Days had turned to months in a world where the war felt ever so far away.
They hadn't sortied much— the Federation, from the limited news they had received by airmail or whenever the remaining Pillars of Communication managed to get through the geothermal interference, was starting to lose ground. Every once in a while one of the radar trucks they had worked, and they would run a ground controlled intercept if there were any easy enough pickings to not jeopardize the squadron. JC had confided in the pilots that the real reason they had been sent to this base was because the CIF couldn't afford to lose their aircraft and that there were no more bases that could accommodate them. "You're not here to run CAPs," the Lieutenant Colonel had told them, a sullen slouch in his shoulders. "You're not here to fight. The guys further south have that covered. They ordered us here so we'd hopefully be alive when they need pilots to replace them."
The few times they had sortied, though, they'd occasionally fly over Exclusion Zones that weren't on any maps, over uncharted mountains rising from the fault lines, over blazing forests whose fires raged for weeks, lit by near-daily geothermal storms. They were the scars of a second Calamity, and when the pilots of Polaris had learned that this was no divine judgement but rather the work of human hands— of the Federation's hands— there was shock, more than anything.
Cordium weapons. She didn't know how to get her head around it. Why? They had to have known the risks. Who would have been okay with this? Who could have been okay with this?
She didn't know, and for that, she wept.
It was a crisp August night, and Nicole Khoury could not for the life of her fall asleep. The tent was spartan in its accommodations— not an issue for her. I'll get used to it, she thought, the first day. I always do.
It was a strange feeling, freedom. Nobody had given her it. It had largely fallen into her lap as a complete accident, a necessity of their situation. The pilot waved to the guard, who simply waved back, his rifle lowered. He had always treated her with what felt like respect, but now none of the other security forces particularly cared to stop her either. It was an accident, of course, that she would not complain about.
Forward Air Base Constellation was the flattest part of the surrounding area, but its position was intentionally not the best spot for an airbase. The Feds, hopefully, wouldn't look there. Approaches and departures were a little more stressful than they had to be, but at the very least, the hills made a nice place for her to escape to.
"You know," she had told him. "I found an old book about this at the library."
"Oh?" He had replied, in that trademark masked-Oceanian accent. "Whaddya learn, kiddo?"
"If you find the Big Dipper," she pointed to a bowl-shaped collection of stars. "You can always find the little one. And then you can find the North Star."
"If ya ask me, the North Star's overrated," he told her with a chuckle and a smile. "But I might be a little biased."
"Nuh-uh!" She had stomped a foot. "If you can find the North Star you can find where you are. And if you know where you are you can always find your way home."
She reenacted the memory under the Cascadian night; tracing out a path among the bowl, then following it a few thumb-lengths out to find her squadron's namesake. She followed the advice of the book, balling up fists and stacking them on top of each other; six fists. About sixty degrees.
She didn't remember the rest.
I've found Polaris, she thought. But I still don't know where home is.
Maybe one day I will.
The next few nights, she slept well, but only after moving her sleeping bag out of the confines of the tent and under the open skies. The days had blurred together for a while now, but as an unusually chipper BASH dragged them all out of the dining tent, today was bound to be an exception. "C'mon," she said. "JC's tent, now. We got an encrypted uplink to Command and a message."
"So? They just gonna tell us to hurry up and wait? My thumbs can only twiddle so fast." Nicole groaned. "Get back to me when we've got some action."
"What the fuck do you think I'm doing, Spook? You gotta hear the message."
When they arrived in the tent, JC was grinning like a madman. "We got four days, Polaris." He played the transmission.
"Briefing package and details to follow. ALCON, ALCON, all available IF air assets are ordered to rendezvous with mercenary forces at Rally Point Alameda and retake Presidia. I say again..."
The commanding officer almost laughed. "How's a day trip to sunny Presidia sound?"
"Listen up!" JC stood in front of a whiteboard with a map of Cascadia clipped to it. "It's time to end this."
"I don't think I need to tell you what's at stake here." JC grit his teeth. "The Federation think themselves masters of the world. They cannot imagine a world free of its chains. So they thought to bathe us in fire and storm." He gave a prideful smirk. "All they have done is burn away any reservations we may have had about our fight. We have emerged from the flame invigorated and ready to strike them down."
"'Rah, sir. Kill." Dagger smiled.
"See? She's got the spirit. It's time for payback, Polaris. Let's get to the basics. Presidia," he circled the city in blue marker. "The Feds' last stronghold. They've got a few more holdouts down the coast, but they're mostly holed up for evacuation. We didn't intend to let them, but unfortunately, our hand has been forced. Command didn't say why, but we're cutting the blockade early, and we've consolidated the naval assets into a few battlegroups to support the Eminent Domain, our stolen Fed battleship. So it's looking like the more southern garrisons might be able to flee to Sawaiiki. Shame."
He shook his head. "But it's for a good cause. The majority of Fed assets on continent are nice and cozy in our capital, and goddamnit, I think it's about time they let us have our city back. This is going to possibly be the largest air operation you've ever participated in, and our assigned role is combat air patrol. We'll be running top cover for ground forces and for the ground pounders. One of many. I can't even begin to count how many planes are going to be showing up to this party… probably less than the Strait, but… it's going to be a furball." Nicole tapped her kneeboard, shifting in one of the folding chairs they had rushed to JC's command tent after the orders came in.
There was one thought on her mind.
"Sir, any expected Peacekeeper presence?"
He picked up a ruggedized tablet and scrolled through the intel. "Well, Crimson is confirmed KIA by Sicario mercs, and the only other one that's been seen in-country since Prospero is…"
"Midnight, isn't it?"
"Bingo. We haven't seen them active for a while, though. They're presumed to have fled to Sawaiiki."
I hope so.
"We're scheduled to depart staggered so that we arrive as part of the second wave of reinforcements."
"They pre-planned two whole waves of reinforcements?" Jackal blinked. "Some vote of confidence."
"Not like we got much of a choice," JC replied. "Just the realities of this kind of battle. They're dug in real hard. We're going to face heavy losses pulling 'em out. No way around that, Crown or no."
"The Crown's gonna be there?" She sat up in her seat.
"You thought he'd miss a battle this big, Spook? Ooh, ooh, you'll get to meet your hero." Burn chuckled.
"Oh, fuck off." She laughed. "Ah, well. Let the Feddies believe in demons."
"I agree, Six." JC smiled. "Let's give 'em some new ones to fear. Get to your planes. You sortie in half an hour. Good hunting."
She grabbed her helmet off the plastic table, snapped off a cocky salute, and walked out into the sunlight.
"Constellation Tower, this is Polaris Six requesting permission to taxi."
"Hey, Spook," Bluejay's voice came in gratingly smooth over the radio. "You see any towers down there? You're in Big Blue's hands now."
"A truly terrifying prospect," she replied. "Fuck's sake, 'Jay, can I taxi already?"
"Not until you say the magic words." She could hear his shit-eating grin.
"Ugh. Fine. May I please taxi for takeoff, Bluejay?"
"There we go! Kids these days, no manners. Permission granted, Polaris Six, taxi and take off. You're welcome."
"Go fuck yourself, Bluejay."
"Whoops, was that the Master Rad? Oh no, I almost fried your radar. Oh, look at me. So clumsy. What a horrible mistake," he said, monotone and smugly. "Link up and join the pattern, Spook. We've got hunting to do."
"Not like your last hunting trip, I hope." Burn chuckled. "I like my face, thank you very much."
"Please," Dagger replied. "Everybody knows you like your face. A little too much for what you got, if I'm being honest."
IRIS laughed, and the rest of the squadron did too.
"Are we there yet?" Bluejay said, a smile on his lips.
Oh, not again...