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The sun was shining bright in the blue sky over Usea.
It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, of course. It's been performing this duty tirelessly since the dawn of time. Each day was sunny if you went high enough. And this day was sunny as low as 7,000 feet above the ground. A fighter pilot could pierce the uniform stratus clouds hanging above an airbase and emerge in the blue heavens on the other side before their landing gear finished retracting.
Four of them was about to do just that. A peacekeeping squadron had just received clearance to take off with an unrestricted climb. Soon, the thunder of 8 afterburners roared across the field and shook windows of the airbase's buildings. One by one, they peeled their wheels off the runway and fell into the clouds, as if pulled by some incredible force beyond plain lift, gravity or thrust.
Trigger felt that pull deep inside his heart. He felt it every hour, every minute since he's been grounded.
The day was sunny. But not for him.
The last fighter disappeared into the clouds. Trigger let out a deep sigh and turned away from the window. This April has been the longest month of his life.
He wasn't an old man. Not yet. But years of flying at high altitude for prolonged stretches of time have taken a toll on his body. Trigger glanced down at papers in his wrinkled hand. A medical report, the third one this month, and a transfer order, to an administrative position back in Osea. He was to supervise a squadron at a remote airbase. And likely never fly again.
A small base, near a beach, with nice weather all year-round. A good place to retire. But not yet. Here, a storm was coming. Trigger felt this change in the air. That's where he was needed.
Outside, another squadron was beginning to taxi to the runway. Trigger forced himself to look away. The other side of the corridor had doors to many offices, and walls between them were decorated with photos of various units that operated from this base. Dozens of photos showing fighter pilots, AWACS crews, but also ground personnel and plane mechanics. It just so happened that Trigger's eyes landed on his own face.
There they were, as if the time never passed, posing in front of Trigger's Raptor, 2 years after the Lighthouse War. From the left - Trigger, failing to look serious after Count nearly jumped on his back; Count wasn't even looking at the camera, with one hand on Trigger's shoulder and the other one fending off Húxiān's (successful) attempt to pinch him in the back when the shutter went off; Húxiān herself managed to show a perfectly innocent smile while simultaneously distracting Count and giving Wit an encouraging (but not so gentle) pat on the back; Wit didn't look very encouraged. He would take an additional year to fully integrate into this squadron.
Wit took over Jaeger's position after former Strider 4 was given a similar offer to Trigger and left Usea. Count and Húxiān followed within a few years.
Count...
Trigger opened his phone to last week's conversation with his former wingman.
They haven't talked since.
Blatant manipulation. Trigger threw his phone back into his pocket. he didn't know why the OADF would try and lure him back to Osea, but he wouldn't fall for it. Not now. Another peacekeeping squadron disappeared into the cloudy sky. A storm was coming. And Trigger had to be there.
Trigger only noticed footsteps approaching from behind, when they were right next to him. He turned around and saw a young pilot, probably fresh out of the academy. He had the same bright smile and spark in his eye Trigger's seen in most new recruits.
"Are you here to see the commander, sir?" The newcomer stopped and stood, if not at attention, then very close to it.
"The commander is in a meeting," Trigger answered in a cold, raspy voice. He didn't realize he drifted right up the door to commander's office while checking his phone.
"Oh." The newcomer nodded, still smiling. He didn't seem surprised by the information, and after shuffling awkwardly a few steps back started to admire the photographs on the wall.
"Can I help you?"
Trigger doubted he could be of any help, but he hoped the new pilot would volunteer some information to satiate the old ace's curiosity about his demeanor.
"I'm supposed to meet with the commander at 1300, He said he'll introduce me to my new squadron."
Trigger looked at his watch.
"That's a whole hour away."
"Yes, I know." The newcomer admitted sheepishly. "I couldn't wait."
"I understand."
Trigger also came early. Maybe not out of excitement, but the longer he thought about it, the more he realized that the urge to already be somewhere he wasn't played a big part in it.
Outside, another fighter jet pierced through the clouds.
Trigger mulled over an idea.
"Are you a good pilot, kid?"
"I... I'd like to think I am," The newcomer answered with not much conviction. "For someone with my hours, at least," he clarified.
Trigger decided.
"There's a simulator room at the end of the corridor. Want to kill some time?"
The new pilot failed to conceal his excitement.
The simulator was empty. They took their seats in mock-up cockpits and put on headsets with VR displays. After a short calibration sequence they were flying towards each other above a simulated landscape.
They merged and Trigger pulled a hard turn. the platform with his cockpit moved on hydraulic pistons, but was limited by gravity to a mere 1G. Trigger sighed and focused on the duel.
They entered a two-circle fight. Even though they were flying the same fighter jet models Trigger had to ease off to let his opponent finish his turn and meet him head-on, like in the BFM manual. He lazily put a few bullets between the recruit's vertical stabilizers and observed the attack coming his way.
The new pilot didn't spare ammunition, but none of his bullets made contact. Trigger noted that his opponent's gun did paint over his wingtip, but the evasive maneuver violently pitched his nose, spreading the bullets too far. He made the same mistake on subsequent passes, but seemed to try and limit the speed of his maneuvers.
Or Trigger was just imagining it.
After that Trigger changed up his tactics, pulled off a tighter turn and landed them in one-circle fight, chasing after the new recruit through the turn. He had him for a split second but the pilot quickly pulled off a barrel roll, trying to make Trigger overshoot.
"Good thinking," Trigger admitted in his thoughts. He wasn't going to fall for it though.
Instead of rolling with his opponent and slowly losing energy Trigger cashed in all of his altitude and blew past him at treetop level. He heard a well-timed missile coming his way and jinked it, but in this maneuver he spotted something interesting in a rear-view mirror.
After firing the missile the shaky flight of the newcomer's plane stabilized, as if the pilot stopped controlling the plane for a moment, even though he was in a dive.
He pulled up in time but Trigger saw enough.
It was a peculiar mistake, although it wasn't his first time seeing something like that. Now was the time to punish it.
Trigger pulled up at a distance and set himself up for another missile. Predictably, the new pilot took the opportunity. Then, Trigger turned sharply and sent a series of bullets towards the relaxed fighter. He didn't react in time to dodge.
Somehow Trigger must've misjudged the length of his gun burst, because the lucky newcomer was still flying. They flew right past past each other at slow speed. Trigger pulled the stick to make the finishing pass.
And then he looked up.
The new recruit was in a stall, but he managed to pitch up enough to catch Trigger at the edge of his missiles' detection range. One missile, then another fired off the rails and turned as hard as they could, flying towards Trigger's plane.
He angled his plane at the last second, and managed to keep it together enough to finish the fight victorious.
"Is that what they teach you young pilots these days?" Trigger asked when the new recruit stepped off his simulator.
"No. I don't know what I was trying to achieve there," the young pilot answered sheepishly.
"Well, they should," Trigger commented with an ambiguous expression. "It almost worked, didn't it? Now tell me about your other mistake."
The new recruit nodded energetically. At least the eagerness to acknowledge his shortcomings was a good sign, Trigger thought.
"I pull on the stick too hard while dodging. I could've landed a few head-on shots at the start if I didn't spread the bullets too much."
"I suppose you're right." Trigger raised one of his eyebrows.
"I tried to correct it-"
"That's not the one I had in mind though."
The newcomer froze, surprised. He visibly started thinking.
Trigger noticed a screen on the wall and turned it on. "Maybe this will refresh your memory." The device came alive with two arrows dancing on a blue background, leaving ribbon trails and throwing thin lines at each other. The recreation of their battle. The mistake was coming up.
"I freeze up after firing!" The new recruit shouted in surprise. Trigger looked at the screen. The moment happened a second later.
"Well, I suppose noticing it is the first step to fixing."
"I'll try right away!" The newcomer almost saluted from excitement and walked back to the simulator.
Trigger smirked walking out of the room. He knew a better pilot than that kid who struggled with it for months. He knew him very well.
When the commander finally came the newcomer was still in the simulator.
"At least the amount of energy you can pour into doing all these medical checks is a good sign," The commander commented. Perhaps Trigger visited him so often to plead his case the man didn't find a conventional greeting necessary.
"I'd say so," Trigger agreed, maybe a bit too cold.
The commander sat down behind his desk, put on his glasses and reached out for the report.
"You know it's for your own good, Trigger," he said softly.
"And I want this for the good of this place," Trigger answered. His raspy voice made him sound even harsher than intended.
"Was that what motivated Mihaly, I wonder."
This comment stunned Trigger.
It was first brought up by Count. A few wrinkles on his face. a bit thinner hair. His loyal wingman was the first to suggest flying so much maybe wasn't good for him. Then, one of Mihaly's granddaughters, the scientist, more and more people trying to drag him down through fear of becoming like the old King.
Mihaly fought for none but himself. Trigger could take the insult from someone he knew, but for the commander to stoop so low was unexpected.
"Mihaly would've let EASA put him in a meat grinder if they found one big enough to fit his plane!" Trigger grabbed the edge of the desk and jumped out of his chair.
"And you'd let us do it if you could take another balloon with you?" Commander sighed. The calm tone of his response, and how quickly he came up with it made trigger sit down again.
"You saw an anomaly, Trigger." The commander put down the report, took off his glasses and looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry Mihaly gave you these unreasonable expectations, but fighter pilots aren't meant to last that long. Trust me. You've fulfilled your duty to these skies. Now do the same to those who care about you on the ground."
"You know now is not a good time, commander," Trigger insisted.
"It never is."
The commander reached for a framed photograph on his desk and looked at it fondly.
"You know, I also used to be quite the fighter pilot in my time." He looked back at Trigger. "And just like you, I resisted getting grounded."
"When the Lighthouse War broke out, I was working with a squadron in Eastern Usea. I looked like the Eruseans were going to spare us, but I didn't want to see the rest of the continent get burned either. I managed to 'borrow' one of my subordinates' flight suit before they dragged me out of the locker room back to the lounge." Commander smiled faintly for a moment.
"They managed to keep me there through the evening. I was sitting there, still in the flight suit, and all I could do was watch the news. After a while they showed a footage of an F-16 shooting down a flight of bombers over Fort Grays Island."
Trigger thought back to his first sortie.
"It wasn't a perfect flight, not at all. That pilot had a long way to go." The commander grinned. "But I saw his potential to get there. After I watched that footage I finally calmed down, got out of the flight suit and decided to-"
"...entrust the future to pilots like that..." Trigger murmured a distant memory. He was almost as shocked by what he said as the commander. Maybe he really did turn into Mihaly, he thought.
"Hm?"
"I see," Trigger said softly. When he reached out for the report his hand seemed to shake less. "I'll accept the transfer."
"I'm glad to hear that." The commander smiled. He wished Trigger well, walking him out of the office.
The promising new pilot turned nervously when he heard the door open. The commander invited him into his office. Trigger whispered "good luck" when he walked by.
After walking outside Trigger was momentarily blinded by the sun. The distant storm pocket seemed to be getting closer, but for now the wind stirred the clouds enough to show a spot of blue here and there.
Trigger smiled and kept walking. The Usean sky bid farewell to its old King. The new one was to arrive soon.