"And the…angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as if it were a lamp, and it fell on…water." – Revelation, Ch. 8:10

"Lieutenant Colonel Makari! Over here, sir!"

Aaron turned to look at the mechanic spasmodically waving his arms to attract his attention. Beyond the man was the very jet that had nearly taken Makari's life just days ago, one of the Starfighters. Other workers were climbing all over the craft's four wings, blotting out the FEAF symbols and replacing them with the ISAF arrowhead.

"Sir, we've been working all day to figure out this bird. So far I reckon we've got it down how to fly it and fight, but haven't identified all the features yet. If you look at the nozzles…"

Aaron did. They were circular, fairly close together, and had no tail sting between them. Both were drooping down about twenty degrees. Bolt 1 knew that from his dogfights with the SFs, and also knew what the mechanic was about to tell him.

"… From what tests we've done, we've discovered that they're 3-D thrust vectoring nozzles, and add to the aircraft's mobility quite substantially. The engines themselves are from Wocken, a custom job. Just one is more powerful than an F-25B's two combined!"

Aaron wandered on around the plane, recalling his recent battles against it and its sister jets. He clambered up a movable staircase overlooking the wings as the mechanic continued his explanation from below.

"These wings are truly amazing; it's a miracle that the Erusians got this design to work. There's a bunch of fuel lines and hydraulics here in the wingspan, but there's one system we don't know the purpose of, a hydraulic one in the back two wings that doesn't do anything at all, it seems. It's not even attached to anything in particular…"

Something in Aaron's mind clicked. Hydraulic systems in the wings, one connected to 'nothing in particular'… "The switchblading," Makari muttered aloud, "The systems control the wings' switchblading in flight." The mechanic stopped chatting abruptly, confused. "Er… what was that, sir?" "Switchblading! When the jets reach a certain speed, two of the wings swing into the others," Aaron explained, "The one system that controls the frontal wings' flaps also opens them so the back wings can be pulled into the front two with the hydraulic thing."

The mechanic stood dumbfounded for a moment, then shouted, "Wow! That's crazy!" before running off to write a new report on the wings. Aaron came down off the stairs and moved on to the cockpit. Another mechanic saluted and shook Makari's hand.

"Sir, Daniel Nawthorne, it's an honor to be showing you the wonders of this jet. Climb up right there and hop in."

Aaron moved up the ladder and looked into the cockpit. There was a helmet sitting on the ejector seat, and he picked it up and laid it on his lap as he sat down in the seat.

"Well, let's start with that helmet," Daniel began his explanation, standing on the ladder, "Put it on, and then push that button there, on it…" Makari did as told, and the padding in the helmet expanded, forming a soft, sealing cushion of air around his head.

"Whoa… this is pretty comfortable," Aaron told Nawthorne. "Just wait 'til you turn it on," the mechanic laughed. Makari was puzzled by this, but Daniel reached over and pressed another button on the helmet. The visor seemed to come alive with information; it was like a mini-HUD right before Bolt 1's eyes.

"This helmet can display as much info as the HUD, it's amazing. Air speed, altitude, attitude, you name it. Here, take that off now…" Aaron somewhat reluctantly decompressed the helmet's seal and removed it from his head. Nawthorne switched on the SF's instruments.

"Whoa…" The avionics glowed a soft green. Dan pointed out some features. "That's the HUD right there, over here's a digital map thing, pretty neat, check it out… This computer stores data for a mission; targets, neutrals, weather conditions, anything you need. Here's the radar… But this one… (He motioned towards the only screen that had not turned on) …we have no idea how to turn it on, what it does, anything at all. It isn't necessary to fly the plane, but we would like to know what it is."

Aaron made a mental note to keep an eye on that panel. Dan pointed out a few more things, including the radio and IFF, then asked, "So, what do you think?"

"Uh… you know, it's kinda hard to see the light green things on the HUD in the daylight." Nawthorne smiled and flipped a switch. The green lights faded and were replaced with cobalt blue.

"W-wow! That's only a little better, but… dang! That's cool!" Aaron stammered. "Well, that's not all, sir," Dan said with a wider grin. He flipped the switch again, and the blue became a glaring red.

"Awesome! That's perfect!" Makari exclaimed. Daniel replied, "I knew you'd love it. Any other comments?"

Aaron glanced around. He could see out the canopy every which way and could easily look out under the SF, despite the large canards and wingspan behind him. "Great visibility," Bolt 1 said, "And gees, this is a nice cockpit. There's a lot of space compared to other fighters I've been in. It's just… I'm blown away, really! I mean, the Syphoner's cockpit is nice and refined, but compared to this, it's just… cluttered."

"So, are you ready to suit up and take it for a spin?"

Aaron climbed out of the Starfighter's cockpit and followed the mechanic to the building. "So, you guys got some high-tech flight suit for me too?" he asked jokingly. Dan missed the sarcasm and said, "Nope… our guys found this plane's original pilot near one of the hangars… or rather, what was left of him. He was killed by the bombing. Strangely enough, he had on a regular old flight suit. It's beyond me how they can endure such maneuvers as they pull with such little protection from the high G's."

The two arrived at the locker room. Daniel waited as Aaron went inside and changed into his flight suit. Once Makari came out, they returned to the flight line. The painters, mechanics, and examiners had all come down off the jet and now stood before it. They saluted Bolt 1, and one called, "This aircraft has been thoroughly checked and overseen. It is certainly airworthy and ready for takeoff. Fuel and armament have been placed in the plane (Aaron remembered seeing the huge internal weapons bay the Star had). Good luck, Bolt 1, sir!"

Makari grinned as he advanced towards the SF. He was as giddy as a kid in a candy shop! "Which of the nine is this again?" Aaron asked as he hopped in the cockpit again. "None other than the best, sir," Dan replied from below, "This is the SF-9!"

"Really?! That's great!"

Aaron shoved the helmet back on and activated the plane's systems. A soft voice, seemingly from the helmet, said, "Welcome, Star 9." Makari blinked and muttered to himself, "Gotta change that…" He scrolled through a computer's menus (a touch-screen device shown to him by Nawthorne) and found what he was looking for. After editing the data there, the voice cooed, "Welcome, Bolt 1." Aaron smiled. "Now that's more like it!" He closed the canopy and revved up the jet's large engines, also checking to see if there was anyone too close first. Makari taxied out to the runway, practically bubbling with excitement and playing with the electronics. He noticed that the one screen had still not come on.

"Bolt 1, cleared for takeoff. Be careful with those engines, I've heard they're pretty power-"

Aaron wasn't listening; he had already opened the throttle to full. Before he knew it, he was thrown into the air, blasting by the control tower at supersonic speeds. "Whoa!! God damn it, Makari!" the ATC yelled as the base was rocked by the sonic boom. Aaron nearly laughed himself to tears as he eased the throttle back and apologized to the controller.

"I guess you weren't kidding then," he chuckled to himself, "Holy shee-at!"

Within seconds, the base and Farbanti fell far behind. Bolt 1 reported to his AWACS as he went feet wet. "AWACS Astrologist, where are they now?"

"Miles south of you, one. They're headed towards the mainland, it looks like. Sonnatrac predicts they might slip away to the west however."

"Alright, Bolt 1, going supersonic."

Aaron turned the SF-9 south and gave chase to the last Starfighters.

"We're all clear down here! The hangars have been taken down and stored!"

"Get everyone on board immediately!"

It was January 14th. At long last, Megafloat was ready to begin its genocidal mission. Hundreds of workers were scrambling to get into position aboard the craft.

"This is the STN turret control room, control room D! All engineers present and accounted for!" "This is control room B, all operators for the Mega-class missiles are on standby. Ready for takeoff."

General Aleksei watched and heard all that was going on aboard the ship from his chair in control room A. This room would actually pilot the craft; the others would wield its unspeakable weaponry. Right now it was chaos as mechanics dashed about, turning on computers and electronics.

"All AA gunners in missile corridor in position, locked and loaded!"

Slowly the room emptied of mechanics. The engineers now paced the length of the area, awaiting launch.

"Control room C, burst missiles at the ready."

Kiril began to grow impatient. He snapped at an operator, "How much longer 'til everyone's off the ground?!"

"They're all boarding now, sir. We should be able to take off in about ten or twenty minutes."

"Huh. It'd better be ten." Aleksei gazed out the massive windows at the very front of Megafloat. All he could see was water, and it seemed to stretch on forever. But he knew better. "Sturmoff… you're out there somewhere. We've never met in person, but I hate you… and I'm coming for you, traitor… to obliterate you and your squad…!" Kiril whispered to himself. As he stared, Aleksei paid no attention to the others in control room A. Before he knew it, ten minutes had passed.

"Alright? This is Klaus, we're in the green. Everybody's aboard. I repeat, we're all clear."

Aleksei now noticed that everyone in the room was staring at him, expecting the order to commence Operation Final Destination. "Well gentlemen… it's time… for Erusea, launch!!"

"We are go, we are go! Initiate launch sequence!" "Fire up engine set one."

The whole craft started to shake violently as the five massive engines underneath the beast ignited, lifting it skyward. As they rose vertically, the trembling became less. Sensors indicated they were a few hundred feet above the island.

"Fire engine set two."

The shaking returned in full force as the next five engines, at the back of the craft, erupted into life. Megafloat now began to drift forward as well as up. The rust-red beast had spread its wings and taken flight, a flight that would lead only to disaster for all.

"Altitude, five hundred feet. Speed, two hundred miles per hour."

The nozzles of engine set one inclined slowly; they rested facing aft at a thirty-degree slant back from their original position. This was to assist forward propulsion.

"Cruising altitude of one thousand feet reached. Heading for first target." "Speed, three hundred."

Aleksei was ecstatic. "At last! At last! We go to avenge our fallen comrades, our devastated lands! We go to extinguish the lives of the traitors and enemies! There is no turning back now, no retreat! We go to our deaths, our fate, to Hell! If there is such a place, we shall be welcomed there as heroes! Onward, onward to our end, and the loss of millions of souls!!"

"Okay… bearing 0-8-6, turn to 1-7-7."

The FEAF general gently adjusted his plane's direction. His four remaining wingmen followed suit. These five pilots were flying to allied Wocken, in hopes that they wouldn't be captured by the enemy. They had to fly a loop to get there so that their fellow Erusians also couldn't find them so easily. In their eyes, these five were traitors. They were the pilots of the last Starfighters.

"Viktor, I'm picking up something closing fast, possibly over mach 4."

Viktor, the flight's lead, cursed. "It's the nine. Ivan and Zhurmik are gone, we know that. Rote and Asche still haven't come back from Farbanti either. And only the SF-9 is the only one of those that can go mach 4. It's him… Thatcher. That damned Asche probably never got off the ground! ISAF must have gotten their dirty paws on the SF-9!"

Another one of the men spoke through clenched teeth. "You're kidding. What a disgrace, that traitor to Erusea's cause in such a perfect aircraft!"

Sturmoff reproached his wingman, "Watch your tongue, Borislav! We're all traitors here. Prepare to engage Thatcher. Better for the nine to be destroyed than flown by him."

"Approaching contact point, stay alert. ETA sixty seconds. Good luck Makari."

Aaron thanked his AWACS wholeheartedly. He would need that luck. The SF-9 was now flying at an astounding mach 4.5, as one of the computers read. Suddenly Makari was gripped by fear. He didn't know how to use the weapons on this jet, how many he had, or anything, and he was about to challenge five of these same planes. Five planes piloted by men who knew how to use them, and use them well.

"Thirty seconds."

In panic, Aaron pulled the gun trigger. Nothing happened. He tried the missiles, and again, nothing. His mind was racing faster than his Starfighter, and so almost missed the little voice saying, "A.R.M.S. activated. Targets selected."

"Huh? Arms?" Aaron noticed that the one computer had finally turned on. The screen displayed a wire frame of the aircraft and its weapon loadout. On the top of the display it read, "Armament Readout and Mobilization System." Bolt 1 let out a sigh of relief. Now he was ready.

"The Forcaire Islands are dead ahead. Prepare for a stop."

Gigantic airbrakes on two sides of Megafloat deployed, stretching out into the air. Engine set one's nozzles tilted forward thirty degrees, and the craft's secondary engines were shut down. Slowly, the XAM-100A came to a complete halt. Set one's nozzles returned to their regular position, enabling the craft to hover.

"Control room B, initiate sequence for firing. Target, the Islands, one missile."

"Roger. Countdown to firing, five minutes."

Aleksei practically bubbled with excitement. This was the first step, to annihilate those five traitors for his Minister's honor. And, as a bonus, Kiril got to enjoy a spectacular light show and the knowledge that thousands would be dead in an instant.

"Three minutes."

Megafloat had stopped just out of range of the nuclear blast. The people aboard could just barely see the Forcaire Islands from control room A, and it was the only position that had windows (these were, of course, reinforced for protection). Aleksei had a prime seat to watch the destruction wrought by the ten nukes on the missile. All the men donned heavily tinted glasses.

"One minute."

The craft began to shudder; the missile's engine was roaring to life.

"Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one. Lift off."

The rocket shot out its tube. Once free from Megafloat, its boosters kicked into full power. Fins extended from inside it to help steer as it blasted into space.

"Re-entry… missile has separated. Impact in five… four… three… two… one…"

The horizon was suddenly consumed with blinding light. The explosions disintegrated solid rock and living beings all the same. Ten mushrooms clouds rose into the crimson heavens, as if tombstones for the mass grave. When he looked, Aleksei noticed that even some of the ocean had evaporated; as water rushed back towards the islands, they disappeared completely. It seemed the nukes had sunk the islands.

"Holy…" "My God… what have we done?!"

Kiril grinned, and started laughing uncontrollably. The death, the decimation, the horror… it was wonderful. Few in the control room shared this feeling, however, as many stared at their chosen 'leader' and others were sick in their trashcans. It was a long time before someone approached the hysterical general.

"Um… sir…? Sir… sh-shall we proceed to th-the next…?"

Aleksei stopped laughing at once. He peered sternly at the officer and said, "Hmm? No. Not yet. I sent word for our escort to meet us here. We wait for them."

"E-escort sir? What kind…?"

"Airplanes of course!" the general scoffed, "Every single fighter plane we've got left! The FEAF will rise again, with this craft as its flagship!!"

Kiril burst out in another spasm of laughter while the officer slowly backed away. Another called to the general, "Sir! We've got incoming aircraft! IFF says friendly!"

"Well look! Here come some now," said Aleksei happily, "Patch a link through, let's talk to them."

The engineers toiled away, locating the planes' radio frequency. At last, they heard the lead pilot speak. "Sir! This is Blue Angel 3, I'm in command of these forces! We have eight planes from the Red Squad, six from Green and Blue each, ten from White, four from Gray, seven from Black, thirteen from Orange, and five from my own squad! We give you our allegiance!"

"Ah, good to hear! Join formation, join us murderers!"

Aleksei took one more look at was left of the Forcaires. The land had completely vanished beneath the frigid waves, and all that remained was an empty stretch of sea and the clouds. He sighed longingly.

"Ah… war, vengeance… it's all so beautiful. I love the sights, the empty cities, the vaporized peoples, the survivors mangled and deformed by radiation… I love the smells and the sounds, flesh burning, those still alive screaming for help, while the air crackling with lethal radiation melts them… oh, how I wish I could be there, I could see, hear, smell all those things…"

"Here he comes… Sturmoff…?"

Viktor coughed. He glanced at the other jets around him and said, "Thatcher is the best of the ISAF. We'll have to engage as a group, otherwise we're dead. And, be forewarned… no one's coming for us. If you're shot down, don't bother ejecting. It's… it's better to sink with the plane." Star 7 took a last longing look towards his homeland, the coast of which was just visible from where they were, and lamented, "Oh beautiful and fair Free Erusea! We shall never again be blessed to walk upon your earth. Long may you thrive under the golden sun for all others yet to come. We, who are about to die, salute you!"

As Sturmoff lowered his hand from his salute, a large object flashed by his canopy. It turned a wide arc around the formation, slowing down.

"At last," Viktor confirmed, "He's come."

"What the…?! He's alone, where're his wingmen?" Star 5 wondered aloud. Star 3 cursed, "The damned ISAF think they can kill us all with just one pilot?! Let's destroy him and show them all the true might of the Starfighters!" "Right! Engage!" Sturmoff's mood changed instantaneously as he laughed maliciously over the radio at Aaron. He jaunted, "This is it Thatcher… this is for all my men whom you have slain… Their blood is on your hands, and they will be avenged!"

The five SFs split formation. Two turned opposite horizontal directions, one dived, another climbed, and Sturmoff headed straight for Aaron. By now, Bolt 1 was used to this tactic. He dived under the SF-8 and pulled up hard left, coming up onto Star 5's tail as he climbed. "Guns!"

"Argh! Evading!"

The SF's Titan machine gun spewed round after round at the SF-5, but Sanders rolled, taking only one or two hits.

"Missile inbound." It was that soft voice again. Makari looked behind him and briefly saw two bandits on his tail. "Oh shit!" He broke right, and the projectiles overshot. "Damn, that was—whoa!"

A fourth SF flashed by, firing its gun. Its aim was off fortunately, and each bullet missed its target. Aaron reacted quickly, turning after the enemy, only to come face to face with yet another Starfighter. He barrel-rolled over its missile shot, narrowly avoiding a midair collision. "Damn it, this isn't working in my favor!"

Star 6 pulled his jet onto Bolt 1's six o'clock and exclaimed, "We'll chase you to the ends of the universe, even through hell and back, ghost! Fox 2!" The missile shot towards the SF-9, but Aaron jinked and threw it off. Soon enough, another Star was behind him!

"Goddamn! This isn't working at all!"

Makari disengaged and separated from the furball. He accelerated away so as to come around and stiff-arm an enemy. Unexpectedly, they all followed close behind, as Sturmoff bellowed, "No! Don't let him get away, don't let him get out too far! We'd be done for! This bastard must know something about the SFs!" This confused Aaron considerably, but he knew better than to ask for an explanation. Instead, he pushed the throttle all the way forward and zoomed away from the trailing bandits. One of them cursed him, "Don't think you'll escape! We shall destroy you for disgracing the SF-9!!"

Star 5 resounded, "Damn right! None can withstand the wrath of five Angel Killers, not even Seraph 8!!"

The pilot long ago known as 'Seraph 8' paid no attention. He simply cut the throttle and braked hard; the end of the Star fishtailed violently, and Aaron was bounced around in the cockpit. The bandits couldn't decelerate quick enough, having been taken completely by surprise.

"Alright! Fox 3!" Four missiles sprang from the SF-9, eager to finally tear into the enemy. Each trailed a separate aircraft, yet only one found its target. That projectile exploded right next to the SF-3, ravaging the plane. Half of its front right wing was shorn clean off.

"Damn it, this is Borislav, I've taken damage!"

Aaron flew past the SFs. He was shocked to see that the wounded bird was still flying. "I forgot it takes a direct hit to bring down one of these things…But that almost was a direct hit! I'll have to be careful with my shots…real careful."

As he turned to engage again, Makari heard Sturmoff growl over the radio, "You've scarred five of these beautiful jets now Thatcher… You bastard…! It's time you atoned for all the evils you've committed against your brethren! Die, Thatcher, die!!"

The five SFs resumed their attack. This time, however, it was different. It was all different. The SF-3 was wounded and trailing smoke. Bolt 1's instincts, the very instincts long tempered by years of this war, overwhelmed his reason. The others didn't matter. Not now. He was the predator now. He had to rend, tear, kill the weakest enemy. Diving through the formation of Stars, Bolt 1 zeroed in on the prey. Damaged, the SF-3 couldn't outmaneuver the powerful SF-9, and Aaron clung to it. He pulled the trigger and followed the Starfighter with an unremitting stream of bullets. The bandit's aircraft, strafed by hundreds of bullets, fell apart.

"Oh shit! Oh shit! This is Afanasi, I'm hit! It's coming apart!"

There was a long pause as the plane's radio was interrupted by static. Then Star 3 spoke his last words: "I'm… I'm not going to eject…like you said. Thatcher might win the day, but remember… Megafloat will claim his soul soon enough!" Makari watched with marked satisfaction as the SF-3 smashed into the waves below, and the radio transmission was cut off. He laughed aloud, "Well, that's one down! Come on, weren't you guys supposed to crush me?"

Viktor retorted harshly, "Of course! We still have a four to one advantage! We'll send you to hell so you can keep company with Taylor and Rhodes!!"

"That's the only advantage you've got," Bolt 1 muttered, "And screw those ass holes." He pulled a wide arc and merged with the bandits once more. The four SFs scattered, avoiding Aaron.

"You know Thatcher, just wait, I'll tell you a secret," Star 7's voice drifted temptingly over the radio, "If you hadn't run like a coward from GHQ, you would be where we are... you would have been chosen to pilot an SF! Probably Rhodes and Taylor too… had you not killed them. What do you think of that?"

Makari firmly replied, "I don't care what I could have been… I'm glad I'm fighting you! And… my… name's… not… Thatcher!!" He chased after the others, as they had reformed; they split again as he approached. Edith laughed at him, "Fool! After we kill you, we'll kill the rest of your pitiful squad, and the Points of the Arrowhead! Then no one will stand in the way of Erusea's resurrection and domination!"

Bolt 1 noticed then a rather large Sweeping Star insignia on the tail of one of the fighters. This was the jet of Conrad Edith, the man who had just taunted him. This was the very first Starfighter. This was his next target. Aaron pursued him, trying to achieve a missile lock before he himself was painted.

"Are you really still trying Thatcher? Just give up and die!"

Sturmoff was turning onto his six, yet Makari only concentrated on the enemy aircraft to his front. Just a few seconds more…

"Well, goodbye Thatcher… fox 1!" he heard Viktor say. The missile's engine ignited, propelling itself towards the SF-9. Aaron knew he had to move, but then he wouldn't be able to hit Star 1. He waited for the lock-on as the lethal object from the SF-8 streaked ever closer.

"See you in hell Thatcher…" Again Makari ignored Edith. Now was the time; the buzzer heralded the successful lock-on. "Sorry… I'll miss the date. Fox 2!"

As soon as he fired, Bolt 1 yanked the throttle back and pitched up. His aircraft threw itself into a kulbit, missing the other missile by mere inches. Both missiles, Aaron's and Viktor's, instead hit another target, the SF-1. The plane was ripped to pieces by the double impact. Edith screamed over the radio as his jet met the water, "You are dead Thatcher! Dead like me! No matter what happens today, Megafloat will ravage all our—Aaahhh!!!"

The three remaining SF pilots were horrified. This enemy, this man who had never before piloted a Star, and only seen their flying style twice, had shot down and killed two more of their number. In this one instant, the odds had swung to Aaron's favor. It was still three against one, but Bolt 1 had become… something. Something bloodthirsty, something deadly. None of them showed it, but all three were thoroughly terrified.

Sanders tried to encourage himself and his wingmen. "Re-regardless of how good it is… the SF-9 is j-just another p-plane… you shoot it, it blows up, he dies…!" These mumbled sounds had the opposite effect on Sturmoff. He silenced his wingman, "Just another plane?! Do you realize what you're saying?! There's no escape! The SF-9 can easily take us out from long distance. Yet even at close range where the SF-8 beats the nine, we can't even hit him! We have to fight harder if we want to live to see Wocken!"

The Starfighers changed formation. Sturmoff attacked solo while Sanders and Zumtod fought as a pair. The SF-6, a production model of the five, flew beautifully with its sister jet. The pilots, on the other hand, had been reduced to nervous wrecks by the very real possibility of their deaths looming nearer. Star 6's mental state bordered on lunacy as he shrieked, "Let us satisfy the reaper! May heaven's glory shine upon us as we eradicate this fallen angel from the face of the Earth!!"

Viktor came from above as the other two approached Aaron from below. Bolt 1 thought fast and pulled straight up. Sturmoff shot right past him, yet now the pair was sitting at his six o'clock. He increased his speed to full, rocketing up into the heavens. The SFs were quick to follow suit. Makari watched as the speed and altitude indicators went crazy; he ascertained that he was climbing at mach 4.3, and was at around an astounding angels sixty and still going.

"You fools! Don't follow him!" Star 7 cried out from far below. It was too late. At around angels eighty, the two Starfighters chasing Aaron stalled. Time seemed to freeze as Bolt 1 observed the surreal image of two huge jets ceasing forward movement and slowly falling back to earth. He seized his chance, dropping onto the bandits' tails in a controlled stall. The SF-6 would be the next victim.

"Fox 3, fox 3!"

The missile leapt from the Starfighter, hungrily pursuing a long-awaited kill. The enemy aircraft, still buffeting uncontrollably, couldn't evade the projectile. It took a direct hit to the fuselage, blowing off all four wings at once. Zumtod was forever silenced by shrapnel that impaled him through his seat. The SF-6 fell burning like a comet, shattering the tranquil waters of the sea when it crashed in them. Aaron observed all of this with a glint in his eyes and a smirk on his face. This was what he lived for. The rush one gets dogfighting, the thrill of bagging the enemy… he relished it.

"God damn it… Zumtod too…" Star 5's voice trembled as he spoke, "I…I get it now… w-we aren't going to kill Th-thatcher… You, Thatcher, are dead… you think you are alive, but you are dead… Megafloat has seen to that. So, we can't kill you… fate is inevitable." Sturmoff silently agreed. Then suddenly, Sanders did something Viktor never expected.

"So go ahead… Thatcher, shoot me down. It's over…"

Aaron obliged. He turned onto Timothy's tail and launched a missile before Viktor could interfere. The SF-5 took a direct hit to the engines and imploded. Large chunks of steel and shrapnel drifted down to the water. Again, the pilot remained in the jet. Now there was just one SF pilot left. Viktor Sturmoff.

"Wh-why…? How…? I…I…! No! No!!" Star 7 disengaged Makari and fled from him. He streaked towards Wocken as fast as his engines could thrust him forward. Now Aaron relented. His anger had abated some, and he was even ready to let Sturmoff escape with what was left of his life. But…

"Bolt 1! What are you doing?! You can't let any get away! Chase him!" his AWACS commanded. Aaron sighed. "Well… I'm sorry Sturmoff." He fired one of his long range missiles. The projectile almost dealt a fatal blow, but Viktor realized he was under attack just in time. The missile detonated near his jet, damaging it slightly. At this, he erupted in rage.

"Damn you Thatcher!! Damn you!! You have taken everything from me: my jets, my wingmen, my country and home, my air force, and yet now you seek my life too?! Why can't you let a broken man go?!"

Aaron took a deep breath before answering. He knew Sturmoff was trying to take advantage of his compassionate side. Unfortunately for Viktor, it had faded a long time ago. "Because… I have to end this damned war. And that won't happen easily if Wocken gets an SF."

"Then… then follow me to Wocken! I'll climb straight up to… however high this thing can go and then plunge it into the ocean at top speed! I'll eject right near the coast, and this jet will plummet to its doom, shredded to nothingness on impact!!"

"I can't do that either," Makari denied, "You love that plane too much. You'd never purposefully destroy it. No… you'd hit me as soon as my guard was down. Not hard to do in the SF-8."

There was a momentary silence. Aaron could tell that Sturmoff was thinking hard on what to say next, for Makari had seen right through him.

"What I said earlier, Aaron…" Bolt 1 immediately braced himself. This sudden change of tone, this sudden new strategy by Viktor… Aaron had made up his mind, and he couldn't be swayed by what this pitiful creature was about to do next – beg.

"I did so much for you… as General of the FEAF…"

Aaron snapped at this man, "Yeah! You ordered my squad assassinated! You killed so many of my friends!"

"Don't be like that, Aaron… Before then… when you let that ace go alive, I lessened your long-term punishment… Your promotions were usually suggested by me… It was I who saw to it you got the best training available…"

"And look where it's gotten you," Makari retorted caustically, "At my mercy… begging and pleading… it's pathetic."

"Damn you Thatcher…! You let that worthless ISAF bastard go, why not me?!"

Aaron completely lost it with Sturmoff. He had had enough. "I… already… ANSWERED THAT!! I can't let you go! I don't want to let you go! No… Sturmoff, it's time… it's time you atoned for your sins! I won't let someone who tried to finish what his Yellow lackeys started over Olim Ravine live! I won't let a man who threatened and attempted to kill me and my friends escape! Prepare to die like the dog you are, Sturmoff!!"

"Aaron, please, no! I'm sorry, I am!"

Bolt 1 paid no attention. He switched to his last short range missiles; he intended to finish Viktor in a vicious, close-in dogfight. Star 7 deserved no better.

"You were my favorite! Always! Ever since the beginning of the war I knew the Stars would be built, and I made a list of whom would pilot them! You were always at the top of that list, Aaron! Aaron!! Seraph 8!!"

Makari spoke his last words to Viktor, "I told you, I don't give a damn. And look! I am piloting an SF. And… 'Seraph 8' is dead… He died in the ravine with the others. I am Bolt 1. I did die then… like you'll die now."

Sturmoff cursed to himself, "Damn Thatcher… a dogfight to the death… and the SF-8 has probably lost its edge due to the missile damage… shit!" He had lost every advantage he had over Bolt 1. Now it was just pilot skill that would decide who should live and who should perish.

Aaron glanced at his instrument panels. According to ARMS, he had a total of just two more missiles. Remaining also were some two hundred and fifty rounds for the Titan gun. Makari then noticed that the Mission Intel screen next to ARMS had been keeping track of the battle. It listed kills, the aircraft downed, and what the chances for survival in the encounter were. In solo combat against five SFs, the possibility of his victory had been predicted as less than four percent.

"Thanks jet, I guess you don't know me too well!" he laughed. Bolt 1 was ready now. He knew the two aircraft were evenly matched (the data now read that survival in one-on-one was fifty percent), and that he had to make every shot count. He passed Sturmoff head-on, then turned to engage.

Star 7 climbed to attack Aaron from above. He dived at his target from twenty thousand feet. Makari, at angels eleven, saw this coming and rolled his airplane. Rather than dive as well, he pushed the stick forward and ascended upside-down. Viktor noticed that Bolt 1 was flying straight at him, but not that he was inverted.

"Such a bad move, Thatcher… fox 2!"

At this exact moment, Aaron pulled the stick back towards him; the SF-9 began into a small loop, avoiding Star 7's missile. The SF-8 zoomed past in its descent, and then Makari completed his maneuver. Now he was behind Sturmoff by just a few hundred feet, too close for missiles.

"Guns, guns!"

The Titan machine gun roared into life, spewing about eighty 30mm slugs at the bandit. Viktor frantically weaved to dodge them, but took at least twenty hits to the fuselage of his jet. Sputtering thick smoke, the SF-8 leveled out and decelerated. Bolt 1 broke off his attack to avoid crashing into the enemy plane. He listened as Sturmoff cussed him out on the radio, but did not respond.

"Fuck you, Thatcher! Damn you and your squad to hell! Megafloat won't get a chance to kill you… I'm going to!!"

Star 7 pushed the throttle to full. The damaged SF accelerated again, turning a wide arc after Aaron. Viktor was attempting to use hit-and-run tactics now.

"Keh… how fitting for a coward," Makari scowled. He sped up too, and stiff-armed Sturmoff. The two passed once more without firing a shot. As he broke left, Aaron saw that Viktor was going low, extremely low. He also noticed that the SF-8's wings had not switchbladed, possibly due to some bullet that struck a key component to the wings' pivoting action. The bandit's low altitude and large wing area were creating a great amount of drag on it. This was Aaron's opportunity! He pursued Star 7 to just feet above the water.

"Let's see how reckless you are, Thatcher…"

Viktor began jinking erratically, his wingtips coming within inches of the ocean surface, a fatally solid wall at this speed. Bolt 1 had to follow him through these stunts if he wanted a good tone. As Sturmoff scissored back and forth, however, he easily threw off the missile lock.

"What's the matter, Thatcher? Weren't you going to crush me?"

Aaron clenched his teeth; he was getting very agitated by Viktor's constant swerving. His concentration wavered for a second, but he then conceived the simple solution. Makari stopped following Star 7's every move. Sure enough, he eventually turned right into Bolt 1's sights.

"Fox 2!"

"What?! Shit!!"

Nothing worked for Sturmoff, and so he couldn't shake off the projectile. It detonated in close proximity to his engines, blasting apart the rear end of the Star.

"Damn it! Damn it!!"

The SF-8 was finished. Its engines burst into flames, and the number one engine failed, tilting the aircraft; its fins and nozzles were shredded; its wings and systems were all breaking down. Star 7 knew it was over, too. His life, his jet, all were in shambles… and now it was about to be ended. He called out over the radio one last time, interrupted now and then by static.

"I don't know……can hear me, but I……Bolt 1, you want me to…….my sins? I'll say….There is a corridor….leads straight to the missiles…Now fire, Thatcher…end your war."

Aaron's eyes watered as he listened to this broken man. This man was the cause of all of Aaron's suffering, but he couldn't help but feel sorrow for him. Sturmoff had lost everything but his life, and now he was prepared to lose that too.

"Fox… 2…"

Bolt 1's missile obliterated what was left of the SF-8. The pieces of the jet scattered over the ocean floor as they sank. Star 7 drifted down, down into the deep, clear blue oblivion. Aaron pulled up, away from the grave of General Viktor Sturmoff.

"Yes! Yes! Excellent, Makari, you did it! You took on all five and beat the bastards! Three cheers for Bolt 1!"

Aaron vehemently yelled to Astrologist, "Shut up, damn it!!" The men aboard the AWACS were shocked into silence, not expecting anger to be the emotion Makari was feeling. They could not understand why Aaron was not as excited as they were. Neither could Aaron. Conflicting ideas in his mind waged a fierce battle. What had he actually accomplished? Avenged his friends and wingmen? Ended the war at last?

Perhaps all he had done was murder five men in cold blood as they fled to the last and only place on Earth that would still accept them, as they fled from their own personal fears and demons, as they fled from their shattered lives.

Aaron found himself unable to grasp the answer to that question. It did not matter right then and there. The war was over! He would have plenty of time to think it over later, so he repressed the feelings for now. He apologized to Astrologist and headed for base, happier than he could remember being for a long time. The war was over! The war was over at last!

Author's Note:

During the battle, Sturmoff mentioned that the five SF pilots couldn't let Aaron 'get out too far' and that Aaron must know something about the SFs. This is actually just a coincidence. The SF-9 is an update on the SF-7 and specializes in long range combat and tracking multiple targets (as Rote and Sturmoff boasted). The only SFs that could have challenged the nine at long distances were already shot down; namely, the SF-2, 4, and 7. Also, Viktor did not trust Gregory Asche, the previous pilot of the SF-9, because he was Belkan, not Erusian. He figured that Asche gave Aaron the nine and information on the other Starfighters in return for amnesty, not knowing that Asche had been killed by falling bombs. These factors led Sturmoff to believe that Aaron knew about each SF and was going to take out the rest from long range, a very easy task to accomplish with the SF-9.