CH. 2: BLAZE

-23 Sept. 2010

"Baker, Svenson," Bartlett, a.k.a. "Heartbreak One", called out to his wingmen, "go trail and stay close. The three of us will go high and engage the bandits. "All other aircraft stay low and out of the fight." What Captain Bartlett didn't know was that the enemy aircraft were not at twenty-five thousand feet but twenty-five hundred feet. Before he knew it, his nuggets were getting slaughtered.

"They're firing on us!" A trainee cried out before his radio was cut short when his plane disintegrated as the instructors dove down to the 'rescue'.

"I can't shake-" another trainee's F-5 went up in a ball of flame when a MiG-29 shot him down.

"Hit the deck nuggets!" Bartlett ordered as his flight got into the battle. But it was too late; five planes were already down leaving only two trainees' left.

"I've got two on my tail!" A trainee cried out as he began to hyperventilate.

"Turn right!" Another trainee, this one a female, called out to him. "Hard lock! Edge, fox two!" A sidewinder leapt from her plane and impacted onto one of the MiG's. But the other MiG opened up on his target with his cannons shooting him out of the sky.

"Help meee-!" The nugget begged as his plane was engulfed in flames.

"Shit!" Svenson cursed. "Where'd he come fr-!" His plane burst into flame as a MiG blew past his plane spewing 30mm shells into his F-5.

"Hit the deck!" Bartlett ordered. "All aircraft, turn and evade! Get out now!" The last surviving trainee rolled in behind him as the three planes dove for the ocean waves. Baker, the other instructor rolled after them as a 30mm shell impacted his rudder and another hit his port wing.

"Damn, I'm hit!" He swore as the three planes bugged out leaving the five MiG's circling the air behind them. They did not pursue.

"I can't keep her level," Baker growled. "I'm losing hydraulics. The rudder is not responding! Shit! I can't keep her up!"

"Eject, Nick!" Bartlett ordered from his F-4. "Eject!" It was too late. The F-5 dove into the ground short of the emergency runway. There was no time for Lt. Nick Baker to eject from his crippled plane.

XXXXX

Bartlett and Albert Genette, a photo-journalist, walked back to the main building with heads hung low. "That pilot in the number seven was amazing," Genette was a little too upbeat for the dismal after events. "Did you see her fight back?"

"I couldn't bare to watch," Bartlett growled. "Nagase!" He shouted at the trainee, only fifteen feet away. "You keep flying like that and you'll die real soon!"

"I won't die, sir," 2nd Lt. Kei 'Edge' Nagase responded almost in a whisper as she brushed her jaw length hair back.

"Are you sure? You look like you couldn't hurt a fly." Bartlett grumbled as he continued walking.

Later, in the squadron crew room, Nagase and the other trainees who were still on the ground, including and a handful of replacement trainees gathered in front of Bartlett. "I know you don't like this," he started, "but we're short on people. Starting tomorrow all you nuggets are going to be sittin' alert. If we launch stay glued to me up there. Nagase," he turned to the dark haired pilot.

"Sir," she whispered once more.

"You're flying number two on my wing. Gotta keep an eye on you or who knows what you'll get yourself into." He growled in a good natured manner. "Davenport! You're flying number three!"

"Aw, man," the twenty-nine year old pilot nicknamed "Chopper" bitched. "I mean…yes, sir."

"Who'll be flying number four?" Nagase asked next. At that moment they heard a plane land.

"That would be him," Bartlett said as he walked over to the window. Outside an F-5 with a 'V' shaped emblem of flames on the nose pulled into the nearest hanger.

A few minutes later Nagase was in the lunge reading her book. The sun had set and a moonlit night had fallen. Her attention was brought to the door when it opened. A smiling Bartlett walked in chuckling. Behind the forty-two year old walked a younger pilot about twenty-five year's of age. He had hazel/brown eyes and trimmed dark brown hair. He had a clean shaven and handsome face with what looked like a burn scar on the left side of his neck. "Ah, there she is," Bartlett said. "Nagase," they walked over to her as she stood up. "This is our new wingman, 2nd Lieutenant Hannibal Ingram. Weird name, I know, so just call him 'Blaze'."

"Thanks for pep talk, boss," Blaze shot back at Bartlett who grinned.

"'Kid,' don't start with me. Anyway, hotshot, this 2nd Lt. Kei Nagase, callsign 'Edge'."

"Pleased to meet you," Blaze shook her hand gently. Nagase let out an inaudible gasp as what felt like an electric current surge through her body at his touch.

"Likewise, Blaze," she managed to reply with barely discernable nervousness.

"He doesn't bite, Nagase," Bartlett teased. "Oh, I've got a little bet going with Pops on you two."

"Oh, boy," Blaze grinned as he rubbed his nose.

"You see," he turned to Nagase, "Blaze here is just as wild on the stick as you are. Odd as it may seem he may even be more nuts than you."

"So you've got another bet going on about that?" Blaze looked over at his mentor.

"You got it. Anyway I've got to report to the 'Emperor' now. You two get some quality time in, alright?" Bartlett then departed.

XXXXX

"So how do you know the Captain so well?" Nagase asked as Blaze sat down in a lounge chair with a cup of coffee.

"When I was going through the flight academy up at Heirlark he was my instructor," Blaze responded after a sip of Joe. "He personally took me under his wing and taught me every trick he knew. I learned faster than anyone up there so he put in a transfer request to come down here when I was rotated to this squadron. He kept up his tutelage of me in advanced combat and maneuvers. I got my full wings six months ago and was shipped back up to Heirlark as an aggressor." He scoffed at that. "What a shitty detail," he bitched. "I only flew once a week and only then I could only fly slowly for those nuggets to practice locking on an easy target. I always get the shit details. Damn racists."

"I'm sorry?" Nagase asked sitting up in the sofa.

"Pardon my language," he apologized. "But you've probably figured out that my last name is Belkan. Well, I'm half-Belkan. And because of that most of the higher ups relegated me to the shit details. When I was in basic I always the first to be picked to clean the toilets, always the first to be used as a 'demonstration' for defense tactics, etc. I was hardly cut any slack because fifty percent of my genetic coding is Belkan."

"I…see," she whispered.

"Do you?" He asked her. "I'm not a Belkan," he growled, "I was born an Osean citizen. I've never done anything to warrant such hostility except be born to a Belkan father…" his eyes became distant after that. "I'm sorry," he whispered sinking back into his chair. "I shouldn't have gotten angry with you. I'm…just so used to be pushed around by others."

"I…I don't know what to say," Nagase began to feel sorry for him. 'So tragic.'

"Yeah, well, don't let it bother you." At that moment Chopper came in.

"Hey, who's this guy?" He asked walking over to the two. "Make a new friend, hot thing?" Chopper grinned at Nagase.

"This is Blaze," Nagase introduced the flamboyant Chopper.

"Hi," Chopper shook Blaze's hand. "I'm Chopper! I guess you're the new wingman, huh?"

"That's right," Blaze responded.

"Second Lieutenant Ingram," Perault's voice came over the loud speaker. "Report to my office."

"He's not wasting time," Blaze grumbled as he stood up.

"Wait, that's you?" Chopper asked. 'He's…a Belkan?' Nagase did not like the look on his face.

"Something wrong with that?" Blaze shot back as he pushed past Chopper.

'So much for a happy introduction,' Nagase grumbled inside herself. She had hoped she could help Blaze make a friend with Chopper. Chopper was a likable guy and easy to get along with. She figured he was Blaze's best chance of having a friend.