Project Wingman: Our Wings, Our Sky

by ErrantTalisman

SPOILERS for Project Wingman The war should have ended with the ceasefire, but one vengeful pilot has other ideas. In a duel to the death, Monarch is put to the test, not just because of his opponent, but because of the suffering his friend endures. In this crucible, Monarch realises that he does have a cause, and something to live for.

5. Home

Home

Everything checks out.

Instruments are working.

Hydraulics are good.

Engines are hot.

Everything checks out.

But I'm still waiting.

'Hitman One? The squadron's waiting on you.'

I hear the packet of pretzels being scrunched up. 'Want one, Mon?'

I accept one. Prez always insists on having a bag of snacks in the plane, usually pretzels. It's a good thing Sicario's rules are so loose. I doubt the Cascadian Air Force would allow it.

'Tower, we're ready to go.' Prez reports, crunching the last bits of her snack.

'Copy that, Hitman One, proceed to taxi.'

'Well then, Monarch? Shall we go?'

I nod, and steer the Tomcat onto the runway.

'Got to keep up that no-talking thing when you're in the pilot seat, Mon?'

'I thought you liked the strong silent types.'

I can practically hear her grinning. 'Yeah, but you can't train the new guys without speaking.'

The tower interrupts, telling us we're clear for take-off.

It's been a while.

I push the throttle, and feel the familiar sensations once again. Being pressed back into my seat and the sinking of my stomach as the Tomcat lifts off, heading up into the blue sky.

Cascadia is a shadow of what it once was, but so is the Federation—perhaps more so. And Cascadia is free now, with a chance to heal.

Between Prez's recovery and gathering up other survivors from Sicario, someone important suggested that perhaps it would be good to have Sicario veterans teach new pilots how to fly.

I feel like I'm done fighting, for now, maybe for good, but I'm not done with flying yet. Nor is Robin. I don't think there's much which would keep her out of a plane for long. So, we agreed.

There's going to be war. Everybody knows it. Their defeat in Cascadia showed the world that they could be beaten, and now so many other nations are vying for their independence. Some with words. Others with force.

It was only a matter of time.

'Wow,' Prez breathes, shaking me from my thoughts. 'Look at that sky! I've missed this, Monarch.'

I don't need to say that I have too.

This is where I belong. Where we belong. Up here, with the clouds below like fields of snow, nothing but blue above us, encased in a fighter's cockpit, surrounded by a gently thrumming airframe.

'Okay, the training flight should be over to the west and waiting for us.' Prez flicks a few switches. I get the sense that she's considering something. Sure enough, she has something more to say. 'Or… what say we take a detour and find ourselves a nice little island in the Creol Republic and relax?'

'I thought you wanted to fly?'

'We can do that there. Who needs a jetski when you have a fighter jet?'

I chuckle. She has a good point. 'Tempting.'

'Or… we could just stay up here a bit after the training, enjoy being in the sky again.'

Either one works for me. I'm just glad to have my wizzo, my friend, back with me, where we belong, with our wings in our sky.

'Okay. We can think about using a little more fuel or going AWOL on the way.' Prez is grinning again, I can tell, eager to get started. 'For now, let's show the newbies how we fly.'

I push the throttle forwards, and feel the wings sweep back, sending the Tomcat soaring across the sky.