“I may never get past it, then,” Akane says. “My father isn’t exactly the emotionally supportive type.”
“Akane, family goes beyond blood,” Rion tells her sternly, again sounding much older than his twenty-three years. “You may have only been here a few weeks, but you’re already part of our family. We risk our lives for each other pretty much every day. There’s no way any of us won’t be there to support you if you need us.”
I put a hand gently on her back to reassure her. Her slim frame trembles with quiet sobs. It still surprises me that this is the same girl that stands up straight, looking like something pulled straight from the pages of military doctrine. We’re all human, I guess. God knows I’ve had one hell of a wakeup call on that one this week.
“Do you really mean that?” she asks shakily.
“Of course we do,” I chime in for the first time. “We’re a tightly knit group, even more than most. I know you’ve been uncomfortable with how casual and relaxed the members of our squadron are, but I promise you that it helps much more than it hurts.”
“So, you’re really here, not as my commanders, but as my family?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“Then, it’s okay if I break down, just for a little?”
“Go for it.”
With that, she stops all attempts to hold in her sobs and just bawls her eyes out. She leans into my chest and I hug her close. Rion scoots closer and puts his arms around both of us and she just sits there in our collective embrace, crying as hard as she possibly can.
I don’t know how much time passes with us sitting here like this, but it doesn’t matter. We don’t have anything scheduled for today and she needs this. After what could have been minutes or hours, her sobs finally start to subside. She keeps her head on my chest as she catches her breath, her body still jerking sporadically from the occasional sob.
“Thank you…” she says, her voice muffled by my chest. “I don’t even know what to call you two right now.”
“You can call me Rion or Takashi, whichever you prefer. Feel free to call me as such whenever we’re off duty or on unofficial business.”
“Call me Hitomi. The same applies. We’re all about the same age anyway.”
“Then, thank you, Takashi and Hitomi,” she says, finally removing her face from my bosom. “This helped a lot. Things feel clearer now. Sorry, I got your shirt all wet,” she says, dabbing at my chest with her sleeves.
“It’s alright,” I tell her, reassuringly. “It just gives me an excuse to go change shirts,” I add, with a wink toward Rion.
We release her from our embrace and she stands up, brushing herself off and straightening her clothes before walking off back toward the cafeteria. Knowing her, she’s going to apologize to the cafeteria staff for causing a scene earlier.
“That girl’s got a good heart. I hope she makes it out of this with it still intact.”
“Uh huh. Sure thing, old man,” I tease him.
“Oh, I’m touched,” he shoots back sarcastically.
We stand up from our spots on the ground and stretch our legs. Our squad doesn’t have any listed operations for the day, other than the usual patrols. With no missions to plan for, the two of us go off to do other commander things.
Chapter 9
Lt. Col. Orion Tachibana
November 15, 2112, 21:12
I shift in my seat, trying to fight off the increasing feeling of numbness in my legs. A cloudless sky stretches on into oblivion all around me, the dark expanse of ocean staring up from below me. Bright clusters of lights from city nightlife dot the terrain in the distance, growing smaller and dimmer as we move further out to sea. My plane rocks gently in the cool November air as I cruise along with the other members of my squad.
Tonight’s patrol has been uneventful, filled with nothing but casual banter among the four of us while we fly around looking for anything out of place. Well, three of us, mostly. Akane has been a little more chilled out and relaxed since Hitomi and I talked with her the other day, but she’s still got that stiff air to her sometimes. More than once, she’s sounded as if she wants to reprimand us for our loose chatter, but would never do any such thing against superior officers.
Hitomi lets out a long sigh, audible through the radio as she’s yet again forgotten to turn off her transmission. She really is a bit of an airhead sometimes, that one. I guess it’s part of her charm.
“So, One, movies tonight after patrol?” she asks, likely just to keep herself entertained.
“You just want to clear out my snack stash again, don’t you?” I reply sarcastically.
“Hehe,” she giggles mischievously, not pressing the issue further.
The city lights finally fade away, lost beyond the horizon as we head farther out to sea. Below us, faint moonlight dances on the waves. Distant flashes of lightning fizzle on the sea-bound horizon, looking like camera flashes in the dark. A pretty nasty storm is supposed to hit the mainland sometime around eleven tonight, putting its estimated landfall right after our patrol ends. I sincerely hope we don’t get caught up in it.
I mute my helmet’s microphone as I suppress a yawn of my own. Hitomi and I have been dealing with so much paperwork over the last few days that we’ve hardly managed to get any sleep. I’m glad the brass allowed her to continue to assist me with the work since it was once her duty. There may not be any possible way to get all of it done with just one person.
My plane rocks a bit as it catches an errant pocket of air. The offending current causes my hand, reaching to check for any communications from friendlies, to switch the screen off instead. It takes me a moment to press the proper buttons to turn the screen back on and get it back to where I need it to be.
“What’s that?” Akane asks.
“Where?” Hitomi queries.
“Ten o’clock high.”
I look in the direction specified and can’t make anything out. My eyes strain to make out anything in the darkness, but all I can see is distant lights. Although, one of the lights seems to be moving. The optical technology in these planes is useful in these situations. I flick my extra screen over and use it to zoom in on the area in question.
There isn’t much more that I can make out from this distance, even with the zoom of the camera. I can definitely make out that there’s a moving light with a bit of blur behind it. Could it be a rocket trail?
“Adjust heading to zero-eight-seven,” I tell my squad. Before they’ve even had time to acknowledge, I’m already on the radio to command back at Misawa. “White Fang One to control, we’re seeing an unidentified light trail in the sky. Grid… H13.”
“Understood, One. We’re not reading anything on radar but proceed with caution.”
We adjust our heading to take us toward the suspicious glow much farther out to sea and pick up speed. Below us, the shimmer of moonlight on water changes as the waves increase in size. The force of the wind cuts down on our speed, even with us pushing the planes near full throttle. Clouds begin to thicken and the air, once lulling us along at a gentle bob, becomes more turbulent and harsh.
“This is not looking like something we want to be in,” Hitomi warns.
“You’re right,” I agree. “We’ll turn back if it gets too bad but, until then, we need to figure out what that is. Don’t lose visual contact or we might not find it again since it isn’t showing up on radar.”
Rain begins to prattle against my plane, more a light dusting than anything consequential. For now. I keep my extra screen trained on the light trail as we get closer and closer. The storm is making the process of catching up to the thing a very long and tedious one. It almost starts to seem as if we’re moving backwards in the wind.
After what feels like an eternity, we finally get close enough to the light trail for me to be able to make it out more clearly. The light streak in question is, indeed, a rocket trail. In front of it, a long, dark cylinder flies forth, propelled by the flames jutting from its posterior. No doubt a
bout it now.
“White Fang One to control. Unidentified object confirmed as a cruise missile. We are now moving to intercept.”
They utter a confirmation and we continue on an intercept course for the missile. The encroaching storm intensifies, the humdrum tap of water on my plane turning into a furious beating. Lightning fizzles in the clouds, maybe a few dozen miles away. This is going to be a very bad storm.
We inch closer and closer to the offending missile, progress made ridiculously slow by the storm and the projectile’s head start. I try not to let impatience take over me as I think of the missile heading closer and closer to home. There’s no telling what payload that thing could be carrying.
I look down at my map screen to get an updated idea of our location. We’re still a few hundred miles offshore, but this missile isn’t exactly taking its time on a leisurely stroll. We have maybe twenty-five minutes to half an hour before it makes landfall. I silently curse whoever launched the missile for using the storm as cover. It’s making things much harder than they need to be.
The storm has become so severe that it’s trying its hardest to smack us out of the sky. My plane is drifting a little to the side from the force of the wind and rain slamming against it. The engine temperature is a little higher than I would like it to be from pushing at max throttle to fight the weather.
Finally, we get close enough to see the missile with the naked eye. The dark silhouette blasts along on a column of fire closer and closer to Alliance territory. We don’t dare to lower our speed for fear that we may lose the missile or get blown away by the wind.
Once we’ve gotten close enough, I try to lock on to the cruise missile with a missile of my own to no avail. It seems whatever is preventing it from being picked up on radar is also preventing my targeting systems from getting a lock on it. Which makes this ten times as difficult and a hundred times more dangerous.
“Gonna have to use the cannons to shoot it down. Maintain your current distance. I’ll go after it myself. I’m going to aim for the propulsion, but I don’t want us all to get caught if something goes wrong.”
Easy enough to say. I let my plane ease toward my target, pulling it closer and closer to gun range. Once it’s finally close enough, I line up the tail of the missile in my gunsights. I wait a moment to make sure I’ve aimed properly, take a deep breath, and squeeze the trigger.
A burst of light erupts from my plane, flying forth and smacking into the tail of the cruise missile. It wobbles a little bit before the flame propelling it forward sputters out and it drops like a rock toward the sea below. It crashes into the hungry waves and sinks below the surface.
“Splash one cruise missile.”
I start to change my course back toward shore and out of the storm when something catches my eye. In the water, around the spot where the missile landed, a glow begins to expand slowly. The stormy seas somehow seem to become even choppier. My heart seizes, and my mind goes into overdrive as I realize what’s happening.
“All units, climb at full speed now! White Fang One to control, you need to get the coastal storm walls up right now.”
“What the hell, One?” Hitomi protests as she angles upward and climbs higher. “What’s got you so freaked out? What is it that… Oh. Oh, shit.”
Once we’ve reached an altitude of around fifteen thousand feet, all hell breaks loose. The water seems to pull together all in one spot, forming a depression in the surface of the turbulent waters. In the next moment, the depression swells and flings water skyward. A good portion of it seems to get vaporized entirely by the force and the rest begins to fall back to the sea, joining the already intense rain.
By itself, that may not be too much to think about. The real problem, however, is the result of that disturbance. Spawned in the wake of the blast, a huge wall of water hurtles toward the Japanese coast. We dropped the missile only about fifty or so miles from the coast, so the wave will reach land in maybe ten to fifteen minutes at that speed. I hope they make it in time.
“Yeah, screw that,” Hitomi says.
“White Fang One to control, what’s the status on those walls?” I transmit, ignoring her.
“They’re fully extended. What’s the rush?”
“There’s a massive wave headed for the mainland. The missile we took down was the same type that took out Saitama. Its payload caught when it hit the water and things went downhill from there. You have less than ten minutes before it hits.”
“Thanks for the heads up. We’ll put out the alerts to let people know to stay indoors.”
The wave is already out of my direct view by the time the transmission has finished. With the size and speed of that thing, I really hope the coastal walls hold. There are way too many people and too much infrastructure on the coast for us to afford something like that hitting.
“Let’s head back home,” I tell my team.
With that, we increase our altitude above the raging storm and turn back toward Misawa.
Chapter 10
Lt. Col. Orion Tachibana
November 28, 2112, 23:03
“Alright, cool. Let me know if anything pops up.”
I end the call and stow my phone back in my pocket, wishing I had the foresight to remember my earpiece. The cold November air chills my face and a few lazy granules of frost curl down from the sky, hinting at an early snowfall this year. With one last look at the sky, I turn around and head back inside.
As soon as I open the door, loud music blares from within with enough force that it seems to cause a breeze. I wave at the guy manning the window on my way past before entering the main part of the building. Bright strobe lights flash a multitude of colors around the room. Countless bodies gyrate everywhere—I won’t hazard a word on their rhythm or lack thereof—and all manner of drunken debauchery barely within the limits of the law can be observed.
Failing to find anyone that I came with, I opt to take a trip to the bar on the far wall of the club. Moving through the tightly packed groups of people dancing—or flailing, in some cases—is like taking a stroll through molasses. More than a few women come up and try to dance on me on my way past, but I politely shoo them away. I finally manage to break through the crowd and seek shelter at the bar.
“Whiskey, please,” I tell the bartender as I grab a seat.
The man goes about pouring the drink and I turn around to examine the clubgoers again. This place is pretty popular; even for a weekend, there’s a huge number of people here. I hear the dull thud of a glass hitting the counter and I turn to thank the bartender and grab my drink.
“Tachibana,” a voice calls from my right.
I look over to see Smith sitting two stools over. I hadn’t even noticed him when I walked up. He raises his glass and I do the same, then we both take a drink. The drink goes down nicely, and I sit vibing with the music for a while.
“You know, I never got the chance to thank you,” Smith says, having moved over a stool to be heard more easily.
“What for?” I ask, still savoring my whiskey.
“Back in May. You took a missile for me. Even though you’re the commander and we’d been fighting since we met, you saved my life.”
“It’s precisely because I’m the commander that I have to look out for my subordinates, both in the air and on the ground. But that isn’t the only reason. Regardless of how things started out, you’re still family to me, same as everyone else in the squad.”
He takes a long swig of his drink, appearing to think things over. Smith’s been pretty mellow—for him—the last few months. Even still, I never expected this out of him. I think it’s a welcome character change.
“I used to think you were some overconfident prick with a hero complex,” he manages finally. “When you stepped into that argument between me and Saika, I thought you were just trying to look cool so you could flirt with her. Now I realize that’s just who you are.”
“Don’t worry, I used to think you were a pompous asshole. Still an asshole
sometimes, but much less on the pompous side.”
Smith looks taken aback for a moment. A smile begins to play out on his face, breaking out into full-blown laughter. I chuckle a little myself, taken aback by this uncharacteristically amiable reaction.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right on that one,” he says after his laughter recedes. “But I really have come to respect you as a commander. I’m not so sure I’d be able to take the job quite as easily. I doubt things would be this successful either.”
“Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you.” I mean that too. Personality aside, Smith has always been one of the best pilots around. “I have a lot of respect for you, too, actually. You’re good at what you do, and I hear that you took on some of the difficult odd jobs while I was gone to take some of the stress off Hitomi. I thank you for that.”
“No problem. I’d prefer if you stick around this time, though.”
I laugh at the unexpected humor, nearly choking on my drink. Smith smiles genuinely, an expression I never knew he was capable of making. It almost seems as if we’re old friends. A hand on my shoulder grabs my attention.
“When did you two get so close?” Hitomi asks from behind me.
“What do you mean? We’ve always been close, haven’t we?” I quip, raising an eyebrow at Smith. He just laughs in response.
“Mhmm, sure. Get off your butt and come dance.”
She grabs my arm and pulls me toward the dance floor. I down the remainder of my drink in one gulp and set the glass back on the bar. Hitomi leads me through the throngs of people until she finds a space with slightly fewer bodies per square inch, then starts dancing on the spot. Definitely starting to look more and more like drunk Hitomi.
The song playing is quick and quirky, with lots of syncopation. It’s way more than I feel like the effort of dancing to, so I just rock to the beat. Well, what I can find of the beat, at least. It’s all over the place without even a constant tempo for more than a few seconds. Most of the people in the area seem to be just making up their own rhythm to dance to. Soon the syncopated nightmare ends.
Beyond the Clouds_Retaliation Page 5
