Chapter 47

FORTY-SEVEN

The evening was unusually cold as the sun started to set. The Marble obelisk in the center of the park glowed dimly, reflecting the golden strand of the elevator that streaked into the sky. Off in the distance, between the buildings, Trigger could see a rainstorm beginning to form in the bay. He was back in Selatapura, and though the city changed little in his absence, He couldn't help but feel nostalgic about his time stationed here.


He took a seat on one of the park benches around the obelisk and looked across to the students leaving the university camp street. No one took notice of the young man leaning on his cane, or the fact that that young man was still a wanted fugitive. Everything for the first time in a long time just felt normal to Trigger. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the crisp cold air prickling in his lunges but after the humidity of Chopinburg, or the dingy air of Yuktobania, he was glad for it.


"For a wanted terrorist, your pretty calm." Bandog's voice said from his earpiece. The former AWACS had spent the past few days trying to talk Trigger out of his plan to no avail, even providing the arrest warrants that he was to be served, as well as examples of how much time in jail he would be spending – assuming Osea didn't have him put to death immediately. Trigger had shrugged the consequences off and continued to Bandog's dismay, but Trigger had to give the man credit that he was dedicated to watching over him until the final moments.

"Are you going to join me? It's a wonderful day out here." Trigger replied.

"Nah, I'm still wanted by them, so I'll stay nice and cozy right here. Thank you very much." Bandog retorted.

Trigger checked his watch. 1642

He was somewhat surprised. He had expected the authorities to descend on him the moment he had arrived to the plaza but for whatever reason he was still a free man.

"So I've been wondering something, Figured I should ask you before they throw you in some deep dark pit." Bandog started.

"Shoot." Trigger replied.

"The Princess. You made me send a note to her – through unsecured front channels no less – Why?"

Trigger thought for a moment.

"Something tells me you're not going to buy me saying we were just good friends and coworkers right?" Trigger asked Rhetorically.

"Not a chance. Coworkers might send and Email once in a blue moon, or a phone call offer to meet up for beers. This is different. Hell, I expected you to call your Dad before you called her."

Trigger frowned at the comment. As far as he knew, his family still thought he was missing or dead. He couldn't imagine that his note would have been widely circulated. It was a reasonable question to ask, and not one Trigger had a good lie to get around.

Trigger sighed.

"She's special too me." Trigger said simply.

There was a pause.

"Really? Got another lie for me?" Bandog said unbelieving.

Trigger shrugged, though he wasn't sure if Bandog was watching him to see it. "Not a Lie. Cossette is someone special to me. If my gamble is correct, I am special to her to. Simple as that." He said.

There was a laugh on the other end of the radio, but it was quickly stopped.

"You're not joking… are you Trigger?" Bandog asked.

Trigger smirked "Nope. About this time last year in fact was our first date."

There was no reply.

"Hey, Bandog, Is it ok If I make the confessions now? Before I, you know, go to jail most likely?" Trigger asked.

"Confess away my child." Bandog replied in a faux priestly voice.

Trigger took a deep breath.

"We met at the end of November last year, and I guess I made an impression with her. We decided to make it formal right after that, but only Scrap Queen knew about it that I know of. For the next few months Cossette had her government down here. I was living off base by then so we'd meet at my apartment mostly and at least try to act like a normal couple, I'm not really sure how many people recognized us or even cared to be entirely honest. Life was good until around May of last year." Trigger started.

"You mean when the attacks happened?" Bandog asked.

"Ehh, A little before that" Trigger corrected. "The LRSSG received redeployment orders, and the Princess pulled some strings. I think there was some suspicion put towards us, but she made a convincing enough argument to the Brass that I ended up as her Liaison for the Osean Military. Got a free ride out to Farbanti and the whole nine yards. I thought everything was going fine and we were getting more serious about the relationship. I was planning on leaving the Air Force after my contract was up, just so we could be together." Trigger explained.

"What happened?" Bandog asked.

Trigger recoiled at the memory. "I made a bad judgement call. It was after the formal victory ball. I don't know what I didn't notice before hand, or maybe the timing was just off, but, it didn't go the way I planned." He explained.

There was another pause from Bandog "Tough Break. What did you ask, 'Want to cosign on an apartment with me?'" Bandog asked sarcastically. Trigger snarled at the insult for an instant before composing himself. "Truthfully, I asked her to marry me."

"Oh, Well, that's hitting above your weight, even for you."

"tell me about it. I guess I just got so swept up in everything, and well, you know. I thought she was special. I never did get a reason why she said no. Not that I imagine most guys get one to begin with. But dammit, I'd love to ask her just once, what happened? Was I moving too fast? Was it even something I could do? Just tell me." Trigger said, he could feel the emotion welling up in his voice.

Bandog sighed. "Trigger, for what its worth, I've been in your shoes. So believe it or not I know what you're going through."

"Really? There a missus Bandog you were keeping from us?"

"In matter of fact, yes." There was another pause. "I lost her right before April of last year. 18 years gone in an instant."

"Damn, You want to talk about it? You know im here to-" Trigger was cut off.

"Enough, Finish your story. Especially how did you and her end up in McKnight?" Bandog pressed, dodging the question.

Trigger nodded, "Right. That next day Cossette and I were taking part of an inspection of the local Erusean Air Force Base. The Radicals had planned to ambush and kill her there, but I guess they didn't factor my being there. Most of it was a blur, but despite everything I was most concerned about getting her out of harms way. I guess in that way same for everyone else who died buying us time to escape. I flew to McKnight since I figured she was in good hands with the Oseans. At least it appears that I was at least correct slightly."

"Bet you didn't know McKnight just got hit did you. That's why those base rats beat the shit out of you. They probably figured any Erusean was fair game. Lucky for the Princess the rest of the base showed up right after you we're hauled off." Bandog replied.

"Yeah, All I could think about while I was in that hole was her. I was, scared, honestly. But the thought of her in that same situation just pissed me off more. I think it hurt more not knowing if she was safe or not than the actual physical pain."

As Trigger explained himself, he smiled at all the memories that flooded back, both the good and the bad between him and Cossette. He explained about his interaction between Morgan and himself, and the various ways Trigger had tried to keep tabs on how Cossette was doing while being sequestered away in Chopinburg. A flood of painful memories came rushing back when he had accidentally found out about her engagement to another man and how his running off had almost cost Lauren her life. Trigger still hated himself for that outburst. Soon he concluded his story and checked his watch.

1723.

There was nothing said over the radio for a time.

"Well Trigger, that's one hell of story. I think I even believed some of it." Bandog replied. "But even if you're lying, I can tell theres no way to talk you out of this so, just confirms everything I thought about you to be frank."

"Oh and whats that Bandog?" Trigger asked slyly.

"You're a dumbass." Bandog replied sharply. "But as you've proven time and again, even a dumbass can be capable of amazing things."

"That's sweet Bandog, I think that's the closest you've come to complimenting someone."

"Don't press your luck Trigger." Bandog warned.

"I'll keep that in mind." Trigger replied.

Trigger could here some muttering from the other side of the radio. "Looks like our time is finally coming to an end Trigger. Bandit, six o'clock, closing." Bandog advised.

Trigger smirked. "Understood. Hey Bandog, before you go."

"What?"

"Thanks." Trigger said simply before pulling the earpiece out and throwing it onto the path in front of him. He stayed stoic as the sound of rushing footsteps approached.

"Major, I would advise you put your hands up." A voice ordered from behind him. Trigger slowly complied with the mans directions. The voice sounding familiar to him but without being able to turn and face them, Trigger was lost. Uneasily he stood up, a considerable discomfort without the aid of his cane still lying beside him on the bench. More footsteps rushed up around him as someone pulled his arms and forced them into handcuffs.

"Major, I am Special Agent Jeff Palmer of AFOSI. You are suspected of terrorism, sedition, treason, and desertion. I advise you that under the provisions of Article 31, UCMJ, you have the right to remain silent." The Agent's voice trailed off as Trigger lost focus. His time was up. Everything that happened now would be up to a court martial instead of at the barrel of a gun.

Trigger was entirely content with that outcome.

As the Agent finished his script, Trigger couldn't help but chuckle. "What's so funny Major?" the Agent asked annoyed. Trigger shrugged "Déjà vu is all."

Palmer was excited as he watched the Security Forces van pull away. Not only had his case had a major breakthrough with the dumbass reaching out to one of the most watched individuals on the planet, but it was through channels that one of the other headaches Jeff had to deal with on a constant basis used.

His understudy, Lieutenant McKay, was waiting for him leaning on the hood of the car as he loosened his bullet proof vest. Middle age was finally catching up to him whether he liked it or not. "Mission accomplished sir?" She asked.

"Finally." Palmer grunted as he opened the trunk and haphazardly threw his vest into it, slamming the door down.

"Did he happen to say anything?" McKay pressed. Palmer shook his head, "Nope, just laughed like an idiot after I read him his rights."

"Weird."

"Yeah, I know! For a guy of his caliber, I expected more." Palmer said disappointed as he piled into the driver seat. McKay walked around the car and took her seat on the passenger side. "So where to next?" She asked.

Palmer thought for a moment "Well, they will still need time to book him into the brig, but we have first crack at interviewing him."

McKay frowned "That will take some time before he's ready."

Palmer sighed turning on the car "Yeah I'm in no mood to deal with him either so we will handle that problem tomorrow. Tonight, will be to get the extradition orders in place just so his friends can't pull off anything to bust him out."

McKay shot him a sideways glance "What do you mean?" "The Major might be a good pilot, but he's no spymaster. We found him because he wanted to be found. Someone has been protecting him all this time and if its who I think, Him being in the middle of an Osean military base won't stop them."

"How can you be so sure? Its not like a prison break would be inconspicuous."

"It happened before. McKnight Air Base when the princess showed up. Security Forces found a group of maintainers with the utter hell beaten out of them and a pool of blood in a hangar. We were never able to get a solid DNA match due to its age and how many different guys blood was in there, but something about the Princess' escape rubbed me the wrong way."

"Whats your theory?"

Palmer shrugged "Still that Trigger had something to do with it, and his buddies broke him out before we could get him."

McKay turned her attention out the window "Hell of a theory sir."

"Yeah and I hope to prove it once we get him into a hole in Oured." Palmer replied determined.
The fluorescent lights hummed up above as Count checked his email for the dozenth time that night. It was still surreal to him that despite only being at New Arrows a handful of times during the war, and only passing through twice since Selatapura, it was technically his and the LRSSGs duty station and by extent, home.

Home. Count couldn't help but frown at the bitter thought that followed. He couldn't deny that the LRSSG had been extremely fortunate, only losing a few pilots during the war. As he learned from the pilots, he met from Trigger's old squadron months prior; Other units had been almost entirely wiped out, and many carried on in name only with none of their original crews surviving the conflict. The LRSSG was far from a squadron of Theseus, it still hurt Count to see the empty lockers in the flight equipment shop. Quasi memorials to those who were missing or dead.

Count pushed the bittersweet memories of his predecessors out of his mind as he returned to the task at hand. Late last-minute updates to the flight schedule from Ops, though he already knew that none of his pilots would be on it. After almost two years straight of constant deployments, the Air Force and seemingly the world had finally granted them R&R, something that the pilots desperately needed after the green hell of Perbla. The next email was from Captain Boese of the maintenance Squadron.

To Counts dismay, two more of his jets were now destined for the boneyard due to overuse. With immense frustration he turned to the white board behind him and erased the affected jets from the roster. During the war, the LRSSG had been fortunate to only lose a handful of aircraft to enemy action, with most being replaced within days if they didn't already have spares ready and assigned. Now the safety net of a war time logistics train was gone.

He glanced at who was left.

870, 124, 015.

The last five jets were still in long term restoration at the depot in Osea, meaning the only way the LRSSG would be able to get their prerequisite hours for currency was to borrow other squadrons jets, and pray that their own jets wouldn't be beset with maintenance issues of their own. Other squadrons with as few pilots and aircraft as the LRSSG would have likely been disbanded, but Count was grateful that the Osean Command viewed them differently. A Buzzing in his flight suit's pocket roused him from his trance. It was a text from Huxian, asking if he would be returning to her apartment off base or if he was once again staying in the New Arrows Officer barracks.

He shot her back a non-committed reply quickly turning his attention back to the mountain of paperwork he still had to get through. The extra nights were starting to wear on him, and he often found himself cursing Trigger for not only leaving the job to him but having the gall to go missing or die right after. Though Count would never have admitted it, he knew that he was approaching his breaking point. He just hoped the situation would be resolved before that point.

Throwing his hands up in defeat, Count began to close down his computer for the night, determined to find some food before crawling into his rack and falling asleep. Turning off his desktop and standing to leave, his office phone began to ring. Count stared at it debated to let it ring to his voicemail or to throw it from his office window for a moment before changing his mind and picking up the cheap plastic handset.

He picked up the phone "Long Range Strategic Strike Group, Captain –" He started before getting cut off by the person on the other end of the line.

"Captain, this is Major Carter with General Shepards office, do you have a moment?" the man on the other line spoke.

Count rolled his eyes and sat back down. "Yes, sir I have a second." He replied, allowing his irritation to be heard in his voice.

"I am sending a courier with the details, but we need to redeploy the LRSSG tomorrow." The Major began. Count scowled "Tomorrow? Sir with due respect, we don't have enough aircraft to sortie at our home base, let alone a deployment. It just can't be done!" He protested.

There was a pause on the other end of the line "We are aware of that. The General is giving you operational authority to pull any jets from the 102nd to get it done. Doesn't matter what you have to do for equipment, he wants the LRSSG taking point on this mission." The Major directed.

"Well, that's fine but, I still don't have pilots, most of them are on leave." Count countered. Thanks to the extended block of R&R the LRSSG was granted; Skald, Tailor and Lanza were a continent away in Osea, while Fencer and Jeager were on leave at their homes in Osea leaving the only two pilots of the strike group as Huxian and Himself.

"Leave for Cyclops and Strider pilots and crew in Usea has been revoked, we will make arrangements for those in Osea." The Major decreed.

Count sighed "I understand. Is there anything else I need to know? Can I at least know what Im preparing for?"

"The Courier will have all the details. Make sure you have enough jets for your pilots. That is all Captain. Goodnight." The Major replied curtly before the line went dead.

Count seethed for a moment before slamming the handset against the receiver in frustration. "Fucking Dammit!" he hissed before stabbing his finger into the power button on the PC. Slowly the computer came to life, and after what felt like an eternity, he was able to log in and access his files.

Due to his general distaste when it came to working on the computer, his file directory was in disarray, but after minutes of searching he found what he was looking for. With a double click he opened the maintenance rosters from the other F-15 Squadron based at New Arrows, the 102nd Tactical Fighter Squadron "Privateers". The 102nd was one of the 'operational' squadrons based at New Arrows, allowing them nearly two dozen F-15 fighters at any time not including jets in the hangars for maintenance and restoration for their nearly three dozen pilots. As Count clicked through the recent discrepancy logs for each jet he smirked at the thought of 'Liberating' what he needed to get the job done. It made him feel like he was back in the Penal Unit again, but instead of a pencil he was stealing, it happened to be a flight of fourth generation fighter jets at the behest of a General whose name he had already forgotten.

Pulling out a piece of paper, he jotted down the aircraft number's he was looking for and quickly called the private number of Captain Boese.

He spoke when he heard the line pickup. "Hey Tim, Its Count. I need a favor, and there's a keg in it for you and your guys…"

Cossette was jolted awake. For an instant her eyes darted across the dimly lit cabin, fearful she was once again in the C-1 over Tyler Island. After a moment, she calmed down and relaxed in her chair.

Just turbulence she thought. The Cabin itself was smaller than what she was used to, though it made little difference with how Cossette, Gretchen and one of her bodyguards were the only passengers on board.

The Gulfstream 650 was a recent purchase of the Erusean Air Force, and despite its hefty price tag Cossette was grateful for its ability to be discrete and for its speed, being nearly two hundred miles an hour faster than her C-1. Gingerly, Cossette opened the window shade, she could only see a dark void below her, and a vast ocean of stars above.

She patted her pocket, inside was the note Trigger had sent for her. Despite her initial anger with the Osean diplomats, they conceded to allow her a meeting with him if he indeed showed up. She hated the game they were playing but would have to comply with their wishes if she wanted to see him again.

Her mind started to race, she wondered how he was doing, where he was, thousands of questions running through her mind at once, enough to make her feel nauseous.

The plane banked noticeably, rousing her from her thoughts. A small chime was heard as the pilot made an announcement.

"Cabin crew prepare for landing" he advised.

In the far distance, Cossette could see the lone strand, climbing high into the heavens.

"I'm coming Trigger." She whispered.