Eighteen years old he thought, eighteen and just commissioned. His father pinned him on with a smile on his face knowing his son was to follow him in what their family new best, the military. With most of his friends avoiding the military, he was not sure he wanted to follow in his father's steps. Even his best friend had "issues" with military life even though it had sustained his family through life. He shook his father's hand and found a glance on his face he had never seen before, one of approval, one he had hoped to receive all his life. Maybe this was right for him.
Chris Rix walked away from the ceremony that day thinking about the face that his father had worn most of the day, the face of approval. On the other hand as soon as he left the hot conference room, out into the fresh air, signs of doubt encroached itself into Chris's mind. He began to think about the conversations he and Tristan shared. The times when Tristan tried to talk Chris out of following in his "anal" father's footsteps. He almost listed to his best friend, yet he remembered one detail, who would join if he didn't? He was not all to anxious to join the military but it was the life he knew best and he knew what civilians as well as others thought about the military. He couldn't fathom standing around while his world, his home, his very existence stood threatened, yet he knew his friends could. That is what stopped him from not taking the oath. Without himself he thought, who would sacrifice themselves so that others could live? He even did this knowingly for the ones he hated, that were of his own kind and not a true enemy. Still Chris feared the unknowing, he feared death. Maybe the RDF was not the best choice at the time; maybe he should have chosen to live a little first.
Chris enjoyed the time he spent with his new friends at the RDF training facility. They all would enjoy themselves the best they could throughout the vicious cycle of never-ending mission training in their Veritechs. Chris wasn't fairing so bad in his class, he wasn't the smartest or most skilled pilot but he could hold his own. Ranked fourth at the end of the first five-week session, he and Wyeth, a fellow pilot at the facility took off for the weekend for their two-day leave. Chris met Wyeth in the training ladder, having to face off against each other in daily squadron melees. It appeared that the instructors liked seeing the two of them in battle due to Chris's prowess against Wyeth's intellect. They were always about a point away in the final point tally unlike most lopsided matches by the other pilots. Chris was happy with life at this point, although still scared at the inevitable. The war had broke out on the space front and it was obvious after the next session they would be sent to fight.
The final session that consisted mainly of squadron cooperation drills went by fairly quickly. Not much by surprise Chris's Hound squadron was paired with Wyeth's Phoenix squadron for a majority of the drills. The two learned to work in perfect unison. Chris was the light and Wyeth was the dark, they were the constant circle of true brotherhood. Wyeth would only have to scan the battlefield once before he had Chris turning loops around "enemy" fighters, cannons blazing. On the other hand Chris had the uncanny ability to sift Wyeth from any tight spot he couldn't maneuver out of. The two of them became an unstoppable fighting force at the training center. It even got to the point that instructors were hard pressed to outmatch the pair. It took their years of experience to overcome the raw talent of the two young pilots. Chris was at a high point in his life. His father, fighting in the Mars sector against the hostile Zentraedi sent him a letters extending his gratitude for his sacrifice of living life in a tough disciplined military instead of in leisurely relaxation like his old friends. It seemed his father's approval was only made stronger by the sands of time. Chris was then informed of his squadron promotion to Hound leader, while Wyeth moved up to Phoenix leader although he wasn't to surprised.
That's when it arrived, the small white slip of paper with the displeasing printed RDF letterhead. Two words were printed on that paper, "Merry Christmas". Two words with an alternate meaning. They were to report at 0500 at operations to receive their new destination, a destination with the inevitable. News found Chris ears the next morning, news his ears could have done without. The RDF mars defense perimeter had cracked, his father included. His squadron as well as Fox, Panther, DevilRay, and Phoenix squadrons were to relocate and reinforce the mars defense sector. ETA 1200, that day. Tristan's words caught up to Chris for the first time in a month. He was having doubts again.
"Chris!! What the hell are you doing?? I said the bogey at twelve!!" that voice reverberated through Chris helmet for a few seconds before a volley of missiles ended the shouting. Chris was not prepared for the events unfolding before him. Already half his squadron was gone, while three others were non-operational floating scrap metal targets floating in space. Wyeth's squadron was fairing a little better with seven actual working Veritechs. Chris himself had already suffered minor cannon hits among a close encounter with a few Zentraedi missiles.
"Chris!!" the shouting returned as the recognized voice of Wyeth. "There are six bogeys on our five, Ill take the left you go right, but bring back up!!" he continued. His voice very uneasy and in a hesitant tone Chris thought. Very different from his cool collected voice during missions at the training facility.
"I'm on it, Hound three, seven, and ten, follow me in." Chris calmly spoke into the intercom attached to his helmet as he adjusted his radar to multiple missile lock. "Hound squad, lock on to those bogeys while Phoenix mows em down." He added still calm. The targeting system gave its metallic cry and Chris unleashed hell upon the Zentraedi. "Fricken A!! Two volleys went right by him!!" Chris shouted with anger. He noticed his armament panel read half-empty. Thankgod Hound ten's missiles found their intended Zentraedi destination, the cockpit of the fighter ending its pathetic existence with a flash of brilliance and then nothing. Nothing thought Chris, exactly what it was, nothing.
"Multiply bogeys bearing three-six-niner, Hound three and seven you head em off." Chris muttered in a once more calm voice.
"Roger Hound leader" two voices exclaimed in a simultaneous common sound. The two Veritechs powered up their boosters and rushed off opposite the other three fighters.
"Chris we have a large bogey coming in at high velocity to our two, roughly the same size as us." Wyeth said collectively for once. He knew what he was going to hear next, you distract while I maneuver in for a kill shot. It worked on the veteran pilots of the RDF, why not on some common thoughtless Zentraedi? At that moment his though patterns changed. Hound ten exploded not twenty meters away. All Chris remembered was a red streak and a ball of fire. His radar showed that the high intensity beam rifle was shot from their new bogey. A Zentraedi ace Chris thought? This can't be real, I'm not here, this isn't my life! His thoughts bounced through his brain, a rush of heat filled his body, panic filled his veins. Chris realized he wasn't at the training center anymore. He wasn't fighting friendly aces, this one was out to kill, and kill he could.
"Break left!!" was all Chris heard and following the familiar voices instincts, they saved his life. The rifle beam passed the armor plating of the Veritech by mere inches. "Chris!!" the voice cried again, this time breaking Chris's thoughts and bringing him back to reality. Realizing Wyeth was screaming at him over the intercom Chris woke from his nightmare ready to fight.
"Plan?" returned Chris plainly.
"Plan? Hello… I've been shouting hit is exhaust for ten minutes!!" cried Wyeth in return. "Ill lead him up since you have the better shot, then hit it from behind.." he finished.
"Roger, and don't get yourself killed smartass, his you saw what a shot from that rifle will do to your flying sheet metal." Added Chris. His thoughts now focused on hitting that exhaust with precision. Wyeth flew a sharp V pattern down then back up to help Chris engage the Zentraedi ace. It a few moments to get the right position, but when Chris was ready to take the shot he let Wyeth know.
"NOW!" echoed in Wyeth's eardrums for a few seconds, he then shifted his Veritech into battaloid mode maneuvered around and stopped the ace dead in its tracks. Chris fired. The shot pierced the armor of the ace and ended his existence in the span of seconds. The bright flash now known all to well by Chris filled the space around him and lit up even the brightest of stars. Relief filled his heart and mind. It worked on even Zentraedi aces.
"Nice shot..very nice.." he heard Wyeth say in a sly voice. Then came static, Chris heart changed once more from sheer exhilaration to bitter cold. Out of his view panel, Wyeth's black and white Veritech was shattered into oblivion. Chris sank into rage at the site. Targeting not only the bogey that left the hole in his heart but the pieces that were left after its destruction. Chris faded into depression. His thoughts ceased to exist in a common manor.
As the battle raged forward, Chris finished with his fair share of the ordeal. Forever changed, he would never forget the massive struggle for truth and existence for which he fought that day. He lost a best friend in almost no time, yet he had gained one for life. Even if he could not understand this or other similar things at the present, time would reveal these things to him. He saved more lives than were lost that day, even at such a terrible price. Yet if he had not chosen to be there, would someone else have taken is place? Chris was serenely fulfilled with the choices he had made. He was truly happy with the life he lives.
-Written to honor those who fight for The United States even though they do not fully understand at times what or how or why they are doing those things. Without you, the common patriot, America would not exist as it does today. I thank you for my freedom, please continue to serve and know you are appreciated.