The fighters of Polaris sat on the flight line, Armstrong's airfield a buzz of activity as fighters took off, resupplied, and landed in staggering numbers. IRIS watched as the planes swarmed the skies, heading off into the largest battle in air combat history. The one, she couldn't help but feel, was kind of— at least partially— her fault.
So much for easy pickings, she sighed. I wonder if we even got all the transports, like we wanted to.
She desperately pushed the memories of Zip's plane going up in flames to the back of her mind. Have to be ready when they send us back up, she thought, no use grieving now.
Her radio crackled. Finally, we're getting back into the fight. She couldn't have been more wrong.
"ALCON, this is Vega One. That merc AWACS might have gotten swept up in the celebration, so we might as well tell ya," A jubilant CIF pilot grinned ear to ear. "Feds issued a full retreat. Battle's over. That Crown? God damn, he's somethin' else. Drove those Peacekeeper bastards off!" IRIS' eyes widened at the mention. Bullshit, he can't be that good. But which squadron?
"Vega One, Polaris Six," She radioed in. "Which Peacekeepers?"
"Polaris Six, does it really matter?" The pilot hollered in celebration. "That's a few less Feddie aces we gotta worry about."
"It matters," she said, sternly. "Which squadron?"
"Woah, chill." The pilot sighed. "If it really means that much to you, it was Crimson."
She didn't click her push-to-talk button, smacking her plane's dash instead. "Goddamnit!" I am gonna have to fight them. That's just my fucking luck, isn't it? My cosmic punishment.
JC's voice broke the sound of her now heavy breathing. "Polaris, this is Armstrong Actual. Get off the flight line. We're done for today… and Captain MacTavish needs a burial, body or no."
She didn't have the energy to sigh, staring blankly out the windscreen of the Super Hornet.
How long had it been? Just over a month? Kinda felt like longer, like Bluejay said...
She stared up at the concrete ceiling of the cell, a time-honored ritual at this point. Tears were pooling at the edge of her eyes— not something she wanted the other pilots to see. She didn't have a claim to tears. She hadn't known Zip, not like the others. She had barely talked to him. What gave her the right to break down over the death of a man she hardly knew? Sure, maybe he sort of stood up for her at the start. Sort of. But she had only lost an acquaintance, and her squadmates had lost a friend.
The cell's lighting stared back down at her, an uneasy companion to her misery. She wondered what Brian would say, back before he'd tell her to go fuck herself. Probably something like, she'll be right, sport, pick yourself up. So, that's what she tried to do. She placed a hand against the cheapo mattress, pushing up and away.
A few deep breaths later, she lacked the will to put her feet on the ground, and let her arm collapse under her, her back smacking the bedding. Ugh.
As the blankets settled atop her, she watched the fluorescent tubes flicker gently. What am I doing? I should be out there with the squadron. Instead, I'm hyperventilating in my bed. She had never lost a wingman before, much less seen them catch fire and explode right next to her. She blinked, trying to get the tears out of her eyes and the memory out of her head. Neither seemed to want to budge.
Actually, what would he say? She furrowed her eyebrows in thought. The guard had given her back her phone, apparently the Lieutenant Colonel was letting her use her phone again. She fumbled her phone onto the concrete floor, the caseless phone landing squarely on a corner. She picked it up, fractured veins running up and down the glass. "Fuck." At least it still works, she thought.
She punched in the number, and the phone almost went to voicemail before Brian finally picked up.
"Hey, Brian." Her voice trembled in distress. "Shit… shit hit the fan."
"Huh? What happened, Nic? You sound a mess." His tone was eerily… patient. Like he hadn't been in a long time. Maybe I finally got through to him?
"Yeah… thanks for noticing. We just got in a fight with half the Federation Air Force. I just lost a wingman. I thought… you'd know something about how to deal with that?"
Brian sighed, his voice, too, becoming unsteady. "No… I can't say I do."
"Wait," I know he was good… but was he that good? "You mean you've never lost a wingman?"
"I never said that," he said, softly.