Nicole was alone with her own thoughts, and that was not exactly the best company to keep. Especially not for her.
She sat with her back propped up against the F/E-18's nose gear, the perennial bags under her hazel-brown eyes an open book telling onlookers everything they needed to know about her mental state. Exhausted. Burnt out. She hung her head in a tired, heavy hand. The dogfight had taken a lot of her stamina, and the dialogue with her former colleague had taken what little serenity she had managed to gather.
The distant stormclouds dropped bolts of judgement on the landscape below as the pitter-patter of rain fell against the tarmac. The hangar, now, was a brief refuge, her own Ogygia, her Hornet Calypso as she lay shipwrecked among the waves of disastrous fate. She stared into the sky, and knew that it was more a home to her than this airbase ever had been. The sky didn't care about her past, after all.
A smoothly grating voice broke her trance from over her shoulder, off the left side of the Hornet's nose. "Hey there, ace." Bluejay. Just the fucking company I was looking for. "Whaddya want, 'Jay?" Nicole didn't look at him.
"I wanted to come by and thank you." He lowered his sunglasses as he walked out in front of the plane. She tried her best not to make eye contact.
"Thank me for what?" She looked down into her shoulder.
"Well… thanks for giving me a new story to tell." The AWACS smiled.
"Go to hell."
"What was that the old man said? We're already there, Spook." Bluejay let out a light chuckle.
"Please go away, Bluejay. I don't want to talk about him."
"I gotcha. I'll leave ya alone soon 'nough. But Jackal wanted me to pass on a message."
"Yeah?" Nicole looked up. Maybe if I give him the attention he wants he'll leave.
"Jack said thanks. On behalf of the whole squadron. He's the only one who'll admit it right now, but you and I just saved their asses. He said that old man was full of shit."
Nicole sat there, stunned. "...tell him they're welcome. And yeah, I've known him for a while. He is."
"I think I will, Lieutenant." Bluejay snapped off a salute. "Good flyin' out there, Spook."
She didn't let him see it, but she smiled.
Nicole walked into the rec room and flopped face first onto the nearest couch. Her squadron was arguing and yelling about who knows what huddled around the ping-pong table, likely egged on by the caffeine and taurine of their energy drinks. She wasn't awake enough to care, and as she tried to sleep she could make out more and more of the shouting despite pulling couch cushions over her ears.
"What the hell makes you think we'll be any different, huh? Why are you standing up for a fuckin' Fed?" Burn seemed on the verge of an aneurysm. "You just tryin' to get your dick wet or something?"
"What the fuck, man?" Jackal shouted. "You're fucking insane. That old man was talking outta his ass- just look at how many Feds she's shot down! She's on our side!"
Nicole pulled the cushions closer, trying to block out the… spirited debate.
"Lieutenant Bernitz." Major Hawthorne cast a stern glare at her subordinate. "You're out of line."
Scott huffed. "I think Captain Hyder has more to answer for than I do. I'm Cascadian, through and through. I won't forget what people like her did to us."
"God damn, you two. Knock it off already." Zip rolled his eyes. "Same as the last time we had this argument, we're getting nowhere but frustrated. Just keep this on the ground, okay? You're dismissed, Lieutenant. You should probably cool off too, Jackal."
Burn stormed off, thankfully missing her under the pile of couch cushions, and left the lounge.
Jackal walked over and slumped down on the couch, noticing the blob of fabric-covered foam in front of him. "...You good?"
"...No." Nicole kept her answer short, still clinging dearly to the hope of a nap.
"I feel ya, LT." He nodded, putting his legs up on the armrest and laying down.
He stared up at the ceiling. "That old fucker was right about only one thing. We are in hell, aren't we?" He chuckled. "No coffee and the substitute's literal poison. Briefing software doesn't work. Half the squadron wants to kill you, and I think he wants to kill me too, now. This is the suckiest I've ever seen the Suck." Jackal seemed to be laughing at his own sorrow. "Old jarhead friend of mine told me that when I joined the National Guard I'd have to embrace the Suck. Well, here I am."
She didn't reply.
"He's gone now," Captain Hyder continued. "Died in the first few days of the war. You know the casualty lists are just reaching us now, right? All 'cuz of that damn jamming array."
Solana.
The sun shined bright across the desert sand, great rocks jutting from the ground. Satellite dishes littered the landscape as planes pirouetted through the skies, forming new clouds as missiles' vapor trails hung in the air. Among the chaos, eight planes, dressed in the formal black colors of a ballroom dancer, lead their tango while their partners all, progressively… tripped.
Nicole laughed, the rush of the fight pushing everything else away, thinking about how she was going to paint the fifth mark onto her plane's nose that night. Ace.
How many people didn't know their brothers or sisters weren't coming home? Were the two more stencils, now scratched out, worth all that pain? No, she thought, of course not. She closed her eyes, and as another reminder of the evil she had wrought, the red cross of the hospital's sign stared her down through the grainy filter of the targeting pod.
He was right. She was a coward. A murderer, scrambling to bathe the blood off her hands. She wondered what Uncle Brian would say to her, how if he hated her all those years for joining the Federation, how much he'd hate her now.
She sighed, and teardrops consecrated the sinner's face in sorrow.