Chapter Five: Running Out Of Time

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Gunther Bay, Usea.
June 6th, 2019.
1947hrs.

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"Mage 2 fired that!" Gargoyle 3 and the rest of his squadron formed up beside Golem Squadron. Everyone seemed to be in shock from what they'd just witnessed. Naomi could hardly process it herself. What had happened? Had she just killed Harling? Gargoyle Squadron didn't seem too phased. It was almost as if they were expecting the mission to fail.

"It was Osean. A friendly missile hit them!" Gargoyle 4 spoke up.

"Verifying the situation," Sky Keeper said, sounding level-headed but concerned. "Stop speculating."

"Friendly fire!" Gargoyle 3 nearly yelled, only now sounding upset by the situation. "I saw it!"

"Mother Goose One exploded in air. No one could have survived…" Sky Keeper's voice was low and a mix between anger and grief. He didn't turn on Naomi like she'd been expecting. A great man, one he looked up to, had been killed and she was the prime suspect. But he was being fair about the situation.

Stunned and trying to regain herself, Naomi began to stutter, defending herself almost pointlessly. "Knocker…Clown…Sky Keeper…I—I swear I didn't kill him. I didn't try to…I was aiming for the drone on his tail...maybe he just got in the way of the missile?" She was starting to panic. If they thought she killed him…even she wasn't entirely sure she hadn't, even if it hadn't been on purpose. She didn't wake up that morning thinking about how she could kill Harling.

"It looks like it tried to protect the elevator…" Footpad observed.

Boggard spat, "Erusean bastards! They just killed a hero! It had to be them. There's no way Trigger would have done something like that!"

"Knocker, what do you say?" Faun asked.

Knocker let out a sigh at his wingmen's words and Naomi felt her mouth run dry. "Mage 1, was it Trigger?" He didn't want to believe that she was guilty of killing Harling in cold blood. At least she hoped he didn't. If it was in fact her missile, Harling hadn't been the intended target. Surely they'd let her off on account that it was an accident. Naomi began to wonder if Knocker would try and keep her out of trouble.

It was Clown's turn to sigh. With a moment's hesitation, he finally said, "...Trigger was the closest. As far as I know, nobody else on our side was near enough to make that shot." Naomi lowered her head, staring down at her hand and controls. That was the nail in the coffin right there. He was giving a report, just as he was told, and all evidence pointed at her being guilty. "UAVs were crawling all over our objective and —"

"I told you to keep a goddamn eye on the hatchling!" Knocker interrupted him. "You're lucky we didn't lose her today, but now she's got an ally's blood on her hands!" Naomi couldn't help but flinch at his words.

"It must have been a mistake." Clown was trying to keep his cool, unlike the rest of them it would seem. Naomi trusted him enough to know he was on her side. Boggard and Footpad didn't seem convinced she was guilty, either. Knocker didn't reply to Clown after that, but maybe he was as unsure as the rest of them were. Then again, all of the evidence they had pointed at her being the criminal mastermind.

In the distance, emerging from the clouds, a massive, sleek white figure was approaching. It was the Arsenal Bird, the craft that had deployed the drones that caused all of this chaos. "Arsenal Bird is entering! All aircraft, withdraw immediately!" Sky Keeper ordered. The three squadrons wasted no time breaking off from each other and making a break for the return line. As Gargoyle left the area and Golem and Mage were by themselves, Sky Keeper said to Naomi, "Trigger, you can't fly for a while. You understand why."

Her heart sank but she said nothing in response. There was no point in arguing with them. They knew what was best, after all, and nothing she could say in her defense would change their minds. The flight to the nearest base to refuel and resupply for the trip back to their own base was long and silent. Gargoyle Squadron had already made it back and was waiting for them, and judging from the glares she received from the ground crew tending to her plane, they'd spread the news around.

Fort Grays Island, East of Usea.
June 6th, 2019.
2230hrs.

It was late at night when they finally landed at Fort Grays. Naomi hurriedly got herself freed from the cockpit once she had landed and they brought the ladder over for her to climb down. Fumbling with all of the straps and belts that kept her in the ejection seat, it took her a while to get loose. The pent up frustration, anger, and exhaustion made the task more difficult than it needed to be and once she was loose, she practically sprang out of her seat.

Now standing on her own, the blood rushed to her head and caused her to feel light headed for a moment. Her head was throbbing and she felt as if she was going to throw up. Either throw up or scream. She wanted to do both, but neither were reasonable options. Trying to keep it together, she shakily made her way over to her squadron mates, all five of them waiting for her just outside the hangar. The ground crew said nothing to her as she passed them, simply going about their jobs.

Boggard noticed her coming and glanced at the others. When she reached them, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder in a side hug, and offered a comforting smile. Naomi barely looked at him, keeping her eyes downcast, focused on the pavement. Knocker and Clown simply stared at her, Clown's expression almost sympathetic in contrast to the blank one that Knocker was wearing. Footpad and Faun exchanged a look with Boggard. For a few seconds nobody said a word. They just looked at one another until Naomi finally sighed and broke the silence. "What's going to happen now?"

"According to Sky Keeper and the Base Commander, there's going to be an inquiry," Knocker replied. He ran a hand through his hair before crossing his arms. "It will probably all end with you being court-martialed. They'll be gathering up what evidence we have tonight and sending it to the top brass in Oured. Until then, you're going to be grounded."

Naomi looked over her shoulder longingly at the hangar as they finished moving her plane inside and began closing the doors. The light from inside began to get dimmer and dimmer until the doors shut completely and them locked it up so no one could interrupt. "They don't want anyone watching them, do they?" she asked, tilting her head slightly before turning back around and lowering her head again. She could barely keep her eyes open. "Am I confined to quarters or just barred from flying?"

"Just grounded, for now. The base commander did say you aren't allowed near the hangars, though." Clown told her. No explanation as to why the base commander wouldn't allow it, but it answered her question well enough. He stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "Come with me. Let's get something to eat." As he started to lead her away, back towards the main building, Knocker simply watched, his expression unreadable and his arms remaining crossed. He nodded to his wingmen and they began to follow after Clown and Naomi.

The trip was almost as tense and quiet as the flight home had been, except it was more awkward and she could hear Boggard and Faun muttering back and forth about something, with Footpad trying to start a conversation up a few times and failing each time. When they did finally reach the mess hall, they opened the door to find that the room was dark and empty. Moonlight managed to make it's way through the windows, but was barely enough to see the outlines of the table.

Clown flipped the switch on and, like all the other lights around the base, it took a few seconds for it to react. When it did, a buzzing sound that Naomi had never noticed before could be heard. It was similar to the one in the hangar, if not the slightest bit fainter. With the headache Naomi could feel coming on, it was just as bad. Like needles pushing into her skull, starting at her forehead and traveling down her neck.

"They left some stuff out for the night shift, but there isn't any reason why they can't share," Clown said to the four of them as he ventured further into the mess hall. He looked back at them when they hesitated. "Relax and take a seat. Nobody's gonna hurt ya." Boggard and Faun led the way over to a table while Clown entered the kitchen to get something to put the food on. Naomi attempted to go with him to give him a hand, but he put a hand up to stop her. "I've got this taken care of. Go sit with the others and calm down."

With her shoulders and head hung low, she joined her friends without saying a word. Taking a seat beside Faun, she noticed that he was eyeing Clown as he stepped into the kitchen. He waited a few minutes before he turned back to them and began a conversation, his voice low so that no one but the four of them could hear. "Something isn't sitting right about this whole ordeal. The higher-ups are being too vague and there's no way they're going to let Trigger off easy, but Knocker and Clown seem awfully confident that things are going to work out."

"I don't know what you're trying to get at, Faun," Footpad said, tapping his finger on the table in a steady rhythm, clearly as bored and tired as the others. "She said she was aiming for a drone on Harling's tail, but all the evidence points to her aiming at Harling. The IUN was having a hard time coordinating everything and it was all going to hell anyways. There's no telling who actually fired the missile. If there was just the slightest possibility that Trigger did it — even on accident — the military will waste no time using her as a scapegoat." Naomi said nothing, not caring to join in because of the direction it was likely to take.

"I thought you were on our side! You can't honestly believe it was her, Footpad." Boggard glared at Footpad, who stopped his tapping and returned the look in silence. As if looking to start an argument, Boggard challenged, "You must have seen the whole thing and you obviously don't care about what happens to her, so why don't you march right up to the base commander's office and tell them that Trigger did it? After all, the military is probably going to use her as a scapegoat anyways, so what does it matter if she's actually guilty."

"You're wrong, Boggard." Naomi saw Footpad visibly tense, bristling as he took on a defensive tone. "It does matter if she's actually guilty, and I do care about what happens, and I have no idea what went down out there because, unlike you, I was focusing on keeping the UAVs off of Mother Goose One. Maybe if you'd taken them down faster, a drone wouldn't have gotten that close to Mother Goose One and Trigger wouldn't have fired on it in the first place! But no, you were off twiddling your thumbs while the rest of us did our jobs!"

The two of them stood up to face one another just as Clown returned, but Naomi was quicker to react than her flight leader was and shoved herself between them. "Drop it, you two!" she snapped at them. They noticed Clown marching over with a tray and didn't try to move around her. "We're all exhausted, we're all stressed, and we're all angry about Harling's death. I appreciate the concern, but if you two bring it up again while we eat, I'll…I'll…" She pressed a hand against her head, trying to think properly through the growing migraine.

Clown stepped in for her, setting his tray down and motioning for her to sit down. He took her place between Boggard and Footpad, glaring at Faun, who simply threw his hands up and put on an innocent look. "Fightin' about all this isn't gonna help with the accusation still standing," he pointed out to them, speaking in a stern voice to make sure they were listening and understood that he wasn't messing around. "Now why don't we all just settle down before this gets out of hand? I agree with Trigger. I don't want to hear another word about this damn mess the rest of the night. Bring it up again and I report you to Knocker and you can all stay on the ground with Trigger. Understood?"

Both of them mumbled 'yes sir' and sat back down, this time with Boggard sitting next to Naomi and Footpad sitting next to Faun. It seemed like the best way to keep them from strangling one another. Since nobody was in the mood to carry out a discussion after that, too upset to say anything nice to one another, they all listened to Clown telling them the stories of his time as a rookie pilot and what his first mission had been like, how great his squadron leader had been, how much he learned in such a short time, and so on and so forth.

He managed to go through seven rather lengthy stories before they all were ready to get back to their quarters and officially call it a night. Naomi forced herself back on her feet and unsteadily made her way out of the mess hall and to her quarters. When she got to the hallway, she stayed close to the wall so she could lean on it for support, practically dragging herself along for a good five minutes before she reached her quarters.

Once inside, she slammed the door shut behind her and collapsed on her bed. At first she fought sleep, not wanting to go to bed, but in the end she lost and gave in, closing her eyes.

June 7th, 2019.
0320hrs.

Naomi tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. A good two hours had gone by since she'd fell asleep, but she'd had a disturbing dream that had interrupted her sleep, and now she was finding it hard to fall back asleep. Outside, a thunderstorm had started up, giving the base another heavy rainfall and causing enough wind and pattering to keep anyone awake. The thunder was off in the distance, but still audible, the flashes of lightning coming few and far between.

Throwing the covers off, she walked over to the window and parted the blinds enough for her to see through. The rain on the window distorted her visibility, but she could see that the hangar was open and the lights were on. Naomi wondered if they were planning on sending Golem out later in the morning, or if they were just getting normal repairs and checks done, like they usually did.

Outside her door, in the hallway, a couple of muffled conversations could be heard as people left to go to their shift or came back after finishing. Most of them sounded as if they were coming from the mess hall, likely having finished their breakfast. The late dinner that Naomi and the others ate was enough to satisfy her for a few hours, and the thought of food brought back the sick feeling she felt before she'd gone to bed. Her headache was still there, too.

Deciding that she wasn't going to get back to sleep, she turned on the light and walked over to her desk, taking a seat and pulling out her phone. She plugged it into the charger and pressed the power button, putting in her code to unlock it. There weren't any messages or emails. Her father must have told the rest of the family how busy she would be. Naomi looked up from her phone, staring at a framed photo of her and her family sitting on the desk. Looking back to her phone, she thought about what Knocker and Clown had told her.

She'd probably be court-martialed. As Footpad had pointed out, the military was likely planning to use her as a scapegoat. There wasn't any other explanation they could use, really. What could they say? That they were sorry they were incompetent in their job and weren't able to keep their cool under pressure? That wouldn't work out well for them. No, they had to cover their own asses and they knew Naomi had a record of no hesitation in battle. She was an easy cover-up and she hated it. Her entire family had become well known and respected within the military and now she was going to be the one to screw everything up.

As much as she didn't want her family to know about what was going on, particularly her rather overprotective mother, she had the feeling that the news would bring it up sooner or later and they'd see it then. Although she wanted to handle this on her own and not run to her parents for help, she knew that her father had connections with several people in the air force, specifically the Osean air force. Perhaps he could find her someone who could at least keep her out of prison. She didn't want to feel completely useless.

Opening her contacts, she scrolled to her father's name, her thumb hovering over it as she debated pressing it. He typically vanished around this time of the year. As soon as June came along, he would take a trip out to visit his old buddies from the war and he'd be completely unreachable by the sixth of the month up until about the tenth. It was weird, but she figured it had something to do with the time that Belka nuked themselves. Her father was born and raised in Belka, and he fought against his own country during the Belkan War. It was as if he took time for a vigil or something. She didn't want to interrupt him or anything, but she needed his help. Some advice at the very least would be nice.

Naomi sighed and tapped the 'call' button, holding it up to her ear as it rang. For a while, she thought he wasn't going to pick up, then the ringing stopped and she heard her father's voice on the other end. It was hoarse and deep, as if he'd just woke up. The words were breathed out and he sounded annoyed, "Naomi, it's the middle of the night. Do you mind telling me what the hell's going on?"

"Dad…" Naomi took a deep breath. "I could use your help."

June 7th, 2019.
0600hrs.

Knocker stepped into the base commander's office, finding the commander sitting at his desk, looking over some files. The colonel looked up as Knocker entered the office, and just by seeing the look on his face Knocker got the feeling that nothing good was going to come the meeting. "Is this about Trigger?" he asked and the commander nodded in reply. "And I take it that she's…going to be found guilty?"

The base commander tossed the file across the desk for Knocker to read. "All the evidence is right there. Lieutenant Foulke fired on the president's aircraft. There isn't any doubt about it," he said as if it was the most casual conversation he'd ever been in. Knocker approached the desk, examining the file, rather dubious of it himself. He knew how Trigger got her name and he knew she was a good shot, but he could never picture her assassinating anyone. The colonel picked up on this and put on a small smile. "You seem to think otherwise."

"Yeah, I do," Knocker snapped, flipping through the file before dropping it onto the desk. "This is bullshit and you know it. It's the IUN's fault for failing to communicate and recklessly handling the situation. It's a damn miracle we all made it out of there alive!" This got no response, other than the colonel's lips tightening and forming a thin line. Evidently Knocker had hit a nerve with that one. Not difficult to do. Knowing it was going to be difficult to change the commander's mind about whether or not Trigger had killed Harling, Knocker simply asked, "So what's going to happen to her?"

"Don't sound so worried. She'll be sent to Oured to stand a fair trial just like a normal citizen would be," he replied, waving his hand dismissively. He did that

Knocker snorted in disbelief. "How can it be fair when you're unwilling to believe she's anything but guilty?"

"I don't need to 'believe' anything, Captain. The evidence speaks for itself." The commander gestured towards the file, clearly trying to keep his cool. Knocker crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, still unconvinced by the 'evidence' presented before him. The base commander went on, "I've been making a few calls to try and get this mess cleaned up with as soon as possible. There's a transport plane flying in from Osea to take Lieutenant Foulke back to the capital for her trial. They're also bringing in a few extra pilots and crew. They should be arriving sometime tomorrow morning, so I'd suggest you get all of your goodbyes done."

"That's it, then? You're getting rid of her just like that?" Knocker frowned as the colonel nodded. He looked down, clenching his fists. It seemed that he was doing that a lot lately. "Understood…I guess it's good that we're getting a few replacements, but…I'd like the reports on the new pilots." He turned around to leave, not caring to wait to be dismissed. "I just want you to know, it's going to be hard finding someone good enough to fill Trigger's spot."

He was sure to slam the door behind him as hard as he could, ignoring the looks from a few startled bystanders in the hallway. Knocker wasn't entirely sure where he was going as he set off down the hallway. "Maybe I'll just walk until I cool off…" he said to himself, checking his watch. He had plenty of time to kill, anyways, so he might as well. He was planning on taking Golem Squadron up for a little practice around 0900. It was easy, they had time to get ready, and it gave the mechanics some extra time to finish their work.

It wasn't going to be a terribly scenic walk, though. Once again, the rainy season assaulted them with heavy rainfall and dark clouds. It was downright annoying, but at least the lightning and wind had ebbed away earlier that morning, which made it safer for them to fly in at least. Knocker continued on his way, turning down every hallway he could. It gave him the opportunity to think about everything that had happened, even if he was stuck inside.

Trigger had always struck him as being a little reckless. She was stubborn, short-tempered, and almost mercilessly took out the enemy. Her flying style had come to rival his own, as much as he hated admitting it. Clown had seen the potential she had and recommended her, and while Knocker didn't regret the decision, he always had the fear that she'd eventually get in trouble.

He had been doing everything he could to ensure that she benefited the squadron, even telling Clown to keep a close eye on her and make sure she never pushed too far. Maybe it was his fault for not watching her himself. He took his eyes of Brownie and she got hunted down. Now, he had taken his eyes of Trigger and her career was going to come to an end. Knocker was strict on his wingmen, but he did care about them and they were placed under his responsibility. Once again, the only person to blame was himself.

Knocker thought back to the day that the five of them arrived at Fort Grays. Brownie and Trigger were grinning so hard when they stepped off the transport plane. He was convinced they'd be the troublemakers of the bunch, and maybe he hadn't been entirely wrong. God, they were just kids in his eyes, too young to be let off of their leash and definitely too young to have to fight in a war. They knew what they signed up for. They wanted to fly and they wanted to fight. But wasn't it Knocker's job to make sure they all got back safely?

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. What he needed at that moment was some fresh air, just to clear his head. Knocker changed direction and made for the front door of the building. There was a slim area where one could avoid getting soaked by the rain if they were careful, but still enjoy the outdoors. Plus, it had a perfect view of the hangars and the runway. Reaching the door, he pushed it open and stepped outside. A warm breeze greeted him, plus the familiar scent of wet earth. It was relaxing and more therapeutic than he'd expected.

"You needed the fresh air too, eh?" the familiar voice of Clown startled him from his thoughts. He flinched slightly, then looked in the direction of the sound. Clown was walking towards him with a warm smile, Trigger beside him, looking tired and depressed. She barely greeted him as they approached, her hands shoved into the pockets of her raincoat. Clown stopped a few feet away from Knocker. Looking between his two companions, the older pilot huffed, "Cheerful place. Really. I'd love to know what all the smiles are about around here."

Knocker scowled, unimpressed by Clown's sarcasm. "Hilarious," he said blandly, looking up at the clouds that continued to pelt the base with rain. "If you really want to know, I just spoke with the base commander. It was about Trigger's case." Trigger perked up at this, a hopeful spark in her bloodshot eyes. He tried to keep a neutral expression, nearly wincing at her excitement, knowing he'd have to ruin it. "They looked over her HUD and…well…"

Trigger eagerly questioned him as he hesitated, either not able to or not wanting to pick up on the obvious answer. "What did they say? It proves I didn't hit Harling, right?"

"Trigger, you might want to rein in your excitement." Clown had already figured it out, but it seemed that in Trigger's current state she was being overly optimistic. Her flight leader put a hand on her shoulder in hopes of calming her down "I…don't think it's good news, kid." Her shoulders went back to their previous position, sagging and making her appear smaller than she actually was. A look of realization spread across her face.

Just suck it up and tell her, Knocker. She's an adult and she can handle it for Christ's sake. "They're going to be sending you to Oured for your trial. The transport's expected sometime tomorrow morning," he said at last, sounding as confident as he could. Knocker was their leader, and if he fell apart so did everyone else. They looked to him for guidance, and Trigger was especially going to be looking to him. "I'm going to try and convince the commander to let me go as well, just to ensure you get a fair trial, but beyond that, there isn't much else I can do for you. I'm sorry, Trigger."

Knocker saw her tense up and jerk her head up, almost in defiance. The spark he'd seen previously was back, but it wasn't hope. This was anger. What did he expect, really? "There's nothing fair about this entire situation and you both know it! They want too badly to lock someone up and lay the blame on someone instead of admitting it was their fault to begin with!" Trigger kicked at the ground, pulling something out of her pocket.

It was a medium-sized pocket knife, which she opened up and tossed into the ground, grunting with frustration as she did. The blade landed in the mud with a splat, sticking up out of the ground. She marched over to it, pulled it out, leaned against the wall and began to repeat the process, each throw getting less and less aggressive. Her voice was softer when she spoke again, having apparently gotten her anger our. "There isn't going to be any justice and you know it. My career is coming to an abrupt halt. I'll be dishonorably discharged and sentenced for life, probably." Her expression softened and the last time she threw her knife, she didn't move to pick it up. "I apologize for yelling. I don't blame either of you…I know you've done all you can."

Clown crossed his arms, looking thoughtful. "Actually, Trigger, maybe we haven't done everything. I'll have to make some calls, but there might be a trick or two up our sleeves that can help you out." He gave her a quick pat on the shoulder and turned to Knocker. "If you don't mind coming with me, then you and I've got some work to do, Captain."

Knocker followed him, furrowing his brow suspiciously. "What have you got planned?" he asked as Clown led him inside.

"Let's just say, there's some people who owe me a couple of favors." Clown simply grinned and winked at him. Knocker wasn't entirely sure he wanted to go along with this, but if it would help Trigger then maybe it was worth the risk. He was keeping his fingers crossed, though. There was no telling if these so-called 'favors' were going to go anywhere, or if it would be a dead end for them. If that was the case, Trigger was out of luck. And she was already running out of time.