Trigger felt his heart racing as he looked around the courtroom. The tense energy was apparent in everyone as they waited with a collective held breath for the conclusion of the trial.
“So tell me,” Trigger started
“What?” replied Roshack.
“Exactly how screwed am I?”
The lawyer thought for a moment before shrugging. “Great question.”
It had been over a week since the closing arguments were made by both sides and the judges sequestered themselves. It was now up to the five senior officers to decide his fate. Trigger felt as if he was stuck in a parachute watching a dogfight unfold above, Helpless to the whims of people he couldn’t talk to, let alone see.
“If its been this long, it means we made a good enough argument that someone believed us. Otherwise this would have been over with immediately.” Roshack explained.
“So it's maybe one guy-”
“-or girl” Roshack interjected,
“-or girl, that decides if I get lined up and shot?”
Roshack grinned grimly “Pretty much, of course if they were to give you the death penalty we could make an appeal. This isn’t Yuktobania in the fifties if that's what you’re asking.”
Trigger turned his attention back towards the bench, “I am filled with confidence.” he replied sardonically. Roshack glanced at him “For whatever its worth, I believe your innocent.”
“Thanks.”
He felt a soft hand on his shoulder, turning around and he could see Cossette. “How are you holding up?” she asked. Trigger smirked “I’d be lying if I wasn’t thinking about how far I could get before the guards caught me.”
Cossette gave him a puzzled look. “In your condition? I’d say a hundred meters, give or take.”
“Only one hundred?”
“I’m being generous darling. You needed your cane today.”
Trigger rolled his eyes.
“Bah, I think I could make it two, no, two fifty before they caught me.” he shot back playfully.
“Maybe if you tripped and went sliding perhaps.”
“Wouldn’t that be something for the papers, ‘Accused fighter pilot tries to flee court martial, ends up tripping in his escape.’ Not very dignified if you ask me.”
Cossette cracked a weak smile. “Never change Trigger.”
“Well it’d be worth a shot.” he said before the bailiff walked to the center of the room.
“All rise!” He bellowed. Trigger weakly stood up from his chair, but leaned himself on the table to stay standing as the panel of judges marched in.
Trigger studied their faces. Some of them were grim, others like the head judge Major General Payne were harder to read.
“I’d hate to play poker against her.” Trigger whispered, motioning towards the general to Roshack before being silenced.
Payne took her seat and paused for the rest of her Associate judges to take their seat.
She cleared her throat, Trigger could feel his blood rushing waiting for the verdict to be read.
“Before I begin, I would like to say one thing.” she started. “It is an undeniable truth, the Second Continental war has left us all with scars. Everyone lost friends, loved ones or colleagues to that terrible conflict. But what we all must remember is, the war is over, and regardless of who won or lost, we need to move past our bitter rivalries and look at the facts of the case. Our court is one of the few places that we must stay impartial, no matter our own personal feelings or vendettas. This court has looked at the evidence presented as well as the service record of the accused and has come to the following verdict.”
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, Trigger held his breath as she started reading the verdicts.
“Major, on the charge of treason. This court finds the accused ‘Not Guilty’.”
Trigger could hear a hushed murmur in the courtroom. Roshack exhaled sharply and Cossette squeezed his shoulder.
“On the charge of sedition. This court finds the accused ‘Not Guilty’”
Time began to slow for the pilot. Each syllable seeming to take an eternity.
“On the charge of Terrorism. This court finds the accused ‘Not Guilty’”
“Yes!” Roshack said in a hushed whisper. Trigger couldn’t relax though.
“Major, On the charge of Conduct unbecoming an Officer and a Gentleman, the court finds the accused guilty as charged.”
Cossette’s grip on his shoulder now was like a vice. Both the pilot and his Lawyer held their breath.
“The accused is hereby sentenced to time already served, will be demoted to the rank of Lieutenant, with forfeiture of all pays and allowances between the dates of his absence, will be taken off any and all flying details and is barred from recommissioning as an Officer within the defense forces.”
The words echoed in his head. As Payne adjourned the court martial.
He looked to Roshack dumbstruck “What just happened?”
The lawyer sighed, “Clearly i'm a better lawyer than I thought. You just got off of the more serious charges and will be out of a job when your contracts up. Your a free man Trigger.”
All Trigger could do was laugh as he collapsed in relief, Cossette, Roshack and the pilots of the LRSSG Rushing to his side with questions and concerns.
“Trigger!” Cossette shouted, he held up a hand to waive them off. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just tired. It's done, it's finally done.” he said, Grinning from ear to ear.
“It's finished.” Cossette replied smiling, giving him a kiss.
Trigger looked up to Roshack. “Now what?”
The lawyer smiled, “You need to hit an exchange lieutenant, Your uniform is not befitting your rank.”
“Never thought i’d be so happy about a demotion.”
***
Trigger walked into the Mage Squadron ready room. It had been six months since his initial deployment to Fort Grays, and almost a year since he had flown. True to their word, they had pulled his wings, and relegated him to a menial operations support position that had him forgotten about in the hectic day-to-day life of the squadron. The only time anyone had even noticed his rank was the gate guards he saw in the morning. None of that bothered him. For he was just biding his time waiting for this day to arrive. It seemed like yesterday he was a nugget, waiting for Clown and Knockers orders while Erusean bombers attacked the base from overhead.
That was now a distant memory as Trigger made his way through the chairs towards the head of the room, a freshly painted Mage logo on the wall. He smiled before turning to walk out.
He was jolted as a group of young pilots rushed into the room from behind him, he caught himself on his cane as the first pilot apologized and rushed to his seat ahead of a briefing about to take place. They were young, and energetic, the frantic energy only a brand-new pilot had. Trigger caught himself smirking at the sight.
“You have to love the hatchlings, right?” a woman spoke from beside him. It was IRIS, the 508th Tactical Fighter Squadron’s newest commander, her new Captains ranks shining bright upon her shoulders. “Something like that,” Trigger replied.
“You out of here?” She inquired.
“Finally, just forged the documents.” Trigger said jokingly, causing her to raise an eyebrow. “Given your record, I half believe that. Regardless, Good luck Trigger.”
“Likewise.” Trigger said, excusing himself.
He slowly walked his way through the small base to the Personnel office. There behind the desk sat a bored looking Technical Sergeant.
“I have my paperwork ready.” Trigger reported.
The balding man only raised his eyes to see Trigger before motioning to a bin.
“We’ll review it in three to five days.” he said in a bored monotone.
Trigger chuckled slightly “Is there anything you can do now? I was supposed to separate today.”
The Sergeant sighed heavily. “Let me see what we can do. Just for you.” he said sarcastically. “Now take a seat.”
A few minutes later, a captain walked out of his office and grabbed Trigger’s paperwork. “Come with me lieutenant.” He directed,
The officer took a seat behind his desk and motioned for Trigger to do the same.
“So, Lieutenant, I see your contract is up today, is that correct?” he asked rhetorically.
“Yeah, Actually have a flight out of here later today.”
“Oh, fun, anywhere interesting?” the captain asked with a half enthusiastic tone.
“Back home.” Trigger said smiling.
“I see. Well, slight issue with your paperwork. I see you have yet to finish your course on post military life. Thats kind of important.”
“You got to be kidding me I-” Trigger protested before getting cut off.
“Look, the Defense Force wants to take care of its own and make sure you're not going to be stuck in a van by the river. So if you can, we really need that course done.”
Trigger sighed heavily “Did you bother to see who my spouse is.”
“No but I do see you also never did the paperwork for them to receive any of your benefits and… oh.”
“Exactly.”
“Well in that case, we can just skip that.”
After another twenty minutes, Trigger had finally been released from his contract. Stepping out of the office, he could feel the cool tropical breeze on his face. As he was about to pull out his cell phone to call Cossette, he was startled by the acrid smell of cigarette smoke.
“Hey, heard you got fired.” the familiar voice of Count said, crushing out a cigarette and embracing Trigger in a hug, slapping him on the back, hard.
"Yeah, shit happens I guess." Trigger grunted. "You’d think for someone with a Distinguished Flying Cross, they’d at least host a ceremony for your departure.” Count said.
Trigger rolled his eyes, “Yeah I got mine in the mail. I think the air force just would rather wish I didn’t exist.”
“Really, not even a ceremony when you got it? Harsh.”
“Well how's it being the golden boy of the Air Force anyway?” Trigger asked.
“Has it’s ups and downs. We just got the new F-15EX, so we've been training on that. Actually thats what brought me here.”
“What do you mean?”
Count gave a sly grin “Had someone in a high up position tell us that you were feeling down that you never got your Fini flight. Well, it just so happens, a few of us needed our cross country sign-offs, so figured we kill two birds with one stone."
“You’re kidding, You know i'm barred from the flight line right? Plus I dont have any of my equipment anymore.”
“Well, you’re only wrong on half of those things. First, you left all your shit at New Arrows which means I have your spare harness and a spare helmet. Second, Like you said, I’m the air force's golden boy. They won't crucify me for anything right now. Come on, Huxian and the others are waiting.”
Trigger followed his wingman with giddy excitement as they made their way towards one of the closest hangars.
Ducking into the room was a handful of LRSSG pilots and a few of the local base mechanics milling around. Huxian walked up with a duffel bag and shoved it into Trigger’s arms. “Go get changed. The plane is getting refueled now.” She instructed.
Trigger was grinning from ear to ear now. “Yes Ma’am.”
He was slower now, but it didn’t take him too long to change from his utility uniform back into the flight suit and harness. Walking out of the bathroom, he found Count already waiting for him with his gear on. “Come on, clocks ticking.” he said, tapping his finger on his watch. “Yeah, yeah, I'm a cripple remember.” Trigger said dismissively. “Yeah, and you're only pathetic, not terminal, come on, move it or lose it.” Count teased.
Out on the ramp sat a brand new F-15EX. The paint job hadn’t faded yet, leaving bright blue splotches across the fuselage and control surfaces. Freshly applied WW stencils adorned the vertical stabilizers. Unlike the F-15C’s Trigger had flown, the F100 engines were replaced with the more powerful F110 engines with a distinctive ‘burner can’ as well as the bulkier conformal fuel tanks. Trigger followed Count through the pre-flight checks and stood at the cockpit of the aircraft. He grabbed the rear ladder and began his ascent.
“Hey wait a minute, what are you doing?” Count asked.
“Well I thought I would take the back seat and-” Trigger explained before getting cut off.
Count shook his head disapprovingly. “You. Front Seat. Now.”
“But I dont know the first thing about getting it started, I’ve never even been inside one, let alone flown one.”
Count shook his head dismissively. “I can handle that from the back seat, and besides, its like riding a bike, You never really forget. Now get in so we can go.”
Trigger took his seat and connected his harness to the ejection seat. Looking forward he froze. Unlike every other fighter that had its own set of MFD’s and gauges, the F-15EX had a single display. Trigger was reminded of what he saw in the F-35’s cockpits. “Uhh, where is everything? How do I turn it on?”
“Relax, will you?” Count said as he took his seat and went through the start up procedure. Within minutes the display had come alive, and while Trigger didn’t know the function of most of the buttons, he was able to bring up the important pages, letting him relax back into being a pilot.
“Ok, we’ve got Information Bravo. Your airplane now Trigger.” Count handed off..
“My Airplane.” Trigger replied, taking a deep breath. “Fort Grays Tower, Strider One-One, North ramp, departure north bound, with bravo.” He called over the radio. “Rusty, eh?” Count quipped.
“Shaddup.” Trigger shot back before being interrupted by the tower.
“Strider one-one, taxi to Runway 36 via Alpha, November.” the controller instructed
“Three Six, via Alpha, November. Strider One-One” Trigger replied. He added a touch of throttle and the jet began rolling. He could hear the Canopy close with a loud pop as Count started their before-takeoff checklist. Within a few minutes the lone F-15 was sitting at the end of the runway.
“So what are we doing anyway?” Trigger finally asked.
“Dunno. Anything you want to do I guess. I have enough plausible deniability regardless.”
“Well thats reassuring. Do you wanna do something dumb?”
“Trigger, I flew with you in a tunnel, I think we’re well past the doing dumb things, stage.”
“Thats fair. Well in that case. Hold on.”
“Strider One-One, you are cleared for take off, Unrestricted climb is approved.” the Controller directed.
Trigger lined the fighter up on the runway and held on the brakes. He eased the throttle forward, hearing the dull booms as the afterburners engaged. Releasing the brakes he was forced back into his seat as the nearly 60,000 pounds of thrust propelled the jet forward. He watched as the HUD’s airspeed tape rapidly flew by. Adding a hair of backpressure on the stick, he first felt the nose lift off the ground, then immediately followed by the rest of the jet. He could feel and hear the landing gear retract into the fuselage. Pulling further back on the stick he flew through a low level cloud deck, before breaking out seconds later into a magnificent blue sky. He eased off the afterburner.
“How are you doing, Trigger?” Count asked.
The pilot didn’t reply, though his friend didn’t ask if it was because he didn’t hear the question or was too choked up with emotion.
***
Cossette sat in the back of her Gulfstream 650 jet. Trigger was late, and wasn’t picking up his phone. She sighed, worried and went back to her magazine. Suddenly her phone buzzed.
The Caller ID showed it was Huxian.
“Hey, quick, You’re here to pick Trigger up, right?” The woman asked excitedly.
“Well, yes, but, what? Where are you?” Cossette replied, confused.
“You’re at Fort Grays? Step outside on the ramp if you can, Quick!” Huxian ordered.
Cossette rushed to the door and out on the vast concrete space. She could see other Oseans had gathered as well. Somewhere, a radio was barking in protest.
“What’s going on Huxian?”
“Just look towards the runway!” the woman replied.
Off in the far distance, at an uncomfortably low altitude was a small black dot.
Within seconds it had grown, though it unnerved Cossette that she still heard nothing.
Within a heartbeat, she could see the distinctive shape of a fighter jet streak past. A clear boom-boom could be heard as it passed, screaming down the runway with an impossibly large jet of flame from its twin engines.
The plane pulled into a high climb before doing a roll and speeding off into the distance.
Minutes later when ears stopped ringing, she noticed a text on her phone.
T: How was the show?
