Chapter Seventeen: Aftershock

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444th Air Base, Zapland.
July 27th, 2019.
1505hrs.

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As soon as they'd arrived back at base, everything seemed so quiet. The ground crew, prisoners and guards alike, were chattering nervously to one another and eyeing the remaining Spare Pilots with unusual and unexpected sympathy. As they stepped out into the hangar, Avril was the first to approach them. Naomi was still stunned from the battle, Count was fuming, and Tabloid was looking anxious instead of cheerful. It wasn't hard for the mechanic to notice something was wrong. She limped over to them, eyeing their planes and scanning them for any signs of damage. At last, her eyes landed on them and for a moment Naomi thought that she saw concern on her face. She put on a poker face in an instant, crossing her arms. "What happened?" she asked in a level tone, looking between the three of them. "What happened to Full Band and those other dumbasses? It was a straightforward mission."

Count glared at her, looking back at his plane without a word as he and the others worked to remove their flight gear. None of them were ready to answer right away, so Avril just stood there. Naomi would have answered the question, but every time she went to open her mouth and say something, nothing would come out. Her mind was a blank, only able to replay the events of the mission from when the drones showed up. Tabloid didn't even bother trying to say anything. Count, on the other hand, was looking around the hangar with an almost murderous look in his eyes. When he finally did speak, it wasn't to tell Avril what had happened. It was to ask his own question. "Where the hell is Bandog? I know they landed before us, so where is he?"

"Why?" Avril asked, uncrossing her arms. Her poker face fell, and she allowed a look of confusion and worry to cross her features. "What happened?" Count let out an irritated huff, looking over at Count and Tabloid. Avril did the same thing, her eyes narrowing on them. Naomi looked down, able to feel Avril staring right at her. There was some annoyance in her voice as she sternly told them, "One of you better tell me what happened. McKinsey and Bandog came by just before the three of you got here and now everyone's acting weird." Naomi and Tabloid both glanced at Count, but Avril kept looking at the two of them expectantly. "Trigger? Tabloid? Something you want to say?"

"There…was an incident," Tabloid finally admitted, a look of guilt on his face. Quickly, before anyone could say anything else, he added, "It's all my fault, if anyone's to blame."

Naomi scoffed, staring at him incredulously. Even Count looked shocked by the statement. "Tabloid, that's bullshit! What you did saved our asses. We'd have never made it out like we did. All of us would be dead," she said to him.

"And? Now most of us are and that includes Full Band," Tabloid argued, but he wasn't angry. "And I might as well have handed Bandog the murder weapon."

"Murder weapon?" Avril's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. "What the hell happened out there?!"

The three of them went quiet again. Naomi sighed and ran a hand through her hair, biting her lip as she thought through her response. At last, she took a deep breath. "Full Band was marked as a hostile by Bandog, and Count shot him down," she said, and Count visibly tensed. Tabloid flashed him a sad, borderline reassuring smile. Avril looked as if someone had just walked up to her and punched her in the gut. It was about how Naomi felt. She wasn't sure how to process the information. None of them were. Naomi stammered as she tried to explain more. "Bandog says it was an accident, but with the way that he was talking and the fact that Full Band was only hostile to Count…it kind of implies that he knew exactly what he was doing."

"It wasn't an accident," Count snapped at her. "And you know damn well it wasn't, so let's not pretend that Bandog actually cares about any of us." He shoved past her and started for the exit, likely heading to HQ to wait for their debriefing.

Naomi stared after him for a few seconds. She hated that Full Band and most of their squadron was dead. She hated that Count had been set up the way he had. And most of all, she hated that he was still happy to be by himself and separated from Tabloid and Naomi. They all needed to band together. The fact that they all found their motivation to fight and survive over Waiapolo and them forming up on her like that was evident. Count could deny it all he wanted to, but he'd get himself killed if he kept up that attitude. Before he was out of earshot, she called out to him, "Count! Count, wait a minute!"

But he didn't stop walking. He didn't even turn around. Just like when he found out who my dad was, Naomi thought, sighing as he slipped right out the open hangar door and disappeared from view. She was finding it hard to keep it together. To keep them all together. She turned around to face Tabloid and and Avril, both with matching expressions of sadness. It was strange to see Avril displaying the emotion, but its likely she felt for Tabloid and maybe even Naomi rather than anything for Full Band. Honestly, Naomi could never tell if they all actually liked the guy or not. Avril didn't care for him. Count was indifferent to almost everyone, except for maybe Tabloid. Tabloid…he was even harder to figure out. He was nice to everyone, and he did seem bothered by what had happened.

She let out a growl of frustration, whirling around and slamming her fist down on a nearby tool tray. The sound echoed through the hangar and the chatter briefly died down as everyone curiously looked over at Naomi. Tabloid and Avril exchanged a concerned look before Avril limped forward to pull it away from Naomi. As if Naomi wasn't there, Avril immediately turned back to Tabloid. "I can see it's been a very long day," she said with an exasperated sigh. "Why don't the two of you get to the debriefing before she breaks something or gets tossed in solitary."

"Right…probably a good idea..." Tabloid breathed out, taking a step towards Naomi. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Avril suddenly grabbed Tabloid's arm to stop him, indicating she had more to say. Tabloid raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Just…" Avril started, but she cleared her throat before she continued and straightened up. She quickly let go of his arm. "Never mind, it's not important. I'll talk to you guys later." As she started to limp away, she muttered to herself, "I just hope your planes aren't too beat up."

Tabloid shrugged it off, the ghost of a smile on his face as he turned back to Naomi. He put a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to finally stand up straight and recover from her miniature outburst. Her breathing was uneven and her hand hurt from how hard she'd hit the tray, but she was managing to relax a little. Tabloid studied her for a moment before he said anything. "Come on, Trigger," he said at last, turning her towards the door as he started to head out himself. "We should probably make sure Count doesn't kill Bandog. Not that I blame him for wanting to."

Naomi didn't say anything, reluctantly following him. She felt like she did after facing Mr. X in Yinshi Valley. She just wanted to collapse on the spot and go to sleep, feeling drained and like she was going to throw up. Not to mention the pent-up anger. Her thoughts were all over the place. They kept going through and summarizing the mission events, wondering what Full Band was talking about, trying to figure out why Bandog was acting so strange and what Full Band knew that was worth killing him over. Then she started to wonder why Bandog chose Count to carry it out. The most reasonable reason was that Bandog had been playing his ego in some way. Count wanted to be the best. He thought he was the best. Killing Full Band must have been a massive kick in the teeth.

As they arrived at HQ and entered the briefing room, everything was unusually quiet. There were two pilots sitting in the room along with Count. They were two that had stayed behind because they were locked in solitary. Naomi had no idea who they were, but with the way everyone was dying lately she bitterly thought that there wasn't much of a point to even try it. Besides, they seemed to know her pretty well. Her eyes locked on Count, slumped over in his chair with a look that Naomi couldn't read. He was scowling, as always, but there was a look of defeat in his eyes. It was like he was looking somewhere else. He wasn't looking for Bandog anymore, that was for sure.

A quick look around the room told Naomi that Bandog wasn't around. If he was, then Count must have realized that a smarter move would have been to let him be, otherwise it was solitary and a one-way ticket out of the unit. Not like they were an official squadron, but there were military prisons in Osea that would be happy to take him if he did something so out of line as beating up an officer. Of course, what Full Band did was out of line and it got him killed. Naomi started to fear for Tabloid and Count. What if Bandog wanted to kill them, too? What if they did something he didn't like in the air? Would it be that easy or did Bandog just have a bit of luck that day?

Naomi quickly took a seat next to Count, pressing her hand against her forehead. He glanced at Naomi and Tabloid as they sat down beside him on either sighed. "If you're going to try and calm me down then you should save your breath," Count said sharply.

"We didn't plan on it. We're here for the debriefing. That's all." Tabloid replied simply, not bothering to say anything else. Under better circumstances, he might have used a harsher, more irritated tone to make his response more of a comeback than a simple reply. Count probably realized this too, since he glared at him and took a deep breath as if to rein himself in.

Within a few minutes, no words spoken between the three pilots, Commander McKinsey marched into the room with a satisfied smirk on his face. Bandog followed slowly behind with a blank expression. Their AWACS looked at the three of them sitting together, quickly noticing as Count straightened up and clenched his fists. Almost guiltily, he looked away again, taking his usual place at the front of the room with McKinsey. The commander looked at all of them smugly before he simply said to them, "The mission was a success. Surprisingly. There's nothing else I need to say. Dismissed."

They all gave perplexed looks to one another before lifting themselves out of their chairs and making their way to the door, the guards standing beside it looking surprisingly friendly. Just before Count could exit, McKinsey called out to him, "Hold on, Count!" He stopped, and so did Naomi and Tabloid. Naomi was pretty sure that she was holding her breath as the commander approached them, stopping about halfway. Count looked confused as ever as he stood in the doorway. McKinsey gestured with the file in his hands. "It looks like your kill numbers are going up every day."

Count frowned, his fist clenching and unclenching. "What of it?"

"I just wanted to tell you that you know what happens by giving false reports. I don't doubt your credibility, but there is the off chance. You can never be too careful," McKinsey said with his usual smirk, giving Count a pat on his upper arm before turning away. "Anyway, you other pilots should learn from him. Now get lost." Count scowled happily turned away, pushing past Naomi and Tabloid. McKinsey returned to his desk and to Bandog. As Naomi and Tabloid turned to follow Count, Naomi heard McKinsey say with a dry laugh, "I'm getting the hell out of this dump, Bandog. And when I do, their kill count will make my star shine brighter. The generals back in Oured won't be able to ignore me for much longer."

Naomi stopped after a few steps just to hear Bandog's response. Tabloid went on ahead. Bandog sounded less than pleased. "But you can't deny that you owe your success to Spare Squadron, then," he said. Now why was he standing up for them all of the sudden? He'd just killed Full Band and he was still pretending to care? Naomi started to wonder if Count had a point, but what if he really did care? Bandog went on, the sound of a stack of papers hitting the desk as he started talking, "We suffered heavy losses today. But, I did what you asked and silenced the threat or whatever you're calling him. Now, could you finally do me a favor and leave me out of your stupid problems?"

There were footsteps, but they reached the door and then stopped when McKinsey called out to Bandog. "You should be more careful with how you speak, Bandog. I'm letting you off the hook, but don't forget that you played a part in Full Band's death. Maybe now you'll be more careful about who you choose as your allies." Naomi was straining to hear the rest of the conversation, since McKinsey had the bright idea to lower his voice. "This war is going to come to a quick end, Bandog. Mark my words. Sooner or later, one or both countries are going to reach a breaking point. Remember that I'm doing what I have to do to bring that point along sooner rather than later. Maybe you should reconsider my offer."

"I'll think about it," Bandog gruffly replied before stepping out of the room. He slammed the door behind him and looked around, almost immediately noticing Naomi. His expression softened to one of mild surprise and he said nothing, but Naomi still felt like a deer caught in the headlights. She cleared her throat, gave an awkward wave, and then spun around to sprint down the hallway and outside. She looked over her shoulder, catching her breath and trying to see if Bandog had followed her, but he hadn't. He'd probably gone back to his room to check on Sarge or something. Naomi was safe from the threat of solitary. For now, at least.

The conversation kept replaying in her head. Over and over again. What were they talking about? What offer had McKinsey made for Bandog, and why didn't he take it? Did this mean that all of Full Band's snooping hadn't been for nothing? If that was true, then McKinsey really was a traitor, but it sounded like he was continuing to pit both countries against one another. It explained why Osea was catching up to Erusea, but how Erusea still managed to be one step ahead of them. The advantage still belonged to the enemy. But what about the other thing that McKinsey had said? Would they be leaving or would he be the only one getting transferred from the unit? Spare Squadron earned their redemption by now, at least, that's what Naomi would have thought. There wasn't any reason to keep them around with new leadership. They were as good as any regular unit. For a short time today, they'd even managed to work like a real squadron would.

Naomi managed to smile just a little recalling the event. The rush of adrenaline, the joy of having the squadron hopeful and abandon their 'every man for himself' mentality that caused the death of so many of their wingmen. But the speed at which all of the excitement faded into shock and grief. Had Count felt that? He seemed glad to have one-upped Naomi when he'd shot Full Band, but when he realized who it was he seemed as upset as she was. Not to mention the way that McKinsey kicked him in the teeth at the debriefing. His kill numbers went up, especially today, but only because he'd unknowingly shot down an ally. Losing a friend or wingman hurt. Naomi knew that. But having been the one to kill him yourself? Well…Naomi could understand that feeling.

Right now, she just wanted to put the awful day out of its misery. She needed to rest, to gather her thoughts and approach the issue in the morning. That was all she could do. Instead of heading back to the hangar to join Avril and most likely Tabloid as well, Naomi went straight for the cellblock.

July 28th, 2019.
0742hrs.

The next morning, life around base seemed to return to normal. Naomi didn't like it. Everyone acted as she'd predicted, moving on from Full Band's death as if nothing had ever happened. The guards spoke amongst themselves, seeming reluctant to act harshly towards the remaining members of the squadron. Naomi was surprised by the change in their behavior in the course of less than a day. But that was all that was different that Naomi could see. Other than that, things were normal. Their cells were unlocked, they were called for breakfast, and they had work around the base after that. Avril woke Naomi up to inform her of this, but Naomi decided that she'd skip breakfast that day. Things just didn't feel right to her.

So while Tabloid and Avril headed to the mess hall, Naomi decided to spend some time alone in the hangar. The sun was almost completely risen at this point, and it was already clear that it would be another extremely hot day. She sighed, glad that she'd gone ahead and tied the front half of her flight suit around her waist. She'd found that it was the best way to help with the heat, since the prisoners had to wear them all the time. She envied Avril, who didn't have to wear extremely stuffy clothes all the time.

When Naomi reached the hangar, she was expecting it to be empty. A few guards and some of the ground crew were standing outside talking with one another, and they nodded to her as she stepped inside. There was a sudden thud as something fell to the floor and Naomi heard someone curse loudly. She was curious and hesitant at the same time, but eventually decided to approach the source of the noise. It was coming from over by Count's plane, so she could already guess who it was. Sure enough, Naomi reached Count's Flanker and found him sitting in the cockpit with a cigarette in his mouth and the radio he'd been messing with all month in his hands. And on the floor was the item that had fallen: an extremely large roll of duct tape.

Count set the radio on the ejection seat as he hopped out of the cockpit and began his climb down the ladder to retrieve the tape. He noticed Naomi as soon as he reached the ground. "Oh," he said, almost disappointed that she was there. Glaring at her, Count reached down and grabbed his tape before returning to the ladder. "I didn't know someone else was here."

"Neither did I, until a few seconds ago," Naomi replied, crossing her arms and tilting her head back to get a clearer look at him as he climbed back into the cockpit. "I guess you finally got your radio working."

"Yeah, you think?" Count asked, sounding irritated with her like he always did. Naomi frowned, having hoped that there was some way that they'd have made progress. But no. He was still an ass. As he leaned over to look for a spot to place the radio, tape at the ready, he called out to her, "If all you came out here to do was watch me and state the obvious, then you can just go somewhere else." Naomi rolled her eyes and climbed up the ladder, just high enough so that she could lean the front half of her body into the cockpit and see what he was doing. Count lifted his head and scowled as he made eye contact with her. "I meant go somewhere else as in leave, not invade my personal space."

Naomi shrugged it off, grinning slightly in hopes she'd put him at ease. "I'm only trying to help," she said. Taking a good look around at the controls and area that Count was sitting in, she couldn't help but grimace a little. "It's so cramped in here. I mean, the F-2 is pretty cramped, but where are you trying to tape the radio?" Count gestured to a spot just beside his left leg, kicking at it in case she missed it. If he put it there then he wouldn't be left with much leg room. She guessed that comfort wasn't his first concern. "Soooo, what exactly are you going to do with that when you finally get it where it's supposed to be? I doubt it'd be much use in a combat situation."

"It's plenty of use in such a situation. I can listen to music that makes me feel like a badass in a fight," Count said in a surprisingly light tone, almost smiling. Naomi perked up, chuckling at the comment. That was progress. "You'd be surprised how many radio stations this old thing can pick up. Eruseans have pretty decent taste in music, I will admit that. I stayed up all night to finish it up, and I got to listen to a nice bit of jazz on one station and some classic rock on another."

"You like jazz?" Naomi asked him in a teasing tone, raising an eyebrow. She noticed his cheeks turned a little pink at this, but he didn't say anything in his defense. Although she didn't want to ruin the surprisingly good mood he was in, she also wanted to talk to him about the battle the day before. She'd already asked Tabloid before breakfast that morning how he was and Tabloid admitted that he was upset but he'd be fine. Naomi wouldn't be able to relax until she knew Count was, too. The three of them were the survivors of the entire ordeal, and Naomi didn't want Count to feel like he couldn't talk to them about it. Awkwardly, she turned the subject around to the mission. "Umm…so, you were up all night? Did you have a hard time falling asleep?"

Count visibly tensed, almost bristling. "A little. Mostly I wanted to get the radio done sooner rather than later," he replied shortly. After a pause and what looked like some mental debating, he added, "And I was kinda too pissed off to sleep. I'm still pissed off, but now I can take it out on the tape and this stupid pile of junk they call a plane…" Naomi scanned his face for any sign that he was hiding something and just didn't feel like sharing how he felt, but she couldn't find anything. He glared at her and asked cautiously, "Why do you ask?"

Naomi shook her head. "No real reason. I just…you seemed upset after what happened. I guess I was just a little worried that you weren't holding up all that well," she replied, not sure how else to put it. "I know that I didn't sleep well last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I just saw Full Band's plane explode. I feel a little responsible for what happened."

He scoffed at this. "Why should you? Our squadron doesn't have a real leader, and honestly it works out better that way. There's no one to take responsibility for those that go down. It's no one's fault but their own. It'll be marked as 'pilot error' or some bullshit like that," Count sneered as he squirmed in his seat to get the radio in the right position. "And if anyone should feel guilty or responsible for it, then it's me. I'm the dumbass that fired a missile at him, and I'm the idiot that didn't bother to check with anyone else before I fired said missile." He sighed and looked down, looking more subdued than he had. He removed his cigarette from his mouth and tossed it aside. Count chuckled darkly and continued, "I jumped on him like a rabid dog. If I close my eyes, I can see myself firing that missile and I can remember the exact moment I realized I screwed up. Our wingman is dead and it's my fault. Not Tabloid's and not yours."

She paused and then slowly reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. "I…Count, there's not much I can say to make you feel better, but I'm slowly starting to figure something out," Naomi said, and Count looked up at her with a puzzled look on his face. She cleared her throat. "You remember how I said I had a debt to settle with that Mr. X pilot in Yinshi Valley?" He nodded. "Well, before the mission that got me sent here, we ran into one of the Arsenal Birds over Chopinburg Rainforest. One of our pilots, one of my best friends, was hit by a missile from a drone. She pulled out of the operation area, but Mr. X shot her down. I still blame myself for her death, because a little while before she died she called to me for support but like a dumbass I followed orders. She's dead because I didn't go with my gut to save her."

Count furrowed his brow. "What does this have to do with Full Band?"

"I'm getting to that, Count," Naomi sighed. "The point is that I'd never dealt with death like that. I was kind of a naive kid. I knew what death was, but it didn't seem like it would ever happen close to me. Now, a war breaks out and everyone I know is getting killed left and right. But, we can either mope around and blame ourselves or we can band together and grow stronger because of it. My old flight leader was far more personal and understanding after my friend died. Because he blamed himself. But like a good leader he knew that if he fell apart then the others would follow, so he stayed strong and as a result we were all able to mourn and move on with our work."

"And that's supposed to just make all of the guilt go away?" Count asked with a scoff, shaking his head. "Sounds like some bullshit to me."

"It won't make it go away. But if you want to be treated like a leader so badly, Count, then you're going to have to start acting like one," Naomi replied, keeping her voice level. "You can sit around feeling sorry for yourself and let the squadron fall apart along with you or you can find a better time and place to deal with your guilt. I'm upset about Full Band, too, but I'm going to wait until I know any grief I have won't interfere with my judgement and any anger over the situation can be put to good use." Naomi sighed. "Listen, Count. I know you don't trust me, and I know you're only out for yourself, but I'm tired of all of these bodies piling up around me. Put your anger to use in the air, instead of taking it out on the rest of us."

He narrowed his blue eyes on her, and Naomi wondered what he was thinking in that moment. It almost seemed like he was mad enough to punch her right then and there, but he didn't. Instead, Count took a deep breath and went back to his radio. "I hate to admit it, but…you make a good point, Trigger," he admitted. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and smirked. "Honestly, you're not so bad for a Belkan."

Naomi rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder. "Osean," she corrected, but not in her usually defensive way. She knew that just then he was only messing with her. "But that wouldn't have anything to do with advice giving. I mean, wasn't there a famous psychologist or something that was Belkan?"

Count paused and shook his head. "Not that I can remember," he answered, looking over at her with a genuinely confused look on his face. "Besides, I don't really pay attention to boring shit like that. Who has the time for weird psychobabble when you're working with old radios and torn up planes?" He laughed at his own joke, and Naomi joined in after a moment. It seemed he was friendlier and in a much better mood than he had been. She couldn't help but wonder just how long it would last. How long it would be before he decided to not trust her again. Right now, that was the last thing Naomi needed or wanted. But thankfully, it seemed Count was starting to come around.

1425hrs.

Bandog sighed as he sat on his bed, hunched over and looking at his hands. At his feet, Sarge lay beside him, gnawing on her Kong chew toy, seemingly unaware of the amount of stress placed on him right now. The day before, he'd been responsible for the death of Full Band and he knew that it didn't make him any better than the prisoners he claimed to be different from. And not to mention the fact that he didn't want to do it. He might have gone so far as to say that he considered Full Band…well, not a friend. But maybe an ally. To be honest, he kind of missed Full Band's constant nagging to snoop around and the fact that the dumbass was confident that Bandog would still help him. Maybe it was because neither one of them liked McKinsey or the people at the base that much. There was a common ground.

He lifted his head to look across at the desk in his room. On it, out in front for the world to see, was a spare flash drive (nothing more than a copy of the intel Full Band gave to Wiseman) and Bandog's cell phone. With little effort, he pushed himself up off of the bed and took a few steps forward to reach the desk. He picked up the phone and turned it on, checking to make sure there were no missed calls from…well, anyone. Satisfied, he shut the phone off and stuffed in in a drawer, moving on to the flash drive. He examined it closely, thinking back to the conversation where Full Band had forced him to take it for safe keeping. Bandog scoffed and shoved it into his pocket before turning around to face Sarge.

The shepherd looked up at him curiously, tilting her head to the side with her chew toy still between her jaws. Bandog chuckled at the sight. Sarge could be pretty cute when she wanted to be. "Okay, you goofball," Bandog said to her, grabbing her leash. "You ready to go for a walk?" She immediately dropped her toy and jumped up, trotting over to him and sitting down. He clipped the leash to her collar and rolled up his sleeves, setting off for the door with Sarge following close behind.

Once he was in the hallway, he realized that he didn't know where to go from there. He could stop by the mess hall for a cup of coffee, but the more he considered that the more he realized that it was too late in the day for that. There wasn't anywhere for him to go to. The yards would be filled by now, but he could just take Sarge out to play a game of fetch on the runway or outside the hangars. But then there was the chance of running into some of the prisoners. He knew that, sooner or later, he needed to get what was left of Spare Squadron together and tell them his side of the story. He didn't want to face any of them. Especially Count. To say he was nervous would have been an understatement. They were still prisoners and something like what had happened could easily cause them to turn on him.

It was then that he made perhaps one of the dumbest decisions in his entire life. He made his way down the hallway and outside, then went on a search to find Spare Squadron. At least with Sarge there to back him up, they wouldn't try anything too stupid. Bandog could only cross his fingers and pray that they wouldn't kill him as soon as they laid eyes on him. Considering how pissed they were with him, it wasn't too unlikely. Sarge seemed to sense some of his uneasiness the closer and closer they got to the hangar. She brought her head around to look up at him, her tongue lolling out, before her nose brushed up against his hand. Most of his hand had her leash wrapped around it, but Sarge gave his knuckles a quick, comforting lick before she turned her head around again to watch where they were going.

Bandog managed a small smile. "Good girl," he praised. Sarge only shook some dust off of her coat and let out a huff, making no indication that she heard him or even cared. At last, they reached the hangar where Trigger, Count, and Tabloid's planes were housed. And as expected all three of them were there, along with the mechanic, Avril Mead. At first, none of them seemed to notice him. Count was doing something in his cockpit, while Trigger and Mead were talking with one another while looking over Tabloid's plane. Tabloid was halfway up the ladder that was pushed against Count's plane, his usual grin on his face (albeit, more tired looking than usual) as he said something to Count that made him respond by almost laughing. It wasn't until Bandog let go of Sarge's leash and she took off to greet Trigger that they all took notice of Bandog.

He stood there, feeling awkward and out of place as four pairs of eyes all locked on him with equally as furious looks on their faces. Even Trigger and Tabloid looked ready to kick his ass. Bandog was about to just walk away when Count hopped out of his cockpit, sliding down the ladder as Tabloid moved away. "What the hell are you doing here?" Count demanded, taking a few steps toward Bandog. Bandog stayed where he was, and Count stopped as soon as Trigger hurried over to him and grabbed his arm. He glared at Trigger for a moment, but she made it clear that she wasn't in the mood to argue with him. Count snatched his hand away and looked back at Bandog. "Let me guess, you've come to murder the rest of us, eh?"

"Pfft, don't be ridiculous, Count," Bandog said, rolling his eyes. "Stop being immature and jumping to conclusions." Count bristled, crossing his arms and scowling, but he didn't say anything. Bandog decided he'd address the only one he considered somewhat reasonable out of the group. He looked at Trigger, who — although was a reckless moron — would be the only one willing to listen to him. And if she listened, the others would, too. It was strange to Bandog. The underdog of the group, the runt that killed Harling, and yet she'd scratched her way to the top and gave Count a run for his money. Now Tabloid and Mead followed her example rather than Count's most of the time. "Look, I'm here to explain what happened. Trigger, I know you must want to know both sides of the story."

Trigger mirrored Count's actions, crossing her arms and scowling. However, it was clear by the flash of uncertainty in her eyes that she was considering it. At last, she looked around her companions and then down at Sarge, who was pawing at her leg for attention. Trigger kept a cold, disinterested expression as she finally came to a decision. "Alright, fine," she said, reaching down to pat Sarge on the top of her head, "But you'd better not be wasting our time."

"Yes, because it's so time consuming being a prisoner," Bandog retorted. All four of them gave him a warning look, so he figured he should hurry up with his explaining. But how would he start? He scratched the top of his head, nervously looking around before he ventured further into the hangar so that he was standing close enough for them to hear him without having to raise his voice. "Now, what happened…yes, I got Full Band killed on purpose. But hear me out, okay? McKinsey knew that something was off, so he did some digging around and found that Full Band was poking his nose where it shouldn't be. We found a lot of information a couple of nights before, all of it about some operation to a desert and McKinsey's plan to sell the information to the Eruseans. Well, McKinsey knew that I had some part in Full Band's information gathering. He told me I had a choice: I could get kicked out of the military and likely killed for espionage, or I could prove I was loyal to Osea and kill Full Band."

"So you murdered him in order to save your own, sorry ass?" Tabloid asked. He shook his head and let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, Bandog. Great story. That makes us feel a hell of a lot better about the death of our friend." The other three all muttered and nodded in agreement.

Bandog let out a sigh of frustration. "That's not…entirely true," he said. They were making it hard for him. He didn't want to feel guilty, and he didn't like them talking down to him, but he was finding it difficult. "I went to Full Band after McKinsey told me that. Full Band wanted to make it seem like I wasn't involved in any way, so he devised a little plan. Someone would shoot him down, and he'd just bail out with a flash drive in his flight suit full of the information and all would be well, with McKinsey having no idea he wasn't really dead. But…apparently he didn't have time to eject. So now he's dead, and all the extra information went along with him. McKinsey got what he wanted. Full Band's dead and he thinks he's in the clear."

"He is, though," Mead pointed out. "You have no way of using the intel against him. It's gone."

"Actually, that's the only good thing about this," Bandog said, but he did second guess revealing the information in front of her. He looked to Trigger. "Before I continue, is there any real reason why Mead's here? It's not like she's officially a part of the squadron."

Trigger and Mead exchanged a look, with Mead picking up a wrench and gesturing with it. "Listen here, you ass," the mechanic almost growled. "I'm the only person that got these piece of shit planes to even takeoff, so I have just as an important role as you do. I mean, at least I do more than sit on my ass and yell at people. Oh! And get them killed. You have no idea how stupid that plan the two of you had was, by the way. Too risky. The chances of it working were slim." In an annoyed murmur, she added mostly to herself, "No wonder he's dead, now…"

Trigger looked back to Bandog, her arms crossed again. "Avril stays. She's as much a part of this squadron as any of us. I'd say she's earned the privilege of being in on our secrets. And, she makes a good point."

"Whatever you say," Bandog replied, staring doubtfully at Mead before he finally continued. "Full Band gave a USB drive to Major Wiseman before the LRSSG pilots left for their own base. The Major agreed to go over it and talk with his superiors about it, and he'd give us a call if something came up. I got a call from him, stating that he found out that McKinsey put in for a transfer and the General Staff Office was looking over our unit's performance. McKinsey is trying to get away, I just…have that feeling. If he really is guilty, anyways. But he doesn't know that Major Wiseman and I have copies of older information. I'm going to need you guys to understand that I'm trying to be on your side. I never thought I'd fall in with a bunch of lowlifes, but there's no other choice. It's for our own survival."

"Okay, hold on a minute. You insult us day in and day out, don't care about any of us, throw us in a box whenever we step out of line, kill our wingman to save your own skin, furthermore use me to kill our wingman, and you expect us to help you?" Count asked incredulously. The others looked just as disbelieving as he did. "I don't know what sick joke you're playing on us, but I don't want any part in it."

"Look, if you don't play along then McKinsey will throw every single one of us to the wolves and make out without even a slap on the wrist," Bandog snapped. "We'll be punished unless we play our cards right. And I can't do it on my own. If Full Band proposed this, you'd all agree to it. I know I'm not the nicest person, and to be honest I don't really like any of you, but we all want justice for McKinsey for some reason or another, right?" He looked around, and the others relaxed, all of them looking from one to the other. Bandog went on, trying not to sound like he was begging, "I don't trust you as far as I can throw you, but you aren't going to make it out if you don't trust me."

Trigger wore a thoughtful expression that quickly changed to determination as she looked Bandog right in the eyes. "Well, I have no idea what we're going to be doing, but if it means McKinsey getting what he deserves then…hell yeah! I'm in, Bandog," she said. "If Full Band trusted you, then maybe you aren't all that bad."

Tabloid and Mead joined in next, with Tabloid giving a firm nod. "If Trigger's in, then I'll help however you need, Bandog. Besides, if we stick with Trigger then we'll make it, right?"

They all looked to Count, who didn't look happy with the arrangement. "I want you to pay for Full Band's death, Bandog…but I want McKinsey to pay more. So…fine…" He stalked back to his plane, calling over his shoulder. "But don't think this means I forgive you or trust you, Bandog. Because I don't."

The five of them spent the rest of the afternoon discussing the best way to handle McKinsey. They all agreed to wait for the perfect moment, and not to act unless at least one other knew what they were doing. Bandog wasn't sure how he felt about trusting them. Some weight was lifted off his shoulders, and he felt less guilty than he had about Full Band, but Count still would give him a hard time about it. He hated him, and Bandog didn't blame him for it. But Trigger didn't seem that mad about it. In fact, she seemed thrilled with the idea of them all working together. She was surprisingly optimistic. Bandog just wished he could share her enthusiasm. He couldn't shake a feeling of dread, though. Like McKinsey would still win anyways.

August 5th, 2019.
0635hrs.

It didn't take long for things to really start to change around the base. Several transport planes were flown in, and McKinsey called a briefing and ordered everyone to start packing things away. They were starting to be treated like a normal unit, and their orders were to pack everything away and move the base further inland. Within just a few days, the hangars were emptied of their fighters and now home to several crates full of equipment and aircraft parts and other various supplies. With how busy everything was, it seemed the guards forgot that half of their personnel were convicts. Naomi noticed that Spare Squadron and the other cons were almost being treated like regular people again.

McKinsey called them all in for another briefing, completely unaware that this move was an opportunity that Naomi and the rest of Spare Squadron had been waiting for. Now that the General Staff Office thought he was some great guy, they could drop the bomb on them. They'd have no choice but to investigate and admit that their golden boy wasn't all that honorable. As Spare Squadron and the prisoners that made up part of the ground crew filed into the briefing room, McKinsey eyed them with a stoic look on his face. Naomi, Count, and Tabloid all took seats at the front of the room with Bandog joining them instead of standing up front with the commander.

Once everyone had arrived and the doors were closed, McKinsey jumped into the briefing almost instantly. "Attention!" he shouted, but got no real reaction. The guards standing around the room stiffened, but no one else showed him the respect of standing at attention. As the screen in front of them displayed a map as usual, McKinsey went on, "I've received a communication from the General Staff Office. It seems your ability to carry out missions has gotten the attention of the higher-ups. All of you have been pardoned. The Osean Air Force Base 444 Squadron is now officially legit." He smiled for a moment as the map centered on the southernmost part of Usea, and a route began to appear. "In celebration, you are to join the operation to take back the base on Tyler Island in Southewestern Usea. The battle is underway and the airport to the south has been reclaimed. However, fighting with the remaining forces in the north is still active."

The screen showed Tyler Island, and Naomi noticed it pinpointed which areas were under allied control and which were Erusean. "You will all be stationed at the airport alongside another former penal unit. The battle is not letting up. We expect extensive losses to all involved. Still, the fact that we've gained new ground is a blessing." The map of Tyler Island vanished and it displayed all of Usea again. Naomi was taking her time to study everything displayed in front of her. McKinsey continued, "My time as CO of the penal base is over. All command personnel, including myself, are being moved to a base in Far Eastern Usea. However…" The map shrunk, and then showed an image of territory that Naomi didn't recognize. "We will be stopping to refuel in Bulgurdarest. It's in Erusean territory with close ties to Osea. Even if we detour, we will still have to fly through Erusean airspace in the end."

Naomi exchanged a look with the others. It wasn't the safest plan. Erusea would pick them up in a heartbeat. McKinsey had it all worked out, though, "And that is where we need you ex-cons to come in. I've selected a number of you with mission experience to provide support. We'll be leaving in a few hours, as soon as we're finished packing up the remaining supplies. That's all. Dismissed." And just like that, everyone stood up, murmuring anxiously. Naomi started to follow the others out, but McKinsey called her back. "Hey, Trigger! Wait right there!"

Count and Tabloid stopped and looked back. "You guys go on ahead. I'll meet you back at the hangars." They went on ahead, glaring at McKinsey as they left. Naomi frowned and turned to face the commander, crossing her arms and shifting her weight onto one leg. She tilted her head to one side, not entirely sure how she felt about the whole ordeal. "Yes, sir?" she asked him, although she didn't think he really deserved any sort of respectful title. Still, she'd come this far and didn't want to screw it up by popping off at the mouth.

McKinsey scowled and looked at a file with a sigh. "Though I'm not entirely happy with the arrangement, you are going to help provide support. Since we're going into Erusean territory, there's a good chance that the drones might attack again. If they do, protect my aircraft with your life." Naomi nodded, listening carefully. Not that she liked the idea of dying for McKinsey, but it seemed her luck was turning. And she was a little excited about finally having her freedom back. McKinsey's scowl deepened. "If the General Staff Office hadn't stepped in and requested you, your ass would've been sent to Tyler Island with everyone else. You are covered in Harling's blood, yet you still are messing around behind the scenes and you did the exact thing I told you not to do on your first day. You breathe in a way I don't like and I'll shoot you out of the damn sky!"

"Whatever you'd like, sir," Naomi said with a forced smile, spinning on her heel to leave the room and follow the others. She heard McKinsey groan and mutter an insult under his breath just before the door shut behind her.

As she set out she realized that, as excited as she was to finally be pardoned, she didn't feel like she had anything left on the outside world. Her old squadron probably moved on a long time ago, not knowing if she was dead or alive. Hell, she didn't know if they were dead or not. Naomi had a feeling that her rank had probably been stripped away, and if it hadn't it still wouldn't matter. With her criminal record and everyone thinking she killed Harling, her career wouldn't go anywhere anyways. She'd probably never be promoted and be stuck as a lieutenant for the rest of her life. Then there was her family. She knew their big secret and she wasn't sure that she could just go on with them like she used to. She did miss her family though…and she was a step closer to likely making it home and finally seeing them again.

The realization set in that she might never see Count or Tabloid or Avril again, either. If everyone else was going to Tyler Island, then that meant Avril and Tabloid as well. Naomi had no idea what was in store for Count. McKinsey hadn't stated who else would be flying as support for his transport. She didn't know that, in just a little over a month, she could feel a bit of a connection with all of them. Avril and Count hadn't made her stay easy for her in the beginning, but Avril came around and Count was…well, he was a work in progress. And Tabloid had been the first to welcome her and the only friendly face she knew for a while. Naomi felt immature for overthinking everything as she processed all the information they'd gotten in the briefing.

When Naomi got to the hangar, Count and Tabloid weren't there. But Avril stood in the center, leaning against a few boxes with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face as she studied the transports parked outside and all of the guards chatting and working to finish loading them up. Naomi approached her, still surprised by how spacious the hangars felt without the fighters in them. Avril barely even looked up at her as she reached her. "I guess McKinsey finally told y'all the news," she said, not looking at Naomi. It almost seemed like she was upset by everything going on around her, rather than pleased by her pardon. Naomi couldn't blame her, considering where she was probably going. "It's hard to believe that we're being treated like a regular unit, y'know? But, the funny thing is that no one around here can seem to remember that I've still got a bum leg. Oh! And that I'm not a soldier."

Now she turned to look at Naomi, a scowl on her face as she did. Naomi frowned. "I guess you already know what's going to happen to you, then," she asked, and her cellmate nodded. "But, didn't you go by HQ a couple of days ago to have a talk with him."

"Yeah, I went," Avril replied, pushing herself off of the crates and limping over to some other, still open boxes. "I was going to bribe my way onto McKinsey's transport with my grandfather's pipe. He left it to me, and it's pretty damn expensive. I guess McKinsey knew that, because he agreed. Said that there was only one seat left. Of course, I only got him to agree after I told him that I knew he'd be sending everyone else off to the front lines while he got all nice and cozy with some Generals in North Point."

"He told us a version of that in the briefing," Naomi said with a chuckle, following Avril as the mechanic loaded some extra tools into a nearby, half-filled box of other parts and tools. "But, I don't understand. If you got a seat on the transport, why didn't you agree? I mean…going to Tyler Island…you're—"

Avril held up a hand to stop her. "Yeah, I know. I'm probably heading straight into hell, but, whatever," she said with an almost playful smirk, tossing a wrench into the box before turning around to stare out the hangar doors again. "If the cons and the dumbass prison guards are going, then why shouldn't I? I'm no angel. Far from it. My old man died playing hero and all I do is hate him for it. I have for years." Naomi stood there, surprised and unsure how to respond. That was the most Avril had opened up to her yet. She didn't know much about Avril's backstory, since the woman was far from the most personal. Avril cleared her throat, as if she felt awkward revealing this. "And besides, someone's gotta keep an eye on Tabloid. That moron is gonna get himself killed, I swear to God. It ain't gonna be a picnic, that's for sure, but…I think we can handle it."

Naomi smiled at her. "Avril…God, this is gonna sound so weird, but I want to thank you," she replied. "I know we didn't get off on the right foot, but thanks for giving me a chance. And thanks for all the repairs you did for my plane. And Tabloid's. Also, for being patient with me. I know that I was a massive pain in the ass." Naomi gave an awkward laugh, but Avril gave her a surprisingly friendly smile. "I'm kind of going to miss you, actually. I mean, who else is going to tell me when I'm being a dumbass."

"Don't worry. I think Count can keep you in line with that," Avril replied. Naomi blinked in surprise and her friend was kind enough to explain. "I had a talk with Bandog before the briefing. The asshat said that you and Count would be the only ones flying support. Two aircraft seems a bit underprepared, but I didn't question it. Wherever you're going, just make sure that Count doesn't get himself punched in the mouth by someone and sent back here."

Both women laughed at this, but were interrupted by the subject of their conversation stepping into the hangar. They quickly stopped laughing as Count called out to Naomi, "Hey! Trigger, we have some pre-flight checks to go over before we head out. McKinsey wants us ready when the transports leave so we can get the hell outta this dump."

"Okay, thanks!" Naomi replied, raising her voice since he was on the other side of the hangar. "I'll be out there in a few minutes, Count!" He gave a curt nod and said goodbye to Avril before he left them alone again. Naomi looked back to Avril and sighed, giving a sad smile as she held out her hand. "I'll see you around, Scrap Queen. Thanks for everything, friend."

Avril chuckled, shaking her hand. "Adios, you damn fool."

Author's Note: The Spare Squadron Arc is starting to come to an end. The next chapter will cover Transfer Orders and then we get to jump into Trigger's time with the LRSSG. Hope y'all are as excited as I am and I hope you enjoyed our little filler chapter!