Capt. Aleksei Tallow “Null”
07:29 September 18, 1992 // Koga Air Base, Seian
Welcome to nowhere.
A sobering thought as Null watched the goings on of the airbase from his room’s window. A simple accommodation afforded to the new Captain, a rank bestowed upon him as if that would pacify his resentment to the new posting. In truth it was a bitter pill to swallow. He had worked hard all his life, striving to be the best at whatever it was he had set his mind to, and to be handed a promotion like this felt undeserving. A bruising of his pride. Not a deep wound and one that would heal in time.
The new assignment, however, was another matter entirely.
Null sighed, running a hand lazily through his hair before breaking away to finish dressing. He would be meeting his new squadron soon for better or for worse.
The 13th Mercenary Air Squadron was recently formed though had existed in some capacity ever since the Feds came to power. A seldom acknowledged unit kept at arm’s length to the national military. Mercenaries weren’t all too uncommon, especially so during the war a couple years back, but guns for hire were generally looked down on for their rogue nature, being more of an unpleasant necessity than welcomed addition. Null had served alongside a mercenary unit during his time over Sotoa. Needless to say he hadn’t been too impressed. Ironically he was now squadron leader of his own merry band of thugs and cutthroats, and his flight leader had been the one to recommend him. A cruel joke to be sure, but Null was loyal to his duty and would serve as needed, no matter his distaste.
Dressed, he made his way to the briefing room.
Koga Airbase was a small, backwater facility in north-central Seian, uncomfortably close to the border and with little more than a skeleton crew to maintain it. There was a small town nearby, namesake of the base, but most everything else on the horizon was flat fields and farmland. The base itself had a single runway, a handful of hangers, and a few auxiliary buildings surrounding the main headquarters. The briefing room was in the east wing, opposite that of the barracks.
Null had arrived late last night alongside other Dorusian personnel. The mercs had come separately, delivered or having flown themselves, but the squad leader was uncertain just how long they had been on base. A week, a day, or maybe just now arriving.
He passed a few locals, technicians, both speaking in a language he could not understand. They nodded once they noticed him but kept to themselves for the most part.
Rounding a corner Null caught sight of his wingman. Mitsuko Kimura, callsign Angel, local but having spent most of her life in the FRD. High-energy and more than a bit absentminded, she was nonetheless a competent pilot. A small consolation afforded him by his superiors. She was happy to be back in her homeland, and he was glad to have someone he could rely on.
At her side were two of his fellow countrymen: 2nd Lieutenants Sewek and Zelenko, AACS. Null hadn’t had the pleasure to serve alongside them previously, or to meet them until now, but from the looks of things they were becoming quite friendly with Angel. Perhaps too friendly. Of course Angel, social as she was, was oblivious to their advances and likely thought little of Sewek’s proximity, leaning against the wall with maybe a foot between him and her.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than fraternize with my wingman?” Null called out.
“You’re finally awake,” greeted Angel with a smile, completely turning her back to the two men and inadvertently denying them any opportunity to press their luck.
Sewek had a glower to him as he straightened. “Just having a little chat.”
Null chose to ignore the man. To Angel: “Did you even go to bed?”
“Of course I did,” she answered a bit too quickly, bouncing a bit on the soles of her feet. “Just excited is all. First time being home in a long time. Kinda wish it was under better circumstances though”
“Yeah, well, we should be done with this soon enough. Maybe you can get some time off. Go visit your sister.” Her eyes brightened with the suggestion. Null glanced over to Sewek, he having crossed his arms and with the same dour look on his face. “And you, try to keep your hands to yourself.”
Sewek muttered something in response but said nothing else.
The four continued on to the briefing room. Outside they found the base commander, Andreu Kwan, a wiry old man, conversing quietly with temporary base adjutant Major Nathaniel Cocoran, a stern bulldog of a firebrand that would be overseeing the 13th Squadron during their stay. Beside them both was Joel Zeeger, flight mechanic.
Zeeger was the first to greet the new arrivals.
“About time you got your ass outta bed,” grumbled Cocoran, standing in such a way to make his prominent medals all the more so, looking as if something unpleasant had just passed under his nose. He studied the squadron leader, seeming not too impressed with what he saw. “Not much to look at, are ya? Expected something better from the 101st.”
“Graves was busy,” Null said with indifference.
Dorian Graves, his former flight leader, was perhaps the best pilot to serve in the FRD air force since before the Feds came to power. At the very least he was the youngest among them to achieve the status of Ace, having downed no less than thirteen enemy pilots during the war. Serving under him in the 101st had been an honor, a badge of honor almost, but not so much of one to keep Null from being shipped off halfway across the world.
Cocoran grunted some remark as he handed over a manilla folder. “Just don’t embarrass us.”
Null took the file and offered a halfhearted salute – more of a mocking gesture really but the Major was too dense to realize it. Opening to the first document he was greeted to the word Belkan.
A great start to his day.
Snapping the folder closed, he led the others into the briefing room to greet his new squadron.
