"Pilots," the General pronounced clearly with his deep voice. "From today on, you will dedicate your lives to serving this city. You will dedicate your lives to protecting those within these walls, from the everpresent danger of New Asia. You are warriors. You are protectors. Make us proud, pilots. From today on, you listen to the orders of The Council. From today on, you live everyday to serve The Council. Good luck, pilots."

That was the speech they were given during their graduation ceremony at the annual military parade.

The Council members stood atop a high balcony, looking down upon them like gods looking down on mortal beings. Dressed in glistening white robs decorated with black and red, they looked like military yet scholarly leaders.

The crowds roared, congratulating the new pilots on their graduation. Loud orchestral music played, and together everyone roared out the lyrics to their anthem.

That day changed One-six. It felt as if his whole life lead up to that single point. He swore, like he was made to many times before, to dedicate his life to serving the city.

But now as they ran through the dark tunnel, not much caring about where it would take them, he didn't know what to think anymore.

It was a close call, they had almost been seen. And the time was getting late, they would be caught soon if they didn’t find a way back in.

“What was that?” Two-six shouted, jogging besides him.

“I don’t know,” One-six answered, his mind still trying to understand the scene he had witnessed earlier. Why were there bodies? Aren’t their seniors meant to be retiring? What did Captain Steiner mean by ‘Slated for incineration’?

The answer was pretty simple.

“We aren’t actually people are we?” Two-six asked again. “We are just… tools… weapons.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say back. The idea had been in the back of his head for a while, but he had always tried to convince himself otherwise.

He felt something change inside him. He felt an existential dread which he couldn’t quite comprehend. Like the feeling he gets when he finds a puzzle he can’t solve, just many many times worse.

“That’s just how it is isn’t it? We live, we fight, and then when we can’t anymore they just dispose of us.” Two-six continued. “What’s the difference then if we just get killed in combat? We don’t feel fear right?”

“No… we don’t.”

“Then why do I feel an urge to just curl into a ball in a safe corner where no one can find me?” Two-six asked, desperate to find some sense she could grab onto. “Am I the weird one? What are they going to do if they find out that I’m scared of dying?”

One-six shook his head. Truth be told, he had no clue either. But he did know that he too felt the urge to run away from the idea of death. In combat he had never felt it, even when confronted by the muzzle of an enemy’s gun. But the idea of getting shoved into an incinerator just somehow felt… empty, pointless, counterproductive.

“They’ve lied to us this entire time haven’t they?” Two-six asked again.

“Maybe this is just a one-off. Maybe…” One-six began, more so trying to comfort himself than anything else. But Two-six cut him off.

“No it’s not!” She shouted. “Have you ever heard from anyone who’s left this place? Have you ever communicated with anyone outside of the military? The more I think about it the more realize I should have noticed it earlier."

One-six thought for a moment, then shook his head. He was born in the military, raised in the military, and will soon die in the military. The first thing he remembers seeing is the white uniform of the nurses, and soon after the black uniform of the air force.

“Who do we tell this to? Do we tell anyone?” Two-six asked.

“No. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell anyone except Two-five and One-five. I’m sure that was not something we are supposed to see.”

“So what do we do then? Who do we talk to?”

“Nothing, we don’t do anything about it, for now. I’m going to hold a team meeting when we find our way back.”

Two-six nodded silently.

They soon arrived at another intersection, this time with three rectangular vent ducts which seemed to lead into the white corridors of their base.

They found their way to a utility room with no one inside, and hopped down from the vents as quietly as they could.

As it turns out, they had traveled to another division quite some ways from their own, and the time was already approaching 0700. They had to almost sprint their way back to their own division, and got into their room just before the bell rang.

“I’m calling a team meeting,” One-six said as he stepped through the door.

“What happened?” Two-five asked. She had been sorting through some files of her computer, but now she had turned around in her seat.

One-five was sipping on a cup of coffee and reading reports on the war effort.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to tell you.”

*****

“So what do we do?” One-five was the first to speak after One-six has spilled everything. “Who can we talk to who wouldn’t turn us in?”

“No one,” One-six answered. “Our fellow pilots maybe? But they would just report me for being delusional.”

“First thing’s first, how do we address the fact that you left the base without permission and trespassed into forbidden areas?” One-five questioned. “And why should we believe you two? For all that matters you two have the least credibility out of the four of us.”

"I just hoped that maybe we've known each other long enough to build some trust."

"So? That doesn't..."

“Don’t try to change the topic,” One-six commanded. “What more do you think is still kept from us? What more of the things we are told are lies too?”

“It doesn’t matter!” One-five shouted angrily. “We are pilots. We fight for our country, we do what we are told, and that’s it. We don’t need to know everything and they don’t need to tell us anything.”

There was silence for several moments afterward. Everyone knew One-five had a point, and no one knew what else to say.

“Do you even know what you are fighting for?” Two-six said finally. “Have you ever even been outside these walls?”

“No, and I don’t need to,” One-five retorted.

“What are you here for?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“To be the best pilot I could and to serve my city!”

“Do you even know what your city is like? Aside from looking at it out of the windows every now and then.”

“Quite down!” One-six bellowed, slamming his fist onto the table. One-five and Two-six visibly sunk into their seats and shut their mouthes.

Two-five had remained silent for the entirety of the meeting, and right now she seemed to be deep in thought.

“Even if what you said is true,” Two-five muttered. “What does it change? We’ve never even thought of what it would be like to do anything other than fight. So even if we get killed, what difference does it make?”

“I don’t know. But I just think that putting our lives on the line everyday just to be thrown into an incinerator after they are done with us is counterproductive. Aren’t we supposed to be a truthful city? A fair one? One where the people don’t have to live in poverty? One where the people can trust the government? We’ve been told this our entire lives while it isn’t even true… Maybe… maybe we can just forget about all this, and just carry on like nothing ever happened.”

“That wouldn’t work,” Two-six mumbled. “There were cameras back there. We got lucky that no one saw us when we climbed the vents, but eventually someone is going to find out. Maybe one day someone looks through the list of people who entered and left the base. When that happens you would not be able to ensure the safety of any one of us. There is no way they will let us be alive after we found out something like that.”

“So what do we believe in then? If the one thing we’ve been told to love for our entire lives turns out to be a lie?” Two-five asked. “Those people who were incinerated were our brothers-in-arms. They made us who we are now.”

One-six couldn’t come up with an answer, he was just as lost as everyone of his teammates. Because of that, he decided to change the topic. “I have an idea, it’s not a great idea but it’s the only thing I can come up with right now.”

His team member traded looks. “Let’s hear it then,” Two-six said.

“We’ll down an enemy fighter team on our next solo mission. Then we can interrogate them and ask them some questions.” One-six continued.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s the only people who I can think of right now who wouldn’t turn us in.”

“What sort of questions?” One-five asked in a somewhat mocking tone.

“What their city is like, what life in their city is like. I’m just as lost as all of you, and I would like some answers as well. Right now the only people who I can trust to not report us is our enemies.” One-six paused. “Any oppositions?”

“You know there is a good chance we’ll get shot down right?”

“Well I’d rather die fighting an enemy than die in the hands of people who I once looked up to… Anything else?”

His teammates shook their heads. One-five did nothing, he seemed to be considering his options. Finally, he spoke up.

“I guess that would be fine,” he muttered. “I’m going to report the fact that you left the base unauthorized to Captain Steiner, but aside from that, I won’t say anything else. But keep in mind I have the ability to do so at any moment if I want to.”

“Sure,” One-six said. “Right then, let’s end it there. Our next solo patrol mission is in two day’s time. Two-five, can you modify the software in our fighter to disable the voice recorder and the GPS to not show us flying off-course?"

“No problem.”

“Then in that case, you are all dismissed. Go fetch some breakfast if you want to. I’ll stay here for a while longer.”

It was strange, almost comical, that the only ones who they can trust enough is their sworn enemies. Thought One-six as he leaned back on the couch.

*****

“…unauthorized trespassing of the perimeters?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well since this is your first minor offense I’m sure you four will get off relatively light. This isn't quite important enough for me to report it but come to me at 1800 and we’ll discuss disciplinary actions.”

“Yes, sir.” One-five turned to leave, but halted his steps. “May I ask one more thing?”

Captain Steiner stopped tidying the papers on his desk and looked up at him through his thick spectacles. “Sure.”

“What happens after we retire?”

“Well... you go into the city, buy a house, find a job, and live out the rest of your lives.” Captain Steiner replied.

One-five opened his mouth to ask more, but closed it when he felt the threatening aura coming off of Captain Steiner's icey gaze. It communicated without words that this topic was not something Captain Steiner wanted to speak more about.

“You may now leave, code One-five.”

One-five nodded, and walked out of the spacious office.

He couldn’t hold himself back in the end and had asked Captain Steiner. Yet the answer he was given seemed natural and truthful. There was no hesitation, no time for thought, just a fluid answer.

But Captain Steiner didn’t have an alibi either. He had gone to find Captain Steiner after seeing his commander and gunner leave their base and filling out some paperwork, but he wasn’t in his office at the time. If what his commander said is true, then the events seem to line up perfectly.

He shook his head violently. He had believed in his city and the Council all this time, and he wasn’t about to give it up because an undisciplined soldier decided to tell some crazy story.

*****

The two days passed painfully slowly. Everywhere he went it felt like everyone was eyeing his suspiciously, even though he was certain it was just his own conscience.

But finally the time came when they boarded their fighter for their patrol mission.

“Follow planned course until the border,” One-six commanded as they climbed into the clouds. “Switch on everything, make us as detectable as possible.

“Copy,” his teammates said collectively.

They followed standard procedure and entered a gentle diving turn to fly parallel to the border.

“Is the GPS position unlinked?” One-six asked.

“Should be,” Two-five replied.

“Then let’s go get our answers.”

He pushed the stick to the right, rolling his airplane on its side, then pulled a gentle turn across the border and straight for the heart of enemy airspace.

*****

Lenn threw on his pants and his boots while his mind had still yet to wake from sleep, his long service in the military has made this procedure almost second nature to him, and he was able to get completely dressed and ready for flying purely relying on memory.

The sun had barely just risen above the horizon, it was still hours from their usual wake up call. Yet he and his team are scrambling out of bed due to the sound of a deafening bell in their room.

It had been drilled into their minds, that the bell meant a scramble. It meant they need to let go of whatever they are doing and be ready for launch in less than ten minutes. Scrambles happened often, at least once every week or two, so Lenn and his team was more or less used to it.

“Helmet!” Kang shouted, struggling to pull his baggy flying suit on and trampling towards the door of their room.

They had dedicated rooms for each team of crewmen to allow for flexibility. A single enemy fighter would require one or two friendly interceptors to be scrambled and not an entire squadron. The men and women weren’t separated, that would be too complicated, so they simply had curtains in the room to give each other some more privacy.

Even still their room is quite small. Their beds were barely a meter or so wide, and there was only about half a meter or so of space between each bed. There are two large desks against the wall for paperwork and planning, and an open space some two meters by one meter where they can get dressed for flying.

Lenn grabbed his own helmet and slid it onto his head, then grabbed Kang’s and tossed it at him. Kang caught the helmet with a single hand a roughly stuffed it onto his head.

Rei had already finished dressing up and held the door open for Lenn to exit; it was good etiquette to let the commander go first, and since Rei is Rei, he stuck to it and did his part.

Ying went next, then Kang, then finally Rei. They tightened the straps of their helmets as they ran down the hallways, and arrived at their fighter at the same time another team from a different squadron burst out of the doors leading into the vast hangar, Kang reading out the briefing from his tablet the whole way there.

Lenn gave the other commander a nod, and the commander nodded back.

They boarded their craft, beginning the start up procedure as they plugged in their life support systems.

“Canopy closing,” Lenn called out, as the gold-tinted canopy descended over their heads. With the sound of air being forced through a small gap, the canopy closed shut. “Check seal,” Lenn said to Rei.

“Seal is good,” Rei replied, pressing buttons and flipping switches all around him. “Engines one to three are online and four is being cranked.”

Their state-of-the-art fighter did not use old fashioned jet engines. Instead, it uses rotating detonation engines. Which although are far more efficient and powerful than jet engines, but has quite a delicate start up process and is quite prone to damage. But the advantages it brings far outweighs the drawbacks, and so most fighters currently in services uses them.

“Control this is Streaker two,” Lenn said into his radio, reading from the mission briefing screen in front him on the large display. “Standby for launch request.”

“Standby for launch request, Streaker two.” Flight control replied back.

“Engine four is online, switching off APU. Trim set for catapult launch, flaps set to auto, launch clamp down and locked, anti-skid off. Checklist complete, we’re ready to go.” Rei reported.

Lenn got on the radio once again. “Streaker two, requesting catapult launch on cat four-two,” he said, simultaneously flipping a switch on his dash to engage the catapult mechanism.

“Streaker two, standby for catapult launch.”

Once again the red light lit up, then the green. They pressed their heads against their seats. Then the impulse came and the ground rushed away from them.

Lenn went through the usual procedure of wiggling the stick then searched or the formation lights of his flight leader in the dim morning sky.

“Streaker two, joining up on your eight o’clock,” Lenn said into the radio, maneuvering his fighter behind his leader and entering a gentle climb.

Roger. Climb to thirty-thousand and maintain mach one-point-eight. Set straight course for intercept point.” His leader said back.

Together they sped off towards an unseen spot beyond the horizon with weapons hot, towards an enemy who simply wanted to have a talk.