Something to Fight For: An Ace Combat Story
By mysweetrhodora
Chapter 1
Duty or Murder?
I am a murderer. A murderer in officer's clothing. My flight lead always told us that when you're in the business of waging war, you need to create an emotional vacuum, because miscalculations and faulty intel can lead to nasty results. 'Sometimes, these things are out of your hands,' he'd say. But when it's you who rains fire down from the sky, it's not so easy.
I was sitting at the bar in the officer's club on base, knocking back my third beer: a practice frowned upon in an active war zone. But none of our enemies would have the ability to reach out and touch us at this air base.
"You can't crawl up into a bottle forever Lieutenant."
I turned to see my flight leader, Major Kenneth Lewel, taking a seat on the stool beside me.
"What did I tell you about not letting your emotions get the best of you?"
"Sir, I can't deal with this shit anymore. I can't believe we were ordered on that mission. Not only that, but I dropped the bomb."
"Intel reported that we were taking out an enemy communications facility. We were ordered to fly and we did. You did what you were ordered to and there's nothing wrong with that."
"It was a comm facility by day sir. We flew at night to avoid enemy AA, but what intel failed to report was that the enemy converted it into a shelter every night. Over 150 civilians dead or wounded, sir. Women and children too."
"Look Russ, I mean Lieutenant Chiang. If you go up there thinking like this you'll be the one who ends up dead. Even a fraction of a second's hesitation and you've got a sidewinder up your tailpipe."
"Please sir, I got enough of that bullshit at the academy."
"Y'know Lieutenant, you're one of the best pilots in this squadron, but you can't go up like this. I'm going to have you kept on the ground until further notice. Maybe when you sober up you'll come to your senses." I didn't care. I only had 90 days left in this shit hole before I was due to leave the military life behind and return to Osea.
He stood up and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked me square in the eye. "We don't have the luxury of pondering the consequences of our actions. You're a fucking pilot, son. Act like one. All this moping around, crying over those lost is for reporters and all the civilians back home."
His words were finally beginning to sink in when we heard boots rushing about outside the officer's club doors. We looked outside and saw security personnel scrambling and taking shots at a civilian truck which rushed the gates.
I froze, confused and inebriated; the gunfire all around me made for a surreal experience. Major Lewel grabbed me and pulled us both to the ground. The truck then exploded sending molten hot ball bearings and nails (improvised shrapnel) in all directions, tearing into the flesh and bone of those closest to the blast.
We both rose to gaze on the smoldering wreckage. Body parts and blood everywhere. Some had got on myself and the Major. If I didn't understand what I was fighting for earlier, I sure as hell had no idea after this.
How did we ever end up in this godforsaken place? What were the motivations behind the politicians that sent us here? What were we fighting for?