The sun shined brightly in the brisk autumn wind, leafy hues of green, yellow, and orange painting the streets as the trees continued their yearly cycle of death and rebirth. It looked so different from the skies, the flight school graduate having just completed her final ceremonial flyover in the prop-trainer of the small East Coast country's capital. It was her hometown, carved from the landscape by vast glaciers millennia ago, sculpted by the river Charles and the generations of people who had lived beside it. The Calamity had been merciful to the majority of the East Coast, and while the city was smaller than it once was, it was busier than ever, one of the world's great cities.
She pushed a loose lock of bronze hair out of her face, nudged out of place by the crisply cool breeze. The walk was pleasant, and she soaked in the atmosphere, for she was merely here to celebrate on leave, her final leave before receiving her assignment to one of the country's two aging, second-hand carriers or a considerably better cared-for Naval Air Station to certify and continue her training. She had fantastic news, and she had someone to share it with. She had made this walk plenty of times in her life, and the familiar sights brought nostalgic tears to a pair of hazel-brown eyes unfamiliar to anything but smugness, confidence, and enthusiasm.
She knocked on the door of the fourth-floor apartment, the place that was not her house but was more her home than anywhere on the earth. On the other side of the door, a pale green eye filled the peephole, scanning over the visitor for any sign of a threat. The man in the apartment's hand retreated from the pistol hidden under the entryway table, and he opened the door with a warm, tired smile.
"Nic!" The man held out his arms. "I don't get many visitors these days. C'mon in."
Closing the door, she gave her uncle a hug in the apartment's narrow entryway. "What brings you here, of all places?" His face looked unaccustomed to the expression of happiness it bore, as if every muscle in his head was allergic to such a grin. Grey hairs streaked through a forest of closely kept brown that had somehow held onto its place atop his pale head. "I thought you were at flight school."
"I was. I graduated today, and they gave us leave so that we could say our goodbyes. I already stopped by my parents' place, but…"
"It wouldn't have been complete without a visit here, huh?" Brian's Oceanian accent was strategically disguised by an adopted one that wouldn't have sounded out of place anywhere in the city, if his old inflections didn't occasionally sneak in. "Sorry to disappoint, but the missus is out and Josh moved away months ago. Just this old bloke."
"I'm sure I'll get to see them again on leave." She sat down on the couch she had practically grown up on, and looked out the window, a view she knew intimately.
"Always that window, huh?" Brian sat down in the old leather-clad chair, a beer in his hand. "I remember back when you and Josh were… you had to have been thirteen, just met each other. That boxing movie came out, right? The real inspirin' one. Forgot the name." His laugh was deep and tinted with a vague wistfulness. "Two of ya' got it in your heads that you were some MMA fighters or something. You'd… well, I could never tell if you were sparring or fighting. But one day I had to stop you two because you were over on that side of the room and ya hit him so hard he tripped and almost went out the window." He shook his head. "You never did learn when to quit."
"I don't remember that," she raised an eyebrow.
"Course ya wouldn't, he clocked ya back!" The old man smirked, and they both laughed. Those days seemed so far away.
"So," Brian's smile faded into a serious expression. "We hadn't talked for a while even before you went to Navy indoc. Whatcha here to tell me?"
"Well," she said, her smile a little uneasy. "First, I wanted to apologize for being a bit distant."
Brian waved a hand in dismissal. "I hate all this politics driving the family apart. I'm sorry for my outburst at the party that summer. Couldn't help but notice your old man and I didn't go drinking as much after that." His sincerity was unclear, and his words went down with a venomous aftertaste. He'll never change, I don't think. Too much of a bitter old merc for that.
"But what I really wanted to tell you," she continued, her grin widening. "...I rated for fast-movers. They said I'm tracking for Super Bugs."
Brian's eyes widened. "Hornets? No shit?" He laughed. "Sorry luv. Your old man always did give me hell for swearing around you—"
"Brian, I'm a grown woman now. You don't need to act like swear words don't exist."
"So ya are, Nic." He shook his head in disbelief. "My Nic, an honest-to-God fighter jock."
"Just like you, Uncle Brian." She grinned, glowing with pride.
"God, I hope not." He stared at her, his mask slipping for a second, an expression of deadly sincerity wiping the proud smile from his face. "You don't want to be a pilot like me."
"Why not?" She raised an eyebrow, stunned at the brief transformation.
The old man chuckled, a weary smile returning to his face, the smile of a man who had seen too much. "I don't want to burden you with the pain of the past. Let's focus on your future. Lemme get you a drink," he said, heading to the fridge and grabbing her a bottle of the fairly cheap beer. "Here's to your future. My Nic, a fighter pilot."
They clinked the bottles together, and sat on the couch. "To my future," she said.
It was a good afternoon.