Shattered skies

Chapter 3

A freeway under construction in a wheat field outside of town... When they started construction, I remember how the mayor bragged about it, even though it would completely bypass our town. The freeway became the occupation force's makeshift runway, and the unfinished tunnels, their bunkers. This was their base. They were the elite fighter squadron, chosen to protect the cannon. Ironically, the same cannon that was created to shoot down the asteroids became a catalsy to the war. But when the allied attacks no longer came, the squadron was assigned long-ranged missions that took them to distant battlefields. I thought of the words I would use to confront him and bidded my time. Although I harbored these feelings within me. I could not get close to him. His wingman was always by his side. Despite having a gentle demeanor, I could tell that the wingman would never allow danger to get near Yellow Thirteen, Even on land. The pillar of their group, Thirteen excuded an air of invincibly. He always chose to fly a five-plane formation. He was a man who prided himself not on his kill record, but on his record of never losing a squadron member. It's difficult for me to describe just how good Yellow Thirteen's flying was. But I witnessed it once from the ground. The lead plane of the five-plane formation should have turned the same arc with the same timing as the others... Yet only him drew sharp contrails. His heart felt compassion towards the weaker enemies he downed. Some day, if an equal appeared and challenged the limits of his skills in a fight, he would bear no resentment about being shot down. He said this himself. And so as time passed, I found a goodness of a home in their company. Leaving them was no longer an option for me now...