"Foresight is not about predicting the future, it's about minimizing surprise."

~Karl Schroeder

Chapter 6: Lifeline

November 19, 2004…

Bryn

"-no sharing, and don't come crying to me if you eat your half too fast!" I declared, strutting out of the room with my half of the cheesecake. It'd been sent to Murray after the last battle, but he was gone on sick leave, and rather than let it go to waste, Miranda and I decided to do him a favor and eat it for him. However, when Miranda went to the bathroom, rather than waiting for my comrade to start eating it with me, I went ahead without her. She didn't take kindly to it, berating me about it for ten minutes. Her rant fell on deaf ears while I munched on the dreamy dessert.

Cue one argument later, and we'd split it, taking our respective halves to our rooms. Unfortunately, the moment I stepped outside into the hallway, I tripped, and my cheesecake plopped to the ground.

Miranda's obnoxious laughter sounded behind me. "This is what you get for eating it without me! I'm just going to stand here and eat piece after piece of cheesecake in my mouth while you stand there and watch."

I stared angrily at Miranda, and as she shoveled a large bite into her mouth, I slapped the dish out of her hand. Her cheesecake joined mine on the floor.

We stared at the mess like idiots for longer than either of us cared to admit. After mild debating, we found ourselves on all fours, eating any piece of cheesecake we could see that wasn't touching the floor. We were grateful most people on base were still asleep, praying no one would find us in such a pathetic situation.

Someone did.

A pair of large combat boots stopped next to us. Miranda and I slowly looked up- cheeks stuffed to the brim with cheesecake- to find Whiskey staring down at us in concern. He asked, "Do I want to know?"

"No," we replied simultaneously.

Whiskey nodded. "Eat up and clean up then. We have a briefing in half an hour."

We saluted him. "Yes, sir!"

The moment Whiskey disappeared, Miranda and I burst into a fit of giggles, realizing how stupid we'd been and how silly we looked.

"You've got to call Lucky and tell him this story," Miranda insisted, going in for another bite. "Please? I want to meet your future husband."

"I will stab you with my fork."

"Yeah, but then you won't be able to eat the cheesecake."

"I'll use yours because you'll be too busy with my fork impaled in you to be worrying about yours."

"Jesus Christ, Ember. That's dark."

"I don't mess around with desserts or with Lucky."

"Okay, okay, but still, please call him?"

"Fine, fine," I relented, dialing his number, "but I don't know if he'll pick up. It's-"

"Ember!" Lucky exclaimed. He cocked his head. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Eating cheesecake," I replied, lifting up my fork to show him.

His brow furrowed in evident confusion. "On the floor?"

"Yes."

"That must be some damn good cheesecake."

"Oh, it is. By the way-" I motioned at my comrade with my fork- "this is Miranda. She wants to say hi."

"Hi!" Miranda chirped. "Nice to meet you! Heard wonderful things!"

"Nice to meet you too!"

"You're supposed to say you've heard great things about me too."

"I would, but Ember's only mentioned you in passing. I only actually know of you by name, and that's it." Lucky smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

Miranda turned on me, furiously chucking a piece of cheesecake at my face. "You tell me all about him, but don't tell him about me? I see how it is!"

"I- that's not-" I wiped the cheesecake off my face- "We don't have a lot of time to talk anymore with the war. I think the longest we've talked since it started was maybe ten minutes? Fifteen at most?"

"She's right," Lucky agreed.

"And we usually are checking up on each other rather than gossiping about our coworkers. I promise I'll tell him more about you later, though."

"You better because he needs to know who your Maid of Honor is going to be at your wedding and-"

I launched a chunk of cheesecake at her, nailing her in the face. "We talked about this!"

Lucky bellowed on the other end of the line, half bewildered, half amused. "Girls, I'm going to let you two get back to the love of your life, which is that dessert, but Em, we'll talk later?"

"Yeah. I was calling to tell you I'm going on a mission in a bit, so just a heads up," I said.

Lucky nodded. "Be safe. We'll talk soon."

"You too. Love you!"

"Love you too!"

"Aww!" Miranda gushed as I hung up, narrowly dodging the second piece of cheesecake I flung at her. Sticking my tongue out at her, I hurriedly shoved as much of the scrumptious dessert in my mouth before cleaning the mess up. Miranda helped me, and after double-checking each other to ensure no evidence of our feast resided on our faces or clothes, we swiftly headed to the briefing room.

Whiskey lounged in his chair, smirking at us when we entered. I shook my head, saying, "Not a word."

"Wasn't planning on it. Now that you two are here, let's begin the briefing." He stood up, lowered the lights, and pulled up the screen. Miranda and I leaned forward in our seats, anxious to learn about today's mission. "Comberth Harbor, home of the Aegir Fleet, is completely dependent on a single petrochemical complex for its fuel supply. The complex consists of a land-based oil refinery/storage facility and an offshore oil-drilling platform. Your mission is to go out and destroy, or at least damage, these sites. Our objective is to reduce production output of this complex to 20% or less. By cutting off the port's fuel supply, we will delay and disrupt the combat deployment of the Aegir Fleet."

Operation: Early Bird

Location: Petrochemical Complex

Date: 19 November 2004

Time: 0550 hours

"You know, I'm regretting the fact we ate so much cheesecake right before the mission," I said grimly, rubbing my stomach.

Miranda glanced down at hers. "We'll deserve it if we do. We did steal Murray's cake."

"You did what?!" Murray exclaimed from behind us. We whirled around to find his mouth agape.

I clasped my hands behind my back. "Nothing."

"What are you doing here?" Miranda inquired. "I thought you were still on sick leave."

"I got cleared right before the mission," Murray said, motioning at the two of us with his finger. "Now, what was this about you stealing my cheesecake?"

Ignoring him, Miranda said furiously, "And why was I not notified immediately that you had been discharged from sickbay? By either you or the doctor? I need to know these things to run my team effectively!"

"I-"

"Next time this happens, you alert me immediately." Miranda turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. I followed her.

"Nice job getting us out of that conversation," I complimented.

Miranda beamed. "I didn't want to have to deal with explaining it. Perks of being a captain. You should really consider having your own squadron rather than going solo."

"And have the responsibility of other peoples' lives? No thanks."

"Yeah, but doesn't it get lonely?"

"No, I have you."

"But what if one day I-"

"Nope, we're not going there. If you talk about it, you bring it to the realm of possibility."

"Okay, but if-"

"No."

"But-"

"Nope." We reached our planes, and I got in mine before Miranda could continue the line of conversation. We all fell silent, gearing up for the upcoming mission. This would be our first major offensive, and if we succeeded, it would deal a horrible blow to the enemy. We had to come out victorious.

Despite our earlier chatter, Miranda and I stayed mostly silent on the trip to Comberth Harbor, only speaking when one of our comrades had a question or when we were discussing strategies. It was only when the harbor came into view as a hazy black strip on the horizon that the chatter picked up.

SkyEye ordered, "Commence operation. Split into two groups and destroy targets. Inflict as much damage as possible to the complex and reduce their output."

"All right, Mobius, now that we're over the target area, how do you want to do this?" Miranda queried.

"Let's start out with taking out the ground targets first. Then, we'll see how many enemy planes appear after that and plan accordingly."

"You sure this is smart?" Paul asked hesitantly. "We're over the bad guys."

Miranda sighed. "As opposed to the other missions we've been on?"

"I meant- shit. Never mind. It's early. Shut up."

"Heads up, they've got AA guns," Murray warned.

"Let's get this show on the road," I said, switching my weapons to guns and taking aim at the tanker below me. I dove down and let out a barrage of bullets, nailing the enemy ship and destroying it within a matter of seconds.

"Okay, Mobius, that's how it's going to be today?" Miranda said, thrusting her engines and catching up to me. "Two can play that game."

I grinned. "Only if they're as good as each other."

"You know, bitch is not a good look on you."

"No, you're right. It's a fantastic look."

"Oil rig at vector 0-5-0. Eight miles," SkyEye informed, breaking up our bickering. Whether he did it intentionally or not, I wasn't sure.

Miranda and I raced neck and neck into the horizon, the rising sun lighting our path. I scanned the ocean for the first oil rig, but it was only when I was nearly on top of it that I saw it. The rig's dark metal and non-reflective surfaces made it almost impossible to see in the pre-dawn light. The Eruseans knew what they were doing when they built this place, that was for damn sure.

Switching to special weapons, the XSDB, I locked onto the first four targets I could. Miranda flew beside me, targeting another part of the rig. Once I fired, I swerved to the right and let the bullets fly at another section, but I couldn't get a good enough angle to actually do any damage because of my close proximity. At least I knew my previous missiles had hit based on SkyEye's jubilant cheer.

I zeroed in on the next set of targets dead ahead, all cranes. With my special weapons still reloading, I kept my missile lock engaged, shooting at the closest crane first and then immediately switching to another target before I flew over it. Both hit and Miranda's aim took care of the other two.

"C'mon baby, daddy needs a bull's eye!" Murray said eagerly, making me question what on earth was going on inside that bald head of his.

I didn't have time to dwell on though. A SAM locked onto me, and I pulled up into a vertical lift, flooring it. I waited until the missile alert cleared before looping over and plummeting toward the dark waters. Then, engaging my special weapons, I took on two SAMs and two cranes. Below me, Miranda let hell rain down upon them, taking out two of my potential targets. Thankfully, there were two more to replace them. Locked on, I fired and swiftly destroyed them.

"You're going to have to try harder than that, Angel, if you want to beat me today," I taunted playfully. "But, you know, since I'm such a bitch, I'll let you finish off that rig. I see a tanker with my name written across it!"

"No, don't play nice and make this easy for me! I don't need you to make this easy for me!"

Paul cleared his throat. "Actually-"

"No!"

"Sorry to break it you, Angel, but yeah, none of us have been on Mobius's level recently."

"Betrayed by my own squadron. Damn you, Ember!"

"Love you?" I said sheepishly.

"Yeah, yeah, love you too."

Grinning, I lowered my plane to just above sea level, aligning my height with that of the tanker. Switching to guns, I fired until I saw an explosion, telling me the target was done for. I continued on my path of destruction, setting my sights on another oil rig ripe for the taking.

"Halo Team, keep the enemy planes at bay," Miranda instructed. "Mobius and I will handle the ground targets. Keep high and out of range of the anti-air defenses as much as you can."

Murray, Paul, and Gary lifted their planes higher into the sky, luring enemies with them. Meanwhile, Miranda and I continued on our warpath. Having destroyed the first oil rig, she joined my side at the second one.

"Commit all reserve aircraft immediately!" an enemy said, breaking our focused silence. His words sent shivers down my spine when I remembered Miranda mentioning this Yellow Thirteen fighter.

"Angel, I swear to god," I began, "if you jinxed us by saying these missions have been too easy, I will kill you."

"Relax!" She replied casually. "If they thought we were a threat, which, for the record, they should, Yellow Thirteen would already be here. We're going to be-"

"Don't say it."

"-fine."

"And you said it."

Miranda gasped. "Did you see that?!"

"See what?" I demanded, tensing up.

"The non-appearance of Yellow Thirteen."

"I hate you." Locking onto my next targets, I added, "You know he's going to show up now, right?"

Miranda sighed. "You're still on that?"

"Fine, if you're so confident in this, I'll make you a deal," I said, knowing she wouldn't be able to resist this one. "Whoever ends up being right wins, and whoever loses has to admit to what we did earlier."

Dead silence rang out over the radio. I took advantage of the opportunity to steal a couple of her shots if only to send Miranda into a furious frenzy and tirade. Needless to say, it worked.

"Fine! You've got a deal!" she replied. "Get prepared to tell Murray what you did!"

"What we did! Besides, it's you who'll be telling him."

"What did you two do?!" Murray demanded, slightly panicked. "You better not have put itching powder in my sheets."

"We would never. Paul, maybe," Miranda said, diving towards a crane and sending a wave of deadly accurate bullets at it. "Mobius and I? Never."

"Would you four shut your traps and focus on the mission?" SkyEye interrupted, sounding more than a little exasperated.

Rather than antagonizing him further, Miranda and I cooperated. With only a few more targets left on the second oil rig, I made swift work of them, my nerves getting the better of me. It was rumored we had freakishly accurate instincts on my side of the family. From what my cousin Elizabeth told me, when her uncle was in the Belkan War, more often than not, his gut instinct turned out to be correct, even though he had no reason whatsoever to believe in what he did.

That being said, I wouldn't mind being proven wrong about my instinct on Yellow Thirteen. I didn't want him to show up. I'd looked into him after Miranda mentioned him, and from what I could gather, he made a name for himself in a short time. He couldn't be much older than me, if at all.

I wonder if Kit knows him… no, don't go there, Bryn!

"Where are the reinforcements?" an enemy said, their transmission coming through with the most impeccable timing I'd ever seen or heard.

"Help is inbound," another responded calmly. "Hang in there."

"Angel," I said pointedly.

I could practically hear the eye roll in her words as she said, "It's just a coincidence."

"Coincidence-" I fired a missile at a tower, striking it down- "my-" I blasted a crane to smithereens- "ass!"

"Do you think we need to go help them?" Paul asked hesitantly.

Murray hummed before saying, "Nah. Take out the fighters first."

"Yeah, plus, it's probably safer up here."

"I have an idea!" Angel chirped, deceptively cheerful. "How about you stop getting onto me about the coincidence and fire at the targets before the reinforcements arrive?"

"What do you think I've been doing? Having tea?" I snapped back, jerking my plane upward into the sky to avoid the SAMs firing at me. When I reached twenty-thousand feet, I sent my plane into a nosedive and switched my weapons to special. The moment I became within range and locked on, I fired, high-tailing it away in case any SAMs survived.

They didn't.

"I'm out of ammo!" An enemy shouted frantically, the sounds of panicked scrambling in the background. "Winchester!"

"I've got plenty of ammo," Paul announced with impeccable timing.

"Rub it in their faces, why don't you?" Murray replied.

"Oh, shit!" Miranda interrupted, gasping. I snapped my head over my shoulder and saw her rolling to avoid a barrage of gunfire from two enemy planes that had slipped past our defenses. Rather than waiting for Paul and Murray to rush over, I chose to take them on myself. Instructing Miranda to keep on the defensive and the enemies distracted, I closed the small gap between us, locking onto the bandits. One of them disengaged, but the other stayed put, hellbent on destroying my friend. The Erusean jerked downwards, shocking my tracking system. I lost my lock on them and spent the next two minutes regaining it. Unlike the other enemy pilots we'd faced in the past, these seemed to be of better quality, more experienced. Since we were attacking a strategic location, it made sense, but I hated how much more time it took me to take them down. We had a time limit before reinforcements arrived, and I did not want to meet them. My instinct told me our luck had finally run out in avoiding the infamous Yellow Squadron, and as good at flying as I was, I didn't want to face them in battle. After all, almost none of our pilots who met them lived to tell the tale.

"Mobius, are you almost done?" Angel asked, deceptively calm.

"Just a little bit longer," I promised, finally locking on. I fired, praying the missile would hit, but it zipped past the bugger's wing. "Son of a bitch keeps evading."

Murray and Paul zipped up beside me, the latter asking, "Need backup?"

"Keep this plane occupied. I'm going from below."

"The hell does that mean?"

"Just keep them occupied!"

Not giving them a chance to respond, I dipped my plane down and headed towards the targets below, wanting to provide the enemy above a false sense of security as to my true intentions. Without much anti-air artillery to give me a difficult time, considering they'd been destroyed earlier, I had no issues taking out the remaining targets below. Above, I kept a careful eye on the enemy planes, which Murray and Paul trailed relentlessly. Then, hitting my afterburners, I shot upwards, purposefully avoiding radar lock until the last second to prevent the enemy from bugging out.

I fired a missile at the latest I dared, and incredibly, my gamble paid off. The Erusean couldn't escape in time even though it tried, and Miranda was free from trouble. She thanked her wingmen and me over the radio. I could hear the relief in her voice.

After the harrowing experience, none of us deviated far from each other. We stayed in pairs, demolishing the refinery bit by bit until hardly any of it remained. With this in mind, I turned my sights to the shoreline, where a vast array of targets remained ripe for the taking. I told Miranda where I was headed, and she instructed Murray, Paul, and Gary to finish off those out in the sea before joining my side.

"This looks-" Miranda began, but I immediately cut her off by saying, "I swear to God if you say fun…"

"No, I was going to say better than the sea shit we were just dealing with. It's easier to see the targets."

"My bet is it's just due to the sun starting to come up," I said.

"Let me rub it in my wingmen's faces, damn it."

"Too late, Captain," Murray spoke up. "We've finished the 'sea shit,' and we're heading your way."

"Angel, you take north; I'll take the south," I said, swerving my plane in my intended direction. "We're close to finishing this, so let's do it!"

I lowered my plane and lined myself up with a cluster of fuel tanks, firing an XSDB the moment I was within range. I jerked my plane upward before I could fly into the resulting fiery inferno. Leveling back out, I zeroed in on my next target, another cluster of fuel tanks, which seemed to be the majority of structures here.

"That's a huge chimney," Paul said, zipping past me at a high rate of speed. "How much are they producing here?"

"Enough that if we destroy as much as we can, it'll severely hinder their war efforts," Angel responded, the sound of a distant explosion coming across her mic.

"Ember, leave some for us!" Murray groaned as I went in for my third run against the fuel tanks.

"Hey, I'm doing the easy work. If you want to do something, take care of the AA guns and SAMs," I told him, rolling out of the gunfire directed my way by the former. "It'd be much appreciated."

"Oh, please, an ace like yourself can't take care of them?"

"I can; I just prefer to give you the experience. Also-" I evened back out, zeroing in on a cluster of smokestacks- "I'm not an ace."

"Yellow Thirteen is an ace," Angel chimed in. "None of us are."

"I don't know. Ember sure as hell flies like one sometimes. So do you, Captain."

"I appreciate the compliment, but do as Mobius says and take out the anti-aircraft artillery for us."

"Yes, ma'am, we'll- damn it, Ember! That was mine!" Paul snapped, annoyed I stole his kill of an AA gun. "Why do you do this to me?"

"Because I can, and it's fun."

"I hate you."

"I know."

I made another run, firing special weapon after missile after special weapon in a seemingly never-ending cycle. No matter how many targets I destroyed, there always seemed to be more to take their place. I could see my weapons reserves dwindling, and I worried I'd have to cross over back into my territory to reload before the mission finished. I didn't want to take the risk, especially as the longer it took to complete this mission, the less time we had to escape from the reinforcements, which instinct told me would most certainly be the infamous Yellow Team. It had to be with such an important place as this.

"What's the status on the rig attack?" Murray asked, breaking the minutes-long radio silence.

"Losing their reserves will be a severe blow to them," Paul said.

"Did I ask what the effect would be?"

"No."

"No," Murray agreed, "I didn't. I asked what the status was. Seriously, we need to look at getting you a hearing aid."

"I have a problem called selective hearing. I only listen to people I want to listen to. But, hey, did you know they've stockpiled five million barrels?" Paul stated, garnering a groan from his comrade. "We've destroyed at least forty percent so far, if not more."

"Okay, see, why couldn't you have just said we've destroyed forty percent so far? So much more relatable to my question than the first half of your answer."

"Yeah, I know, but where's the fun in giving you straight answers when I could annoy you?"

"You're lucky you're on my side, you know that?"

"Boys, shut up and take this refinery out," Angel interrupted, surprisingly on edge. "We don't have long before enemy reinforcements arrive!"

Her words surprised me. My usually couldn't-be-bothered friend acted genuinely concerned about the enemy reinforcements arriving. But, if my hunch was correct and turned out to be the Yellow Squadron, we were in for a world of hurt. I needed to end this mission as soon as possible!

With that in mind, I upped my path of destruction, taking out target after target, dodging bullet after bullet. I couldn't be touched, and it paid off.

"Facility neutralized," SkyEye announced gleefully. "Mission complete."

"Yeah!" Murray cheered alongside Paul. "Erusea can suck my-"

Mission Update

"Mobius One, heavy group hot. Appears to be five targets in the group."

Ignoring my AWACs' poor choice of words, I asked, "Who is it?"

SkyEye remained silent for a few seconds before, "Tally ho on the bogeys! There's five Yellows."

Paul barely managed to stammer out, "What the-"

"Angel!" I hissed. "I told you."

"Not the time, Ember!" She snapped in return.

"All aircraft disengage and RTB. Head south immediately," SkyEye ordered frantically.

At that moment, a slightly garbled and distorted voice came over the radio. "We've got clearance to engage. Splash all hostile aircraft."

Oh shit…

"Roger," another Yellow responded, "initiating attack on all hostile aircraft."

"We need to get the fu-" Paul's statement was cut off by Murray shouting profanities as he barely avoided being struck by a missile. I turned to check my six, heart nearly leaping out of my chest when I saw a Yellow closing in on me. My Raptor struggled to stay out of reach.

"Their aircraft have a clear advantage as well," SkyEye remarked grimly. "Whatever you do, don't play hero and engage. This is Yellow Squadron we're talking about here. You're not equipped to handle them yet."

"Got a Yellow on my tail!" Paul announced, fear inching into his voice.

"Everyone, fly low to the ground!" I instructed. "It'll make it more difficult for them to discern where we are!"

"I can't make it! I'm not going to make-"

"Hold on!" I barked, jerking my plane up and around. I flew head-on at Paul, switching to missiles. I could hear him, along with everyone else, demanding to know my plan of action, but I ignored them, remaining focused on the task at hand. The only plane in this fight equal to the SU-37 was mine and Angel's Raptors. We're the only ones who stood a chance at escaping them in a battle without a head-start.

The moment I locked onto the Yellow fighter, I fired two missiles, merely as a deterrent and to get them away from Paul. The enemy rolled out of the way, losing his sights on my comrade. Paul took the opportunity to dive to the ground, his plane gaining an immense amount of speed, just enough to get him out of Yellow Squadron's reach.

Meanwhile, although I'd done the same thing as Paul, I was, unfortunately, heading in the wrong direction, out towards the sea in the west rather than the escape line in the south. I couldn't even turn in that direction due to the two Yellows flying alongside and behind me as if they knew where I wanted to go.

"Ember, where are you?!" Angel demanded. I could see her circling back on the radar to come rescue me.

"Angel, don't you dare come back here! Stay with your squadron and get them back to safety. It's getting the crew back alive that counts."

"You better have a plan!"

"I do! It's a stupid plan, but it's a plan."

"Stupid is better than nothing, and it's not a far cry from your usual plans, but if you're not across the safety lines in the next ten minutes, I'm coming back for you."

"I might just let you. I'll see you soon."

Angel's plane returned back to heading south, and I focused on making it out of this situation alive. I dove down towards the water, hoping it'd make it difficult for the remaining Yellow members to find me, even with the use of radar. I headed towards the destroyed rigs, praying my memories served me well. I wouldn't have long to decide whether or not they were.

Taking a deep breath, I watched the looming rigs appear before me. Noticing no debris hung underneath them, I took the chance. I flew underneath it, my plane barely squeezing between the metal and the waves below.

"The hell is that pilot doing?" A garbled Yellow pilot asked, sounding both amazed and disturbed. "Do they have a death wish or something?"

"They already have a death wish with us," his comrade responded. She sounded calm and confident and absolutely terrifying. I did not want to entangle myself with her. "I'll give them credit, though. It's hell trying to get a lock on them."

Okay, my plan is working. If I can just change directions now…

I continued flying underneath the rigs, time after time hearing my missile warning going off, only for the projectile to miss every time I passed under the steel beams.

"Ember, you have five minutes before I'm coming for you," Angel warned. I could no longer see her on my radar, but I knew without a doubt she hovered just on the edge of the battlefield, ready at a moment's notice to come to my air.

I had nearly reached the edge of the rig field and knew my time was now or never. With Yellow squadron far enough behind me, I shot up into the sky, gaining as much altitude as I could. My plane strained against the pressure but held together. Behind me, the enemies gathered in a Fingertip formation, ready at a moment's notice for me to flip around and dive back down to the ground.

Right before I reached the maximum altitude for my plane, I flipped myself around, now heading south. As Yellow Squadron mimicked my actions, I nosedived towards the ocean, shooting straight between the enemy fighters and scattering them. The only one who appeared unfazed was their captain, who remained close behind me, but just out of range. With my plane gathering a ferocious amount of speed, I slowly pulled my plane up, afraid if I pulled up too hard, I'd lose all the speed I gained, the speed keeping me alive.

For an agonizing two minutes, Yellow Thirteen himself chased me down, but I kept the distance between us, if only barely. More than once, a missile or two whistled dangerously close over my canopy. If I hadn't retained such a careful eye on Thirteen, they would've hit me.

Finally, miraculously, I crossed into the safety of my own territory, and Yellow Thirteen disengaged. Angel was there to greet me, falling into flight beside me.

Mission Accomplished

"Picture is clear," SkyEye said, his voice tinged with relief. "Bandits are down or no factor. All aircraft RTB."

"Ember, I swear to god," Angel started heatedly, "if you ever pull such a stupid stunt again-"

"Then you'll have to deal with Murray and Paul all on your own," I told her.

"… Damn you."

"Love you. Oh, good luck telling Murray what we did later."

Miranda groaned.

"All right, ladies, cut the chatter," Whiskey said, coming onto the mic. We obeyed, settling in for the debriefing. "The enemy lost five million barrels of reserves and the ability to process 25 thousand barrels of crude oil daily. The Aegir Fleet is effectively immobilized and no longer a threat. Unfortunately, our losses were high as well. We now rely on your skills more than ever to compensate for our losses."

"What are you talking about? We didn't sustain any losses," I said.

"There was another mission going on simultaneously as yours. We lost five fighters to the Eruseans," Whiskey informed grimly.

"Why didn't we know about this?"

"It was a last-minute thing. They tried attacking one of our bases, but they failed. Still, we lost more than we care to admit."

"Well, shit…" Angel breathed. We flew back to the base in silence, allowing the severity of the situation we'd just escaped to settle in. We came face to face with death, and we survived.

Brian

After Bryn finished her story, I slid the letter I'd written to her over to me. The pages had worn down as if she'd folded and refolded the paper multiple times. It made me wonder how many times she read it. My eyes trailed over my unusually neat handwriting, and I remembered the painstaking care I took to ensure it looked presentable and professional. I shuddered when I remembered how many near-finished pages I had thrown out because of how sloppy the writing looked.

The letter read:

A freeway under construction in a wheat field outside of town. When they started construction, I remember how the mayor bragged about it even though it would completely bypass our town. The freeway became the occupation force's makeshift runway, and the unfinished tunnels their bunkers. This was their base. They were the elite flight squadron chosen to protect the cannon. Ironically, the same cannon that was created to shoot down the asteroids became a catalyst to the war. But when the Allied attacks no longer came, the squadron was assigned long-range missions that took them to distant battlefields.

I thought of the words I would use to confront him and bided my time. Although I harbored these feelings within me, I could never get close to him. His wingman was always by his side. Despite having a gentle demeanor, I could tell that the wingman would never allow danger to get near Yellow Thirteen, even on land. The pillar of their group, Thirteen exuded an air of invincibility. He always chose to fly a five-plane formation. He was a man who prided himself not on his kill record but on his record of never losing a squadron member.

It's difficult for me to describe just how good Yellow Thirteen's flying was. But I witnessed it once from the ground. The lead plane of the five-plane formation should have turned the same arc with the same timing as the others, yet only his plane drew sharp contrails.

His heart felt compassion toward the weaker enemies he downed. Someday, if an equal appeared and challenged the limits of his skills in a fight, he would bear no resentment about being shot down. He said this himself.

And so, as time passed, I found the goodness of a home in their company. Leaving them was no longer an option for me now.

I thought back to the day of the mission Ember just regaled us with. I remembered it well due to Four's discussion with Thirteen about it. I'm not sure if they realized I hung onto their every word or if they cared if I did, but I could tell Mobius had impressed them both.

"What's on your mind, Brian?" Bryn asked, sipping her tea. I told her my thoughts, diving into my own memories.

November 19, 2004

"I think-" Thirteen said, leaning back in his chair- "I might've just found my best contender."

"While I agree their fighting skills are close to par with ours," Four replied, sitting down next to him, "I don't like the idea of someone becoming better than my captain. It means I risk losing you."

"As long as you're around, I have no doubt I'll live."

"Did you let your girlfriend know you're alive?"

"Very funny, Four." He sighed, a flicker of fear flashing in his eyes. "I texted her, but she hasn't responded. I'm sure the mission was far from where she was at."

"I'm sure she's fine," Four assured gently, placing her hand on Thirteen's shoulder. "She seems very capable. Death seems to favor you. Only the people you want to die actually die."

"Death favors no one, Four, but you're right about her being capable. She's-" He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his face lighting up at the sight- "texting me right now. She's alive!"

Four smiled. "I knew she would."

"I'm going to go call her, make sure she's actually okay. You check on the rest of the squadron and make sure our planes are good to go in case we're sent up again. These long-range missions are killing us."

Thirteen jogged off. I debated whether I should follow him or Four, but in the end, I chose him. Despite everything I wanted to say to him, I found myself inexplicably drawn to Thirteen. My enemy was turning out to be a great guy, and it made hating him all the more challenging.

Present day...

"It's hard when your enemy is a good person," Bryn remarked, giving me a sympathetic, understanding smile.

"I never thought anyone would understand how much it can rip someone apart, but I'm glad you do," I said before hastily adding, "Not that I want you to endure the pain of it! It's just-"

"It's okay, Brian," she interrupted, chuckling, "I know what you meant. Do you know what happened to his friend?"

"No, unfortunately. I don't even know her name. Thirteen was extremely secretive about her. Only Four knew about her, and I don't think even Four knew his friend's name."

"It was probably best for her safety. It sounds like he loved her, though."

"Oh, he did, but she never knew. At least, not in the way he loved her."

"I understand all too well. You know, the more I learn about Yellow Thirteen, the more I realize we have in common. I dare to say we might've even gotten along if we did meet."

Bryn turned around, and Felicity and I shared a knowing glance while I said, "I wonder if you would."