Epilogue

Epilogue

The hangar was cold and wet, a unusually strong monsoon had blown in and reduced the already low morale amongst the pilot’s to a miserable new low.

One of them watched on a static filled TV as a young couple from Erusea was being interviewed. They were still the talk of the media and gossip peddlers, both hated and loved for similar reasons. The Wife was an influential leader, making waves against the more established larger nations of the world.

“What are they saying?” Asked one of the older pilots.
“What?” asked the man watching the television, annoyed.
“You speak their language, what are they saying?” the older man replied.

The younger man rolled his eyes. “They’re asking about the coronation since she just took the throne. I guess they’re already expecting.”




The older man laughed. “I’m sure our employer will love to hear that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you hear? That was supposed to be him. Not that war hero.”

“You really think that man’s a war hero?” the younger pilot snorted.



The older pilot shrugged. “One man’s rebel is another man’s freedom fighter. What can you say?”




“Whatever.” the young pilot said dismissively. The last phrase stuck with him though. Rebel, Freedom fighter, they’re all the same when you get down to it. He thought to himself. He once had a country, but that had been taken away. It was the fault of that couple, the War criminal and the tyrant. The young pilot hated them for taking his country away.


That was how he found himself in the cold soaked rain. He had found a new employer, one who hated them even more than he did, and his employer now gave him a new name, a new jet, a new country to fight for, but most importantly,


A Purpose.