Chapter Twenty-One: Sins Of The Father
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New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.
August 9th, 2019.
1300hrs.
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With McKinsey gone, the mood among Spare Squadron had improved significantly. At least as far as Pixy could tell. He hadn't seen Naomi around since the squadron was informed of their transfer and McKinsey's ultimate fate. He was giving her space until whatever mood she was in was over and done with. If she was ready to come around then she would come around. At least, that's what he told himself. Even Wiseman had agreed that she needed space. He didn't know much about their family, but he said that everyone from the 444th was a little on edge and stressed out and was still getting used to being out of that situation. It would be a while before any of them were completely adjusted. That explained why they'd all been keeping their distance from the LRSSG pilots and mingling with each other. Bandog was the only one who was starting to come around.
Having nothing going on and unable to convince Wiseman to give him something to do around base (he'd been told to relax for a little while every time he brought it up), Pixy was left to hang around base and watch everyone else work or stay in his room. He'd chosen to go for a walk that morning, then he went to lunch like everyone else, and now he was back on another walk. However, this time he was going to end it at his room. Maybe he could read a little or make a call back home to Osea. His wife was probably worrying. He'd told her that Naomi was going to be pardoned, but that was a few days before. She warned him that their daughter would probably be upset with him, and of course he expected the exact opposite. And of course he was wrong.
He'd only been back in his room for a few minutes, searching through his bag for his phone. The longer he looked, the more he realized that there were several people he promised to keep in touch with when he went to Usea. Cipher, his wife Emma, his daughter, his son, Kathryn and everyone else that knew Naomi back at Fort Grays. He was sure that Emma probably told Cipher and Samantha about how Naomi was doing, but Roland and everyone else would be in the dark about it. He knew that Knocker and Clown were especially concerned. Pixy, somewhat frustrated by how he hadn't packed more neatly, was trying to make a mental list about which order to call and who not to call. A soft knock at the door, however, shook him from his thoughts.
Glaring at his bag with a sigh, he was almost relieved by the interruption. He quickly crossed his room and opened the door, surprised by who he saw standing there. Naomi shifted nervously, looking up at him with a sad somewhat guilty look on her face. "Hi, Dad…" she greeted in a soft voice. Pixy didn't know what to say at first. The last time he saw her she just ignored him. Now she looked like she had when they'd been reunited in Osea shortly before her trial. The silence wasn't awkward, but he was glad when Naomi broke it again. "Umm…can I come in? I want to talk about, er…well, Belka I suppose. I mean, not specifically about Belka, but the fact that our entire family is Belkan. And that's probably a really weird way to put it…" She trailed off, fidgeting with her hands and looking around to avoid eye contact.
Pixy stepped aside without a word, trying to think about what he was supposed to say to her. Naomi slowly stepped inside and Pixy closed the door behind him. She took a good look around the room, her back turned to him, and Pixy knew that she was just taking in her surroundings to gather her own thoughts. But Pixy figured out what to say first. Well, not exactly figured out, but he got a way to start the discussion. "Um, Naomi, look. We had good reason to hide all of this from you. It's not fun living in a world where everyone, even other Belkans, are out to get you just because of your blood. At least, it's not fun knowing you live in a world like that. We wanted you to have a normal life."
"Yeah, so you keep telling me," Naomi murmured. She turned around and hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Look, I watched the documentary. Well, I'm pretty sure it was the right one. Count told me about it. I had to Google it, but it wasn't too hard to find online. And then of course I read about the Belkan War to brush up on that and about A World With No Boundaries and everything that was supposed to be accomplished, and I have more questions than I do answers, but I'm not here to talk about that. Obviously…" Most of what she said was all at once, with her barely taking a breath. He'd never seen her so nervous. Well, she was nervous about her trial, but not nearly this stressed out about it. "I just…I had a talk with my…er…friends. Yeah, I think I can call them that now…anyway, they suggested I hear your side of the story. I have some of the bigger picture and I'm ready to listen to you."
He looked her over for a moment. This wasn't going to be as easy as he thought it would be. "Okay…" Pixy said, taking a deep breath. He motioned for Naomi to sit down and she took a seat on the bed, moving his bag over and staring up at him. Once he was sure that she was really listening and he had a non-sugarcoated version, he began his explanation. "I'm going to take you back a few years before the war. The politics behind the war are well known, but I'll come to that later. I grew up in South Belka. Well, it isn't South Belka anymore. Anyways…the Foulke family history goes all the way back to the Osean War when the Belkan Air Force began using aircraft. One of the best aces the BAF had was my great-great-great-grandfather. But, that's a different story. From then on out, all the men in the Foulke family followed in his footsteps and joined the air force. That makes you the first female member of the Foulke family to join the military as a pilot and not as a doctor or something else to that effect.
"Long before the Belkan War started, Osea would continue to advance into Belkan territory. Our leaders either sold off or gave away our land. When I was about nine or ten, we were stationed at a Belkan base. This was a base full of civilians as well as soldiers. My father was supposed to join his squadron in an attempt to drive off the Osean fighters and ground troops, but he disobeyed orders and abandoned his post. That marked him as a traitor." He paused, recalling that day. It wasn't pleasant day. Not at all. "He found my mother and I and tried to join the evacuation with us, but the Belkan soldiers received orders not to let him out. One thing you should know about Belkans is that one thing they value above all else is honor. This means undying loyalty to your country and — should you choose to serve — your military.
"Word broke out quickly around base that my father was AWOL and they weren't to let him through the checkpoint. With a dogfight going on overhead, things got ugly. My father tried and failed to negotiate with the soldier and eventually the Oseans set their sights on the Belkan ground troops. A plane went down near us, and they took out the truck that the soldiers had set up. My parents were killed by the explosion, probably hit by debris. I don't remember what happened after that because I woke up in a hospital in the capital about a day or two later. When I recovered, I was put in an orphanage and placed in foster homes until I aged out." Pixy noted the horrified and saddened look on his daughter's face. This only cemented his belief that it was for her own good that he'd waited to tell her the story. "Now, all of this is important because I came to a conclusion. And a realization. The reason that Osea attacked that day was because of a dispute over borders. In my eyes, all that countries and boundaries brought was chaos and animosity.
"I wanted to continue the family tradition. I wanted to be a pilot, but I decided at a young age that I wouldn't serve one country. My loyalty was to myself alone, and no country or government. I applied for the Belkan Air Force as an officer just to pay for college and get through flight training. Before I officially completed my training, I left. Your mother agreed to come with me, if only for the sake of your brother and sister. Unlike me, she was a patriotic Belkan that just didn't agree with the war. We both became mercenaries. I managed to scrape up a good reputation as a pilot and your mother as a mechanic, believe it or not." He managed to smile a little at the memory. They were a strange family. Pixy quickly brought himself back on topic. "Before long I was stationed at Valais Air Base when Ustio hired me and a few others as pilots to help them with the war. We were there through most of the war until…well, until I left. I figured our job was over until they kept sending us out more and more. In that time, my flight lead, Cipher, gained the title of Demon Lord.
"The real turning point for me came when Hoffnung was bombed indiscriminately by our own allies. I realized that I had helped to cause the same destruction and chaos that I'd gone through as a kid, and I knew then that I had to leave and try and put a stop to the war in my own way. Betraying my buddy was one of the hardest things I ever did, but I knew that there wasn't any use fighting for a cause I didn't believe in. I knew that Cipher would come after me or try and reason with me, so I made it clear that our alliance was over. Like an idiot I made an enemy out of my best friend and he repaid me by doing the same. Thankfully he didn't blame your mom or siblings. In fact, after I left he took care of them and made sure that the others at base didn't treat them badly. I'm grateful for that." Naomi seemed to lighten up knowing that not everything was all doom and gloom during the war. But Pixy wasn't done. "In the end, my actions when I was on my own only caused more hatred. I figured that if we started over from the beginning, that the newer generation would be able to put right the mistakes we've made, but it would have killed more lives than it saved. The world would have never recovered properly. But Cipher stopped me and left me to pay for my actions."
Naomi nodded slowly. "The documentary…you said you should have died. Was that the punishment you wanted or just what you deserved?"
Pixy winced. "What I deserved. But God must have had mercy on me. I know Cipher didn't. He believed I was dead and he moved on with his life." He shrugged. "Anyways. I eventually realized some flaw in my plan. After I recovered from the wreck a few months later, I tracked down your mother. Needless to say, she was happy I wasn't really dead but Cipher didn't find out until a few years later, but he stayed in touch with your mom. About a year after the war ended, your mom told me she was pregnant again. I was fine with this. In fact, I was overjoyed. But after seeing the damage that the Belkan War did to your brother and sister, how they constantly were singled out for their accent and name until we moved and then how nervous they were in Osea. We all lived looking over our shoulder in fear that someone with ties to Belka would recognize us, and take us out for being traitors. Your mother and I both decided that we wouldn't tell you about your heritage. You grew up with a better life than we could ever dream of."
He noticed that Naomi's eyes were starting to water a little bit, but she simply took a deep breath and wiped away the water. "I thought you had more selfish reasons. I figured that you and Mom were ashamed of your past so you lied to me so that I wouldn't be ashamed of you too."
"We did it to protect you," Pixy said firmly. "There wasn't any other reason. At least, I can't speak for your mother. I didn't hide that I was Belkan from you because being Belkan isn't the problem. The problem is other Belkans and even non-Belkans knowing that you are. The name was always a problem, but only a few people seemed to remember and they didn't hold it against you." He paused and looked out the window. "But now everything we did to protect you isn't worth anything. I hate to admit it, but there's nothing I can do to help you. This war…I don't want a part of it. I'm only here because I needed to help prove that you didn't kill Harling. Now you're free to continue your career and I can leave."
"Dad, could you stay? I'm sure we can find something for you to do. I'll talk to Wiseman about it," Naomi said quickly. She sighed. "It's just…after everything that happened, I feel like I owe it to you not to push you away. I've been told I fly like a maniac, so maybe you could give me some advice." Both of them chuckled.
"Okay. Fine. I'll stick around. But only a little bit longer." Naomi smiled at this and stood up, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. He returned it with a small smile.
When they pulled away, Naomi had one last thing to say. "Okay, but how'd you get the nickname Solo Wing? The documentary didn't explain it and they didn't go into a lot of detail on the article they had online."
"Oh, how touching. An entire article, dedicated to me. Definitely never had something like that before," Pixy said sarcastically. Naomi stifled a laugh. He shrugged and started for the door, motioning for her to follow him. "Come on. I have something to show you in the hangar. I'll explain once we get there. It's worth the wait, I promise."
Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.
1355hrs.
So much for respecting your elders, Mihaly thought as he made his way out of his quarters and towards the hangars. Several of the staff and other soldiers walking about were quick to notice the scowl on his face and made the wise decision to steer clear. All he'd done was requested all the information they had on the mysterious rival he was hunting down. They knew very well who he was talking about and, although Mihaly hated using that as an excuse, they knew who he was and the connections he had with the King of Erusea. Unfortunately for him, the woman he spoke to in Erusean Military Intelligence adamantly refused to disclose the information, stating that it would take time to retrieve such classified information and that the intel was still incomplete.
But Mihaly knew better. He knew they had agents working for Osea that they managed to buy out. In fact, he'd heard that they had to cut back on their information gathering operations or whatever the hell they called him because many of their sources had been found out and taken in for questioning. It was their own damn fault for recruiting Oseans, in Mihaly's opinion, but he didn't speak up on this. So for now he was left waiting until they decided they could share the information. Apparently they had other priorities, such as discovering what Osea's next move was. Their priority should be the Osean fighter from Yinshi Valley. Every time there was a promising ace during a war, especially if they came from Osea, they always seemed to turn the battle in their favor. A weird pattern, but definitely something to keep in mind.
Mihaly's challenger was somehow connected to the mercenary from the Belkan War. He didn't know how. He could have been trained by him or related to him in some way. Mihaly's star pupil learned much from studying him, and it's possible that this Osean pilot learned from studying Solo Wing. His name…it was Larry Foulke, wasn't it? Mihaly thought for a moment. If they were related somehow, then Osea most definitely would have a record on it. He wasn't much with computers, though and he wouldn't even begin to know where to start looking. After looking at the flying styles and finding the first piece of the puzzle, he didn't know where else to go. Maybe if, instead of going through the proper channels, he called in a favor? Perhaps the King might be able to help him. Or someone else.
He stopped just outside the hangar, having been so lost in thought that he'd let his guard down. He cursed himself for losing awareness of his surroundings, not even realizing when he'd made it outside. Mihaly quickly looked around, taking in everything. It was another clear, dry day, without any sign there would be rain. Lounging about was the rest of Sol Squadron, going on about something undoubtedly immature that they found amusing. Further out was Schroeder's assistant, Massa, taking a break and entertaining Alma. Ionela sat in Mihaly's chair by the hangar door, enjoying the shade and looking at something on her phone. He shook his head. Technology.
A part of him regretted allowing Ionela to buy a phone, but it allowed her to keep in touch with her friends and it improved her mood significantly. He felt a little bad dragging them along everywhere he went, but what else could he do with them? There wasn't much of a choice. He sighed and walked over to where Ionela was sitting. She was dressed in a surprisingly casual outfit. Apparently she hadn't felt like wearing her dress that day, instead wearing a dark blue polo shirt and a white skirt. As he stopped by the chair, Ionela noticed him and straightened up in her seat, pulling out the earbuds she'd been using to listen to music and looking up at him. "Grandfather," she greeted. "How'd the phone call go."
"I've made absolutely no progress, but I still have a few more tricks up my sleeve," Mihaly replied coolly. Ionela only nodded, not saying a word. Her phone buzzed and she quickly looked down at it. "Are you talking with the Princess again?" Ionela, again, nodded in reply, typing something and pressing the send button. Mihaly found it amusing how quickly they could type up a response like that. It wasn't a real conversation, and yet they'd get so invested in it. "So how is she doing since returning to the capital?"
"She's been busy. Really tired lately from what I've heard. Apparently her father has been taking her to more and more meetings to talk about the drone prototype that Dr. Schroeder came up with." Ionela glanced distastefully over her shoulder at Schroeder as he worked in the hangar, out of earshot. It wasn't a secret that she didn't like him. Looking back at Mihaly, she almost frowned. "How much flight data do they need for a single drone? Haven't they got enough to work with? Alma and I miss our home."
Mihaly took a deep breath. He didn't like talking about their home. It was annexed by Erusea and it was nothing more than a distraction. True, Shilage was a beautiful place but he didn't have the same connection to it that his granddaughters seemed to have. Surprising, considering it bore his name and he had been next in line to rule it. But so long as he could fly, he didn't really care whether it was its own country or a part of another. It was very important to everyone else, though. He decided to avoid discussing Shilage with Ionela, instead addressing the drones and his flight data. "Things can always be improved upon. They've only gotten half of what I'm capable of to go off of. And the way a pilot maneuvers can change based on the situation. They need the drones to be ready for anything. I don't exactly see the purpose of drones and doing away with regular pilots, but I'm perfectly fine with helping. You're just going to have to get used to staying here until the time is right."
Something flashed across Ionela's face. Perhaps annoyance. If she had a smart comment to make, she kept it to herself. Quickly regaining her composure, she said, "Right…of course." She paused and looked at her phone. "And what of this pilot you keep telling us about? If he continues to take care of these drones, then what's the purpose in continuing and wasting valuable resources? I heard it from your squadron. He took down the prototype drone as if it was nothing. What's to stop him from doing the same to the other drones? Or to you?"
He allowed a faint, reassuring smile that disappeared almost as soon as it came. "Your concern is touching, Ionela, but I think that I'm more than a match for Three Strikes. The war is still in Erusea's favor and you won't have to worry much longer, I think." Ionela stared at him for a moment as if she wasn't convinced, but eventually dropped the subject and left to join her sister and the doctor's assistant. Mihaly watched her go, sitting in the chair she'd once been in. He wasn't completely convinced either, and he knew that if he let his guard down for too long then he might just suffer the consequences. But young, hotheaded pilots were easy to best in battle. Three Strikes shouldn't be any different.
New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.
1405hrs.
"Okay, so what's in the hangar that I haven't already seen before?" Naomi asked as she followed her father. However, she quickly noticed that they walked right past the main two hangars that were open and occupied. She made sure he wasn't turning towards them, and sure enough he continued on. There were more than just those hangars, obviously, but she didn't know what business they had in any of the others. They'd already passed the one housing Naomi's old F-2, so it wasn't that one either. However, her father didn't answer her question and they kept walking. Naomi didn't mind too much, though. She'd been in a good mood ever since she'd had that talk with him. Her heritage was still an iffy subject for her, but at least she could understand why he hid it from her all those years. Not to say she was completely over it, obviously it would take some getting used to, but at least Naomi didn't hate him for it anymore.
After a short walk, they arrived at one of the hangars towards the end. Naomi hadn't bothered counting how many hangars there were, having more pressing matters to worry about, but she made a mental note to take into account how many there were next time she had the opportunity. The doors were cracked just enough for someone to fit through. Her dad leading the way, Naomi stepped inside. It was mostly dark, and she could only make out what appeared to be the nose of an aircraft in the darkness. Her father casually strolled over to where the light switch was, but flicked a different switch. Naomi jumped as the hangar doors began to rumble open behind her, and she took a few steps away from it.
As soon as the massive doors were all the way open, her father crossed his arms and smirked. "Check it out," he said, gesturing lazily with his thumb towards the only plane in the hangar. Naomi did as she was told, turning around. There in the hangar was the same Eagle that she'd seen in a few poor quality photos or footage from the Belkan War. It was in as good a condition as ever, though. It held the same gray paint that Osea's F-15s did, except that instead of having a lighter, slightly blue tint to it, it was a bit more faded looking. Almost a brownish-gray instead. The right wing was a solid red in coloration, and each wing had Ustio's air force emblem rather than an Osean roundel. The tail bore the head of a snarling, ferocious red dog. She looked to her father, who looked very pleased. "This here is the same bird that's been with me from the start. With some major upgrades to keep it in working order."
"Holy shit!" Naomi exclaimed, jogging forward to get an even closer look at it. Pressed her hand on its nose and ran her hand along it, feeling for any signs that it had been in conflict. Nothing. Not a single scratch or dint from anything. It was in perfect condition. It seemed impossible, given how old the plane was. She'd have expected that it would have been scrapped at this point, going back all the way to the nineties. Even then, who knows what it went through before her dad got his hands on it. Naomi eyed the single red wing curiously before turning back towards her father. "Okay, now you've shown me your plane. How'd you get the red wing, Mr. Solo Wing Pixy?"
He looked only somewhat amused by her teasing, rolling his eyes at her and fighting back a smile. He didn't forget to follow through with his promise, though. "Let me take you back to 1993. I'm sorta the fresh meat in the mercenary world and I was hired by some remote country to help them with some minor uprising in their military. It wasn't big enough to go international, but they did need some help taking care of it. So I'm coming up on making my fifth kill. I'd be an ace after that and maybe I'd earn some respect from the rest of my squadron that I served with." Naomi listened intently as he told his story, and he seemed surprisingly eager to tell it. Obviously he had more pride in it than any of his stories from the Belkan War. "I get a little cocky and decide to face the enemy squadron's leader head on. He's probably thinking he's going to get me, but as soon as I get a lock I pulled the trigger. He turned to evade, was just a little to slow, and the missile hit him right in the nose. Unfortunately, I was a little too pleased with myself and didn't think to get clear of the burning wreckage that's flying at me. It clipped my wing and before I knew it everyone was shouting in my ear to bail out."
"You serious?" Naomi asked him, feeling a little immature for being so wide-eyed with such a simple story. Of course, it was interesting.
Her father nodded, chuckling. "However, I was a dumbass kid and told them not to be so dramatic. I stabilized my plane and landed the damn thing without any trouble." By now, he was grinning, looking much like his younger self now that he had a genuine, energetic smile. "Let me tell you, I never got any flak from anybody after that. Well, except your mother. She was so mad at me for that stunt, I swear she almost strangled me on the spot after seeing the condition of my plane." Both of them laughed at this. Naomi could definitely see her mother that upset. More than usual, now that she knew more about her.
A new voice interrupted their conversation though. "So, you did something reckless and got yourself a nickname for it?" They both turned, still grinning to see Count and Tabloid standing in the entrance to the hangar. It was Count that had spoke up.
The two approached Naomi and her father and Tabloid decided to ruffle her hair playfully. "Yeah, that sounds familiar," he said. Naomi rolled her eyes and smacked his arm, taking a step away from him only to almost bump into an equally amused looking Count.
"Idiots," she said, scowling at them both. Her father seemed to find the entire situation hilarious, though, not at all bothered by the interruption. Naomi, no matter how much she enjoyed moments like this, was not pleased with either of them. She glared at her friends. "Thanks for interrupting…what's the big idea, anyways?"
"Naomi, it's fine," her father said with a laugh. He smirked, eyeing Tabloid and Count. "It's not like I haven't had an audience before. That story tends to draw people to me. When I first told the story, I swear at least twenty people must have gathered around to hear me."
"Besides, we had a good reason for interrupting," said Count defensively.
Naomi turned on him, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "Oh, did you now?" she asked and he nodded. "Well, then. Do share, oh great Sir Count."
It was his turn to roll his eyes, seeming to have a love-hate relationship with the odd nickname. Nevertheless, he happily supplied her with an explanation. "The base commander wants to see us. Wiseman, too. I think they might have figured out what to do with us, so hopefully we won't have to sit around and do nothing for much longer."
"Really?" Naomi looked to Tabloid, who nodded in confirmation. She felt bad just running off and leaving her father, though. She gave him an apologetic look. "I don't want to just run out on you, Dad. But…"
He shook his head with a soft smile. "Don't worry about it," he told her, motioning towards the exit. "You've got more important things to get to. We can catch up some other time. Now get out of here before the base commander changes his mind about taking you in." The three of them exchanged excited, almost childlike looks with one another before sprinting off. Naomi gave her father a quick abrupt hug and a kiss on his cheek before running to catch up with Tabloid and Count.
1430hrs.
It seemed a bit silly to be so excited for a meeting, but they had freedom and were part of a regular unit again. Things got boring when you weren't doing anything. So away they went, reaching HQ within just a few minutes. It took them a while to find the right office, but after stopping to ask for directions at Naomi's insistence (what was with guys and asking for directions?) they finally made it to the correct room. When they stepped inside, they found Wiseman waiting for them with the base commander and someone that Naomi didn't know. All three men turned to look at them as they stepped inside the room. The quiet conversation they'd been having immediately ceased.
Wiseman smiled at them, standing up and motioning for them to come all the way in. Tabloid carefully shut the door behind them and they took a good look at their surroundings. The room, where Naomi assumed the briefings took place, was much nicer than the one at the 444th. There was a massive paper map of the world on one side of the wall that had been pinned up, and across the room on the opposite wall was a window looking out at the hangars and runway. It was well lit, and the floors looked recently clean. The chairs looked more comfortable, too, having some padding rather than nothing but metal. Right across from where they were standing was a computer screen. It was much like the screen at the 444th, except it resembled a TV more than it did a screen for a projector. Displayed on the screen in the center was the LRSSG's emblem on a dark blue background.
This place still didn't cease to amaze her. High-tech, clean, full of friendly people for the most part. It wasn't a bad place. Count had a bit of a skeptical look on his face as he observed it, whereas Tabloid was a little more in awe. Naomi did feel as out of place here as she did around the rest of the base. They were still wearing their Spare Squadron uniforms. The three higher-ranking officers didn't seem to mind though, acting as friendly towards them as they would anyone else. Wiseman was the first to speak up. "Not a bad place, huh?" he asked with a bright grin and Naomi nodded in reply. "Well, enough of that. It's time you meet two of your other commanders."
They turned their attention to the two unknown men. Well, one of them they sort of recognized. He was the base commander, but Naomi didn't know his name. He was as tall as Wiseman, with a broad chest and shoulders and an older look about him. He had dark skin, and graying hair that was shaved into a regular, military buzz cut. When he spoke his voice was deep, much like Wiseman, but with a more serious and commanding edge to it. "I'm Colonel Hawkins. I think you already know that I'm the base commander here at New Arrows, though. From what I've heard, you three haven't had the best luck with your commanders. Hopefully I can break that streak." The three of them looked at him uncertainly, but Naomi had a better feeling about him than she did Commander McKinsey.
The other man, Naomi had not seen before. He was shorter than Wiseman and Hawkins, but not by much. He had hazel eyes and neatly styled ginger hair, with rounder features. He wasn't overweight, per se, although you could easily see that he had a bit of extra weight on his stomach. It wasn't muscle, that was for sure, but it wasn't all that big of a deal. He seemed as friendly as the other two, offering a kind, almost shy smile. "Er, you've never met me before. I'm Major Graham Lawson, but everyone just calls me Long Caster. I'll be looking out for you when you're in the air. I'm your new AWACS, but I also can make a pretty mean sandwich."
All three of them looked at each other with some relief, if not a little confused by his sandwich comment. Bandog wasn't a bad guy, but they were much happier when he wasn't barking at them in the air. Wiseman seemed to notice this, since he added, "Of course, nothin' against Bandog. He's a cool guy but he's made it clear that he's unhappy as an AWACS and we already had one anyways, so Long Caster is taking his place. Hope that's alright with you." Tabloid and Naomi nodded, but Count quickly looked Long Caster over with an unreadable expression on his face.
Hawkins cleared his throat. "Well, anyways. Now that introductions are over, I think it's time we get right into this meeting. We've already briefed the others, but it's going to take some time to get you all caught up on this." He held four folders in his hand, looking over each of them. Then he began to call out their names. "Now that you've all been returned to your ranks, I figure I should address you all as regular officers. Lieutenant Peter Hartmann, Lieutenant Naomi Foulke, and Lieutenant William O'Connor. Attention!" It was the first time that all three of them had heard their real names with a rank preceding them, but nevertheless they followed the order given to them and straightened up. It was the first time Naomi had heard their real names. It wasn't exactly what she pictured them with, but it's not like they had a choice in that matter.
They stood there until Hawkins was satisfying, motioning for them to relax. "At ease," he said. "I suppose you're more used to your nicknames, though. Tabloid, Trigger, and Count, respectively." They all nodded, though Naomi was fine with either one. She'd probably have some people alternate between the two, depending on how comfortable they were with her. Hawkins continued as the screen behind him started up, displaying a pristine, 3D display of the Usean continent, "Well, in any case, we've received official confirmation about what we're supposed to do with you. The company commander, Major Wiseman, has made it clear that he'd like all three of you to officially join our squadron. This is an unprecedented move, and without his and others' recommendation we might not have considered it. It seems like you've got quite a few people looking out for you. Still, based on how you've conducted yourselves, I believe that you'll be an asset to us."
The screen now displayed a zoomed image of the Usean continent, with the Osean occupied territory marked with a light blue and Erusea's territory with a pinkish-red color. It also showed a massive red circle with an animated arrowhead circling around. Blocking a clear view of the continent, though, were the emblems of Strider and Cyclops Squadron, with Naomi's personal emblem and ID photo next to Strider and Count's emblem and photo below hers beside Cyclops. Tabloid, however, didn't have an emblem. Instead, his name and ID picture was displayed next to Count's emblem.
All of the emblems disappeared and focused on a certain part of the map, showing a red barrier between the allied territory and the Erusean territory. Hawkins cleared his throat, motioning for the three of them to take a seat and listen. "Okay, time for your briefing. For a long time, our counteroffensive has been overpowered by the Erusean drones' auto-intercept system. If a craft enters their airspace and doesn't respond to their IFF, drones automatically take off and move to intercept their target. However, we've discovered that the system has a blind spot." A square disappeared from the barrier. "We have acquired this valuable information by sending our other squadrons on dangerous missions to scout in the whole area and initiate combat."
Wiseman decided to cut in, although Hawkins didn't seem at all bothered by it. "Of all of the pilots we sent out, only myself and one other managed to survive the mission," he said quickly.
Then Long Caster, for some reason, chose to add, "If we don't act now before the enemy can fill in the blind spot, those pilots will have sacrificed themselves for nothing. We don't need anymore casualties."
Naomi was surprised, not only by the information, but the fact that Hawkins allowed the other two to have the floor for a moment. Apparently he didn't mind their input, unlike McKinsey who probably would have court-martialed Bandog if he ever interrupted him during a meeting. Hawkins looked to the others as if silently asking if they had more to say, before he continued, "So, we've been ordered to carry out a long-range strategic strike. Operating separately from the main forces as the Long Range Strategic Strike Group, we've been developing a strategy in secret. Cyclops Squadron and Strider Squadron will sortie deep into Erusean territory and will be carrying out specialized long-range attack strategies." The screen then showed the LRSSG emblem and Cyclops and Strider's emblems once again. Then they faded away and started to show a route from New Arrows around the northern part of the Usean continent.
They all listened intently, Naomi being sure to note all of the locations that showed along the way that she could only assume were locations they'd be attacking. Wiseman pointed out the areas, saying, "Cyclops Squadron and Strider Squadron will sortie deep into Erusean territory, and we'll be carrying out specialized long-range attack strategies." The route ended at Farbanti, and he went on, "We'll carve our way through the territory from the north to the capital of Farbanti. Our goal is to attack and take out important targets along the way, gaining ourselves and our allies more territory to assist in seizing the capital. Once it's under Osean control and we've captured several of their leaders, Erusea won't be able to respond as quickly and it gives us more time to regroup and resupply once the operation is complete."
Hawkins nodded and agreement and the screen now showed a specific area to the north, with dots and arrowheads to show the enemy's locations and where the LRSSG would be attacking from. "The first operation will involve striking the enemy's main naval force, the Njord fleet, which is gathered in Northern Usea. We've known for some time that there's a large supply base utilized by the enemy fleet in the waters around Snider's Top. At present, the enemy fleet is concentrated there. Naturally, they intend to attack Eastern Usea where Osean forces are stationed. If we can surprise the enemy with a long-range attack, we could potentially do devastating damage to them. Still, it's highly likely that their advanced fleet is prepared and has started to move, so combat with the enemy is probably unavoidable."
Long Caster stepped closer to the screen and swiped at it, having it zoom into two specific locations, showing the setup of a platform. Naomi blinked in surprise, impressed by the technology. God, this place is full of surprises. The AWACS explained, "We've verified the existence of a large supply base in the sea, as well as a medium-sized one in a valley by an estuary. It's a wide operation area, and there are a number of places you can expect large-scale combat, so we've set up a return line for replenishing supplies. Use it proactively." He swiped at the screen again and it zoomed out to show the entire operation area, highlighting a thick blue line right behind where their formation of fighters was.
"Any time you feel the need to stock up on ammo or make repairs to your craft, it's there," Wiseman said. He looked them over. "While aircraft and ammo can be replaced, the lives of our pilots cannot. We don't want any casualties out there. Remember that." The former Spare pilots — now LRSSG pilots — looked at one another once again. Their new commanders were much different from McKinsey. It seemed he didn't see them as expendable. He was acting like a leader should, looking out for his pilots before they even entered combat. Naomi recalled her first fight at Zapland, how she'd been told that the aircraft was worth more than her life. And yet here they were all valued like humans again. That was going to take some getting used to.
"Our counterattack has officially begun," Hawkins said. "You leave tomorrow morning to attack the fleet. Brace yourselves." His eyes lit up as he said that, grinning as the screen computer thing (Naomi had no clue what the right word was anymore) then automatically showed the formation's setup.
Naomi didn't bother stopping to look at it, and once they were dismissed by the base commander she started to follow Tabloid and Count. But Wiseman called her back. "Trigger! C'mere a minute and take a look at the roster. I wanna go over the formation with you."
She turned around, bewildered. Just to make sure, she pointed at herself and asked, "Umm…me?" Her two friends stopped, standing in the doorway to wait for her. When Wiseman nodded, she hesitantly stepped forward, looking at the screen more closely than she had before. After a bit of beeping, it displayed a row of photos underneath each squadron emblem. Two photos for every pilot. Their ID photo and then their personal emblem. Under Cyclops, there was Wiseman as the leader, then Count flying number two, with Fencer as three, and Húxiān as four. Under Strider, were the two pilots Naomi didn't officially know with the names Lanza and Skald as Strider 4 and 2 respectively, with Jaeger as number three, and…her name as the leader. She looked at Wiseman in disbelief. "You want me leading Strider Squadron?"
"What!?" both Tabloid and Count said at the same time, Count sounding a bit more annoyed than he did surprised. Everyone glanced at them, but didn't pay them much more mind beyond that.
Wiseman shrugged. "I think you could do well. You've got the personality of a leader from everything I've seen. Quick-thinking, lookin' out for your friends, and you're not afraid to say what you feel needs to be said," he explained. "And I think you've more than proved yourself. Now, obviously you only command Strider Squadron. You still have to answer to me. However, you do get a shiny new rank." Naomi grinned, not sure what else to do in response. Wiseman smiled. "Once you clean up, take a look at your new flight suit. That reminds me, here—" he held out his hand and Long Caster handed him two slips of paper that Wiseman passed out to Naomi and Count, "—these are your rooms. We've got official quarters for you now. Trigger, I hope you're alright having your own room. We didn't have anyone to pair you up with."
Her thoughts went to Avril, or even her acquaintance Húxiān, both of whom she could have shared a room with. However, she didn't question it. Besides, having a little privacy wasn't so bad. The three of them thanked their new COs and quickly stepped outside, shutting the door behind them. Count scowled as he read the paper, glaring at Tabloid. "Dammit," he said, and Tabloid's smile quickly turned into a mile wide grin. "I can't believe I'm still stuck with you, Tabloid. After the 444th I was kind of hoping for a new roommate. I mean, no offense, but you stay up too late reading."
"At least I wasn't up all night terrorizing you with a broken radio," Tabloid countered. "Those last few weeks were hell."
"The 444th was hell," Naomi pointed out dryly, and they all nodded in agreement. However, the topic was quickly turned around to their new unit. Naomi was eager to fly again, and even more surprised that she would be leading Strider. It was exciting and terrifying all at once. Tabloid seemed happy for her, but Count wasn't too pleased as Naomi talked about it. "I'm surprised Wiseman had me down as number one. I mean, I figured we'd all be starting from the bottom."
"Yeah…surprised me too," Count said with a sigh. She looked at him, noting the distasteful expression on his face. He caught her glaring at him and forced his scowl into a straight line. "Just try not to screw up too bad, Trigger. I have a feeling that these guys are gonna make it difficult on us. Haven't you seen the way some of 'em act around here? Like they're better than us just because we're ex-cons." Naomi and Tabloid exchanged a concerned look, not saying anything. Naomi had noticed it when they first arrived, but it didn't seem so bad now that they'd become somewhat used to seeing them around. Maybe she just needed to pay better attention.
1800hrs.
With renewed confidence, Naomi entered the mess hall at dinner time. Although there wasn't anything extremely special about her flight suit that made it stand out compared to everyone else, Naomi was happy to be back in a regular unit with an actual squadron and her own rank again. The Strider Squadron emblem and the LRSSG's emblem looked badass, and above her left breast pocket was a patch with wings on it and her name and rank. Captain Naomi Foulke. It didn't have a bad ring to it. She could definitely live with it. And not to mention how much better she felt after a real shower. After having awful living quality at Zapland, it was refreshing to actually have a choice to take a cold or hot shower. Not to mention nicer soap. The LRSSG really spoiled their soldiers, but it didn't seem to make them any less capable either. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing to have some of the comforts of home.
Talk about comforts. The mess hall was something else. They had coffee available around the clock, as any regular base would, with food that didn't look disgusting. In fact, it smelled amazing. Naomi was surprised to hear that the small town near the base actually happily provided them with fresh fruits and vegetables, even allowing them to order pizzas or burgers from some of the restaurants. They even had stuff for dessert. Tonight, they had the options of salad, mashed potatoes (that actually tasted good), and fresh crab cakes. An odd combination in Naomi's opinion, but she got a little of everything since the meals over the last few days had not been disappointing.
Grabbing her tray and a bottle of water, she thanked those helping out in the kitchen that had provided her with said tray and water, got her food, and searched the room for familiar faces. There was a lot of lively conversation, even the occasional joking around, all throughout the room. It reminded her of Fort Grays a lot. The room had a lot of natural light, and with the sun setting it provided a bright orange beam all throughout the room. There were photos on the wall of planes, and mounted in a corner was a widescreen TV that was broadcasting OBC. However, much like Fort Grays, the TV had subtitles since it was turned down enough that it didn't interfere with discussions.
After a few minutes of taking in her surroundings with a deep sigh of relief, she heard her name called from a table set up by a window. She turned to look at it, seeing Húxiān waving for her to come over. Sitting beside her were Bandog, Avril, Count, Tabloid, Fencer, Jaeger, Tailor, Skald, and Lanza, all looking curiously in Naomi's direction. She smiled and quickly made her way over to the table, taking an empty spot between Tabloid and Count.
She looked her two squadron mates over as she sat beside them, noting that they had also cleaned up and changed into their new flight suits. Count's hair was combed and looked less greasy than it had, and he'd trimmed the facial hair that he had so that it looked actually decent and not as unkempt as it usually did. Tabloid on the other hand had completely done away with the scruff he had, looking like a proper officer. Like Naomi, both of them had a patch above their left pocket with wings and their name and rank. Tabloid's read Lieutenant Peter Hartmann, while Count's read William O'Connor. Both of their flight suits bore the same Cyclops emblem on their shoulder. All and all, they seemed to have the same sense of calm and confidence that Naomi had now that they were officially settling into their new life.
Húxiān sat back down when Naomi had, giving her a friendly smile. "So, your friends tell me you've been promoted. Congratulations." Naomi was a little embarrassed, pretty sure that she was blushing as all the others agreed with their wingman. Húxiān continued. "Now, we know there are a lot of new faces to get used to. I know firsthand that the guys around here look intimidating, but trust me, every single one of your wingmen is really a big goofball at heart. Best case being Fencer and Skald."
Naomi looked at the two men, who both rolled their eyes at Húxiān's comment. Skald was a little intimidating. She was sure that he towered over all of them, easily the largest guy there. Seeming to realize this, he gave his new squadron leader a friendly smile. "My real name's Travis, but I go by Skald around here," he said. "I've heard a lot about you. All of you, actually. It's going to be interesting flying with you."
"Yeah, it sure will be," Fencer chuckled in agreement, eyeing Count. Naomi guessed that Fencer probably was more experienced than Count, therefore might have seen himself as more deserving of the Cyclops 2 position and therefore next in line to be squadron leader. Count probably realized this too. Fencer was a couple of years older than him and had more experience with the squadron, and along came a couple of hotshots, two of them taking important positions in the two squadrons. A little rivalry and initial discomfort was bound to happen. Naomi just hoped Count could set any hostilities aside in the air.
"You know, I'll admit that I was surprised when I heard that we'd be taking in pilots from the penal unit. Even more surprised when I heard that one of them was related to the infamous Solo Wing Pixy," Lanza said, taking a sip from the can of soda that he had. Naomi looked at him, raising an eyebrow. He was definitely the more relaxed guy she'd met, already having an extremely relaxed demeanor and a smooth, level tone. He smiled and took the same route that Skald had in introducing himself. "Like Skald said, it's gonna be an interesting operation. Jason Lanza, I'm Skald's partner-in-crime. I'll be flying as number four, behind this old man." Lanza smirked and gestured to Jaeger.
The oldest out of the group, Jaeger shook his head and gave an exasperated sigh, but he couldn't hide his amusement. "I'm not that much older than you are."
"Forty-five is old, Jaeger," Húxiān pointed out. "We're all in our twenties." Naomi looked around and it seemed that what Húxiān said was true. They were all surprisingly young, with Tailor quite obviously being the youngest.
It seemed Fencer noticed this, wrapping his arm around Tailor and putting him in a headlock and giving him a noogie as he said, "'Cept for Tailor. He's the baby."
Tailor broke free of his grasp and smoothed his hair, giving an indignant huff. "Nineteen is a legal adult in literally every country!" he argued. He looked at Naomi and her friends and immediately changed his attitude from annoyed to excited. "I'm excited to be serving with all of you. When the others came back from your base, they told us about how you took on Mr. X and his squadron in Yinshi Valley." His dark eyes narrowed on Naomi, almost glittering with some sort of excitement. "And my dad told me stories about your dad, Captain. Things are tense between the two of them, but he used to admire him back in the day."
"Oh," Naomi said, not entirely sure who he was. She didn't recognize his name. Tailor James Beckett was what was on his uniform. Weird name to have. Unfortunately it didn't give Naomi any more of an idea who he was.
"Alright, kids, that's enough of that topic," Jaeger said, picking up on Naomi's discomfort. Tailor relaxed in his seat, giving an apologetic smile as Fencer smirked at him. They continued their meal in silence for a minute or two before Jaeger spoke up again. "So, how are you five settling in?" All of them murmured something like 'pretty good' or 'alright' as they looked around awkwardly. Jaeger gave an understanding smile. "I understand that we're still trying to find something for Bandog to do. Long Caster says he won't be joining the AWACS crew."
"Er, that's right," Bandog said. It was only then that Naomi noticed that Sarge wasn't with him. Unsurprising, considering she wasn't exactly the most sanitary creature alive and she'd get fur all in everyone's food. "I've had my fill of working as an AWACS. The mechanics are going to see about teaching me a way around an aircraft, though, but if that doesn't stick I have no clue what to do from there."
"Yeah, and I'm not sure how I feel about having Bandog working on our planes," Count muttered under his breath, but Naomi, Bandog, and Tabloid all heard him. Even Avril gave him an odd look.
The rest of the afternoon, they got to know their new wingmen a little better, putting Naomi at ease. She had a pretty good feeling about the rest of Strider Squadron. Both Skald and Lanza seemed like good pilots, and Naomi already knew how she felt about Jaeger. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little bit like adding Jaeger to the group was Wiseman's way of keeping an eye on her. Obviously they'd all be serving together, but Jaeger was older and level-headed compared to Naomi. Lanza and Skald would also probably be better with someone they were used to in the squadron. She did wonder why not just make Jaeger the squadron leader, but perhaps if Jaeger followed Naomi and trusted her then the others might feel better about doing the same. She hadn't been up in the air with them, yet.
As the night continued, everyone eventually finished and excused themselves. Naomi and Avril said goodbye to the remainder of the group and started to leave Bandog, Húxiān, Count, and Tabloid to finish up what they'd gotten for dessert. To Naomi's surprise, Count tensed up, glancing out the window. Almost concerned, he asked, "Where are you two going?"
"The hangar," Naomi replied promptly, furrowing her brow in confusion as she looked at him. "Why?"
"Little late, isn't it?" Count asked. The two women exchanged a look. Count went on, albeit a bit hesitantly, "I mean it's almost completely dark out."
"Count's got a point," Tabloid answered with a grin and half a mouthful of chocolate pudding in his mouth. He swallowed. "It can get a little spooky out."
Avril smirked, placing her hands on her hips. "Yeah, I think that we'll be fine," she said, rolling her eyes. The boys didn't look convinced. Meanwhile, Húxiān and Bandog were watching with some sort of amusement, having taken a short break from their own conversation. Avril shook her head, continuing out the door. "Seriously, stop acting so weird! C'mon, Trigger."
Naomi looked at Count and shrugged. He probably just didn't want to be around just Tabloid and Bandog. Plus Húxiān. "What's got into you? It's a secure military base," she said to him and he frowned. "I doubt anything will happen. I'll see you guys tomorrow." With that, she spun around and jogged across the mostly abandoned room to catch up with Avril. She had no idea what was up with Count. He'd just been acting weird. It was like he didn't feel comfortable around any of them anymore. Whatever the reason, Naomi shook her head once she and Avril got outside. "I don't think I'll ever understand either one of them. Well, Tabloid maybe, but none of the others."
"Oh, please, even Tabloid's a freaking mystery," Avril replied with a scoff. In spite of their friends' concern, the base was more well lit than any other base Naomi had been at. A little odd, but it seemed they didn't want them wandering around in total darkness. She had a feeling that they'd shut down the lights once everyone went to sleep. As they made their way to the hangars as planned, Avril tried to make small talk. "Surprisingly, I get a room to myself. All of my neighbors are enlisted or civilian contractors, though. Not exactly the best company, but I've still got you dumbasses so I guess it shouldn't matter too much."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." Naomi said with a small laugh. There was a cool breeze that night. Although it was early August, the air smelled like autumn. It wouldn't be long before the weather started to get crisp again. Naomi just hoped that the war wouldn't last much longer so she could actually enjoy a nice rest of her year back in Osea. At the very least she'd like to be able to spend her birthday or even Christmas with her family, but who knew if that would happen.
"So…I'm glad you took our advice," Avril said. By now they'd reached the hangar where Strider Squadron's planes were kept, and ultimately where Naomi's new plane would be. "You and your father, I mean. I heard you made amends." Naomi nodded. "Well, I hope he's okay with this weird idea you came up with," Avril said as she flicked on the light.
Naomi grinned, walking over to a nearby tool tray where she'd set the guide to her plans. "Don't worry, he's fine with it. Besides, I have an original twist to it so I don't think he'd care. Really I just want to see how it looks. If it sucks then we can just scrape it off." Avril gave her a skeptical look, hands on her hips as usual as she shifted her weight onto her good leg to stand beside Naomi. Naomi picked up the notepad and markers that she'd asked Wiseman for earlier that day. The first design was something she was particularly proud of to adapt to the three sin lines that she had. The second one was an outline she drew of an F-15C, and on its wing tip was a distinct red marking that eventually faded into the gray. She showed it to Avril. "We've got the paint and all night to work, so what do you think?"
"I think you're an idiot," Avril said with a sigh as she headed over to a box at one end of the hangar. "But it's worth a shot. Still, I thought you wanted to set yourself apart from your father."
"I do, which is why I'm only painting a little bit more than the wing tip and having it fade further along the wing. Keep in mind I got my wing blown off too, so I kind of earned it anyways," Naomi called back as she ripped both pages free from the pad, setting them down for clear reference. It would be a long and probably kind of fun night, but Naomi was willing to sacrifice a few hours of sleep even if they did have a mission tomorrow. Besides, if she made an idiot out of herself at least she'd look good while doing it. Not the best way to look at things, but it was good enough for her.
Author's Note: Special thanks to GoofBall14 and TheGamerMarine76 for ideas used in this chapter. Hope you don't mind that I took a bit of a creative license with the idea, but now Naomi's got her own 'solo wing' and her official three strikes (the title of this story now officially makes sense). Next chapter covers Fleet Destruction, so keep an eye out for it!