DISCLAIMER - I do not own Advance Wars or anything copyrightedly relating
to within, which is copyrighted and owned by Nintendo, although I do happen
to like this piece of work I've written and if I ever discover some random
lamer forging it in their name I will be substantially cheesed off, and
nasty letters from me will commence bombardment on said lamer. So don't
even bother stealing it. However, you MAY place this on your website
without my consent should it have an Advance Wars fanfiction section. If
that happened and I discovered such a thing has occured, I'd actually be
quite flattered. Thank you, and enjoy.
______________
The Fighters - Part II
By RustyD
______________
~----~
~Mission Nine: Disturbing Discoveries~
~----~
The sun had finally made its full presence known over the far eastern Macro- Orange Star mountains when Thunderbolt Squadron came in for their landings at their new home, the Reagan Air Force Base.
Glenn made sure the entire squadron landed before he did so, considering he felt a leader always stayed until they was sure their subordinates were safe and good-to-go. It had been the way he'd felt during his campaign with the Green Earth air force, but he'd never really gotten to test the theory. Perhaps Roger Winters, his captain, had instilled that feeling in him.
Glenn landed his aircraft after a few circles around the base and, after stopping the fighter so the landing crews could deal with it and get it to the hangars, immediately exited it and began to search out a certain other squadron with whom the lead Thunderbolt fighter was EXTREMELY agitated with. Regulations ordered all squadron pilots to go to their commanders after a mission, but even though he had things of great importance concerning the enemy on his mind at the moment, Glenn found any discussion with Beauregard could hold off for a bit. He was positively fuming inside his head, and not wholly because of Black Hole.
Heartbreak Squadron had apparently gotten back before all the Thunderbolts. Glenn, holding his oxygen helmet in his hands and still sweating up waterfalls from what had happened over Krasst not twenty or thirty minutes earlier, stormed along on the tarmac over to where the group of other pilots in Heartbreak conversed, obviously going over what had happened as they stood near their sitting planes. One of them saw Glenn Gordon coming towards the lot of them and turned around, noticing the lightning bolt patch the lead Thunderbolt wore. "Uh oh."
Glenn was there in seconds. He pushed directly past the idiot gawking at him and came face-to-face with the Heartbreak Squadron leader. It took a biblical amount of self-control to refrain from going ahead and beating them all down right there and then, but Glenn had always had a great deal of self-control already. "Where the hell were all of you!?"
The Heartbreak leader stared at him. Obviously far different from the green kids he flew with, he was a man about Glenn's age, perhaps a little older since Glenn was twenty-six, with short blonde hair opposed to the Thunderbolt's brown. The most intimidating thing about him, though, was that he towered over the 5'8" Glenn Gordon. The man must have been over 6'4". At first glance, the Heartbreak leader could have perhaps been mistaken for a heavyweight boxer. "What do you mean, 'where were we?'"
Glenn's anger went up a notch as he glared up at the man. "You know what I'm talking about! What in blue blazes happened to all of you!? Didn't you see what was going on!?"
"What business is it of yours where we were, little Thunderbolt?" The Heartbreak leader crossed his arms as the rest of his pathetic squadron chuckled. "I'm sure it was nothing you couldn't handle. We got a little busy assisting Ring Squadron, that's all."
"Ring Squadron only needed to help out the ground forces!" Glenn felt his blood pressure rising rapidly. "They didn't need a second squadron helping them out! We lost a man up there today, a good man! It could have been AVOIDED!"
The Heartbreaker's expression sagged slightly. "Ring Squadron lost one, too. The fact that you had casualties is irrelevant to the matter. Commander Beauregard felt-"
"-A- casualty! Marcus Madison!" Glenn growled, his hands clenching into fists.
"Commander Beauregard," the other pilot stated, ignoring Glenn's furious interruption, "felt that Ring Squadron does not have pilots as experienced as yours, little Thunderbolt."
"Well, why the hell didn't you split your squadron? Have half stay with Ring and have the other half come help us?"
"I didn't feel it was necessary," the Heartbreaker muttered, his voice practically reeking of self-assurance. "Marcus Madison wasn't that great a pilot anyway. I'll make a much better addition to your squadron. Do you understand now?"
As if the Marcus comment weren't infuriating enough, the way he spoke told Glenn that the man was treating the Thunderbolt flight leader as though he were fourteen years old. If there was anything at that moment that caused Glenn to keep from hitting the man right in the face, it was Beauregard walking up behind him, quickly trying to get the situation under control.
"Hey, hey!" he yelled, racing up next to Glenn and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, Gordon! Lordamighty, come on, let's go inside."
Glenn hesitated, glaring at the Heartbreaker, and noticed all the other members of the squadron were staring at him like he were a moron for trying to pick a fight with their leader. He wasn't intimidated at all by the likes of any of them, but when he noticed that his own squadron was standing on the tarmac, having been staring at the confrontation the entire time, he felt a wave of embarrassment overcome him. Immediately he tried to overpower the shame he felt, and began to walk towards the Reagan command center with Beauregard.
Heartbreak Squadron turned away from him, more interested in themselves than Glenn or what had happened at Krasst.
Glenn didn't bother looking over his shoulder as he walked next to his commander, but he didn't question what exactly was going on here. "Who exactly was that buffoon, sir?"
"Fel Banon," Beauregard uttered. "Your new wing-mate."
Glenn, having been too busy fuming, hadn't noticed it when the Heartbreak leader, Fel Banon, had informed him of his apparent new status in Thunderbolt Squadron. He whirled around, staring at Beauregard as though the man had just sprouted a second head. "What? That guy!?"
Beauregard didn't stop walking even though Glenn had. "Mm-hmm."
In a rush, the Thunderbolt flight leader raced to catch up after standing there for a few seconds, bewildered. "That guy smells bad, and when I say that, I mean he reeks of arrogance, sir. The last thing I need in my squadron is a guy like that, messing things up for all of us. I've seen that kind of person before - They're nothing but trouble."
"Tough," Beauregard said simply.
"Sir," Glenn growled, very carefully placing his hand on Beauregard's shoulder to try and get him to stop a moment and face him, "I refuse to have that snake-ass in my squadron! Nothing good can come of this! Don't you understand?"
Now, the Commander grew annoyed with Glenn. The older man did indeed turn, but looked terribly agitated, causing Glenn to realize exactly how far he'd crossed the line between conversing and arguing. "Glenn Gordon, you will remember who you are addressing in this matter. Up there in combat, you're most certainly in command of the squadron, but anywhere else, you and everyone else stationed here are official property of me, and I say Fel Banon is in your squadron as a replacement for Marcus Madison. I know you've recieved this info of pretty short notice, considering what just happened, but we already have the paperwork signed. Fel Banon is an exceptional pilot and he will be a worthy addition to your flight. If you don't like or agree with what I'm saying, then you can kindly get the hell off my air base."
Glenn shifted weight between his feet, feeling enormously uncomfortable, since if anyone here deserved a lecture it was Fel. Glenn had also never expected himself to be the first Thunderbolt besides Tuxedo Ral to get a very strict talking to. He could only pray his squadron didn't see the two of them standing there, Beauregard shoving a superior's words down his throat. "Yes, sir."
"I don't want to have this conversation again with you, Gordon," the Commander grumbled, eyeing Glenn.
"Yes, sir," the pilot stated a second time, hoping Beauregard was done. It did indeed seem that way, since the Commander angrily began walking back towards the command center again. Glenn wished he wouldn't have to follow, but did so. They still had things to talk about - Very important things. "Commander, I still need to speak with you about-"
"Can it wait, Glenn?" the Commander asked, his previously-annoyed voice returning to its normal, grizzley self. "You and the rest of the 207th need to get to the infirmary to check and see if you're all physically okay."
"I'm fine," Glenn muttered, stopping again when they'd entered the command center. He put his still-gloved hands on his hips. "What if I told you that I'd seen similarities today between a Black Hole fighter and a certain Blue Moon fighter?"
Beauregard stopped where he was and turned to face Glenn, expressionless. "Go on."
"Today, over Krasst, during combat, I saw that one of the Black Hole fighters we were engaged with had the exact same hawk emblems on its wings that a Blue Moon fighter in the Cosmo region had. I remember because I saw the Blue Mooner three months ago when Knives was killed." Glenn eyed his Commander, waiting for any sort of response, whether vocal or expression- wise.
The older official only rubbed his chin. "This is very disturbing news. . . But it was not unexpected."
Glenn blinked, startled. "How's that?"
Beauregard didn't answer at first. He only stood there, eyes gazing at nothing in particular, thinking. Finally, he looked back at Glenn, straight in the eyes. "Glenn, did you notice anything else odd about the enemy fighters today?"
There had been a million things Glenn found odd about the enemy fighters. But he centered on the first one odd thing that came to his mind as he remembered the dogfight over Krasst. "Some of them looked different from others. Alot of the fighters didn't even have canopies or viewports. Some did, but the glass was completely black, so they blended in easily with their paint schemes. It was difficult to tell differences between them, other than that."
A sigh escaped Beauregard's lips. "That's what I figured."
"Sir," Glenn uttered, growing annoyed, "will you please tell me what's going on here? What's with that fighter I saw today?"
"I'll tell you, but only if you go to the infirmary. The rest of your squadron is already there anyway, so don't be stubborn." Successful at getting Glenn to come along, Beauregard jerked his head towards another hallway and began walking down it.
"It's fairly safe to say," he said as they walked, "that many forces have defected to Black Hole's terror campaign. Green Earth, Yellow Comet, even some of our own troops have gone towards the other side, but most of the defections have come from Blue Moon."
Glenn had not even known that other countries had been invaded as well. If only people around here would let him know what in blue blazes was going on sometimes, maybe then he wouldn't feel so confused about things.
"Have you ever heard of Kailaff Boldigh?" the Commander suddenly asked.
Glenn paused, then came to a conclusion. "I believe so. He was the lead Blue Moon pilot in the first campaign's final battle. They say he took out quite alot of enemy forces alone, and his squadron didn't do so badly either."
"Yeah, well, that squadron you're talking about is the one you fought against today."
So that was indeed it. Glenn wasn't particularly dumb - As soon as Beauregard had mentioned Kailaff Boldigh, it was a safe assumption that the renegade Blue Moon defector and his squadron was to blame for the combat over Krasst. Muscles clenched in his face as he ground his teeth, feeling his anger rising, but he told himself to calm down. There wasn't anything he could do right now anyway. "I should have known."
"I expected you to come to me about this," Beauregard said, "since Tuxedo Ral came to me first, mentioning the similarities he'd noticed himself between a Black Hole fighter today and one of Blue Moon's he'd seen in the past. The fighter had been dogging his craft before three months ago, and it did so again today.
"It would seem that Zodo Gallow has defected with Boldigh, but that's not necessarily surprising, since Gallow is Boldigh's wing-mate. It's safe to say Syerri Sven defected as well, considering she was Boldigh's lover."
Syerri Sven? Glenn didn't recognize that name. "Who's Syerri Sven?"
"It doesn't matter anymore because she's waste matter now, that's who. One of those bogeys you shot down had her in it. The ground troops found what was left of her inside the plane a little while ago." Beauregard turned and looked at Glenn intensely. "Did you notice anything happen when you or someone else took down an enemy fighter?"
"No, although as soon as Achmed took down one of them, they all buggered off."
Beauregard's expression tightened. "What kind was it: one of the kind that didn't have a canopy?"
Glenn shook his head. "No, it was one of the fighters with a canopy, a viewport. I could see it where I was, though I wasn't really in a position to actually try and identify that portion of it."
"What about the others that were taken down?" the Commander immediately asked.
Glenn hesitated, trying to figure out exactly where this was going. Nevertheless, he went ahead and answered whatever it was the Commander wanted to know. "Tux took one down, but I think it was the kind without a canopy or anything. So did I."
"I see," Beauregard mumbled, his hand returning to his chin thoughtfully.
The Thunderbolt flight leader stood there, again waiting for a response. He wouldn't have to wait very long.
"We've recieved enough information from our forces situated around the region to know that most of Black Hole's military is made up of mechanics, controlled by self-sentient artificial intelligence. It would seem that they have specially-made weapons of war for those who defect to their cause."
Glenn blinked. How was that possible? An entire army made up simply of artificial intelligence? "You mean we're getting our butts handed to us by a bunch of computers?"
"I suppose you could put it that way," Beauregard uttered, not looking at the Thunderbolt standing before him confusedly. "Of course, their infantry are still sentient beings themselves. Black Hole probably couldn't operate without them."
"What about those hawk emblems?" Glenn wanted to know. "What's with them?"
"Boldigh's nickname is - or was - the Blue Hawk, considering he was the best pilot Blue Moon had to offer. They'll probably start referring to him as the Black Hawk now. And now we have a very, very large problem that presents itself to only us and not the rest of Orange Star." Beauregard turned his back to Glenn. "It's very possible that the last enemy fighter taken out in the conflict over Krasst carried Syerri Sven. Seeing she had been killed, Kailaff Boldigh, mourning her, immediately called for his squadron to retreat. But, Glenn. . ."
Glenn eyed Beauregard carefully as the man continued to speak, his voice more grim than Glenn could ever remember it being. "Boldigh has been in combat against you before this morning. It's probably safe to say he remembered the lightning bolt emblems signifying your squadron on your aircraft today, as did Zodo Gallow and the rest of the enemy pilots. Kailaff Boldigh will most certainly be seeking you out, and when I say you, I do indeed mean you, Glenn Gordon.
"Boldigh's favorite way of taking out enemy fighters is by doing research. Almost every time he goes into combat against his enemies, his goal is to seek out the leader and dispose of him as soon as possible. It's not a bad strategy, since a squadron without a leader isn't of much use during combat. And considering your rank is by your last name on your aircraft, and taking into account that no one else in the squadron has a rank equal or higher to that of yours, I'd assume he knows exactly who the leader of the Thunderbolts is, Lieutenant Gordon. He knew who it was three months ago and he knows who it is now."
A curse escaped Glenn under his breath. Trying to find the right words to answer with weren't easy. Such a startling revelation would have impaired any normal man for a moment or two, but Glenn got right down to business. Standing around looking like one had just seen a ghost wouldn't help anything. "If only I'd known sooner. Maybe Knives would still be around."
Beauregard eyed Glenn carefully. "Would it truly have made a difference if you had known or not? Boldigh is one of the best pilots in the world."
"Well, I would have at least tried to take him out!" Glenn snapped. "It wouldn't have hurt to try!"
"Are you sure about that?" Beauregard asked quietly. "If I remember correctly, his entire squadron converged on Knives. Would you have been able to take them all out, Glenn? If you worked to the best to your ability, would you have been able to save Knives if you had known Boldigh goes after squadron leaders?"
Glenn paused, growing silent.
"No," he admitted, "I guess not."
Beauregard stood there a moment longer, then motioned with his old hand. "Come on, we'll talk more at the infirmary. I want to make sure you're better than you say you are."
---
The day dragged on with the Thunderbolts getting physically checked over and giving their sides of the stories to Commander Beauregard and other Orange Star officials over what had happened at Krasst. Tuxedo's over-the- top description of the scenario had been undoubtedly the most vivid, considering the man's rather ill-put way with words and notable language at times, but everyone's feelings toward the battle was more or less the same as one another's: Nightmarish.
Glenn hadn't spent much time describing what he'd seen through his own eyes, not particularly feeling it to be necessary anymore. He had gone back to the pilot's wing much earlier than anyone else to try and get some much-needed-and-deserved rest. Not that it would matter much - Tux would probably get back sometime soon afterwards and start the longest conversation with Glenn either of them would ever be engaged in, provided the loud, obnoxious fellow wasn't as dog-tired as the Thunderbolt flight leader was. Gordon didn't count on it, so he decided to stay one step ahead of his friend.
He slumped down in his uncomfortable bed and layed there a moment, staring at the ceiling. Falling asleep these days was never as easy as it had been before he'd rejoined the air force. That blathering roommate of his didn't make things any easier, either. Glenn wondered sometimes if going to all the trouble sneakin off-base, spending the night in some smelly hotel, and coming back at four in the morning to keep from getting caught would get him more sleep than it would if he spent the night with a roommate like Tux.
Minutes passed. Glenn's mind began to wander, mostly towards a million things at once, as usual. Eventually, these million things sorted themselves out, and one thought took the lead above the others.
He still felt he could have saved Knives if he'd known of Boldigh's intent, of his strategy. Sure, he may not have been able to take out all the enemy fighters, but Boldigh's jet was particularly simple to pick out among the rest thanks to the hawk emblems. It was the only one worth targetting among the bunch, though all of Boldigh's comrades were ones to watch out for. As long as he had folks like Tuxedo, Bubba, and Rainey by his side, he'd never lose.
That's right. He'd never lose as long as he had them with him. The exchange still stood strong. They'd watch out for him if he watched out for them.
At least, he hoped so.
Tux came in through the door maybe thirty minutes after Glenn had first fallen into bed like a bag of rocks. He swaggered up to his own uncomfortable-looking pile of rough fluff and jumped into it, switching on the small six-inch television all the pilots had access to in their wings. Of course, they only got local channels, but in some death-defying way or another, Tux had somehow finagled with the television and was able to get a load of cable channels with it. Glenn never thought to ask how or why. Immediately, the noisy old weirdo switched the very boring-looking public access channel to that of cartoons and turned the volume up. "Hey, Glenn, doesn't that cowardly dog thing's freaked-out expressions remind you of Bubba when he's laughing? Glenn?"
Tux turned over in the bed and looked at Glenn. "Ah, hell! You're asleep already? It's only eleven. . ." And he channeled his attention right back onto the annoying little television, actually getting a spurt of care for a friend and turning the volume down ever so slightly.
From his bed, the pretending-to-sleep Glenn couldn't help but crack an unseen smile. The exchange did indeed stand firm.
--------
Author Notes:
This one took some time getting up, yes, but my attention keeps switching from this to video games. I'm sure you all have this problem. Some of you, at least. Hope you enjoyed this mild chapter, and I'll try to get the next one in. Keep them reviews flowing, if you want - They're very helpful. Oh, and before I forget, here's another special "thank you" (I hate the term "shout-out") to Dr. Bross for the very helpful e-mail he responded to mine with. Thanks much, bud. It definitely helped.
(Sonic X debuts in the U.S. on Fox Box next Saturday morning. Don't forget! No, I have no particular reason for saying this other than the fact that Sonic kicks ass.)
______________
The Fighters - Part II
By RustyD
______________
~----~
~Mission Nine: Disturbing Discoveries~
~----~
The sun had finally made its full presence known over the far eastern Macro- Orange Star mountains when Thunderbolt Squadron came in for their landings at their new home, the Reagan Air Force Base.
Glenn made sure the entire squadron landed before he did so, considering he felt a leader always stayed until they was sure their subordinates were safe and good-to-go. It had been the way he'd felt during his campaign with the Green Earth air force, but he'd never really gotten to test the theory. Perhaps Roger Winters, his captain, had instilled that feeling in him.
Glenn landed his aircraft after a few circles around the base and, after stopping the fighter so the landing crews could deal with it and get it to the hangars, immediately exited it and began to search out a certain other squadron with whom the lead Thunderbolt fighter was EXTREMELY agitated with. Regulations ordered all squadron pilots to go to their commanders after a mission, but even though he had things of great importance concerning the enemy on his mind at the moment, Glenn found any discussion with Beauregard could hold off for a bit. He was positively fuming inside his head, and not wholly because of Black Hole.
Heartbreak Squadron had apparently gotten back before all the Thunderbolts. Glenn, holding his oxygen helmet in his hands and still sweating up waterfalls from what had happened over Krasst not twenty or thirty minutes earlier, stormed along on the tarmac over to where the group of other pilots in Heartbreak conversed, obviously going over what had happened as they stood near their sitting planes. One of them saw Glenn Gordon coming towards the lot of them and turned around, noticing the lightning bolt patch the lead Thunderbolt wore. "Uh oh."
Glenn was there in seconds. He pushed directly past the idiot gawking at him and came face-to-face with the Heartbreak Squadron leader. It took a biblical amount of self-control to refrain from going ahead and beating them all down right there and then, but Glenn had always had a great deal of self-control already. "Where the hell were all of you!?"
The Heartbreak leader stared at him. Obviously far different from the green kids he flew with, he was a man about Glenn's age, perhaps a little older since Glenn was twenty-six, with short blonde hair opposed to the Thunderbolt's brown. The most intimidating thing about him, though, was that he towered over the 5'8" Glenn Gordon. The man must have been over 6'4". At first glance, the Heartbreak leader could have perhaps been mistaken for a heavyweight boxer. "What do you mean, 'where were we?'"
Glenn's anger went up a notch as he glared up at the man. "You know what I'm talking about! What in blue blazes happened to all of you!? Didn't you see what was going on!?"
"What business is it of yours where we were, little Thunderbolt?" The Heartbreak leader crossed his arms as the rest of his pathetic squadron chuckled. "I'm sure it was nothing you couldn't handle. We got a little busy assisting Ring Squadron, that's all."
"Ring Squadron only needed to help out the ground forces!" Glenn felt his blood pressure rising rapidly. "They didn't need a second squadron helping them out! We lost a man up there today, a good man! It could have been AVOIDED!"
The Heartbreaker's expression sagged slightly. "Ring Squadron lost one, too. The fact that you had casualties is irrelevant to the matter. Commander Beauregard felt-"
"-A- casualty! Marcus Madison!" Glenn growled, his hands clenching into fists.
"Commander Beauregard," the other pilot stated, ignoring Glenn's furious interruption, "felt that Ring Squadron does not have pilots as experienced as yours, little Thunderbolt."
"Well, why the hell didn't you split your squadron? Have half stay with Ring and have the other half come help us?"
"I didn't feel it was necessary," the Heartbreaker muttered, his voice practically reeking of self-assurance. "Marcus Madison wasn't that great a pilot anyway. I'll make a much better addition to your squadron. Do you understand now?"
As if the Marcus comment weren't infuriating enough, the way he spoke told Glenn that the man was treating the Thunderbolt flight leader as though he were fourteen years old. If there was anything at that moment that caused Glenn to keep from hitting the man right in the face, it was Beauregard walking up behind him, quickly trying to get the situation under control.
"Hey, hey!" he yelled, racing up next to Glenn and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, Gordon! Lordamighty, come on, let's go inside."
Glenn hesitated, glaring at the Heartbreaker, and noticed all the other members of the squadron were staring at him like he were a moron for trying to pick a fight with their leader. He wasn't intimidated at all by the likes of any of them, but when he noticed that his own squadron was standing on the tarmac, having been staring at the confrontation the entire time, he felt a wave of embarrassment overcome him. Immediately he tried to overpower the shame he felt, and began to walk towards the Reagan command center with Beauregard.
Heartbreak Squadron turned away from him, more interested in themselves than Glenn or what had happened at Krasst.
Glenn didn't bother looking over his shoulder as he walked next to his commander, but he didn't question what exactly was going on here. "Who exactly was that buffoon, sir?"
"Fel Banon," Beauregard uttered. "Your new wing-mate."
Glenn, having been too busy fuming, hadn't noticed it when the Heartbreak leader, Fel Banon, had informed him of his apparent new status in Thunderbolt Squadron. He whirled around, staring at Beauregard as though the man had just sprouted a second head. "What? That guy!?"
Beauregard didn't stop walking even though Glenn had. "Mm-hmm."
In a rush, the Thunderbolt flight leader raced to catch up after standing there for a few seconds, bewildered. "That guy smells bad, and when I say that, I mean he reeks of arrogance, sir. The last thing I need in my squadron is a guy like that, messing things up for all of us. I've seen that kind of person before - They're nothing but trouble."
"Tough," Beauregard said simply.
"Sir," Glenn growled, very carefully placing his hand on Beauregard's shoulder to try and get him to stop a moment and face him, "I refuse to have that snake-ass in my squadron! Nothing good can come of this! Don't you understand?"
Now, the Commander grew annoyed with Glenn. The older man did indeed turn, but looked terribly agitated, causing Glenn to realize exactly how far he'd crossed the line between conversing and arguing. "Glenn Gordon, you will remember who you are addressing in this matter. Up there in combat, you're most certainly in command of the squadron, but anywhere else, you and everyone else stationed here are official property of me, and I say Fel Banon is in your squadron as a replacement for Marcus Madison. I know you've recieved this info of pretty short notice, considering what just happened, but we already have the paperwork signed. Fel Banon is an exceptional pilot and he will be a worthy addition to your flight. If you don't like or agree with what I'm saying, then you can kindly get the hell off my air base."
Glenn shifted weight between his feet, feeling enormously uncomfortable, since if anyone here deserved a lecture it was Fel. Glenn had also never expected himself to be the first Thunderbolt besides Tuxedo Ral to get a very strict talking to. He could only pray his squadron didn't see the two of them standing there, Beauregard shoving a superior's words down his throat. "Yes, sir."
"I don't want to have this conversation again with you, Gordon," the Commander grumbled, eyeing Glenn.
"Yes, sir," the pilot stated a second time, hoping Beauregard was done. It did indeed seem that way, since the Commander angrily began walking back towards the command center again. Glenn wished he wouldn't have to follow, but did so. They still had things to talk about - Very important things. "Commander, I still need to speak with you about-"
"Can it wait, Glenn?" the Commander asked, his previously-annoyed voice returning to its normal, grizzley self. "You and the rest of the 207th need to get to the infirmary to check and see if you're all physically okay."
"I'm fine," Glenn muttered, stopping again when they'd entered the command center. He put his still-gloved hands on his hips. "What if I told you that I'd seen similarities today between a Black Hole fighter and a certain Blue Moon fighter?"
Beauregard stopped where he was and turned to face Glenn, expressionless. "Go on."
"Today, over Krasst, during combat, I saw that one of the Black Hole fighters we were engaged with had the exact same hawk emblems on its wings that a Blue Moon fighter in the Cosmo region had. I remember because I saw the Blue Mooner three months ago when Knives was killed." Glenn eyed his Commander, waiting for any sort of response, whether vocal or expression- wise.
The older official only rubbed his chin. "This is very disturbing news. . . But it was not unexpected."
Glenn blinked, startled. "How's that?"
Beauregard didn't answer at first. He only stood there, eyes gazing at nothing in particular, thinking. Finally, he looked back at Glenn, straight in the eyes. "Glenn, did you notice anything else odd about the enemy fighters today?"
There had been a million things Glenn found odd about the enemy fighters. But he centered on the first one odd thing that came to his mind as he remembered the dogfight over Krasst. "Some of them looked different from others. Alot of the fighters didn't even have canopies or viewports. Some did, but the glass was completely black, so they blended in easily with their paint schemes. It was difficult to tell differences between them, other than that."
A sigh escaped Beauregard's lips. "That's what I figured."
"Sir," Glenn uttered, growing annoyed, "will you please tell me what's going on here? What's with that fighter I saw today?"
"I'll tell you, but only if you go to the infirmary. The rest of your squadron is already there anyway, so don't be stubborn." Successful at getting Glenn to come along, Beauregard jerked his head towards another hallway and began walking down it.
"It's fairly safe to say," he said as they walked, "that many forces have defected to Black Hole's terror campaign. Green Earth, Yellow Comet, even some of our own troops have gone towards the other side, but most of the defections have come from Blue Moon."
Glenn had not even known that other countries had been invaded as well. If only people around here would let him know what in blue blazes was going on sometimes, maybe then he wouldn't feel so confused about things.
"Have you ever heard of Kailaff Boldigh?" the Commander suddenly asked.
Glenn paused, then came to a conclusion. "I believe so. He was the lead Blue Moon pilot in the first campaign's final battle. They say he took out quite alot of enemy forces alone, and his squadron didn't do so badly either."
"Yeah, well, that squadron you're talking about is the one you fought against today."
So that was indeed it. Glenn wasn't particularly dumb - As soon as Beauregard had mentioned Kailaff Boldigh, it was a safe assumption that the renegade Blue Moon defector and his squadron was to blame for the combat over Krasst. Muscles clenched in his face as he ground his teeth, feeling his anger rising, but he told himself to calm down. There wasn't anything he could do right now anyway. "I should have known."
"I expected you to come to me about this," Beauregard said, "since Tuxedo Ral came to me first, mentioning the similarities he'd noticed himself between a Black Hole fighter today and one of Blue Moon's he'd seen in the past. The fighter had been dogging his craft before three months ago, and it did so again today.
"It would seem that Zodo Gallow has defected with Boldigh, but that's not necessarily surprising, since Gallow is Boldigh's wing-mate. It's safe to say Syerri Sven defected as well, considering she was Boldigh's lover."
Syerri Sven? Glenn didn't recognize that name. "Who's Syerri Sven?"
"It doesn't matter anymore because she's waste matter now, that's who. One of those bogeys you shot down had her in it. The ground troops found what was left of her inside the plane a little while ago." Beauregard turned and looked at Glenn intensely. "Did you notice anything happen when you or someone else took down an enemy fighter?"
"No, although as soon as Achmed took down one of them, they all buggered off."
Beauregard's expression tightened. "What kind was it: one of the kind that didn't have a canopy?"
Glenn shook his head. "No, it was one of the fighters with a canopy, a viewport. I could see it where I was, though I wasn't really in a position to actually try and identify that portion of it."
"What about the others that were taken down?" the Commander immediately asked.
Glenn hesitated, trying to figure out exactly where this was going. Nevertheless, he went ahead and answered whatever it was the Commander wanted to know. "Tux took one down, but I think it was the kind without a canopy or anything. So did I."
"I see," Beauregard mumbled, his hand returning to his chin thoughtfully.
The Thunderbolt flight leader stood there, again waiting for a response. He wouldn't have to wait very long.
"We've recieved enough information from our forces situated around the region to know that most of Black Hole's military is made up of mechanics, controlled by self-sentient artificial intelligence. It would seem that they have specially-made weapons of war for those who defect to their cause."
Glenn blinked. How was that possible? An entire army made up simply of artificial intelligence? "You mean we're getting our butts handed to us by a bunch of computers?"
"I suppose you could put it that way," Beauregard uttered, not looking at the Thunderbolt standing before him confusedly. "Of course, their infantry are still sentient beings themselves. Black Hole probably couldn't operate without them."
"What about those hawk emblems?" Glenn wanted to know. "What's with them?"
"Boldigh's nickname is - or was - the Blue Hawk, considering he was the best pilot Blue Moon had to offer. They'll probably start referring to him as the Black Hawk now. And now we have a very, very large problem that presents itself to only us and not the rest of Orange Star." Beauregard turned his back to Glenn. "It's very possible that the last enemy fighter taken out in the conflict over Krasst carried Syerri Sven. Seeing she had been killed, Kailaff Boldigh, mourning her, immediately called for his squadron to retreat. But, Glenn. . ."
Glenn eyed Beauregard carefully as the man continued to speak, his voice more grim than Glenn could ever remember it being. "Boldigh has been in combat against you before this morning. It's probably safe to say he remembered the lightning bolt emblems signifying your squadron on your aircraft today, as did Zodo Gallow and the rest of the enemy pilots. Kailaff Boldigh will most certainly be seeking you out, and when I say you, I do indeed mean you, Glenn Gordon.
"Boldigh's favorite way of taking out enemy fighters is by doing research. Almost every time he goes into combat against his enemies, his goal is to seek out the leader and dispose of him as soon as possible. It's not a bad strategy, since a squadron without a leader isn't of much use during combat. And considering your rank is by your last name on your aircraft, and taking into account that no one else in the squadron has a rank equal or higher to that of yours, I'd assume he knows exactly who the leader of the Thunderbolts is, Lieutenant Gordon. He knew who it was three months ago and he knows who it is now."
A curse escaped Glenn under his breath. Trying to find the right words to answer with weren't easy. Such a startling revelation would have impaired any normal man for a moment or two, but Glenn got right down to business. Standing around looking like one had just seen a ghost wouldn't help anything. "If only I'd known sooner. Maybe Knives would still be around."
Beauregard eyed Glenn carefully. "Would it truly have made a difference if you had known or not? Boldigh is one of the best pilots in the world."
"Well, I would have at least tried to take him out!" Glenn snapped. "It wouldn't have hurt to try!"
"Are you sure about that?" Beauregard asked quietly. "If I remember correctly, his entire squadron converged on Knives. Would you have been able to take them all out, Glenn? If you worked to the best to your ability, would you have been able to save Knives if you had known Boldigh goes after squadron leaders?"
Glenn paused, growing silent.
"No," he admitted, "I guess not."
Beauregard stood there a moment longer, then motioned with his old hand. "Come on, we'll talk more at the infirmary. I want to make sure you're better than you say you are."
---
The day dragged on with the Thunderbolts getting physically checked over and giving their sides of the stories to Commander Beauregard and other Orange Star officials over what had happened at Krasst. Tuxedo's over-the- top description of the scenario had been undoubtedly the most vivid, considering the man's rather ill-put way with words and notable language at times, but everyone's feelings toward the battle was more or less the same as one another's: Nightmarish.
Glenn hadn't spent much time describing what he'd seen through his own eyes, not particularly feeling it to be necessary anymore. He had gone back to the pilot's wing much earlier than anyone else to try and get some much-needed-and-deserved rest. Not that it would matter much - Tux would probably get back sometime soon afterwards and start the longest conversation with Glenn either of them would ever be engaged in, provided the loud, obnoxious fellow wasn't as dog-tired as the Thunderbolt flight leader was. Gordon didn't count on it, so he decided to stay one step ahead of his friend.
He slumped down in his uncomfortable bed and layed there a moment, staring at the ceiling. Falling asleep these days was never as easy as it had been before he'd rejoined the air force. That blathering roommate of his didn't make things any easier, either. Glenn wondered sometimes if going to all the trouble sneakin off-base, spending the night in some smelly hotel, and coming back at four in the morning to keep from getting caught would get him more sleep than it would if he spent the night with a roommate like Tux.
Minutes passed. Glenn's mind began to wander, mostly towards a million things at once, as usual. Eventually, these million things sorted themselves out, and one thought took the lead above the others.
He still felt he could have saved Knives if he'd known of Boldigh's intent, of his strategy. Sure, he may not have been able to take out all the enemy fighters, but Boldigh's jet was particularly simple to pick out among the rest thanks to the hawk emblems. It was the only one worth targetting among the bunch, though all of Boldigh's comrades were ones to watch out for. As long as he had folks like Tuxedo, Bubba, and Rainey by his side, he'd never lose.
That's right. He'd never lose as long as he had them with him. The exchange still stood strong. They'd watch out for him if he watched out for them.
At least, he hoped so.
Tux came in through the door maybe thirty minutes after Glenn had first fallen into bed like a bag of rocks. He swaggered up to his own uncomfortable-looking pile of rough fluff and jumped into it, switching on the small six-inch television all the pilots had access to in their wings. Of course, they only got local channels, but in some death-defying way or another, Tux had somehow finagled with the television and was able to get a load of cable channels with it. Glenn never thought to ask how or why. Immediately, the noisy old weirdo switched the very boring-looking public access channel to that of cartoons and turned the volume up. "Hey, Glenn, doesn't that cowardly dog thing's freaked-out expressions remind you of Bubba when he's laughing? Glenn?"
Tux turned over in the bed and looked at Glenn. "Ah, hell! You're asleep already? It's only eleven. . ." And he channeled his attention right back onto the annoying little television, actually getting a spurt of care for a friend and turning the volume down ever so slightly.
From his bed, the pretending-to-sleep Glenn couldn't help but crack an unseen smile. The exchange did indeed stand firm.
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Author Notes:
This one took some time getting up, yes, but my attention keeps switching from this to video games. I'm sure you all have this problem. Some of you, at least. Hope you enjoyed this mild chapter, and I'll try to get the next one in. Keep them reviews flowing, if you want - They're very helpful. Oh, and before I forget, here's another special "thank you" (I hate the term "shout-out") to Dr. Bross for the very helpful e-mail he responded to mine with. Thanks much, bud. It definitely helped.
(Sonic X debuts in the U.S. on Fox Box next Saturday morning. Don't forget! No, I have no particular reason for saying this other than the fact that Sonic kicks ass.)