Journey To A New Home

Death is a peculiar thing to think about. Everyone has their own interpretation of it, of both the experience and what you may or may not get out of it at the end. Some people think that it all depends on the way you live and the actions leading up to it that dictate how. If you lived a long and full life, death should come as a pleasant ending to you, the final chapter of your story, and is something you accept and are willing to confront and overcome. If you lied, cheated, or lived an unwholesome live, then death serves as a punishment for your actions and as a way for you to somehow atone for your sins. For someone like me, death is something else entirely.

Death was something that lurked behind every corner, was hidden in every mission briefing and was loaded and armed in every weapon fired in my generation direction. It was something I acknowledged on a day to day basis, yet did my very best to avoid or dodge. For sixteen combat missions across the last few months, that was all I did. Whether I was supporting ground troops moving through the Yuktobonian desert, flying escort over our own lands, covering a prisoner escape or defending our air base from an attack, I was constantly on the lookout for death, doing my upmost to make sure I didn't fall into its grasp. But after three years of training, five months in an auxiliary fighter squadron, and sixteen combat missions in my first wartime deployment later, it was finally my time. I had hoped that I would somehow make it through the war, see it from start to finish without so much as a scratch, but I guess life works in mysterious ways.

While I had acknowledged and resigned myself to the fact that I may very well die, I never gave the actual act of dying much thought. I expected Death to be something painfully pleasant, where all your suffering comes to a final but quick climax. Whether you're lying on a comfortable bed, waiting for your weak heart to seize up and stop beating, or sitting in a crippled warplane hurtling towards the ground with a malfunctioning ejector seat, Death is something quick, painful, but merciful.

I didn't expect what I experienced though.

When my F-15's nose impacted the field in the stadium, I was expecting to hear the sharp crunch of aircraft-grade aluminium bending, as well as the distinct smashing of my nose-mounted radar breaking apart. I was expecting to see a flash of sparks as various electrical lines mixed with other lines and fluid pipes and ignited. I was expecting the sudden deceleration of my jet and the feeling of being thrown forward from my seat as the ground stopped my moving aircraft. I was expecting to smell the distinct odour of JP-5 fuel igniting, and the taste of my own blood as my body was quite literally torn apart by the horrendous amount of force it was experience.

I heard a loud popping nose. I saw a flash of purple and yellow light. I felt as if I was being sucked through a vacuum and dragged across the entire Osean continent, from Sand Island all the way to Beval, Nordland. I smelt a trace of ozone, and could faintly taste a bit of copper. All these barely lasted a second however, as the dark skies over November City and the artificial light from the stadium's light fixtures transformed into clear blue skies and bright warm sunlight. I peered through my damaged canopy and saw that I was still in fact in the air, gliding as my second engine had ceased to function right before impact. I was gliding under my own power now, with little to no manoeuvrability, no way to bail out, and no way to really land. I guess that whatever had happened was either a dream that my mind came up as my body lay burning amongst the wreckage in November City, or something really weird has just happened and that I am still in fact alive.

Another cursory glance outside revealed to me that the world was a lot more colourful than I remember. Though, I've spent three years in the snowy mountains of Heirlark AFB, and then a few months at the remote Sand Island AFB, the rest of my time above the environment with most of my focus on the mission instead of the scenery. Maybe I haven't seen an area ravaged by conflict for so long that I had forgotten what it looked like? That doesn't explain the medieval settlement that I just spotted to my right, the population of said town now distinctly visible in a large crowd, many of them with their arms in the sky pointing at something.

Pointing at me, as a matter of fact. There's no way that they could have possibly missed a sight like the one I was right now; a heavily damaged and smoking F-15 Eagle gliding across the sky and slowly approaching the ground. I wrestled with the stick and rudder to try and aim myself towards the side of the town. If I can put this baby down close to the town, the emergency response will be notably faster, and the chances of my immediate survival will dramatically increase. Through my efforts, I had now aimed my crippled Eagle towards a rather large clearing of recently cleared trees. I could see the rows and rows of tree stumps lining the earth, and the clearing had visible road access. Hopefully they have off-road response for emergencies.

The clearing reminded me of one of the more frustrating missions in my career. It was just a simple Barrier Combat Air Patrol near Akerson Hill; patrol the coastline covered in the Northern Air Defence Zone, make sure that no enemy forces sneak in from the direction. Easy mission, right? Wrong. Good old President Harling just had to take a grey flight to North Point in a C-5. Thanks to their lack of an IFF tag, they were fired on by our own missile sites. Nagase and the Kid had to navigate them through a small gap in the ADZ's coverage, only to be ambushed by Yuke fighters that were hunting for his flight. The fact that during the fight, a spy amongst the passengers incapacitated the aircrew, leaving the President's secretary to fly the damn plane. We fought them off, then had to practise our air-to-ground gunnery skills on a bunch of generator windmills, making a clear and safe improvised runway for the now crippled C-5.

At least I don't have to shoot at any trees or windmills this time.

The ground grew closer and closer, and I straightened out my approach. I reached for the emergency landing gear release, which basically forces the gear down and locks them into place with a shot of compressed gas. I also deployed my tail hook, in the hope that by it digging into the ground, it would slow me down even further. At the very least, whoever owns that clearing will get a free plough on my part. The jolt of the gear locking into place and the hook shooting free from between the engines gave me a shot of hope that I may indeed survive this after all. It would just be a matter of finding out where I am and how to get back.

Time slowed as my Eagle touched down onto the soft dirt. F-15's are in no real way able to use improvised runways, let me tell you that much off the bat. Instead of the smooth settling motion that I was used to when landing on a paved runway, I was being thrown around in my seat as the heavy wheels of the landing gear dug into the dirt and started tearing apart the earth. From the feel of it, the hook was not having much luck in slowing down, the occasional crunch and rip being what I assumed the root of a tree being torn free as I continued to slide through the dirt. My heart sank as one particularly loud crunch rang through my cockpit, and so did my stomach as the aircraft suddenly dipped to the right and yawed. My right main gear must have struck a stump head-on and been ripped free or something.

With more surface area on the ground, I slowed down even faster. I spin a little more, almost facing the way I came, with each stump that my nose impacted. By the end of my entire ordeal, the entire radome had snapped off, my right wing was missing, the intakes looked full of dirt, and I could only assume that I was leaking fuel or some other flammable liquid. Instincts and training kicked into overdrive, and I started to unstrap myself from the seat, securing my survival vest and equipment into place before I started attempting to free myself. A quick search in the cabin later and I found the lever I was looking for; the ground-canopy ejector. This only jettisons the canopy of the aircraft, meaning that a pilot could get free of the aircraft in such an instance where a total ejection was not possible.

I pulled the level, forced myself back into my seat and pressed my hands against my helmet where my ears were, waiting the brief few seconds between the activation of the fuse and the detonation of the explosive charge that should send my canopy free.

BOOM!

In a small cloud of smoke, the canopy flies away and lands a few yards to my side. A little dazed from the explosion, I wearily climb out of the cockpit and stumble away before collapsing to the ground next to the broken plexiglass that was my canopy. Rolling to my side, I study my wounded aircraft one last time, taking in the full extent of the damage. Holes from where the missile had detonated into fragments peppered the entire surface of the aircraft, sparing very little. It had practically shredded my exhausts, torn off half of my left elevator, completely skinned my left tail and broken off my left ailerons and flaps. No wonder I was having to fight for control in my last moments.

Speaking of last moments, I now kind of wish that I was dead. The adrenaline had started to wear off, and my nerves had switched from their 'fight or flight' mode to their 'injury detection' mode. I almost felt as if I was on fire or something to that effect. I guess that the crash and the events leading up to it had taken a major strain on my body, as I laid down on my back on the soft dirt. My head throbbed, my chest was tight, my arms and legs felt numb and heavy. I could only just move my hand and arm enough to lower the visor of my flight helmet down to cover my eyes and shield them from the bright sun.

Through my helmet, I could faintly hear the sounds of a crowd running up to investigate the remains of the crash. I didn't know if they were friendly or not, but I couldn't do anything to protect myself if they were. I tilted my head to the side ever so slightly and relaxed the rest of my body, the movement of my chest due to my breathing practically masked by the heavy survival vest I was wearing. To the casual observer, I may as well have looked like that I had very recently died, which is rather ironic considering recent events.

My visor, while tinted opaque black from the outside, allowed me most of the gathering crowd with little obstruction. Immediately, I knew something wasn't right. While they were very much humanoid, various numbers of them had features and parts that no human in their own right should ever have. For starters, they were all very different in the way of skin colour. I could distinguish purple, red, pink, blue, yellow, and many different colours. Some of them had wings sprouting from holes in the back of their clothing, while others had horns on their heads. I knew without a doubt that I was not in Osea any more...

A shout from the crowd drew my attention. At the cockpit of my jet stood a purple being, a horn protruding from their forehead. From my limited view, it looked female, her hair was dark violet with a pink streak through it. She had seen the scorch marks and broken metal around the edges of the cockpit, and was looking up into the sky with a hand rested on her chin, as if she was in thought. Her head slowly traced an arc in the sky, before her gaze landed directly at me. Our eyes locked, though through the reflective visor of my helmet she wouldn't have noticed, and she seemed to freeze. I laid as still as I could, trying to maintain the impression that I was either dead or unconscious, waiting for her to react. I could see and hear her shout something once more, but her voice was muffled from the ringing in my ears and the ear protection in my flight helmet.

I watched the girl, if that was the correct term for her, break away from the crowd and head towards me, another girl following close behind her. The second girl had pale yellow skin, with pink hair and yellow wings tucked in behind her back. She was more apprehensive in her approach than her purple-skinned friend. They stopped just a few feet away from me, and the purple one knelt down as she studied me closer. I could hear her muttering something, but my damaged hearing prevented me from understanding. I watched as her eyes flicked across my body and equipment as she took in my appearance. She turned to face her companion and said something, her friend reacting with a sudden change of attitude and rushing to my other side. I couldn't risk breaking my cover by looking at her, so I had to trust that she wouldn't do something aggressive.

I felt a hand press against my right arm, and I groaned at the contact out of sheer reaction alone. My noise froze the two girls in an instant, and the purple one's eyes widened in shock. She leaned in a little closer, her hand reaching towards the top of my helmet. Through the subtle shift of my head, I could only assume she had seen the toggle for my visor and was attempting to free my face. I could just see the visor moving up slowly, and I braced my eyes for the bright light that was about to fill my vision. Once I felt it lock into its stowed position, I slowly opened my eyes to find a pair of dark purple staring at mine. I blinked, which caused the girl to shoot back into an upright position. She spoke frantically, and I rolled my head to see her pink-haired friend digging through what looked like a first-aid kit of sorts. Another girl, this one older with pure white skin and very light pink hair and wearing what looked like a nurse's uniform, knelt beside her and was studying my chest and legs.

Realising that those two were the closest I've seen to proper medical attention, I let myself relax and rolled my head back towards the purple girl. She was kneeling right beside my left arm, about an inch between them, and was talking to a large red-skinned man with blonde hair. I moved my arm, much to my body's disgust, and redirected her attention back to me. She looked me in the eyes with a saddened but hopeful and sympathetic smile. I could feel myself fading into darkness due to the increased pain I was experience, but I fought it off to get what I needed to do done.

"Help..... me...."

Then it turned to black.