A falling star
The stars were unusually bright that night, he noticed as he walked silently across the 
dark grey tarmac towards the black, sleek shape, they shone bright and true. He remembered 
that seafarers in ages long gone saw shapes, horsemen, swans, great hunters and heroes in 
the stars, but he was blind, he couldnít see the shapes, the great kings watching over 
mortal men. The full moon cast a pale ghostlike glow across the field lighting the night 
with pale rays. In itís light the hangars and parked airplanes transformed and at once they 
were no longer machines and buildings but great dinosaurs, huge lumbering beings from eons 
since long lost in the mists of history. No lights were on at the airport, the darkness 
shielding him and his craft from the prying eyes among the stars. A slight shiver crept 
down his spine when he thought of what he would do this beautiful night, the shame shiver 
that had siezed him when he read his briefing a few hours earlier. Funny they had chose him 
for the job, theyíd said he was the best and therefore they had chose him, because they 
couldnít afford any mistakes, not now, this was too sensitive for mistakes. The two sleek 
pods hung under his plane, ready to be devoured by the bomb bay as the doors closed. He 
reached the ladder that would take him into the cockpit, climbed it and slid into the 
comfortable seat. As the glass slowly closed around him he could see a white dot freeing 
itself from the thousands up there and diving towards the earth tracing a white line behind 
it like a tail. The ladder disappeared and he routinely performed the preflight checks only 
half aware of what he was doing, deep inside he knew everything would work perfectly. A 
soft click as the hardware link snapped into place on his helmet, he donned his vizier and 
at once he was one with the plane. Status trackers shone comforting in a warm green colour, 
a crosshair appeared in the middle of his field of vision and numbers started scrolling at 
the bottom. A flick of a switch and the two powerful engines came to life wth a silent hum, 
two bars appeared on his vizier slowly rising to seventy percent. Four words travelled 
across the ether and was picked up by his receiver ìAll clear ghost oneî. Slowly he 
increased throttle and the Ghostrider silently taxied onto the runway.

Landscape swept past under him at an alarming rate, fields, houses, roads where people 
slowly moved unaware of what just had swept past. It all looked so peaceful, as if 
everything was exactly as it should be, he permitted himself an ironic smile. Nothing would 
ever be as it should be again, everything was about to change, forever. A bridge flew past, 
he could see the black water below in the glare of the headlights of the cars. Like an 
invisible black shadow he soared across the landscape silently, he could almost hear the 
wind rush past outside. A mountain range in his way forced him to gain altitude he came up 
through the clouds, into the starry bright night above, the sky was empty besides him. He 
was alone in a world of his own, reality scarcely existed here, only he, the clouds and the 
stars were real. Two tiny red dots appeared on his screen, the radar sites at Carlsbad and 
Archangelsk, a weak beep could be heard in his phones from the scanning radars, he listened 
for a while, amused. They were of no interest, they had no chance in locating him, to them 
he was invisible the rays of radar skidding and slipping across the sleek airframe telling 
nothing. He almost felt sorry for the radarmen down there, assigned to protect their 
country from hostile insertion, oblivious to the real dangers and threats that lurked in 
the dark nightly skies. Below the clouds once again he realised he was above a large city, 
skyscrapers reaching for the dark sky all around him like giant black concrete trees. Below 
him, on the well lit boulevards and avenues people walked, he could see the lights from 
restaurants and cruising cars. Ignorant people. A sting of something hit him, could it be 
jealousy? It could have been him down there, laughing, drinking, enjoying his life, surro
unded by people he loved and people who loved him. Instead he was up here, invisible, 
silent, filled with death and dread. A trace of doubt whisked trough him, and was just as 
quickly brushed aside. 
The city disappeared below him, boulevards replaced by country roads. He gazed fascinated 
at the twinkling lights down there, the passing cars. They looked so small and innocent, 
and perhaps they were. Like ants, unaware of the great changes that were coming. The doubts 
returned, stronger this time, doubts of this mission, his place here and the just in what 
he was about to do. What right had he to destroy so many lives? He forced himself to focus, 
he was here to do a job. He was here because he was the best, he had been chosen, he was a 
professional. This was all he was, if he didnít do his job what was he then? He had no 
loved ones, no family, he was alone without roots, perhaps this was why they had chose him, 
nobody would miss him and no one would mourn him. This was not his decision, he couldnít be 
blamed. He was just the hand of god, a messenger with the power of the universe at his 
fingertips. The numbers and symbols shone soothing green towards him, two minutes to 
target. Just a little longer. He lightly touched a button on his board, two symbols 
appeared on his HUD, two green bomb symbols. Another flick, another button and the symbols 
turned a crimsom red, the baydoors opened and the text ìArmedî appeared under the bombs. 
City-lights rushed up towards him, his target. As he saw the lights come towards him he 
suddenly felt cold, shivers chased each other down his back and he could feel his hands 
start shaking, this wasnít right. Why should he decide who lived and who died, thousands of 
lives on his conscience, nobody should be forced to do this, but he must. He banked the 
plane and came around for another pass, his finger on the release button. But again he 
hesitated. It was one thing to drop death and destruction on a hostile military target, a 
silent agreement between soldiers, and quite another to ruin an entire city. A city filled 
with innocent men, women and children, whos only mistake was that they were at the wrong 
place at the wrong time. The longer he hesitated the more convinced he became, he wold 
return to base and tell his superiors that they would have to find somebody else to do 
their bidding, that he no longer would go along quietly. His finger left the bomb release 
button and he closed the baydoors, the bombs disappeared from the HUD. 
A bright light shone for a moment before his eyes and as cannon shells ripped up the plane 
from nose to engines a single sentence ripped through his mind ìWe cannot allow Any 
mistakesî
The second Ghostrider swept past like a deadly bird of prey, two white shapes separated 
from the black craft and fell towards the unknowing city below. A moment later the night 
turned into day.
That night the blasts incinerated millions of people, and as the nuclear fires swept across 
the globe engulfing city after city in bright unearthly light, they lit the way for four 
black horsemen riding slowly through the cataclysm, the apocalypse was upon mankind.

Per Sikora 1999