Murder in the Skies: Prologue

"Murder in the Skies: Prologue"

"Check your six Rapier 3! He's got a lock on!"

The muffled voice of my wingman screamed through the background static of white noise and the roar of five thousand pounds of thrust. The frenzied screech of the alarm sensor flared to life as the fighter's computer confirmed my wingman's warning. I would be dead in a few seconds if I didn't evade.

But why did I want to live? What was left to fight for?

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We have been fighting this war for over a hundred years now.

We had gained so little for giving so much.

Historians argue about the true cause of the war. The real answer is far more petty than what some of the propaganda says. We are not fighting a divine war against an oppressive fanatical dictatorship. We are not doing the work of God. We started this war for one thing. It was not glory or righteousness. It was for natural resources. Oil, metal, lumber...Resources that we needed since we had so foolishly wasted our own. The history books say that our cause was justifiable, that God was on our side. The "dictator" of the enemy regime had fallen within the first two years of the war, captured and executed by our government. The action only made him a martyr and the war was reignited. A whole new generation of dead soldiers was born from the ashes of his execution and the war raged on. Civilization was cast aside with the continuation of this war and countless lives have been sacrificed for nothing. The rules of war, if such a thing ever truly existed, were forgotten when the first nuclear weapons were fired by us. They responded in kind, and so did their allies. The world was plunged into nuclear darkness and humanity seemed lost forever. But if one thing can be said about the human race, it is that we are stubborn. New nations arose from the ruins of the former world powers and struggled for superiority. On the barren landscape, in the blood-drenched oceans, in the shattered skies...war was waged by all for all. No longer was war simply for political and financial gain, it was for survival.

It was the only way of life.

The Independent States of Liberty, or ISAL, rose from the ashes of North America and salvaged what they could from the shattered nations of Canada, Mexico and the United States. The nuclear holocaust had destroyed most major cities and had left the once prominent nations devoid of most of their former power. A charismatic leader by the name of Kasey Falner soon came to power within ISAL and he entered the newborn nation into a world of conflict and senseless war. ISAL began its campaign against the former enemies of the United States, the Free Nations of Islam. As the renewed war escalated, other countries joined in and it has been unending ever since. Falner's "guidance" has been one of war and conquest. ISAL now exists for only one purpose: world domination.

We were fighting for nothing.

We were dying for nothing.

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"Eject Rapier 3! Eject! Damn it, Cross, get out of there!"

Harman's voice echoed in my helmet as he called out for me to deflect. I could hear the missile closing in, a deliverer of death beckoning for yet another sacrifice to a deceptive cause. I closed my eyes and let out a ragged breath. Death was so close; peace was within my grasp...

I pulled back on the controls and threw the plane into a spin, narrowly avoiding the approaching missile.

The fiery bolt exploded close enough for my fighter to shudder, much as I did. I opened my eyes and looked up at the cerulean skies above me. I should have been nothing more than a burning cinder, another casualty of a senseless war. The skies above me should have been dotted with the wreckage of my plane. Why had I turned away from the offered salvation?

I shook my head and turned my attention to the HUD. A flashing yellow mark indicated that my wingman had nailed my opponent, ending his torment before he could end mine.

Pity.

I set the plane on autopilot, plotting a course for the carrier I called home. My eyes glanced over at a side screen. Four brilliant red slashes confirmed my kill tally for this sortie. I had killed those pilots without remorse. Pilots who were much like me, mindless tools of a vengeful government. Pilots who might have had families, hopes and dreams. I had snuffed them out without a thought. Life was meaningless to me. So meaningless that I did not think twice about taking it from others, from my so-called enemies.

I am a murderer, a slayer of my fellow men.

The plane shuddered slightly as I lowered the landing gear. I could see the carrier was in sight, a metallic island in a sea of endless violence. The monotone voice of the flight tower operator droned in over my headset, confirming my landing approach. I didn't even respond. This was all second nature now. Suit up, fly out, kill, return home. Repeat it all over again the next day. What an empty existence.

The fighter landed safely on the deck of the battle-scarred carrier. The sounds of the engines died away and were replaced by the sound of depressurization as the cockpit opened and allowed the smell of jet fuel and the faint scent of blood to mingle with that of sweat and leather. I stood solemnly and climbed out of the fighter, the only true place were I could be alone with my thoughts. Those thoughts drifted away as I stood on the deck of my home, the only home I had ever known. The life of a military pilot did not allow for much contemplation once he returned back to the ground, away from the solace of the heavens. The only place for thinking was during flight, when he was truly alone. Utterly alone.

My next mission will be soon. Perhaps then I would think more deeply and find a cause worth fighting for. Or perhaps I would find peace and not return home. Either way, the war would continue and rage on.

There would be no peace for humanity.

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The conflict continues...

Murder in the Skies  (18+) A novella based on the life of military pilot Gerald Cross. Military Fiction. #855301 by Chris & Christina McCoy

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