A/N: Thanks everyone! It feels good to be updating this fic again. And reading the reviews never ceases to put a smile on my face. One bit of brainstorming from me. I won't work on this for a while but I was thinking of doing a prequel to this story once it's finished. Just a thought I had the other day. (What do you think?) Anyway, I won't start work on that until I've finished this fic.

We now return to The Champion of the Razgriz.

CH. 12: THE PILOTS COURT

-04 Nov. 2010

The Wardog pilots' five hour flight to Oured was in silence. They were seated in separately in the cargo hold of the Hercules transport with MPs watching them to make sure they didn't try to talk to each other. Blaze figured it was a means to keep them from corroborating their sides of the incident and make sure they would tell it from their own point of view. But it still pissed Blaze off; him and his wingmen being treated like prisoners.

When they landed the pilots were shown to a cheap motel near the HQ. There they were allowed to freshen up, shower and rest. The first thing the next day the pilots dressed into their Class 'B' uniforms and were driven in separate vehicles to the Headquarters building. After checking in they were led to the hall outside the conference room where their 'interviews' would take place. Felt more like an interrogation to Blaze already.

They were seated separately again and waited. Each pilot was brought in one at a time. Nagase went first, followed by Grimm then Chopper. They saved Blaze for last.

Blaze waited his turn with his arms folded across his knees. He couldn't help but look over his pilots when they came out of the room. Nagase looked like she was on the verge of tears. Grimm was red with embarrassment and Chopper looked pissed. Blaze could tell he was going nuts just holding his tongue. Finally, his turn came at the boiler plate. "Captain Ingram," the orderly called him in. Blaze stood straight and marched into the dark conference room.

He counted four Generals; a pair of one stars, a two star and a three star. The only non-flag officer on the committee was a full bird colonel. In front of the committee was a female Tech Sergeant sitting at a laptop and microphone to record the proceedings. Blaze marched up to the podium and stood at a rigid attention. "At ease," the three star, Lt. General Brewer said. Blaze relaxed a little but kept staring straight ahead. "State your name and rank for the record." It was already going like a courts martial trial.

"Captain Hannibal Ingram, Sand Island Detachment of the 108th Tactical Fighter Squadron," Blaze spoke clearly in a professional tone.

"Thank you," General Brewer nodded. There was a slight pause.

"Now, Captain," Brigadier General Crawford spoke next. "Please relate to us exactly what happened on the second." Blaze did just that and recounted the aerial fight over Dresdene. He of course didn't mention his lie about his fuel status. He also made it clear that none of his flight attacked any ground targets, let alone a civilian facility. When he was done the senior officers started asking questions.

"So, Captain," Colonel Richards spoke up. "You claim no member of your flight attacked any civilian targets and neither you nor any of your flight saw any planes that did?"

"Yes sir," Blaze replied. "Not on our radar or visually."

"And yet your four planes were the only ones in the AO at that time?" Brigadier General Dixon asked.

"We were the only ones tasked to Charlie Omega, yes sir. In addition, none of our planes were equipped for ground attack."

"Well then. Maybe you can then explain how this level of damage was caused." The projector displayed an image of a dormitory building. The front of the building had collapsed and numerous holes could be seen along the roof and brick walls. More buildings were shown with similar damage. A few were on fire, possibly from a ruptured gas main. There were no bomb craters and no blast damage. Blaze then deduced, as had the investigators, that cannon fire had caused the damage.

"It would appear that the attackers strafed the buildings with cannon fire," Blaze replied. "But my squadron did not fire anywhere near ground level. And I also doubt that we fired anywhere near the amount of rounds required to do such damage."

"Well, we'll never know now will we?" Colonel Richards spoke up. This caught Blaze's attention.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"When and if you get back to Sand Island, Captain, you'd best have a chat with your maintenance crews about fire prevention procedures."

"Sir, I have no idea-"

"Last night there was a fire in the maintenance department office on Sand Island," the colonel elaborated. "Any record of the number of rounds replaced in your fighters was lost. Burned."

'Well just my luck.' Blaze grumbled inwardly. 'But I still have a trump card.' "I'll be sure to do that sir. But there are still the flight data recorders and gun camera footage. Now I'm fairly certain none of my planes dropped below fifteen hundred feet. And even if I was wrong about that, I guarantee that the camera footage will show that we fired only at aerial targets."

"Funny how you should bring that up Captain," Gen. Crawford spoke up. "Turns out the transport plane ferrying said recorders and camera footage crashed last night on its way here." Blaze's mind took a nose dive.

"What?" 'The only evidence to prove our innocence?'

"Details are sketchy but it would appear that shortly after take-off the fuel lines burst, caught fire and brought the plane down," Col. Richards explained. "The crew was rescued with no injuries. But the wreck sank to the bottom of the sea." That broke the camel's back.

"Permission to say that this stinks like a load of crap, sir," Blaze barked. "I could've written the fire back at Sand Island off as an accident or a case of rotten luck. But the transport now too? The one plane that carried evidence that would clear my squadron, goes down just like that? I don't believe in such…ridiculous coincidences."

"Are you suggesting that someone is trying to set you up?" General Dixon asked.

"I'm suggesting that something's off here, sir."

"Frankly that sounds a little paranoid to me."

"Also," Gen. Crawford added, "If what you say about your flight's behavior is true then your AWACS Thunderhead would've corroborated it."

"I beg pardon?"

"The AWACS crew was unable to confirm or deny your flight's actions for nearly half the battle. The during which communications and radar was being heavily jammed."

"How convenient," Blaze grumbled.

"And quite frankly," the General went on. "We don't like going on a he said they said basis with evidence. We prefer facts. And these are the facts we do have. One; your squadron fired an uncertain amount of cannon rounds. Two; the damage caused to the civilian structures was caused by cannon fire. Three; your flight was the only flight within range to attack said structures. Four; no member of your flight was able to offer any convincing explanation or evidence of who did attack the college. That goes for the AWACS crew as well."

"But all that you have, sir, is little more than circumstantial evidence."

"And that's just convenient for you isn't it?" Major General Garnett. The two star had remained silent the whole time.

"For me, sir?"

"Colonel Perrault, your base commander, has mentioned numerous times in reports that you have a certain level of disregard for his authority."

"It's not his authority," Blaze replied. "It's his command philosophy."

"Yes well, your background does cast a certain shadow over you."

"My background, sir?" Blaze asked. He had an idea what the General was getting at. But he wasn't about to play that game.

"You must understand our viewpoint, Captain," Col. Richards spoke up. "Today we're having an interview with a squadron which may or may not have fired on a civilian facility causing an as of yet unknown number of deaths. And while there is a lack of evidence pointing to either side of the coin one fact remains unclear. And that is that the commander of said squadron is of Belkan descent." That definitely touched a nerve.

"That's got nothing to do with me, Colonel," Blaze held back his temper.

"Maybe not," General Dixon disagreed. "But I do know that seven cities and nine million people stain your heritage."

"Forgive me for sounding antagonistic but I can't believe that I'm being lobbed in the same group that mass murdered their own people!" Blaze spat. "And if I may be so bold as to refresh the General's knowledge of history, I was ten when that happened. I barely understood what war was let alone what was going on at the time."

"And yet you share the same genetic code as those who killed nine million of their own people in an act of cowardice."

"I. Have. No. Relation. To. THEM!" Blaze barked. "I am an officer in the Osean Air Force. I took an oath to defend my nation and its Constitution! And I took no part in any action that would harm my nation or its credibility. And I would never attack noncombatants."

"I'm not entirely sure we believe you, Captain Ingram," General Brewer growled. Blaze ground his teeth in rage as he stared at this kangaroo court.

XXXXX

When he exited the room Blaze was told that his squadron members had been sent back to the motel. He was returned there and he found them waiting in his room. Apparently they were relating their own experiences with each other. "Well," Blaze grumbled. "That was a bitch-and-a-half."

"I take it they didn't treat you kindly either?" Chopper asked. Blaze didn't reply. "I thought so. And they probably brought up the same old same old with you, didn't they?"

"Bingo," Blaze said as he flopped back onto his bed. "And what's worse, all the evidence that could've, would've, cleared us was lost."

"What?" Grimm asked next. Blaze then explained what he was told not half an hour ago. "That's impossible!" Grimm shouted. "There's no way something like this happens by coincidence!"

"No kidding," Blaze said. "And it didn't seem they were interested in believing my story from the beginning."

"They didn't believe any us either," Chopper said folding his arms.

"Not even about that other squadron," Nagase said solemnly, having kept quiet the whole time.

"Squadron?" Blaze's head popped up. "What other squadron?"

"Didn't you hear it?" Chopper asked.

"Hear what?" Blaze sat up.

"During the battle," Grimm spoke up, "When our radios were jammed we heard another squadron. I heard their callsign. They called themselves the…" He fought to remember. "8942nd …no, the 8492nd …9492nd…agh! The adrenaline was pumping at the time and…I'm not sure myself anymore!" Grimm's head sunk between his knees as he grasped it with both hands.

"I can't help but think I've heard of that squadron before," Blaze tried to remember but for the life of him he couldn't.

"Well, according to the committee that squadron doesn't exist," Grimm said. Grimm rubbed his face in his hands. Blaze took the pause to look over his wingmen.

For fifteen years a part of him believed he was cursed. He had a hard life growing up with very few friends. He had a hard time in training to be a pilot with his only saving grace being his mentor Bartlett, who was still MIA. The three in the room with him were pretty much the only family he had left. And now, it seemed like his curse had caught up with them as well.