and gave Naomi a firm shove on her shoulder. She gritted her teeth in pain, his touch making the pain and soreness even worse. "Pull yourself together, Trigger. We just got word from Bandog. McKinsey's expecting us for a debriefing and it sounds like he's pissed. I think we're all spending the night in solitary. Again..." Both of them noticed her lack of a reaction. Count frowned and he looked something close to concerned. "Hey, Trigger...you don't look so good. Are you feeling alright?"
Naomi shook her head. "No." She sighed, then slowly rose to her feet, kicking aside her flight gear. She'd pick it up later. Beginning to stagger away, Naomi started towards HQ, pressing her hand to her forehead. When Tabloid and Count hesitated, she stopped and looked back at them. At first, she just stared at them, not knowing how to respond. They'd just wasted her time, getting her up and about when she wasn't ready, and now they weren't coming? Naomi guessed it was just some problem with who they took orders from. Of course Count wouldn't follow her, but Tabloid was a different story. Slowly, she asked, "Don't you two wanna get this over with?"
Tabloid and Count exchanged a look. It was Tabloid that replied, "Trigger, maybe you should go back to your cell and lay down before you throw up or fall over or something." Naomi blinked, unsure what to do with this new advice. Did she want to? Yes. Then she could just go to sleep and forget about the whole day. Did she want the extra long trip to solitary that would follow? No. Tabloid went on, "We could just tell the guards you were sick. McKinsey won't let 'em near us if they think we've got something contagious. One guy got a cold about a month back and they didn't touch him until he stopped sniffling."
"I just...I just need to get out of the heat," Naomi answered, going through all the possible solutions in her head. It wasn't the first thing on her mind in that moment. In fact, she could barely think at all. "Just let me sit down in HQ and then I'll get some water and everything...everything will — should — be fine after that...right?" She looked at them for a moment and began to walk away again, trying to keep herself steady. "Look, I can't rest...I'm still on edge, so let's just go and get this debriefing done with before McKinsey sends someone after us.
Count and Tabloid eventually followed her, and at the slow pace she was walking it wasn't difficult for them to catch up to her. "You look like shit, Trigger," Count said to her as they approached HQ. Something close to concern was in his voice. "And the whole way back from Yinshi you didn't say a word. It's that Mr. X guy, isn't it? You've dealt with him before?" Naomi ignored him, not responding. The lack of a reaction caused Count to put a hand on her shoulder to stop her and quickly step in front of her and Tabloid. "And how the hell were you keeping up with him?"
Naomi looked at him for a moment, neither one of them moving. She wasn't sure if she was even breathing...actually, since her lungs weren't burning at the moment, she was pretty sure she was holding her breath. At first, she debated telling him, but her eyes flicked to the guards waiting by the door and she said in a low voice, "Forget about it, Count. I got lucky." She told him what she assumed he wanted to hear all along: a confession that she wasn't actually skilled, that it was 'beginner's luck' and that was that. Neither Count nor Tabloid looked satisfied with the answer. Flustered, in pain, and growing more frustrated by the moment, Naomi pushed past Count and started towards the building again.
She continued to slowly lead the way into the main building, sighing with relief as the door slammed shut behind them and left nothing but cold air. It didn't help much for her nausea, and it didn't do much good for the pain in her shoulders either, but the lightheadedness and headache got slightly more tolerable than they were before. Naomi also welcomed the change in lighting and how much dimmer it was inside compared to the sun outside. The LEDs may be a little harsh under normal circumstances and back at Fort Grays or in Osea she would have complained they made the headache worse, but they had little effect here and the only complaint she had was the faint buzzing sound from them.
When they reached the briefing room, the guards looked at them with contempt as they entered the room, slamming the door shut behind them. The seats at the front that the three of them usually occupied were filled by the remainder of Cyclops and the one surviving member of Strider Squadron, forcing them to find other seats behind that row. The second Naomi sat down again, in the air conditioning and darkness of the room, she felt much better physically. Able to close her eyes and relax her shoulders, most of the soreness began to ebb away and she finally relaxed her breathing. Who knew these chairs would ever feel this comfortable?
After a short wait and little conversation among the convicts, McKinsey finally stepped into the room with Bandog right behind him, clearing his throat as he entered. Naomi immediately opened her eyes and tensed up again, turning her attention to the commander and the screen displaying the same 3D map of Yinshi Valley from before. Full Band chuckled as the commander took his place at the front of the room. "Well, I suppose you're here to congratulate us on a job well done," he said confidently and Naomi had a feeling he had a skewed idea of a 'job well done'. "After all, the destruction of the anti-aircraft weaponry and escort through the valley was a success."
McKinsey glared at him. "You returned without permission and all of you failed as escorts," he said coldly. Naomi had a pretty good idea of what he was going to say next. "So how about you rethink your value while in solitary? Take them away."
The guards closed in on Full Band first, and for a moment Naomi thought that she and Count and Tabloid would finally get recognized for the work they did. Sure, Count had only come back towards the end of the fight, but she still didn't think it was fair that he would go to. When the guards grabbed her by the arm to pull her up and she felt the pain in her shoulder come back, she reacted out of fear and pain and instinctively pulled away, making the pain worse. She gritted her teeth and finally gave in. It wasn't fair. She felt like a child saying that, but it wasn't fair that they got sent to solitary anyways without even a second look.
"Uh...sir...about those three..." Bandog spoke up hesitantly before they reached the door. The guards stopped as McKinsey held up his hand and they all looked to Bandog, even the recon team, who were wearing startled expressions as the convicts around them were hauled away. Bandog looked around nervously, then cleared his throat and straightened up. "Sir, Trigger and Tabloid stayed and fought. Count was...hesitant to engage, but he came back to assist Tabloid. They did the work they were supposed to, unlike the idiots that ran away."
McKinsey narrowed his eyes on the three of them, suspicious. "Is that so?"
Wiseman stepped forward, giving a friendly smile. "Commander McKinsey, if I may?" Everyone gave him their attention now.
The commander immediately perked up, his eyes getting a twinkle in them that Naomi didn't like. "Well, well, what do you know," he said in an unusually cheerful tone. "Some real pilots made it back to base alive." He turned to Bandog. "Make sure that the guards know to treat them well and feed them plenty. After all, I don't want the higher-ups to think of us as just a worthless penal unit, do we now? Gotta get a good report from you! Haha!" Naomi, Count, and Tabloid all groaned and shared the same 'yeah right' look. Even a few of the recon team looked suspicious of his awful attempt at a joke.
"You know, we don't need you to suck up to us and give us special treatment," the only female pilot, Húxiān, said in an irritated tone. Wiseman and an older fellow that Naomi assumed was Jaeger gave their younger wingman a stern look. She frowned and crossed her arms, adding with a look of disgust, "With all due respect..." Jaeger cleared his throat. Húxiān sighed. "...sir." Naomi bit back a laugh as she saw McKinsey's annoyed expression and just barely caught a smile on Bandog's face. The last pilot from Cyclops, a guy they called Fencer, was covering his mouth with his hand to hide his grin and snickering.
McKinsey narrowed his eyes on Wiseman. "Listen, Captain, I appreciate you trying to cover for my men. However, I hardly believe it necessary," he said, forcing a straight face and level tone. His eyes flicked towards Naomi and Count. "Neither of them know how to look out for anybody but themselves. Now, Tabloid I might be inclined to believe was lending a hand. Count and Trigger on the other hand...not so much. Especially Trigger. She's a killer, not a protector."
Naomi groaned and looked down at the floor, avoiding Wiseman's stern, calculating gaze. She looked up when she heard him speak up again, perfectly pleasant and levelheaded. "Let me correct you on a couple of things, sir. It's Major, not Captain. I got promoted last August. Second, I've got no reason to lie for them. They helped us out of that shit storm. We may have lost a couple of pilots, but I wouldn't be here talking to you if it wasn't for them." He smiled and looked back at them, ignoring the shocked expressions all three of them were wearing. "And if that doesn't convince you, well...I'm sure HQ would love to hear an update on this place. I gotta say, not too impressed by the rats."
"Or the fleas," Húxiān added.
"Or the cockroaches," Jaeger put in with a grin.
"And were some of those dogs foaming at the mouth, ya think?" Fencer asked, furrowing his brow as if trying to recall the details. "A little rabid if you ask me." Naomi, Count, and Tabloid all looked back and forth as the recon team murmured in agreement. Bandog was fighting back a smile, Tabloid was grinning from ear to ear, Count looked confused, and McKinsey had clearly realized they had him backed into a corner. Naomi forgot about her discomfort, too caught up in the moment and seeing McKinsey get a taste of what being treated like shit was.
Wiseman turned back to him. "So far, it ain't lookin' too good for you, commander. As much as I hate to say it. So...what'll it be?"
McKinsey considered his options for a moment, glaring daggers at all of them before he motioned for the guards to let them go. "Very well, then," he muttered and turned to shut off the computer and projector. "The three of you are avoiding solitary. For now. I need a chance to look over the reports from the battle. Until then, your food privileges are revoked and you're helping out in the hangars again."
He looked Naomi over as she started to rub at her shoulder. "And get her some water or something before she throws up. She looks like she's seen a ghost." McKinsey turned around to face Wiseman, still maintaining a friendly demeanor with the flight leader. "As for you, I can arrange for Bandog or one of the other guards to show you around base. Our mechanic will take a look at your planes and tell you how long the repairs should take. We'll have you back on your feet in no time."
As if the previous interaction had never happened, Wiseman reached forward and held out his hand for McKinsey. The older man glanced down and then forced a smile as he took Wiseman's hand and gave it a firm shake. "Appreciate the help," Wiseman said with a grin, glancing at Naomi and the others as he did. "I think we'll head down to the hangars for now. I'd like to take a look at our planes, if that's alright?"
"Whatever you'd like," McKinsey replied calmly. He really was planning on sucking up. "Bandog will go with you. You can head to the mess hall whenever you get hungry and we'll set up some quarters for you, too." He said nothing else, and motioned this time for the guards to turn on the lights and open the doors. Then he left the room and made for his office as if they weren't there, calling to Wiseman over his shoulder, "Just make yourselves comfortable. Unfortunately, you're probably going to be stuck here for a while..."
They all watched him and the remaining guards exit the room before all looking at one another and managing a couple of smiles. Naomi weakly began to laugh. "Damn...I thought we were gonna get screwed over again," she said, sending a grateful look to their allies. "That was amazing! I've never seen McKinsey squirm like that, and honestly, I'd pay to see it again."
"You think you guys could stick around for a while?" Tabloid asked with his usual grin. "Sure would be helpful in a pinch."
"McKinsey would get his way sooner or later, though," Count pointed out pessimistically, crossing his arms and scowling. "It would only last a short while before he started sending us there again. Hell, he'd probably send them there too."
"Well, in any case, thanks for that," Naomi said to Wiseman. She took a step forward and held out her hand. "I guess official introductions are in order. I'm Trigger, the scrawny guy's Tabloid, the guy who looks like he drank a bunch of lemon juice is Count, and you've already met Bandog." She saw Count roll his eyes at her comment about the lemon juice, but he didn't say anything about it.
Wiseman looked them over, then looked to Bandog. "Y'know, you've all got some pretty cool names, but did your parents hate you or something?"
"I can't speak for the others, but no," Bandog replied, glancing over at them. "Around here all that matters is your crimes. Your name and rank all goes away. Unless you're Commander McKinsey, then you get no status. He makes it clear that your real identity practically ceases to exist the second you get transferred here. I think it makes it easier whenever one of them goes down. As far as he's concerned, they're just numbers on a spreadsheet."
Jaeger was the one who spoke up next. "Damn shame right there," he said, offering a friendly smile. "I don't know how the three of you ended up here. From what I saw, you were pretty skilled. And you had everyone's back. We really owe you." Jaeger looked around, then held out his hand for them to shake. "Well, I guess we should return the favor with the introductions. I'm Lieutenant Charles Jaeger."
"Major Paul Wiseman," Wiseman said, holding out his hand as well. "Then we have Lieutenant Dave Winters, or Fencer as you know him at this point, and—"
Húxiān interrupted her commander to introduce herself. "Lieutenant Erika Hirose. Everyone calls me Húxiān, though." Everyone exchanged a few awkward handshakes before they fell into silence. Húxiān glanced towards the door, placing a hand on her hips. At last, she broke the silence, "So, why don't we all head out to the hangar and take a look at our planes. I wanna ask your mechanics how long the repairs are supposed to take."
To Naomi's surprise, it was Bandog who took charge. "Of course, Lieutenant," he said, brushing Count and Tabloid aside to reach the door. He opened it and gestured for Húxiān to step through. She regarded him with a confused and mildly annoyed look and Naomi thought she saw an almost embarrassed look on Bandog's face. Húxiān exited the briefing room and waited for the others in the hallway. Bandog looked towards Naomi, "You lead the way."
As Naomi passed Bandog, she grinned and lowered her voice, "You wouldn't happen to have taken a liking to Lieutenant Hirose, would you?"
"Shut up and escort our guests, Trigger," Bandog groaned, neither confirming nor denying her question. "As if you've never met a gentleman in your life." He glanced at Count and Tabloid, then smirked. "Actually, with the people you hang around, it doesn't surprise me that you wouldn't know what to look for."
"Ass," Naomi muttered with a laugh, stepping out into the hallway. She made slow and deliberate movements, still tired and achy. Just as Bandog instructed, she led the way out of the main building, trying to strike up a conversation with Húxiān. "So...Húxiān...you're the only female pilot in your squadron, aren't you?" Her new friend gave her a quizzical look. "Hey, just trying to get to know you. The only other girl we have around here...well, let's just say that she's still warming up to me. Doesn't trust me yet, I don't think."
Húxiān shrugged. "I'm actually the only female pilot in the unit," she replied. "It took the guys about a year to get comfortable around me and around the same time for me to get to trust them. Wiseman's been amazing the whole time I've been under his wing, though." There was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips as she added, "Of course, sometimes it takes meeting a dick like McKinsey to get to fully appreciate how lucky we were to get him as a leader."
"It seems like he looks out for other people," Naomi commented, glancing back at where Wiseman and Jaeger were speaking with Tabloid and Bandog. Fencer joined in, leaving Count to take up the back with a bitter look. "I'm amazed he stuck up for any of us. He didn't have to."
"You earned our trust today," Húxiān pointed out. "It may seem a little odd and your commander might not think you deserve it, but...I don't know." She looked around as they stepped outside, and Naomi quickly took note of all the guards. They were probably making the guests feel a little unwelcome. McKinsey would be furious if he knew that. Húxiān cleared her throat and went on, "You've got some ridiculous skills in any case. Where the hell did you learn to fly like that? I've never seen anyone last as long as you did against Mr. X. I know I'd never survive."
Naomi wasn't sure how to feel about the comment, so she simply looked to the ground, focusing on the soreness and queasiness she still felt, so she didn't say anything and allowed Húxiān to slow down and talk with Bandog. After a short walk, they finally reached the hangar and Naomi had to take some time to sit by herself. She put away her flight gear while the others began to focus on the planes in the hangar. When she was done with that, she sat down on a crate and unzipped her flight suit, tying the sleeves around her waist.
Wincing, she pushed the strap on her tank top along her shoulder to examine where the harness had been. It was red and a little tender. Apparently the suit could only handle so much and do so much. A soft whistle startled her and she looked up to see Count walking over with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette in his mouth. "That's pretty red. Looks like it hurts," he said, reaching up and removing the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling the smoke. "Looks like Trigger isn't as invincible as everyone seems to think, eh?"
"Count, I'm really not in the mood. I'm tired and in pain, so if you're going to act like an ass, go do it somewhere else, please," Naomi replied, sounding less angry and intimidating than she meant for them to. Count didn't look impressed, staring at her with a raised eyebrow as he took another drag. "Oookaay...could you just...leave?"
Count didn't reply and instead reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the rags they used to wipe the planes down with. Naomi watched as he produced a water bottle and doused the rag with it, tossing it her way. Naomi barely caught it before it hit her face and she gave him a confused look. "Put that on your shoulder where it's sore or red or whatever. I'm no doctor, but it's kinda cold and might help relieve some of the pain." Naomi looked down at the rag suspiciously. It was covered in oil stains, but he was right. It probably would help. "If you want, then I can take it back and you can keep using your pain as an excuse to act like a bitch."
"No...thank you..." Naomi gently pressed the rag onto her shoulder where it was sore. It helped for the most part, so she moved onto the next shoulder. She tried to be friendly to Count, hoping to avoid any arguments with him. "I'm sorry for snapping at you Count. That face-off with Mr. X was just a little...overwhelming."
"I'm actually curious about that," Count said, nodding slowly. He caught the rag as Naomi tossed it back to him and pulled her flight suit back up. "What was your deal out there today. Those maneuvers you were pulling...I'm amazed you aren't in worse condition, y'know."
"I had a debt to settle with Mr. X, that's all," Naomi replied, leaning forward and looking straight ahead, fighting the exhaustion she felt. "He's ruthless...he hunted down a good friend of mine. Killed her. I needed closure."
Count took a seat beside her, a slightly softer expression on his face. "So...did you get what you were after now that you've actually faced him."
Naomi closed her eyes and took a shaky, deep breath. "No...and it's my own fault for not killing the bastard right then and there. He doesn't deserve the mercy I showed him...the mercy that he didn't give my wingman."
Count gave her a firm pat on the back, a surprisingly friendly gesture from him. "Well, it should've come easy to you, after what you did to get sent here." Naomi shot him a dirty look, but she was too drained to say anything back. Count tossed away his cigarette, exhaling the last of the smoke from it. "The guy was an actual ace, Trigger. It's not your fault you couldn't take it down. You should just consider yourself lucky that you made it out alive. From what the others are saying, it seems like this Mr. X is the real shit. Maybe you should consider it a lesson or something."
"I guess you're right, Count," Naomi said. She chuckled. "You know, when you actually put in the effort, you're a lot less of a dick than you normally are."
Count scoffed. "Whatever you say, Trigger." He stood up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. "Now c'mon. That Wiseman dude is gonna tell us about that Mr. X guy so we know what to do in case he shows up again or something like that. I swear, these guys are gonna get themselves killed with these attitudes." Naomi took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. "And wipe the look off of your face. It's depressing."
Naomi found herself smirking as she and Count walked side by side to rejoin the others. "Fine, but only if you stop scowling and looking pissed off at the world."
"I'm not gonna make you any promises."
|...|...|...|
Fort Grays Island, Usea.
July 13th, 2019.
0900hrs.
"What happened to never flying in the skies of battle again?" Pixy asked Kathryn as he accompanied her to the hangars. Clown had invited them to come along so that Pixy and Genette could continue looking into the base commander at Fort Grays and Kathryn and Hans had eagerly asked to come along. In spite of both of them coming up on their thirties, they somehow still managed to act like a kid at Christmas whenever fighter jets and the air force were brought into the conversation. Maybe Kathryn just wanted to live up to her nickname.
"Well, technically that was more of an empty promise," Kathryn answered with a shrug, tugging at the sleeves of her old flight suit. "Grimm and I talked it over with Genette and Chopper. Even Samantha got to put in her own opinion on the subject. We all agreed that this was...an acceptable idea, I guess. I just wanted to get back in the action, really, and this was a perfect opportunity."
Pixy studied her for a moment. Kathryn was, in a way, like a member of his family. She was Cipher's daughter after all, even if she never cared enough to acknowledge it. He could easily tell when she was lying or not telling the whole truth. She did the same thing Cipher did whenever he tried it. She fidgeted. "I find it hard to believe that you just wanted an adrenaline rush," he said calmly. "And I thought that Hans seemed pretty content with domestic life, so I know he wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to fly again."
Kathryn gulped, tugging harder at her sleeves. She hesitated, then let out a long sigh. "Alright, fine." Kathryn stopped walking and glanced around to make sure that no one was nearby before she continued, "I had a long conversation with Clown and Knocker and they told me about the space elevator and...as much detail as they could on Harling's death. You remember one of my other wingmen, Kei Nagase, don't you?"
Pixy nodded. He'd met her in mid 2011, shortly after the Circum-Pacific War. She was shy and thoughtful, but not someone you easily forget. If he recalled correctly, she had some pretty bright ideas on 'world peace'. Normally Pixy didn't go the pacifist route in his beliefs, but it was a fun semi-debate. "Yeah, I remember her. But what does she have to do with anything?"
"The spaceship that Harling launched from the space elevator was piloted by Nagase," Kathryn explained. "And I heard from Knocker that the IUN tried to destroy it during the rescue operation." She looked around again. "I'm not letting them take down the elevator, whoever's planning it. The Eruseans have got to be up to something within the Osean forces, so while you and Genette are looking into it on the ground I'm going to be making sure that this war starts to come to an end in the air. I'm not planning on Harling's death being in vain and my wingman not coming back. I'm going to protect the elevator any way that I can."
"I can understand your reasoning, I suppose...but what if you're wrong about this?" Pixy asked her. He had to look at this from a neutral standpoint, supporting neither countries in their war. Kathryn gave him an odd look, one which said that she didn't know what he meant by that. So, he explained, "The space elevator is the reason this war started, if you think back to what led up to Erusea's declaration. Harling may have realized that the space elevator was built in vain and it's possible he flew at it to destroy it, or at least attempt to damage it. The UAVs and even the IUN might have just been in his way the whole time."
Kathryn bit her lip. She wanted to argue, he could see it on her face, but she held back. "Well, if that's what you want to believe, then I can't change your mind," she replied. "But you didn't know Harling that well. Whatever the reason, his legacy should be protected." Pixy watched as she shifted her weight and glanced around again. "You know, Clown and Grimm are waiting for me back at the hangar and I think Genette was looking for you earlier, so...so I'm gonna go. I don't want to hold up your investigating." Pixy watched as she gave a halfhearted wave goodbye and continued towards the hangars, not bothering to look back at him.
Pixy crossed his arms and sighed as he watched her walk away. He wanted this war to end as much as Kathryn did, mainly so that Naomi could come home again. If that meant that the space elevator needed to come down, then it was coming down one way or another. There were other ways, sure, but Pixy didn't know how well they'd work. So far, establishing a peace treaty had been difficult. OBC had recently done an announcement on the status of the peace negotiations and the Erusean government representatives and the King of Erusea had been rather stubborn, as if they thought that war was the only way to settle any differences.
He thought back to all the wars in the past. Every war had an ace to change the tide of battle, to bring victory to their country and save the world from destruction. It seemed to be expected at this point, with a news story earlier that morning asking the whereabouts of any of the legendary aces. The Demon Lord, Mobius One, The Razgriz, hell, they even mentioned an Emmerian ace from the Anean Continental War. Pixy figured they'd seen enough of war and were content to stay out of it. He knew that was the case for Cipher, and Pixy also considered that his reason as well.
Looking up at the sky, it was a crystal blue, only a few white clouds drifting across it. In the distance, along the horizon, dark clouds were beginning to move in. Pixy chuckled, finding it a little funny that the weather seemed to reflect the overall mood. The calm before the storm, so to speak. It was Usea's rainy season, so it was just a coincidence. A cruel coincidence if you were to ask Pixy.
Shaking his head, he decided to head to the mess hall and see if Genette was there. As he started on his way, he couldn't help but ponder the issue of aces. Would the Razgriz make a rise again, now that Kathryn and Hans were involved with the war, or would yet another unknown ace take on the challenge and bring Osea a victory. Then again, who said that the ace wouldn't be from Erusea. Perhaps Osea actually were the villains in all of this and an Erusean ace would deliver the final blow that would end the war. Or maybe both countries were to blame and the fact that there wasn't an ace or aces to save the day because the universe didn't see fit to provide either country with one.
Whatever the reason, he couldn't help but think that it was wrong for Kathryn to want to be involved in the war at all. Hans was most likely only following her lead, so Pixy didn't really blame him for anything. Hans was one of those fiercely loyal types, especially with Kathryn. They'd been through an entire war together, after all, so there was a mutual trust and respect for one another. If Kathryn thought it was the right choice then Hans might voice his opinion on the whole situation, but he'd go along regardless. In a way, Hans reminded him a little of PJ. Loyal and full of ideals, kinda timid and quiet too. All of that didn't excuse the fact that he and Kathryn shouldn't be getting involved.
He finally reached the mess hall, opening the door to step inside. It was mostly empty, but there were a few people finishing up their meal. Mostly pilots. At a table nearest to the TV on the wall, Genette was sitting with Knocker, a couple of papers and a laptop taking up most — if not all — of the available space on the table. Pixy approached the table and it was Knocker who was the first to notice him. "Lieutenant Foulke...er...Pixy," he said in an awkward greeting. "We were wondering when you'd show up. Genette's pretty damn good at his job."
"At least the investigative part, anyways," Genette put in with a small smile. He looked tired, as if he'd been up all night. He reached forward and typed a couple of things into the computer, then clicked something before turning the laptop around to face Pixy's direction. "Captain Turner helped me out with some access to certain files, but this is some of the info I've got on Colonel Matthews and a few other people so far."
Knocker suddenly chuckled. "Genette, I get you're excited kid, but give the man a chance to sit down and relax first!" he said, and Genette's tired look changed to a sheepish one as he reached to pull the computer back towards him.
"No worries, Genette," Pixy said and took a seat beside him, squinting at the computer screen. "Looks like you've been confirming what we found last month." The computer had a document open, plus a couple of names and a bunch of notes on different people. Colonel Matthews was listed, with screenshots of large sums of money being deposited into a secret bank account. "This is...quite possibly illegal." Pixy couldn't help but point out, looking up at his two 'friends'. "What do you think will happen when Matthews discovers that you've got this?"
"Doesn't matter," Genette answered, then pointing at something in the screenshot. "Check it out. For one, the date on the first transaction is shortly before the IUN's first encounter with the stolen Arsenal Bird, over Chopinburg. Then the next one is just after the rescue mission with Harling failed. And lastly, there were some emails that accompanied the deposits. Written in Erusean and Belkan." Pixy stiffened and narrowed his eyes at the mention of his native language. Genette reached for one of the papers and slid it over to him. "Here's a printout of a brief email conversation in Belkan. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me what it meant."
Pixy took the paper from him and looked it over carefully, his brow furrowing as the conversation went on. "The first email is from someone who isn't a native Belkan. They aren't fluent in the language. It's like they used an online translator for it. You can tell, because some of the sentences are too choppy or the words don't make a lot of sense unless you really think about it. For example, this sentence here...'If that death works for slow war'. I think the person meant to say 'If his death helps slow the war', mainly because it mentions Harling's murder..." His eyes widened as he realized that they were right. Harling's death wasn't Naomi's fault. "Matthews is the one who wrote the first email. The second one mentions that things are going according to plan. Matthews will get a good pay for his work. The third one is Matthews complaining that he had to give up a good pilot...oh shit."
"What's wrong?" Knocker asked. Both he and Genette were wearing matching looks of concern.
"Matthews mentions Naomi by name. Her full name...he tells whoever he's talking to that she's my daughter." Pixy slammed the paper down and glanced around nervously. "Goddammit...Matthews knows she got sent to the 444th. He's told whoever this is that Naomi is related to me. He talks about the similarities in our flying style. Do you have any idea how bad this could be for her?"
"How so?" Genette asked, although Pixy had the feeling that he already had a pretty good idea. "I mean, I get it's bad, but if she's in the penal unit then she's not doing much harm. She wouldn't be a problem for them."
"A lot of Belkans know about me. Especially after that interview I did," Pixy explained. "I fought against my own country, then I tried to nuke the world...so you can understand that a lot of people don't exactly like me." He began to look over the other printouts to see if there was any more information. "Scheisse...Naomi doesn't know about my past. Or her heritage. I wanted her to have a different upbringing than her siblings, so she never found out and she never really gave much thought to it. She thinks I'm only part Belkan, not full blooded."
"Well...who would have the power or motive to take out your kid? Or anyone connected to you?" Knocker asked, the most calm out of the three of them. Pixy was trying to keep his cool, but he was angry and quite frankly scared for his child's wellbeing. "At this point, I'm amazed a lot of people would remember anything that happened back then. Or at least care about it, no offense. It was years ago."
"Umm...well, what was that Belkan group that started the last war...the one that Kathryn and Hans told me about?" Pixy admittedly forgot the name of them. It just wasn't that important to him at the time, since they weren't any threat after the war. Unless they made a comeback somehow.
Genette frowned. "Are you talking about the Grey Men?" he asked and Pixy nodded, recognizing the name. "That's impossible. The Razgriz took them out in the last war and all of the surviving members were arrested. There's no way in hell that they'd recover from that blow. Only like, three or four of them actually survived. They'd need a lot of motivation if they wanted to try and make a comeback. Besides, they were supporters of Belka. If they found out about Naomi, they'd probably try and recruit her rather than kill her. They weren't really one for smarts. Too impulsive for it."
Pixy sighed and relaxed a little. "Well, that doesn't mean Erusea wouldn't kill her. If they think she's my equal in skill or something. Hell, she's probably better at this point, I wouldn't know." He sighed, looking back at the computer screen. "Well...it seems like they've recruited a couple of Belkans. And Oseans, too, by the sound of things. For now, I think we should worry about the Oseans on their payroll. Did you find out anything about that commander McKinsey at the penal base?"
"Yup, and he checks out," Genette replied. "He's a double agent, but he's working for us. He feeds Erusea false information or finds out what their strategy is and informs the Osean forces of the plan. Sometimes it doesn't always work, but for the most part it's doing quite well. He's a massive asshole, though, so I wouldn't be too hopeful about the treatment of his prisoners. Actually, he's pretty pompous. Osea's paying him a lot just to get him to do this. Other than that, he's a suck up to the top brass."
"Alright...I want to get in touch with him," Pixy said, and he was making sure that they knew he wasn't asking for their permission to speak with him. "As soon as you possibly can."
|...|...|...|
Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.
July 13th, 2019.
1200hrs.
Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise smoothed out the white blouse she'd put on for the day, running her fingers along the faint, stitched flower pattern along the hem. She glanced distastefully at the suit she typically wore. Although at the EASA facility with the intention of doing more business for her father, that didn't mean that she had to dress up too much. Honestly, wearing clothes made out of a fabric that didn't breathe made summers a living hell. But being the perfect daughter and face of the Erusean public meant that she had to endure it.
When she heard her father mention a trip out to the EASA facility to inspect the drone production progress, Rosa had immediately volunteered, arguing that as the King her father needed to stay in Erusea and handle the affairs of their kingdom, speaking with the military officials and whatnot. Rosa had mainly wanted to visit her classmate, Ionela, which her father must have known since he asked one of the generals in their military to accompany her and go over all of the technical information with the scientists.
In any case, until Sunday afternoon, Rosa was free of many royal responsibilities. For once, her guards were keeping their distance and her stylist was keeping out of her affairs. By now, Rosa knew how to do many things related to her appearance on her own, able to pull her hair up into its usual braid crown and pick out matching clothes. She disliked being fussed over, since she felt as if she was a child. That wasn't to say that she didn't truly love her country, after all, she wouldn't be here if not for that. It may be stressful and annoying at times, but she wanted the people to fully support the kingdom's decisions and if doing that meant being fussed over and forced to wear stuffy tailored clothes, then so be it.
There was a faint knock at the door. Rosa took a quick look around the room she'd been assigned to make sure it was as presentable as she was and then straightened up, clearing her throat. "Come in," she said softly. The doorknob clicked as the person on the other side turned it and pushed the door open. Her loyal golden retriever, Leo, lifted his head and shifted his position on the bed, wagging his tail as the guest entered the room. Rosa smiled as her close friend stepped inside. "Ionela! I didn't expect to see you so early."
"Really?" Ionela asked, checking the elegant wristwatch she always wore. "It's lunchtime. My grandfather asked me to come and get you, since he didn't see you at breakfast." Rosa bit her lip, not realizing that that much time had passed. She'd been up since six that morning...was it noon already? Ionela ventured further into the room, approaching the bed and scratching Leo behind the ears. "Grandfather says that he'll tell us about his sortie from yesterday, now that he's feeling better. Apparently the Oseans keep overstepping their bounds or something like that, venturing deep into Erusean territory."
"As if they haven't learned yet what comes from meddling in others affairs," Rosa muttered half-heartedly. Admittedly, she wasn't as enthusiastic about this war as she previously was. Osea was incredibly gung-ho, eager to jump into a fight as evident by many of their previous strategies in the past. They took all of the credit for ending the Belkan War and liked to think of themselves as some sort of saviors. She didn't hate them, but they needed to be taught to stay in their own lane. That's what her father and several of the Erusean generals told her, anyways.
Ionela tensed up, taking a deep breath. She continued to scratch Leo behind the ears, and Rosa saw her dog give a grateful whine as he wagged his tail. Ionela briefly wore a troubled look. "Do you believe that this war...all the fighting and death...will really teach Osea a lesson? Is that the only reason that your father declared war?" she asked. Rosa bit her lip again, a common occurrence whenever she was uncertain or nervous about something. Ionela noticed her hesitance in providing an answer and gave an awkward chuckle. "You know Rosa...er...I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that. I'm sure your father has his reasons."
Rosa nodded slowly. "Yes...I'm sure he does." She took a deep breath and remembered then how hungry she actually was. "Well, let's not waste more time just standing around. I'm hungry and I'm sure Leo could use a walk." Leo barked at the combination of his name and the word 'walk' and both girls laughed as he leapt to his feet and raced to the door, eagerly awaiting said walk. Rosa slipped on a pair of flats and brushed her hair out of her face. "Seems Leo agrees. Let's go then. What do you say?"
"Of course," Ionela grinned and opened the door for Rosa and Leo to step out first. As they made their way down the hallway, several men and women, mostly scientists and mechanics greeted them respectfully. Ionela seemed used to being called 'Lady Shilage' at this point, but Rosa still found a distaste for being addressed as 'Princess Cossette'. Ionela seemed to notice her discomfort, as she brushed her hand against Rosa's arm and asked gently, "Are you feeling okay, Rosa?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes, I am," Rosa replied. "It's just — well, it's actually a bit silly." Ionela gave her a curious look, inviting her to continue. "You'd think with all of the speeches I give that I'd be used to it, but I still don't like being in the limelight all the time." A warm summer breeze greeted them as they stepped outside and Rosa took a deep breath as she looked around at the facility. Several mechanics and scientists were looking over the planes that Sol Squadron flew, paying extra attention to General Shilage's plane. She noticed several black marks from where they were. "Looks like he took some damage out there."
Ionela followed her gaze and Rosa saw her small smile flicker the slightest bit. "Yes, it took a bit of a beating," she said with a nod, leading the way to the building where they all ate. "Not as much as Grandfather, though. He was in an awful condition when he came home. He didn't want to admit it, but...he needed a lot of help from myself and Dr. Schroeder. It's getting harder for him to continue flying the same way he always has." Ionela took a deep breath and flashed a smile towards Rosa's bodyguards as they approached them. "Anyway. Alma has been nagging him all morning, so he finally agreed to tell us all about the mission, ever since Lieutenant Seymour told her about the lightning storm."
Rosa's jaw dropped. "They flew through lightning?" Ionela gave a very un-ladylike snort and started to giggle, then it changed to a full on laugh. Rosa held back a frown, simply staring at Ionela in mild astonishment. "I'm sorry, Ionela...did I say something wrong?"
"No, I'm sorry! I shouldn't laugh, really..." Ionela took a few breaths and then regained her composure as they stepped inside. "It's just...you aren't the first person to show some surprise at hearing of fighter jets flying in storms and lightning. It doesn't actually do any damage. Modern fighters are lightning resistant and it really only messes with the HUD for a couple of seconds." Rosa narrowed her eyes. What her friend was telling her was like a completely different language. Ionela gave her an apologetic look. "I apologize. I know this isn't your thing. Growing up around a bunch of fighter pilots, well, you can't help but pick up a few things. If you'd like, then I could have grandfather explain it to you better than I ever could."
"No worries. I wouldn't want to bother him with such a silly question," Rosa said with a gentle, awkward chuckle as they entered the mess hall. "Besides, I'm sure your grandfather runs into laymen a lot and gets tired of answering the same questions." Ionela gave a short nod and led the way for Rosa and Leo over to the table where General Shilage was waiting with Alma, apparently in deep conversation. Rosa saw the smallest of a smile on the general's face as Alma suddenly giggled about something. Rosa had known the family for years, and her father was good friends with the general. It was very rare that she ever saw him show much emotion, but his granddaughters seemed to bring out a softer side in him.
Ionela gave her grandfather a quick hug and took a seat beside Alma. General Shilage greeted Rosa with a firm, respectful nod as she took a seat and Rosa returned the gesture. "I see you finally decided to join us, Princess," Mihaly said and Rosa blushed, forcing a soft laugh. "Roald and Hermann are getting the food together. They wanted to hear the story too, since they had to stay behind on the last sortie."
Just as the general said, within a few minutes two men approached their table carrying trays with several options for food. Lieutenant Hermann Jonas and his close friend Lieutenant Roald Kedves. They were the two younger members of the experimental squadron stationed at the EASA base, also the more outgoing and energetic. Roald was only a few years older than Rosa, about twenty-two or twenty-three. Hermann was only a year or two older than Roald was. Both men had a distinct look about them, like someone you'd actually expect to see in the military. Hermann was tall, broad shouldered and fit with dark hair and alert green eyes, whereas Roald was a bit skinnier and shorter, still broad shouldered with a distinct jawline. He had dirty blond hair and blue eyes, always looking curious and aware of his surroundings.
Although Rosa rarely spoke to them, they always showed her kindness whenever they happened to encounter one another. She knew that they had a disliking for Erusea and her family, though, and wished to restore the nation they'd come from so many years before. Rosa didn't blame them. In fact, in a way, she understood their patriotism and admired the loyalty they continued to hold for their own country. Although they never seemed to forget the fall of their home, they still seemed eager and cheerful nonetheless. Right now, both of them displayed nothing but excitement at hearing about their leader's outing the previous afternoon.
They all exchanged a brief greeting as they collected some food from the two trays that Hermann and Roald had been carrying. The Erusean military prided itself on providing its soldiers and prisoners with excellent food and high quality living conditions. Other countries may not have considered it a priority, but Rosa noticed that there always seemed to be high spirits among the soldiers she'd visited. For the most part, anyways. With fresh fruit and a prime selection of meats and soups, they ate almost as well as the civilians and royal family did.
Rosa chose a small fruit salad and a bag of chips from the selections presented before her, watching as the soldiers interacted with one another, as if the girls weren't there. To her surprise, Hermann actually handed Alma her food instead of letting her pick it out. "Just like you ordered, Lady Shilage," Hermann said with a kind smile as Alma took the wrapped up sandwich and carton of milk from the pilot. "Grilled cheese and strawberry milk. Chef's special."
"With mayonnaise and bacon crumbs on the sandwich, right?" Alma asked him, furrowing her brow as she suspiciously inspected the sandwich before unwrapping it. Rosa and Ionela both chuckled at her detailed order. Roald and Hermann grinned, and once again Rosa saw a small smile creep along General Shilage's scarred face as he watched his granddaughter fuss over her meal.
Hermann finally answered her question, his smile never faltering, "Of course. I made sure that the chef got everything just right, even down to cutting it into triangles. That there is a grilled cheese fit for a queen, m'lady."
"I don't think she'd have it any other way, Lieutenant," Ionela said with a smirk, folding a napkin and passing it to her younger sister. "Now, Alma, what do you say to Lieutenant Jonas after he went through the trouble of getting your food specially made?"
Alma rolled her eyes. "Ionela, I'm not five anymore. You don't have to talk to me like I am." Ionela gave Alma a stern look and Alma quickly added to Hermann, "Thank you, Lieutenant Jonas."
Hermann collected his own food from the tray, giving a mild chuckle. "No worries, Alma."
After everyone was settled and had started to eat, Roald eagerly addressed the general, "Mihaly, I took a look at your plane on the way over here. Mechanics said it's gonna take weeks to get it back in working order." General Shilage gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement as he took a drink of water. Roald went on, "Wit and Seymour said that some Oseans gave you a bit of trouble. It wasn't those F-15s that we intercepted over the Hatties Desert, was it?"
"Couldn't have been," Hermann cut in. "They weren't equipped for air-to-air. Hell, they barely had any air-to-ground weapons. Remember how we took on one of their lead birds? They sure as hell were cocky, but not prepared for a fight. They retreated once they lost one of their men. No way they coulda took on Mihaly in the condition we left them in before they left the AO."
Rosa narrowed her eyes at his comment. Were they chasing down crippled or retreating aircraft? She may not know much about war, but there were still rules in it, whatever a soldier may think. Rosa knew nothing about planes either, but she also knew that if the enemy were to withdraw or weren't able to hold their own in a fight, whether it be because of damage or because they weren't properly equipped, it was considered honorable — at least among Erusean soldiers — to let them go. General Shilage, however, did not address this matter and instead replied with, "The Osean F-15s were there at the Yinshi Valley. They had an...interesting squadron covering them from the drones."
Ionela gave Rosa a concerned and possibly...angered look as Alma eagerly asked their grandfather, "Did you get them?"
"Some of them, but not all. They had a couple of planes supporting them, all of them bearing white scratches on their tails," General Shilage told them. Rosa was amazed by the straight, serious face and tone he was maintaining. Most storytellers added a flare of emotion. She could see the excitement was clear in his eyes as he recounted the event, but his face and voice betrayed none of that emotion. He went on, "At first I thought that the first challenger I had might be able to stand his ground in a fight. A MiG-29 Fulcrum with two scratches on his tail. It wasn't like the others, which only seemed to have one scratch, so I assumed he was the leader. After a brief game of cat and mouse, he proved himself...unworthy, to say the least."
"So what did you do from there?" Hermann asked casually, elbowing Roald as his friend tried to steal his potato chips.
"I continued with the operation, just as I was told," the General said calmly. He paused to take a bite from his salad, then seemed to think carefully of what he was going to tell them next. "At first it didn't seem like it would be an interesting battle. None of them stood a chance. Most of the Osean fighters allies had retreated, leaving behind only a few planes. Nothing we couldn't handle, but one pilot came at me head on. He was flying an F-2. There were three scratches on this ones tail, and I assume they signify some sort of skill set. I could quickly see why this one had three strikes. He was almost on my level...the closest thing I've had to an equal in many, many years.
"Curious to see if this one was actually worthy of my time, I allowed him to chase me through the rocks. I managed a hit on him, and he was also struck by lightning, but he wouldn't let up. Surprisingly, he scored a couple of missile hits on my aircraft. The weather was getting worse, though, and my plane had already taken too much damage to risk fighting against the wind, so Wit and Seymour and I regrouped above the clouds."
The General's story came to an end, and Rosa found herself in some sort of awe. General Shilage had always seemed like he was an invincible pilot to her whenever she heard stories from him or those that flew with him, and someone managed to one-up him in a battle. Someone who probably wasn't even an ace. Was he? Rosa, although upset to learn that they were chasing down retreating aircraft, pushed aside her emotions and asked him, "Well...why haven't you run into this pilot before? Where do you think he came from?"
"Osea would be my best bet." General Shilage deadpanned and Roald and Hermann burst out laughing, leaving Rosa feeling a bit like an idiot for asking such a question. She walked into that one for sure. The General took a deep, raspy breath. "I'd guess that I hadn't run into him before because it wasn't our time to meet. But now that I have a challenger in the skies, I can't help but feel...invigorated. I want to face him again, in better conditions. Just one on one, so that we can see who the superior is. So that we can learn from each other." His dark eyes flicked over to his wingmen, "And that is the lesson you are to learn from this story."
"What do you mean, General?" Roald asked quietly. Everyone looked to General Shilage expectantly, even Rosa and Ionela.
"Your mentors are not the only ones who have something to teach you," the General replied in a firm tone. "Your enemy is a human just like you, and every single one has something to learn from. You study them in combat so that you understand them and how they move. In order to survive, you maintain an open mind and you watch them and grow when they manage to best you. Apply it to your fighting and use it to your advantage."
"Yes sir..." Hermann breathed out with wide eyes. It was clear that the General's men respected and feared him at the same time.
"That is why you show respect to the pilots you shoot down or kill in war," General Shilage went on. "They taught you much, and they deserve the honor and respect that you fight to earn." He took another drink of water. "Now, let's discuss something else."
Rosa looked down at her food, suddenly having lost her appetite. She slipped Leo a piece of kiwi and looked down at her lap the rest of their meal. War was different than people made it out to be and listening to what General Shilage was saying really made her think. The Oseans had faces and they had families, just like the Eruseans. Was this war to teach them a lesson...was there even a lesson to teach?