Chapter 33

 

THIRTY-THREE

Trigger groggily rubbed his eyes as he moved forward in the busy security line. He checked his watch 0830.

“Well, you know they say to get to the airport at least three hours early.” Sergeant Kyle said behind him.

Trigger yawned. “Yeah, but generally that doesn’t involve a dust off at oh-dark-thirty.” Trigger shot back

“Quiet!” ordered Morgan.

 

In reality, It had only been three thirty in the morning when Kyle had woken Trigger up. The pilot was still half asleep and barely comprehended the request to grab his “Fight tonight” bag and to meet at the runway. As he was getting out the front door, a large cargo helicopter, what looked to Trigger to be a Sea Stallion, landed on the runway, throwing a cloud of dust every direction from the massive rotor wash. By the time Trigger had made it to the helicopter, Morgan and Kyle had taken their seats and the moment Trigger was secured by a gruff sounding, Belkan speaking crew chief, they had once again departed into the darkness. As Trigger would be briefed, the three men were being moved to the Rigley region and would be briefed further there.

A three-hour Helicopter ride deposited the men at a small civilian airport outside Artiglio, where a taxicab took them to the dusty commercial airport, near the mouth of the harbor. Kyle had disappeared with the three men’s luggage briefly before returning. Trigger was unsure how he would manage to get their bags through security considering concealed within almost all of them was some form of body armor, handgun and ammo. When questioned however Kyle and Morgan both dismissed the concern.

 

Trigger surveyed the desolate airport terminal. The region was a dust filled hellscape in its better days, but with the construction of the ISEV, coupled with the war destroying their oil refineries, any hope in Artiglio being the glowing jewel of the southern deserts had evaporated. Trigger wondered how long it would be before the city would be retaken by the sands, like those he had seen in Erusea along the Whiskey Corridor.

 

Eventually the Oseans reached the Security desk.

 

Morgan quickly produced his documentation and was waived through. Next was Trigger’s turn. He handed over his ID and ticket to the security Agent. As she verified the information on both, Trigger studied the checkpoint. In one corner stood watch three IUN Soldiers, their uniforms all differing but wearing the same dark sage beret of the IUN Security Forces deployed all over Usea. Two of the soldiers were from San Salvacion judging from their mottled brown and tan uniforms and SG 550 assault rifles, while the most senior of the three stood out as a Bulgurdarestian soldier, Outfitted in a dark green digital camouflage uniform and SCAR rifle.

“And Mister Helmutkraft, did you enjoy your stay in Artiglio?” The Agent asked, making small talk.

Trigger regained his bearings. “Yes, wonderful town. Interesting culture.”

“Oh, have you been here before?” The agent asked.

“Yeah, twice but the atmosphere was a bit different.” And filled with AAA. Trigger thought to himself.

The Agent smiled and returned his documents “I see, well I hope you return soon.”

Trigger thanked her and entered the main passenger concourse of the terminal. In the discussion he had lost sight of Morgan and was equally lost on where to go for their gate.

 

Trigger stood around searching before Kyle hit him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“Yeah, but I lost Morgan.”

“Don’t worry about that. He’s gonna catch up.” Kyle said, walking off down the hallway.

Trigger ran briefly and caught up to the Marine.

“Is it normal for you guys to just run off in weird places alone like this?”

“It’s unusual if we don’t. Morgan is just getting our carry-ons. Best thing we can do is just wait for him at the gate.”

“Wont security notice?”

“Notice what? Theres gotta be a few hundred refugees fleeing through this airport. No one is gonna notice three guys who are slightly worse armed then the rest of the uniformed military here.”

“Fair point I guess.” Trigger replied dejected. The two Oseans found the passenger waiting area and took a seat. The hard plastic was hell on Trigger’s tired back and was only marginally better than the net seats on the interior of the Belkan Sea Stallion.

 

Minutes passed before Morgan caught up to them, tossing both men their duffel bags. Trigger unzipped the main pocket and discretely checked the contents. He was surprised to see his Kahr CW9 handgun was right where he had left it in its carry holster, along with the soft body armor vest tucked between the multiple days of cloths and toiletries.

 

“So what time is our flight?” Trigger asked.

Morgan pulled out the ticket. “Thirteen hundred.”

“Dammit.” Trigger groaned leaning back in the uncomfortable chair.

Trigger felt something land in his lap. The book was old and faded, the cover torn at places. It was a bright, nearly piss yellow color with dark green text and a crude depiction of an airplane on the cover.

 

THE COMPLEAT TAILDRAGGER PILOT

Trigger looked up to Morgan who had threw the book.

“What the hell is this?”

“Reading material for the flight. Since you were taking your sweet time getting to the helicopter this morning, the Crew of the helo gave it to me for safe keeping. Gift from your buddy the Broker.”

“Dammit Bandog.” Trigger muttered as he thumbed through the first few pages. It was a collection of notes from an older pilot about the mythical ‘Taildragger’ style of airplane and that pilots maxims on the subject of flying them.

 

The book only being around two hundred and fifty pages was a short read, Trigger burning through half of it by the time the boarding call was made for their flight to Expo City. Their ride was a worn looking Air Usea Boeing 737. As Trigger walked out to the jet and made his way through the path marked by stanchions, he could see the glint of the aluminum tape adorning multiple panels of the plane.

“Hey, is that engine duck taped on?” Asked Kyle as he climbed up the stairs onto the jet.

“Nah, Speed Tape. And it looks just to be the fairing.” Replied Morgan.

“Really? Is that right Trigger?” Asked Kyle. Trigger shrugged

“Yeah, we probably wont crash if that falls off anyways.” Trigger replied dryly.

“Great… just filling me with confidence guys.” Kyle said deflated.

***

Morgan stared at the overweight Customs Agent in silent contempt. Out of general principal he hated most bureaucrats, especially those who had a knack for asking too many questions with a margin of authority behind their name.

The man looked up lazily at Morgan, “Name?” he asked.

“Arthur Collins” Morgan replied. The agent squinted at Morgan with his beady eyes. Morgan hated it and a part of him wanted nothing more than to smash the fat bastards face into the desk.

“What brings you to Expo City Mr Collins?” The Agent asked. “Business Training.”

“What line of business?” The man interrogated.

“Defense related mostly.”

“How long will you and your party be staying?”

“Two weeks. Should be in the documentation.” Morgan replied, annoyance in his voice.

Behind him he could hear Trigger and Kyle idly chatting, it was the best option since Trigger was liable to say the wrong thing and make the situation that much harder, and Kyle was just as likely to actually break the mans nose for asking the intrusive questions.

 

“So it is.” The man said dismissively as he scrutinized all the passports, visas, and other forged documents in front of him.

“Is there anything you will want to be declaring at this time gentlemen?” The Agent asked.

“No.” replied the three men of varying intensities. While technically a lie, none of them were wanting to declare the various handguns, armor and explosives concealed within their luggage.

With three kerchunks of the entry stamps the man smiled and handed the documents back to the three Oseans. “Well Mister Collins, Rockwell and Helmutkraft, I do hope your stay in the FCU is a pleasant one.” The Agent said cheerfully as he ushered them away.

As the three men entered the crowded main hall of the Expo City airport, Morgan surveyed the surroundings. As Fick had explained to him that morning, someone from the Broker’s staff would be coming to meet the men and take them the rest of the way to Rigley. As Glen lead the two other men towards the exit, one individual caught his attention.

To the untrained eye, He looked no different than any other business traveler, He was wearing a suit and sunglasses, and aside from his slight muscular build he wouldn’t have warranted a second thought. It was the same reason why it made Morgan’s hair stand on end. He cautiously approached the man.

Morgan approached the man cautiously.

“David?” He asked bluntly.

The man smiled. “Faktisk” Indeed. The man replied. Morgan recognized the language as Nordenovician, and a locals accent if his hunch was correct. “Mister Morgan I trust your flight was satisfactory?” The man continued.

“Well, the pilot certainly found the runway.” Quipped Trigger.

“Yeah, I think my ass hit the ground before the wheels did.” Whined Kyle. To his credit the landing was rougher than most, but still paled in comparison to an actual crash.

David laughed at the comment. “Well, I’m pleased to tell you the car is waiting, it will be another few hours however before we arrive to the Hotel, I hope that’s Ok. If you gentlemen will follow me.” He said cordially.

 

The four men road in an uncomfortable silence along the road. The sun had long since set when they stopped for gas and food. As Trigger and Kyle returned with a grease-soaked bag of fast-food hamburgers, David finally spoke up.

“So, you all know the situation for tomorrow?” he asked.

“Not at all.” Replied Trigger his mouth full of french-fries.

“The Helo crew and the Lieutenant we’re not forth coming with details which tells me either A, we wont like it or B, your boss didn’t tell them either.” Morgan replied pointedly.

David paused to swallow his food and nodded his head.

“The Boss has you three set up with a flight school tomorrow. They’re all read in on the situation and will know you by your aliases. Once there, Morgan and Kyle will go through basic indoc on high g environments with aircraft then learn how to be a back seater. Trigger, you will be learning how to fly a smaller COIN aircraft.” David explained.

“I mean I already am a pilot; how hard could it be?” Trigger replied.

“Tell me that again tomorrow evening Trigger.” challenged David.

“Well how much more driving do we have?” asked Kyle.

“Not much, just another hour to the Motel, Airports only fifteen or so minutes away.” replied David.

“Rigley’s more than an hour away. So, we aren’t going to Rigley then.” Morgan noted.

David paused for a moment in thought. “Whoops.”

***
The town they had stopped in was reasonably small and seemed that its only major purpose was that it happened to exist along the main highway. By the time the Osean’s had pulled in, most of the businesses in its downtown district had closed, not to say anything about the few retail stores that we’re nearby. Kyle, Morgan, and Trigger waited in the suburban as David checked them into their rooms. From Trigger’s position in the vehicle, he could see the attendant hit the stereotype of the ‘guy who never left his hometown’ down to a tee. Moments later he returned to the car and handed each man a key.

“Ok Kyle your 201, Trigger 202, and Morgan 203, You gents get some rest. I’ll be by at nine o’clock to take you to the flight school. You need anything else while I’m here?” David offered.

“No, the 7-11 still open?” asked Trigger.

David paused for a moment. “Probably.  But try not to go out if you can’t help it. No idea who may be sniffing around even these parts.”

Morgan grunted “Noted.”

“Good night.” Kyle waived.

 

It was just past midnight when Trigger had silently shut the door behind him. He tried to dress the most ‘normal’ way he could, wearing a hoodie and jeans, he made his way the block to the convenience store across the street from the motel. Trigger chuckled, remembering his time as a student as he walked into the tiny convenience store.

Inside was much of what he expected.  Unlike in Osea however, most of the signs we’re written in both Common, and a local language that Trigger couldn’t understand. Along the shelves was dozens of brands of snack cakes and chips. Trigger marveled at the brightly colored packaging, despite only having been out of what he considered ‘normal’ life for a handful of weeks. He learned to miss the small and insignificant things all the same.

 

In one corner, a Slurpee machine whirred noisily as it mixed the brightly colored drinks. Trigger shrugged and went to the rear of the store to the refrigerator and pulled out a few sodas to keep in his room.

The door chimed as more customers walked in. Trigger looked over his shoulder and could see they we’re a pair of teenagers, they wore torn and baggy cloths and appeared to be the kind of people Trigger tended to avoid if he could help it. Just incase he patted his pocket. Snuggled securely in its holster was his Kahr pistol, Hopefully I won’t need those drills Zhao had me practice. Trigger thought to himself.

Trigger grabbed a few snack foods and wandered to the magazine stand. Under normal circumstances, Trigger wouldn’t have paid any attention to the tabloids. His only knowledge of them was that he learned through osmosis from talking with Cossette, who reveled in what they would often make up regarding her or other influential people she knew.

Trigger found one magazine he recognized, Expo Weekly. The cover was a sensationalized depiction of two celebrities Trigger was only tangentially aware of through seeing the movies he and Cossette watched, someone had someone else’s child and the drama that ensued.

Not even a word on the massive terrorist attack? Time marches on I guess. Trigger thought as he flipped through the pages. Not finding anything of interest he continued his thumbing through of magazines.

He then pulled out a Bana City Express. Unlike the tabloids, Express generally was a reliable news source. The first handful of articles we’re on local Osean matters, concerns with political parties and campaigns, all stuff beyond Trigger’s paygrade or interest. He paused when he found what he was looking for. It was a paparazzi shot of Cossette, the article title reading What’s Next for the Embattled Princess?

Trigger started to read until he caught a glimpse of his watch. 0034.

Shit. He thought to himself as he stood up and could see the event unfolding in front of him.

 

The cashier had his hands raised and was cowering behind the counter. One of the teenagers had a handgun pointed at him, as another ransacked the cash register. It took them a minute to notice Trigger standing there.

The thug holding the gun leveled it straight at Trigger. “Yo, what the fuck are you looking at?” he spat.

“Come on, rob his ass too so we can get out of here!” urged the thug behind the counter.

The armed thug closed the distance, Trigger raised his hands slightly.

“Ok, watch, and wallet.” The thug ordered.

“Why would I do that?” Trigger asked. Who the fuck says that? He shouted internally.

His eyes darted between the gun, the thug holding the gun, and the thug behind the counter. He couldn’t tell if the one behind the counter was armed. He weighed his options, If he could bat the thugs handgun away, he would have a chance to pull his own and possibly scare them away.

However, it would lead to drawing local authority attention, something that both David and Morgan had warned Trigger about avoiding.

“Are you stupid? Watch. Wallet. Now!” The Thug ordered pushing the handgun towards Trigger.

There was another chime. Followed by a gunshot. The Thug behind the counter collapsed, screaming in pain.

“Yeah, he is a dumbass. Now get the fuck out of here.” Barked the interloper. Trigger leaned past the Armed thug to see Morgan, in his hands was the same pistol he had threatened Trigger with when they had first met.

The armed thug turned around and started to raise his arm. Morgan held up his finger.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you. Now forty-five might not be all its cracked up to be now a days, but I can tell you for certain, that if you raise your piece to me, I will make sure you don’t have an open casket. Now Get!” Morgan said forcefully. The Thug nodded and started to make his way to the exit.

“he fucking shot me man!” cried the second thug, clutching his arm, blood oozing from his fingers. He grabbed the bag of money from the floor and started to exit. Morgan snorted and turned to the men “Leave it.”

“Fuck you man!” hissed the thug.

Trigger couldn’t see what exactly Morgan had done, but it was enough that the thugs complied and ran out of the store. The marine turned his attention to Trigger. “What the fuck did we tell you?”

“Not to leave.” Trigger mumbled.

“Not to leave! Let’s just hope that was the local flavor of idiot and not something we will have to worry about. Come on, lets go!” Morgan barked. Trigger nodded, taking his items to the countertop. The shaken-up clerk slowly stood up and took the counter. Morgan waited impatiently by the door. “Did you hit the panic button?” Morgan asked the clerk. The young teenager nodded frantically.

“Fine then. Just take the stuff and go.” Morgan ordered Trigger.

“But that’s stealing.”

“Who cares? You-“ Morgan pointed at the clerk. “-He’s taking that stuff, just say those two idiots we’re the ones who stole it. Also, we weren’t here.” He ordered. The Clerk nodded frantically.

“Come on, lets go.” Morgan urged, ushering Trigger from the store.

 

“Follow me.” Morgan said as they crossed the parking lot.

“Look I’m sorry” Trigger apologized before Morgan cut him off.

“I don’t care. We just can’t make a direct path back to the motel. Follow me and shut the hell up.” Morgan ordered.