Kings
I can see him ahead of us. Whatever he's flying, it's not something I've seen before. It's like nothing I have ever seen before.
Whatever it is, it's large, but also sleek and powerful. Its engines are massive, and its bristling with weapons.
I remember duelling the Spear. I remember how difficult that was, and I know that this is of the same ilk, and it will be ten times worse.
I also remember hearing the chatter during that fight, and I know what this thing must be: Project Wingman.
Crimson One must have commandeered it just for this.
Fine. He can die in it.
I push the throttle forwards again.
'I don't know if I can do this, Monarch…' Prez says.
I hesitate. I can't do this without her. We're a team. This is our plane. Our wings. And together, with our wings, this is our sky. Or… it used to be. This burning sky is of our enemy's making.
Prez exhales shakily. 'I'm braced.'
We're a team. Our wings, our sky. She's not going to abandon me now.
I push the throttle all the way.
The comm crackles again, and his voice fills me with loathing.
'You're a slave to history. Even after Calamity, you fight against the only order that can guarantee the safety of your people.'
Even after Calamity, he's still deluded.
He just ended thousands of lives, yet he still seems to think that he's in the right. Bastard!
Even with that reasoning, his next words chill me to the bone.
'You, solely, are responsible for this.'
The lock beeps. We have tone. Prez may be shaken, but she's still got this. I let loose the first missile, a sure hit as we head straight towards one another.
But he dodges it effortlessly, and it flies harmlessly into the distance. His plane swings around, and it's all I can to avoid a hail of gunfire. A couple of rounds skim the fuselage, tearing off paint and scarring the metal.
His plane dances away, more like an extension of his body, his will, than an instrument of mayhem, an engine devoted solely to killing.
It's fast too. Way faster than our F/D-14. It's bleeding edge technology, up against an old, worn out and outdated interceptor made for naval operations.
The missile warning goes off. No, it erupts. I'm tracking five, six, ten… God knows how many missiles streaking towards us! He's got bloody cluster missiles?!
Instinct takes over and I throw the Tomcat into a loop at full speed, sending it soaring this way and that in an attempt to shake them off. Prez is hanging on for dear life. I feel nauseous, light-headed, and am all too aware of a creeping blackness reaching out.
Over-G. If I push too hard, I'll black out, maybe worse, leaving Prez helpless and this plane pilotless as Crimson One closes in for the kill.
I pull back and spiral. It's enough. Barely.
'What do you have to show for yourself, merc?' he demands. 'Blood? Gold? A broken throne?'
Another volley of missiles, another mad bout of seemingly drunken spinning and circling. Several of them whizz past, streaks of light fading into the firestorm below.
'I will bury you so completely, the Earth will turn over a thousand times before your body is dug up.'
I could say the same for him! But I don't intend to leave a body. He's going to burn in the hell he created!
'You can't run! You can't hide! You made this decision long ago!' he taunts. 'You can't back out of this deal!'
We swing round, behind him now. The lock comes in slower, and Prez doesn't announce it. I think she mumbles something, almost like she's slurring, but I barely have time to think. I send the missile flying.
I have to remember to breathe. It's going to hit him! I know it is!
Flares pop out of his damned super-plane, and Project Wingman flutters away as the missile goes for the flares. Damn him!
Prez groans.
The missile warning goes off as another swarm of missiles are unleashed. Once again, I'm forced to madly turn, loop, swing and jink to avoid them. One of them detonates close to us, too close for comfort, and the Tomcat shakes. Bits of shrapnel clatter off the hull.
The murderer comes in for another attempt. How many bloody missiles does he have?
'I'm Cascadian!' That comes as a shock, and it only fuels my anger. He's been killing his own countrymen? He blew up his own city? I may be a mercenary, but I know who I'm loyal to! 'You think I took joy in fighting in my homeland? Killing my own countrymen?'
I don't know what to think, and I barely have time to. He swoops forwards, turning to avoid a collision, and I let rip with the gun. I feel the airframe shudder as the gun fires, my teeth bared in a snarl. He's so close I see the impacts, the shells ripping into his plane.
It may as well have shrugged them off, but I think it made an impression.
'If you never showed up, I never would have lost all that I have.'
Liar! He did this! This is his fault!
Isn't it?
What if he's right?
No! I didn't do this! He did!
I swing around again. I barely hear Prez gasp, her head snapping back. I go straight for him, ready to loose the missiles. He's right in my sights, any closer and we'll be in gun-range.
Where's the lock?
Prez gasps again. I hear her hitting something and I hear the blessed chime of our missiles locking on. I fire!
He pops more flares. The first missile goes after them, but the second stays true. He starts to pull aside, and the missile streaks over his hull, then detonates ahead of him, showering his plane with shrapnel.
Project Wingman must have some tough armour! I've seen planes go down with less damage.
But it was a hit! He must have felt that!
I want to encourage Prez. Even now, she's not letting me down. But there's no time, for another volley of missiles is coming. I'm forced into another series of twirls and high-G turns to avoid them.
I pull into another turn, the wings completely folded back as I push the throttle forwards. I force away the light-headedness and nausea. I'm not giving in! We can do this!
Prez gasps again, straining, sounding so unlike herself. 'God… uhh… Monarch… I can't keep up… I can't… I can't…'
I want to tell her that she can, that we can do this, that we're a team. We can beat this guy! A few more missile locks, and he'll surely go down. She's got this! We've got this!
'I'm… sorry…'
She sounds so tired. So sad.
I hear clattering behind me. The distinctive sound of a flight helmet hitting something. Has she…
No missile lock, even with the bastard in my sights. I veer away before he can lock on.
It's no good, I have to risk it. I look back, peering around my seat.
It's not just like my heart stopping for a moment. It's like the world has opened up beneath me, swallowing me up. If we were really falling from the sky, I wouldn't know any different.
Prez has slumped forwards, silent and unresponsive. No chirpy remark, no big grins under her mask, no eyebrow waggling under her flight helmet. She's…
She can't be!
No, she can't be dead! All those manoeuvres I was pulling must have been too much for her. She's just passed out.
But that doesn't make this any better, I realise as I face forwards again, frantic, panic threatening to overwhelm me. If she stays up here, with me pulling all these crazy stunts, she could still die. She's now at risk of tachycardia and hypoxia, and that could mean all sorts of problems: coma, memory loss, necrosis… and those are just short term horrors. Long term, she could suffer brain damage and fatal seizures. And that's assuming Crimson One doesn't blow us up.
I want to shout, to call to her, try to rouse her somehow, but there's no time.
The missile warning goes off again. I spin round on instinct. Shit! At this rate I'll kill Robin just trying to keep her alive!
Damn this guy! He's forcing me to do this!
I can't get a lock! Robin is the WSO. She handles radar lock and anti-jamming. But even without that… we're a team. I've been flying with her for so long. Without her…
Her head just lolls as I'm forced to pull into another turn.
'Me and you now.' For all I know my mic was on and Crimson One heard Prez pass out. 'No distractions. No wingmen. No war.'
I don't think I can do this alone. I don't think I can even face flying alone. Not without her.
Crimson One is still talking. 'Just me and you. Whoever wins is the best pilot.'
I don't care about that! Not now! I just want to get out of here and land this damn plane, make sure Robin is okay, get her to safety before it's too late!
But he's not going to let that happen. If I run, he'll chase us down. Even if we escape, he'll come for us again, and probably with more Cordium bombs. He'd destroy the entire world just for revenge.
No, it has to end here.
The radar has gone mad.
It's not just stuttering from the Cordium interference, it's full of red. Red from incoming missiles and straight streaks which can only mean…
The Tomcat shudders again as something thrums past the fuselage. It's so fast its wake strips paint from the hull.
A railgun. Of course he would have a railgun too.
'Every safety is coming off. No second chances.'
He's right about that. No way I can outrun that thing. Only one plane will leave this airspace.
I want it to be mine. Mine and Prez's.
I swing the plane round, trying to transfer the weapons systems to my controls. Most two-seater Sicario planes can have their controls swapped about mid-flight.
This is not going to be easy. It's going to be the most difficult fight I've ever been in.
But I have to win, or Prez will die.
The missile warning goes off yet again. Crimson One is in the sweet spot: right on my tail.
I pull up, popping flares as I do so, intending to perform a high-G turn and end up on Crimson One's tail. The missiles streak away after the flares, but Crimson One knows what I'm doing. This is not the first time we've fought.
He pulls up too, Project Wingman soaring upwards more gracefully than the F/D-14.
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump! I put the Tomcat into a spiralling spin as bright orange streaks race past. The railgun slugs fly into the sky, narrow misses. The missile alert goes off.
I turn around and dive, going low in the hopes of confusing his sensors.
Presidia is barely recognisable as a city. Only a few towers stand, reaching into the black clouds, forks of orange lightning slamming into them. The cascades flash around the Tomcat as I weave between the spires, Crimson One giving chase. The streets have melted, consumed by the molten rock vomited up by the split earth. Great fissures have opened up everywhere, spitting fire and smoke into the choked sky.
Crimson One is behind and above, waiting for a lock.
No way I can outrun him, and my fuel reserves are starting to drop worryingly low.
Judging by the orange particles trailing from Crimson One's craft, Project Wingman is powered by Cordium. Risky, but it's paying off. He's easily keeping pace with my slower fighter. The F/D-14 is no slouch in the air, but it just isn't fast enough.
Crimson One could overtake me easily, but he wants to stay behind me for an easy lock.
More railgun slugs streak past, forcing me to turn into the open. The missile alert goes wild. He's corralled me.
I jerk the stick back at the last moment, and the missiles slam into the seething, tortured ground.
The railgun discharges again. The passage of the shells is violent enough to make the air vibrate, and I have to fight to keep my plane under control.
As I weave between the still-dangerous trails left by the railgun's guns, Crimson One swoops in, his cannons blazing.
I dive again, and feel the airframe shudder as a couple of shells skim it. Alarms go off, warning of damage.
It's no good. I need to go on the offensive, or he'll either score a lucky fatal hit, or simply wear me and the Tomcat out.
'Monarch. You use the name of a king, but what do you rule over? The dead?' Crimson One jeers. 'The Federation fought for peace in this war. And you denied them that!'
Like hell they did! If they'd wanted peace, they would have let Cascadia have its independence. They wouldn't have used WMDs on Prospero!
They wouldn't have let this maniac destroy Presidia, wiping out God knows how many people.
Innocent and guilty alike. Civilian and soldier. Independence League and Federation Military. Friend and foe.
'The people of Cascadia! Do you know what you've taken from them?' Crimson One demands. 'Their homes! And for what? To secede from the world? What? You think you can fight this war again in fifty years time? Do you really think history will see it your way?'
I didn't do this!
But… why did I come here?
I feel sick, and not just from my roiling stomach, not just because of all the crazy moves I'm having to use.
'You don't even care why you're here!'
He's not wrong. I didn't at first.
I came here because I'm a mercenary. I came here for the money. This wasn't about a cause.
But that doesn't change facts. We're here, fighting to the death, and Prez is stuck in this duel because of me.
Biting my lip, I force the Tomcat into a tight turn, veering round and accelerating straight at Crimson One. I just hope Prez, and the plane, can take the torture I'm putting them through. It's bad enough for me. The sheer effort and force nearly makes me black out.
I think I've caught him by surprise. He doesn't do anything, not right away.
I don't give him a chance to act. I have no missile lock, but he's close enough. I hit the trigger and the Tomcat's cannon roars. The airframe vibrates as the shells slice through the tormented air.
Crimson One veers away, but I see a few shells hit their marks. But again, Project Wingman holds firm and spirals gracefully away.
No more running. Kill or be killed. I give chase. This time I'm on his tail!
'How does it feel to not have a country? To not have borders to define yourself against the world?'
He has a point again.
But that doesn't matter now. Let him fight and die for his twisted beliefs. Let this battered fighter, which has carried me and Prez into and out of numerous battles in one piece, be my country, its canopy and hull the borders between us and the world.
It hasn't let us down yet. And I'm still on his tail. He's dodging and weaving, but through sheer effort and bloody will, I'm stuck to him like glue, the Tomcat acting like an extension of my deadly intent.
Without Prez though, this won't be so easy. I have to deal with the target locks myself.
I really have taken her for granted. If we make it through this…
The missile lock chimes.
I have so few left! But I have to risk it. I have to.
I let it loose.
Flares fly from Crimson One's plane as he swings it around, trying to out-turn the missile.
To my mounting frustration, he manages. I let loose another burst from the cannon as he streaks towards us. I don't know if I hit him.
His wake causes the fighter to shake, and I have to fight to keep it from falling into a flat spin.
The missile alert blares, and I hear the railgun discharge again.
I go into another dive, flying so close to the seething hellscape below that I actually feel the sizzling. But it works. The railgun's shots fly overhead, and the missiles slam into the ground. I pull up before the heat warps anything, or blows the fuel tanks.
'The Calamity erased mankind once! Our chance to start again! And this is how you've dealt with it?!'
This guy is completely insane.
I swoop around again, gaining height, drawing close the base of the furious black clouds. Crimson One is dead ahead, coming around for another attack.
'You drove me to this: this death and destruction over the Federation. Millions of lives lost…' he sighs. 'So many ghosts.'
I did not drive this mad bastard to drop a weapon of mass destruction on a city full of thousands of people! Or to create another Calamity!
He's almost pointing at us now. At this range, it'll be the railgun. 'Kill me, or be killed!'
I punch it, and feel the swing-wings sweep back and the engines rumble. I'm fly across his nose and the railgun discharges, each round just a heartbeat behind.
I brake hard, swing round, and hear the blessed chime of a missile lock. I send it straight at him.
He's still turning to try and catch me, and he fails to launch his countermeasures in time.
The missile detonates right overhead, showering his craft with shrapnel. I see a few panels tear lose, pieces of armour sheared away. He had to feel that one!
But Project Wingman is still airborne, and now it's coming straight for us again.
'This is my home!'
I dive under him before he can unleash the railgun, and see streaks of fire as he launches another fusillade of missiles. I managed to get under them in time, and they fly off towards the sea.
But he's throwing something new into the mix. As I try to get back on his tail, spheres of light erupt from his plane. They expand rapidly, comprised of some sort of crackling, searing energy.
The left wing-tip catches one and I see the metal start to react. If I get caught in one of those, it'll rip us to pieces.
'Here we are, fighting for Cascadia's soul.'
I'm only trying to get Prez out of this mess alive. I'm not going to let her die here!
I have to climb higher to avoid them, and I have to drop the last of my flares as he fires yet more missiles at me. He's been unleashing the railgun too. The skies are full of lethal light, he's trying to corner me again, trying to catch me in a web of death.
'What happens when you shot me down? Can you even think?' he's taunting as he closes in, probably about to loose another barrage. 'What will you return to? Where will you go? We all know how this ends!'
With one of us dead. Preferably you.
I fly into the midst of the clouds. I can hardly see an inch into the black masses, but they'll give me cover. Even with the radar confused by the Cordium radiation, and full of streaks of red, I can still see Project Wingman on the flickering screen.
It seems to work. He doesn't pursue, he might have lost sight of us in the light-show he created.
I heard the railgun thumping. But it's nowhere near. If I can just get behind him…
He figures it out. Damn him.
More of those orbs launch from his plane and swell within the clouds. I only realise when one erupts right in front of the Tomcat's nose.
I dive to avoid it on instinct. The collision alarms whine, and I feel the plane shiver and hear screeches of tortured metal. The rudder becomes a little sluggish.
Now I'm below the clouds again, levelling out over the ruined city as Crimson One swings round, coming in for the next attack.
I aim straight at him, waiting for a missile lock.
He must hear the alert in his cockpit. 'Kill me! Kill me and see what happens to this world! Either way, your life ends today!'
The railgun thuds. I pull up, and keep flying up as he launches another volley of missiles at us.
I go straight up, towards the clouds. The missiles start to fall behind. The Tomcat is giving its all, just as I am.
Crimson One gives chase, rocketing after us. No way he'll be outrun. 'And my squadron! Do you think they deserved it?'
Is that what this is about? It was kill or be killed. Like now.
And I suppose it was personal then too.
My squadron is lost, the rest of the Sicario pilots, likely dead, because of him. But I can't think about them now. If I do, I'll lose it, and he'll win. I'm going to at least save Prez, or die trying.
'The Federation might try to forget you, but I won't! This is for the good of the world!'
I don't care about that. Not now.
I reach the clouds, feel the aircraft shuddering as lightning lashes the sdark depths around us, and punch through. Sunlight caresses the fighter as I hit the brakes and pull the stick back, revolving to face the clouds. The radar shows me right where Project Wingman is: right below me.
He tears through, a vengeful winged shape like some draconic monster of legend, a declaration of hateful, murderous rage tearing into my ears.
'DIE MERCENARY!'
The railgun thunders. I launch one of the last three missiles as I dive straight at him.
His aim is off.
Mine is not.
The missile detonates right in front of his nose, swallowing Project Wingman in a ball of fire.