CHAPTER 33
NOSTALGIC MEMORIES

"Icarus! Can you help me?"

Lazily he rose from his feet. Wondering what in the world Mriya was up to he headed out of the hangar, only to be greeted by the sight he never expected to see. There, just across the runway, the 'adorable planetarium worker' was surrounded by a pack of wolves, feeding one canine after another while kneeling on the ground.

"Mriya!" The cry echoed across the airbase so loud the pack looked at him with ears raised. They paid no attention to him afterwards and resumed their pestering on Mriya. "What… what are the wolves doing here?"

Mriya giggled and scratched one of the wolves on the chin. "They're so cute, aren't they?" The wolf whined in excitement when she moved her hand to scratch the back of its ear. "See? It likes it. Don't you think, little wolf?"

"But Mriya!" His words were cut off when he spotted a timber wolf approaching him from the other end of the runway. It was the same wolf he had encountered at the outback, and its presence brought the restless pack into a dead silence. The lone wolf kept on its pace, stopping only after it was about a couple of feet away from him.

Mriya noticed the confused look on his face. "That's Hannibal," she introduced the wolf to him. "He's the oldest in the pack."

Icarus gave the wolf a deep glance into its eyes. The canine responded by staring into his. For a while, it was as if the partners were forging an alliance of sorts from the exchanging of sight. Then, out of the blue, the wolf howled loudly and turned its back at him, returning to the forest without any clear resolution.

"What… did I just do?" Icarus asked.

"I think you've gained Hannibal approval," Mriya said. "Don't worry. He's always like that."

He frowned. "Oh. Thought he's not going to like me here."

"Don't be silly," she giggled even as she let another wolf lick her face. "Yes, honey. Your turn will come up later. Please be patient," she told the seemingly excited wolf.

Icarus remained motionless at where he was standing, awed at Mriya's affection for wildlife. It was another side of the planetarium worker he never got to learn, and just now he realized how inspiring the sight was. He wished he had more time to learn everything about her back in Aurelia. If only…

Then there was the roaring noise of jet engine inside his eyes.

He rolled his eyes to the heavens. He realized, for many years, he had never talked to anyone about the isolated dogfight or events that led to it. Yet ever since his arrival in Valais, he knew the urge was rising.

Once again his memories started recalling…

-x-x-x-x-x-

// Leasath airspace //

It was not going as exactly as planned.

The mission had originally involved Wolfe getting "shot down" by Leasath interceptor after he left the airbase and rescued by local separatists before infiltrating Leasath secret base to retrieve classified documents on the country military expansion scheme. It was supposed to be a piece of cake, yet somehow the Leasath had sniffed the plan and waited until the last moment as Wolfe was preparing to leave the base.

And now he was entangled in a fight for his life, as the Harrier GR.3 the separatists had stolen for him was pitted against an entire Leasath squadron. Without any friendly units to support, added with the fact that he was in the middle of remote wilderness, he was no other option but to oblige the only rule in battlefield.

Survive.

"Attention to all pilots! Your order is to shoot down the enemy!" the GCI spoke. "He must not be allowed to reach Aurelia. I repeat: DO NOT let him reach Aurelia."

"Spade 1 to Ground Control, roger." In less than seconds all the Mirage 2000s headed towards the lone VSTOL fighter and began swarming it. In spite of the overwhelming number Wolfe wasn't about to let them intimidate him and turned to face the approaching fighters.

"Come on."

He twisted the flight stick, and the Harrier performed a series of dizzying aerial manoeuvre that took the opposing pilots off-guard. Aggressively he flew the plane, never giving the Leasath fighters any chance of getting lock-on, using every piece of knowledge he had acquired from his trainings with his squadron. He held himself from shooting at any of the planes; the best way to stay alive in the frenzy was to use the interceptors' number to his advantage and he knew the pilots would not be able to shoot him down without jeopardizing their life.

"Ground Control to all pilots! What are you doing? Shoot the enemy down!"

"We can't have clear shot! There are too many friendly planes up here!"

"This guy's damn good! He knows how to force us to shoot each other!"

Wolfe looked over his shoulder and could see tracer rounds shot from one of the pursuing fighters. "That level of determination isn't going to help there," he pondered and dived into low altitude, all while the Mirage kept showering his tail with hot lead. The rest of the fighters did the same, without realizing they were entering the wolf boy's territory.

"How about a nice cup of canyon flight?"

The Harrier entered a ravine. The pursuing Leasath pilot tried to follow but had misjudged the distance and crashed into the cliff. The remaining Mirages were forced to dodge the fireball; some of them faced the same fate and collided with the rock overhang. Wolfe, meanwhile, remained inside the ravine, flying as close to the ground as possible, flying out into open air only after he had lost sight of the interceptors.

"This is 12th Interceptor Wing. All Leasath fighters return to base. We'll take it from here."

Wolfe had a glimpse of five F-22s heading from ten o'clock above in a finger-five formation. It's them, he thought. The same bloodhounds that had almost captured the poor rabbit.

"Ground Control to Swallow Squadron. Your order is clear. Do not let the enemy escape."

Wolfe then heard the flight leader chuckling. "When I thought I could have a bit of fun today," he chided. "This is Lucius. All planes commence intercept formation."

The F-22s split from their finger-five. One after another they swarmed the lone Harrier in a cartwheel formation, encircling the fighter to prevent it from gaining any upper edge. Wolfe held his breath; what else could he do? He obviously could not break through the cartwheel or flying over it; the F-22s would easily get a kill out of him. Taking them on would be foolish; his plane was not properly equipped prior to the dogfight.

Stay calm. There's no problem that cannot be solved.

Then the inevitable had happened. One after another, the F-22s broke away from the cartwheel and started swarming him from all directions. He knew he would have to rely on their numbers for his own safety, and that was exactly what he was going to do. So he brought the VSTOL fighter into irregular manoeuvres, continually changing directions and altitudes as to spoil the Leasath fighters' effort.

"Swallow Squadron, what are you delaying for? Shoot down the enemy!"

"Relax. The game's just starting to get heated."

"Swallow Squadron, this is not a game! I repeat: this is NOT a game!"

"You ground control have no idea of how fun it feels to be up here. Let Lucius say his words!"

Suddenly, there was a stroke of idea.

He looked back at the ravine. He knew he had better chance of survival if he had avoided direct confrontation. He wasted no time and dived straight into the gorge, and he was sure he heard expressions of shock from the pilots.

"He's flying into the valley for cover!"

"Is he nuts? His plane will have to squeeze through that narrow passage!"

"I have seen this tactic before… of course!!" The lead F-22 broke away from the cartwheel and chased after the Harrier. "You! You're the same Aurelian pilot we had dealt with!" he barked.

"I don't remember having a grudge against you," Wolfe replied amidst the wild RWR buzz he was hearing.

"Of course we don't," the F-22 pilot said and opened fire; the Sidewinder missed and crashed into the cliff. Wolfe responded by deploying flares and skimming over the river, flying so low he almost hit the bedrock. The F-22 pursued, constantly showering the Harrier with bullets fired from its Gatling gun. Wolfe did what he could to dodge and graze, not taking care of the risk of crashing into the ground due to the ultra-low-level flight.

"That guy's amazing!" one of the pilot's wingmen uttered. "He's pushing Lucius like nothing! What is he?"

"Why is he taking so long?" another wingman asked. "Lucius! Goddamn it! Just shoot freaking him down!"

"This fellow is too worthy of an adversary to be shot down!" the pilot replied. "Why don't I… have some fun with him?!!"

It had been ten minutes since the 'bloodhounds' arrived. By now the Harrier and the F-22 had entered the rolling scissor, and both planes were flying so close Wolfe could actually see the opposing pilot as their canopies crossed path. At this point he started questioning the rationale of having the dogfight in the first place, particularly since the F-22 pilot could easily put an end to his life. He needed to end the fight any way he could, so he could accomplish the mission and return home.

Wolfe screwed up. Somehow he had accidentally added in extra thrust and brought the Harrier in front of the F-22. "That's one mistake you should have not done, Aurelian pilot," Lucius said as he was closing in.

"Damn…" he could only mutter under his breath.

"I have never bore hatred against you ever since that day, Aurelian pilot," Lucius continued. "Not even a single piece of revulsion… but! Today only one of us shall emerge as the winner!"

"…I don't think so." He rotated the thrust-vectoring lever, pulled the stick hard and brought the Harrier into inverted half-Cuban. The sudden manoeuvre shook everyone because it brought the Harrier dangerously close to the ground, and Wolfe even made their jaw drop by making the VSTOL fighter virtually stand on its tail.

"How did he do that?"

"That's suicidal! He almost got himself killed!"

"What the hell is he really?!"

"He's got Lucius! Lucius! Behind you!"

"Thrust vectoring rules the sky," Wolfe spoke as he positioned himself behind the overshot F-22. "Have at you!" The twin cannons barraged the wings and destroyed the vector-tailpipe; some of the bullets penetrated the cockpit and destroyed the flight panel, riddling Lucius' body during the process.

"Lucius!" The remaining planes tried to approach the damaged plane but their leader would not allow them. "But Lucius, you were hit! Let us take care of him!"

"It appears I have underestimated him," Lucius spoke in calm, if anguished, voice. "What a foolish man I am." He ordered his wingmen to leave him alone and return to base, reminding them to keep the encounter off-record.

He, then, turned to the Harrier. "Aurelian pilot! What's… your name?"

Wolfe was silent. Why was he asking his name? For what? Yet he figured that this pilot named Lucius was meeting the end of his road, so it did not matter telling. "Captain Wolfe, 22nd Air Reserve Squadron, Aurelian Air Force."

Lucius laughed. Not of desperation; not of sarcasm; not of agony. Just a plain laugh. "Wolfe… isn't it? Yes, yes. Full of inspiration, that name, yet so enigmatic. I shall remember." He coughed and wheezed, and Wolfe just listened as he continued laughing. "You have fought very bravely, Captain Wolfe. I will be privileged if you inherit the title my ancestors have carried for generations."

Wolfe tried to refuse. What use of such title would it be if it came from a dying man, an enemy who had almost killed him? "I'm sorry, but I'm not in-"

The F-22 started losing altitude and got engulfed in smoke. "Never refuse your fate, Captain Wolfe!" Lucius spoke, his voice more tormented than before. "For a mere rabbit… that had outsmarted the bloodhound… and kicked it in the face… you have gone far beyond anything I have expected."

"…"

"It has been… an honour to fight with you. May your spirit soar over… the reach of heavens and transcend… beyond the tomorrow. Until we meet again, Captain Wolfe."

The F-22 burst into flame and entered a flat roll, yet Lucius chose to stay as his plane entered its death spin. Wolfe heard his last laughs moments before the plane crashed, and he took a deep breath as he reviewed the final moments he had shared with his opponent.

It only took him a few minutes before he got a transmission from a friendly unit.

"Jackpot 2? This is your fairy godmother. Good to see you alive."

He shrugged. Beaten and tired he set course for Aurelia and leaned into the ejection seat as the autopilot engaged.

-x-x-x-x-

// present day //

"Remembering something, aren't you?" Mriya asked as she approached him.

He shook his head. "Yeah, just some… nostalgic memories."

"May I know what kind of nostalgic memories you were having?" she asked.

He eyed at her. "Mriya, it's not the time for-"

She silenced him with a soft press of her finger on his lips. "It isn't alright to hide memories forever, you know," she spoke. "The more you keep them, the more they're going to haunt you. You have to let go off them, even though it's going to hurt."

He sighed. He knew he would never win an argument with Mriya no matter how hard he tried. "Alright."

Icarus opened the story behind his three-day absence from Grimoire, from the day he was briefed to the moment he barely escaped death to the Leasath hands. He also told her of the pilot he had encountered, who might just be Leasath Air Force's decorated ace: Lieutenant Colonel Franco "Lucius" Estrada. Veteran of the previous Aurelia-Leasath war he was known to his colleagues as the Free Swallow of Seven Skies for his exquisite display of aerial combat skill, and gained the personal moniker Swallow Seven because of that. A role model for many younger pilots, he was regarded as national hero and considered by many as a modern knight.

And he also revealed to her another portion of Lucius' story, including a mysterious old woman…

-

-

"Never before in his life was he so excited like that day," the old woman continued soon after the ceremony ended. "That day, he came back home with a look of stern determination on his face. It was like… he had just found a candidate for his wife. When I asked him what had happened, he said he had found the meaning of his life- his entire life as a fighter pilot and that he was going to achieve it."

He just listened. What was to be an incognito visit to Lucius' funeral, held two weeks after search-and-rescue team had recovered remains of his body, became an ad lib conversation with the old woman. Who she was or what her connection with Lucius was never revealed, and would never be, although she did tell him she was Lucius' one and only relative.

"What was he so thrilled about, ma'am?" he asked.

The old woman chuckled. "Young man, when a warrior has found an opponent worthy of defeating… he will never let anything stand in his path just to achieve it. You have to get into his shoes to understand."

"I have never had such experience, sorry," he apologized.

"No need to apologize, young man. Not everybody gets to experience such," she assured. "Franco told me during our last dinner that he was going to give the nickname he so cherished to that pilot he had deemed more worthy. He felt that it was time to pass down the honour of his bloodline as a knight… what was it again? Swallow Seven? Yes, Swallow Seven."

"…Swallow Seven? Why would he do that? It's… his precious treasure, isn't it?"

The old woman shrugged. "I don't know. Franco never even spoke to this old lady. He likes to keep everything secret; his habit, really."

"Knowing that he would never return to your home… and yet… he's still holding on to his beliefs." His heart skipped a little at the memory of the dogfight. "A true noble, he is…"

The old woman chuckled. "Franco might be smiling if he hears that. And speaking of which…" She lifted her head as to look up at him. "Are you a close friend of his? Franco I know never speaks of having any friends; he prefers to have partners over friends, you know."

"I… happened to overhear his heroic… demise," he spoke and looked down at the tombstone, never even gazing at the old woman. "I'm… just another pilot."

The old woman smiled. "He's such an inspiration, isn't he?"

He just nodded. "…yeah…"

-

-

He fell silent. He had told her everything she needed to know, and now he was running out of words. He knew she was waiting for him, and that he could not afford to make her wait longer.

"Were you feeling guilty?"

"Excuse me?"

She reinforced the question by holding his hand. "Were you feeling guilty for downing a man who had strong beliefs in honour, Icarus?" she asked.

He frowned "I don't know… I mean, how was I supposed to feel guilty? It was more like of… dilemma. Knowing that you had to kill your enemy for your own survival and yet… could not help respecting his sense of honour. I-"

"Icarus." The squeeze tightened. She gazed straight into his eyes. "You will never become like him, even though you're going to forsake the whole world. I don't want you to become anybody else." She stepped forward and leaned onto him, her head rested comfortably upon his chest. "I want you to become who you are. Icarus, the mythical flier who always dreams of flying free with the swallows. Is it not alright?"

"…sorry…" he murmured and held her close, wrapping his arms about her slender waist. "I'm… sorry for worrying you, Mriya."

"It's alright," she spoke. "Come to think about it… when was the first time we ever hugged like this?"

"I can't tell," he replied and softly patted her scalp. "Why asking?"

Shyly she giggled. "…I don't know. Wish I could remember…"

"Me too." He continued cuddling her, making sure she would not slip off his arms. "Say, Mriya."

"Yes, Icarus?"

He sighed. "Have I told you… anything about my family?"