It had come down to this.
She knew he was the better pilot— he had, after all, taught her most everything she knew. Aging, sure, but he was a genius in the skies; famed for the precision and quick thinking that had earned him one-hundred-eighteen tallies on the side of his jet in Oceania alone; a number unheard of, simply because before and since Oceania, no one had the chance to get a hundred-eighteen kills. Until now. Whether anyone had was now up to history and debate.
She steadied her breathing. In. Out. In— fuck! This was her mentor. Even if they had to fight…
No. She watched the rails on her mentor's wings, waiting for a launch. They were probably both down to heatseekers— she was, after all. Won't get much of a warning on those.
It was just the two of them.
No wingmen. That wasn't necessarily good for her. Sure, his wingmen were better pilots than hers— and decidedly more alive, which probably helped things for him. Yet as she stared ahead at the Agile Eagle, hung against a background of judgement and fire, her most cynical thoughts couldn't help but wish someone was there as, at the very least, a distraction.
Now, there were none.
It was just the two of them.
As far as she could tell, the city she was supposed to be headed for might not even exist—
She shook her head. Focus. One radar contact. They came closer and closer, medium-range missiles exhausted, Sidewinders barking their feral calls into their headsets.
Of course, he wasn't willing to simply leave the growling silence alone. "You couldn't possibly remember Oceania's carnage, no. You were a child. Innocent. Blind. Those who I have shed legions worth of blood to defend, spent a life of pleading prophecy to ensure that you would never see that havoc too." She furrowed her brow. What's his angle? Mind games?
"Of course, my pleas fell on deaf ears, and you need only look outside your canopy for but a taste of the Oceanian experience." She watched the rails for any puff of smoke, any burst of fire, anything that could indicate an inbound missile. "Until now, our Federation— I'm sorry, the Federation you turned your back upon— had eradicated such bloodshed from the globe. I had hoped to die having only seen one such terrible war... And now, I watch as the fires of conquest and vengeance kindle themselves in minds the world over."
The guttural roar of the missile seeker tugged at her consciousness. Good tone. She squeezed the trigger, watching as a trail of exhaust cut open the sky ahead of her, streaking across the terrain as it began its journey under blue skies and soon found itself under bloodied, fiery orange.
His reply was a pilot's shrug; his plane simply found the perfect position to avoid her missile and forced it to burn its fuel until a miss was guaranteed. Textbook.
"Do your new comrades not see what they have wrought?" He pulled the Agile Eagle around, airflow holding onto the wings for dear life as the plane slammed itself into an impossibly tight turn, nose pointed her way. "What is the cost of their 'freedom'?" She pulled the stick, jinking instinctively, watching the rails on her mentor's plane. C'mon… Holding his fire's supposed to mess with my head, isn't it? Well, it's working.
"The cost you made us pay?" She shouted, gritting her teeth. He wants to play that game?
"You brought this upon yourselves!" He snarled. "And already talking in the plural, I see? Your allegiances truly don't last long. You know you're not really a Cascadian, right… no matter what flag you drape yourself with?"
"I may not be Cascadian," The venom in his words cut deep, but she was ready and waiting with blades of her own. Hope they're sharp. "But the CIF? They're the kind of people who know right from wrong—"
"Oh, so they're just your kind?" She couldn't tell if the growl in her ears was a missile or if it was him, pulling away to dodge as he shot off a missile. "Well, your kind has doomed this world to an eternal cycle of brutality! I tried to break it!"
The engines cut, she jinked the plane, pulling it into a curve to force the missile to pass her by. Twenty-millimeter rounds buzzed by her plane as they continued the dance, watching the grey Agile Eagle as she desperately wracked her brain for a plan. On the backfoot, how do I mix it up?
His stoic visage had been left behind by now for the howling shriek of rage. "There is nothing left for me, a withered, broken old man, to do but indulge your bloodlust, to be the capstone on your monument to treachery, right, Khoury? Is that how you see this?"
She flicked the selector switch and squeezed the trigger as the canopy shook and gunsmoke rose in front of her HUD, only narrowly watching one of his many missiles peel off its rail. She punched the caution-taped switch on her stick and said a silent prayer as she lit off flares, spinning the plane, engines cut, into the fastest ninety-degree turn she'd ever attempted, the missile forced to dive after her at a rate it couldn't match— accompanied by uncomfortably close tracer rounds. Fuck, fuck, fuck— She didn't want to be here. This was about the worst possible position— her energy almost zero in every way but downwards, her plane less agile than his, and the altitude advantage decidedly out of her hands. She watched as his plane passed her windshield— not yet pulling itself around for another shot at the Hornet, not yet— and decided to break away and see if she could put some distance between them.
Pulling up and around, she made visual contact— sure enough, he was just starting to turn around. Good. She brought her helmet-mounted-display to bear on the other pilot, and let loose a shot of her own. Fox two… down to six.
He didn't move. Didn't divert. Didn't dodge. What the fuck is he…?
Almost as soon as she had the question, he had the answer. Her missile burst into flame and shrapnel far before it was supposed to, and as a matching smoke trail came into view from her opponent's direction, it began to dawn on her. Did he… The realization clicked, and her stomach dropped. He locked and shot my missile.
"Had I known that trick fifteen years ago," The Peacekeeper snarled. "Perhaps you wouldn't be flying at all. And the world would be a better place…"
"The world would be a better place if psychos like you weren't in the skies!" She shouted, rage ripping through her voice. "Hell, if they weren't in uniform at all! Look at this! Look, you bastard! Open your fucking eyes! How many innocent people just died? Are you just… okay with that?"
"My eyes are open," he snarled. "It's you who can't see the bigger picture. The link between action and consequences. And do you know what I see from my eyes?"
"What, you bastard? What do you see? Your sins?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact. I see you." Fury and sorrow blended as one in the Peacekeeper's voice. "I see you, fighting for the same hollow cause as your butcher uncle. I see the shell of a young woman I loved like my own daughter… who I couldn't save from herself. The shell of a pilot— of a person! The shell of a person I saw nothing but potential in… Reduced to yet another wild dog."
He steeled his voice, duty filling in where his passion had left him.
"I see nothing but my eternal burden, a cross to bear once more."
She watched the plane bear back towards her.
"You... have fallen so very far, to lay claim to your uncle's throne…"
The pilot blinked away a tear.
"...And to protect this world from people like you, I will fight as long as these tired wings will carry me."