Aces High: War Torn

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Edge 1: "Dude! Edge 3 shot down another one! How many does that make it now?!"

Edge 2: "I think that brings his total to nine or somethin', and just in this sortie."

Edge Leader: "Cut the radio chatter! We're still in hostile territory, so stay focused."

The missile-lock alert started blaring for Asriel. One of the enemy planes had locked on to him, and the next set of alerts signalled the launch of the missile. His cockpit was filled with the sound of the alarm going off, but he stayed as cool as he had been since they took off.

Edge Leader: "Edge 3! You got a missile on you! Shake it off!"

Asriel did not verbally respond or react immediately. He continued flying as the projectile started to catch up to him. The alarm was wailing, his squadmates were starting to add to the noise. But he seemed unaware of any of the distractions, much less the missile closing the gap between it and his plane. It almost seemed like he was inviting the weapon to get him, teasing it. Then, with a sudden movement, he pulled up on his joystick and his plane pulled upwards towards the heavens. Punching the throttle, he felt the Gs pressing onnhis body as he started to rocket upwards. The move was too sudden, the missile tried to stay on him, but it made a wide turn and missed him.

Edge Leader: "Edge 3, missile evaded."

Pulling back even more and letting up on the throttle, Asriel made a half-loop before rolling his plane back to its orginal position, but facing the other way. He locked onto the enemy that had fired at him and launched his own missile. It smacked him straight in the cockpit. The enemy plane exploded as Asriel zoomed over it. His squadmates cheered as they got back into formation.

AWACS: "Great job, Edge Team. All targets eliminated. Lets head on home."

Edge 2: "No doubt about it. Edge 3 is today's Ace."

Edge 1: "You can say that again, man. Yo, Edge 3, where'd you learn to fly like that?"

He was silent for a few seconds, and the radio seemed eeriely empty. Then he spoke up.

"Practice."

-----------------------------

The Belkan War had only just started, and things were already getting sketchy, both politcally and definitely on the battlefield. But politics did not concern Asriel now, if ever. He was like many of the other pilots here at the base, he was a mercenary hired by Ustio to fight for their cause. At least, the pay was good.

Asriel stepped down onto the tarmac and pulled his helmet off his head, immediately to be greeted by his squadmates. One of them, Edge 1, gave a hardy slap on the back as his form of congratulations. Edge 2 gave him a calmer one which kind of made-up for Edge 1's lung-loosening hit. Edge Leader was on his way to them, but he was yelling his congratulations. Edge Team, all four of them, was comprised completely of mercenaries. They never knew each other before this, yet they were kind of like siblings already. Maybe the common background made it easier to make friends with each other.

Now with his helmet off and his feet on terra ferma, Asriel was a different person. He happily joked and talked with the three others while they made their way inside. He managed to return Edge 1's back slap with a good punch in the arm. He laughed in enjoyment and asked Asriel again how he got so good, but wanted more details. Asriel could not really tell him, he personally did not know himself. So he told him that it was just experience gained on the battlefield and maybe playing too much videogames. It was enough for them and they headed inside.

Later, after they had settled down, Asriel stood in the hangar next to his personal plane. To him, the plane was more of a person than a machine. He knew its quirks and knew how to deal with them. He knew what it needed and what it took to make it do what he wanted. It really was like a relationship between him and it.

"Ten downed bogeys. That's good for today, don't ya think?"

He stood in silence like he was waiting for the plane's response.

"Yeah, we could've done better I guess."

"SHIT! We need air support NOW! Those Rafales are chewing us out!"

More bomblets dropped across the foot of the hill, sending shraphnel and dirt everywhere in brown and black clouds. Armored vehicles lay on their sides, burning, while three Rafales strafed and bombed with leisure the positions held by the entrenched Osean troops. Another tank blew up, the turret disintegrating in a thousand pieces aflame.

"This is Wind Read! We can't send a thing, they're all tangled up twenty miles away!"
"Wind Read, this is Grave. Give me targets."

Looking up, a black F-15 dived away from the explosions and tracers 5000 feet above, pursued by two Su-27s. The F-15 was diving straight for the Rafales, but still was too far. Apparently, the pilot was a burned-out woman. Her voice was low and sounded like she was bored, or depressed. Maybe both.

"Grave, you have two hostiles catching up!"
"Just give me those targets."

As Sergeant Lewis watched, the F-15 corrected its trajectory and fired one missile at the Rafales. The three of them dispersed, but the missile went straight for the one getting away in exactly the direction the F-15 faced. Even at maximum speed, and with two Su-27s on her tail, Grave kept the Sparrow aimed on the Rafale. It tried a desperate climb, but a sudden burst of machinegun fire scared the pilot back to leveled-flight, and the missile slammed into him, blowing him off the sky.

At that moment, the black F-15 passed right above Lewis, and climbed, the Su-27s in hot pursuit. Even as he watched, the black plane slowed down and completed a loop, but the Su-27s didn't slow down and over-shot the maneuver. They were now facing away from the F-15 rapidly turning to engage them...


--------------------------

"Hey, miss! How did the hunt go today?"

Miranda looked down at the ground crews now servicing her aircraft. Sitting above the air in-takes, Miranda let a soft breeze pass over her, and through her. It always was the most pleasant thing after a long flight. Her black flight suit was open down to her belly, her belly-button showing under a simple white sleeve-less shirt.

"Four SU-27s, a couple Terminators, and a couple Rafales. Oh, and a scouting F-4."
"Do you want them painted on?"

Miranda smirked. Her airplane had no other painting than a black layer all over it, and the white Pegasus on the wing. She had kept it like that for a long time, and didn't intend to break the tradition now. But it still made for a smart-assed joke from the ground crews.

A damaged F-16 trailing black smoke passed not three miles away from them, already above a runway. Miranda's eyes knew what to look for. Only two of the landing gears were down. When the plane touched down, it fell on a side, ripped a wing off, and dragged itself out of the runway before the engine caught fire.

"Look. You have work over there." As the ambulance and fire engines raced towards the crash-landed plane, Miranda laid down against the cockpit, her arms behind her head, just enjoying the breeze, and another survived morning.

Worker 1: "That girl's good, ain't she?"

Worker 2: "The one who just landed?"

Worker 1: "Mm hm. I heard she shot down an ass-load of fighters today."

Worker 2: "While I'm sure ass-load is the technical term for it, Calibur is still the ranking man on my list."

Worker 1: "Yeah. But the guy's got competition now."

Asriel gave the two men a wayward look as they passed behind him. The mechanics here sure were loud. It was probably because they worked around even louder machines all day, and they were just used to screaming at each other. It was seemingly harmless. Unless someone was to be in the vicinity that maybe should not have heard what they were conversing about. This could fall into the category.

He was not a man who competed in terms of 'who shot down the most fighters'. Ranking people based on the number of possible true-life kills they made was not something he subscribed to. But Asriel wanted to check out this woman. She sounded interesting. So he bid a temporary farewell to his plane and walked out onto the tarmac. After first spotting the crippled and flaming fighter, he found a black F-15 sitting on its own. Inside its open cockpit was a laid-back young woman, probably only a few years younger than him. Figuring that to be the woman who downed an "ass-load" of fighters, he walked on over to her plane.

"You the girl the workers have been talkin' about? The one who - Quote - "Shot down an ass-load of fighters,"?

Miranda threw quite a few colorful things her mother didn't teach her to say. But at least she said them in a low voice. She had almost fallen asleep, and she could do with the tanning, even if she knew her skin was not very inclined in that direction.

Opening her sleepy eyes, she looked around, and saw a young man standing a few meters away from the air intake she was lying on. Miranda sighed.

"Yeah, ass-load sounds about right, I guess." Truth was, Miranda couldn't care less about the workers' rumouring, and her voice came out dull. She was accustomed to it, having been in this base since two days after the war officially started. But that brought memories that she'd rather not review too closely.

Half a minute passed, and she noticed she hadn't introduced herself yet. "Oh, by the way. Miranda Santos."

"Nice to meet you, Miranda. I'm Asriel Kalister."

Taking a second to look over the girl, Asriel noticed how lithe and thin she was. Along with her rather depressed, for lack of a better word, look made her seem almost ghost or spirit-like. That was probably just how he saw her, but he could not help wondering just what exactly made her emit such an air. Curiosity and manners fought in his mind for a moment before he decided to delve into that.

"You seem.... Down. Is everything all right?"

He stayed on the ground, but moved a little bit closer to the cockpit. From this distance he could see her eyes. Those piercing blue eyes. But she could see his own face clearly too. He looked genuinely concerned. Though in a more curious way than a caring way in some respects.

Hmmm... Looking at him closer, Miranda had a strange feeling about this man. Or was it... a smell? No, that was her own. The smell of gunpowder... the smell of death...

"Don't worry about me. I'm normal enough... I think." Miranda shrugged, wondering how come this was the one guy out of the dozens she had met that actually had the courage to ask her that.

Asriel raised an eyebrow at this girl's response. Or maybe it was because, for a split-second, it looked like she was trying to sniff him? No. It was the first one. This Miranda-girl definitely acted like she was hiding something from him. Considering the situation and enviroment, it probably involved the conflict and what it had done to her. He personally knew it was not a good thing to hold those kind of things down. The last pilot he had seen do that had a breakdown during a sortie. Needless to say, he was shot down.

Not wanting for anything like that to happen to a young woman like her, Asriel wanted to try to talk to her. Hopping up and onto the wing, he strode on over to Miranda and sat down next to her. He was just about to ogle her, but caught himself before his eyes wandered tou much.

"Miranda, seriously, is something up? This whole war has gotten to all of us... Even if we are mercenaries.

"No shit." Miranda answered with derision as she fished a cigarette pack out of her pockets. "What are you, the base's boy scout? Want to make me feel good with myself?" She took a long drag from her cigarette, and expelled the smoke. It calmed her down a bit. Those two Su-27s had been damn persistent. The smoke almost looked like the trails left behind by a plane's wings when doing hard turns.

"Everyone here has a past, boy scout. And some of us would rather forget it. Besides..." Taking another drag, the cigarette's tip burned brightly. Miranda's eyes stared at him. "... why did you choose me as your next good work?"

Because I'm a woman, of course. Fucking boy scouts. I bet he thinks flying around is beautiful and romantic.

He was taken aback slightly at her response. But it occured to him that that kind of answer was not unexected or surprising. To him, she looked like the kind of person that masks their grief with a facade that repelled people, or directed it through combat in an attempt to push it out of her mind. Whatever the case, Asriel figured he was close since she became defensive.

"Well, you seemed a lot like-"

He was abruptly cut-off by the screeching air raid siren. Immediately crews and pilots began to scramble, and the tower operators came over the loudspeaker.

Control Tower: "Multiple hostile fighters detected. Approaching from the north-east. All availabe pilots scramble."

He looked in the direction indicated, then stood up and looked back at Miranda.

"I guess we can finish this later."

Jumping off the wing, he ran into the hangar to get suited-up.

Thank God! Almost with a grin, Miranda grabbed her helmet and started fitting it on as the ground crews started rolling ammo carriages around.

"Hey! Reload the gun, and get me four AMRAAMS and two Sidewinders! And refill!" One of the crew guys climbed onto the F-15 to help Miranda strap in, as another moved the ladder away and a team of four set the missiles up. Miranda keyed into the radio. She was lucky, there were almost no other fighters declaring prepared on the ground, only a few F-14s in the air.

"Valais, this is Grave. Ready to scramble. Is Wind Read up there to guide us?"
"Affirmative, Grave. Also, we have Avenger squadron up there."

Avenger was a 14-A squadron. "Do we have confirmation on the bogeys?"

"Negative, ground troops are unable to identify, and we have no IFFs to read their signature."

Miranda checked the weapon systems, making sure the readings were right. All lights lit up, showing her four AMRAAMs, two Sparrows and two Sidewinders. Also, the gun was already loaded. Damn, these guys work fast! The ground crews gave her the thumbs up, and she answered in kind.

"Valais, this is Grave. Permission to taxi."
"Permission granted! Range to target, 200 miles and approaching! Repeat, 200 miles and approaching!"
"Roger that, Valais. Grave, taxying..."

The engines fired up as a single black-painted F-15 taxied into the first runway out of the three cleared, a white rampaging pegasus painted on its left wing...

Asriel leapt up the ladder and into the cockpit. As his crew finished up finishing his load out, he strapped his helmet on. Everytime there was an emergency, he had to applaud his crew. After serving with him for awhile, they had learned to start work almost soon as he landed and to do it fast for just such occasions such as this one. His crew gave him the good-to-go signal and he simply nodded in response. As the Raptor hummed to life, he patted the console and started to pull out.

"This is Calibur. Permission to taxi."

Control Tower: "Granted. But wait for Grave to take-off before you do. What about the rest of Edge Squadron?"

Asriel did not answer, and the tower simply took the silence as the answer itself. As he waited for his turn and watched Grave take-off, he noticed it was Miranda's Tomcat. Just by the way she handled her fighter, he could tell she looked forward to this and was excited. Looking back down at the tarmac, he prepared to leave the ground himself.

Control Tower: "Calibur, you're clear for take-off."

As soon as the word 'clear' entered his ears, Asriel was off and flying. Quickly catching up to Miranda, he flew next to her on her right.

"Excited?"

His voice had changed. Maybe it was the radio changing it or the white noise, but it had become deeper and softer. He sounded like he was speaking from the shadows, and was slowly trying to interrogate her.

Control Tower: "You should almost be in visual range. Pleae confirm the fighter's IDs."

"Hmph." That could have been interpreted as an affirmative answer. Miranda set her Eagle's radar to full power, and waited for the enemy to get into its range. The IFF confirmed their identities as Belkan fighters. All in all, eight of them.

"Wind Read, Avenger here! We have eight bogeys closing in at 2000 feet on the base! Direct us to the attack!"
"Avenger, roger. Pointing."
"Wind Read, Grave and... Calibur, here. Point us to the enemy."

The radar adjusted, Miranda took quick glances to the sides among the mountains, and sure enough noticed further hostiles racing below under the eight initial bogeys, off to a side, weaving their path between the snow-covered peaks. This wasn't the first time the Belkans tried that, and Miranda knew it. Comes with experience. A month in Valais was more than enough to teach you a few tricks.

"Wind Read, this is Grave. We have incoming from under the radar. Bearing, 200, coming from the north." Just then, the HUD pinged. The enemy in front were F-16s. Surely, AA-configured. Diversions.

"Calibur, those are F-16s. I'll engage the ones below, you support Avenger." Miranda gritted her teeth as she rolled and dived, engaging her afterburner. Switching the Sidewinders on, she headed straight towards the enemy formation's side. They were moving in a line that snaked its way between the peaks. Whoever that was, they had balls.

Grave darted down like a black arrow. In her radar, a blip from the enemy formation disappeared as the air space suddenly went alive with movement like a buzzing bunch of fireflies on her display. Taking her attention back to the bogeys between the mountains, she wondered who the hell was leading those sneaky bastards.

Asriel personally did not like being ordered around by her, but set those feelings aside as he watched her roll and dive towards the lower fighters. The part of him that flew the fighter and somewhat became part of it, the one occasionally referred to as a "demon", was quite single-minded and detached from everything else. It knew how to fly and it did just that. Not because of orders nor for any vengence or redemption. But only because that was all it knew how to do. Finally sighting the F-16s, it kicked up the throttle and flew head-on towards the squadron.

Avenger Leader: "This Avenger Squadron, engaging enemy now."

The four man Avenger squadron ahead of Calibur split into pairs and began firing off the first set of missiles. The bogey F-16s took evasive maneuvers and quickly shook off the missiles and began engaging Avenger. Calibur quickly picked out one that had "strayed from the herd" in the course of evading the missiles and set his sights on that one. The stray had flown sharly upwards, and Calibur followed by pointing his Raptor nearly straight vertical. He locked fired off one just as the target began to descend. Smacked it straight in the cockpit.

Belkan Fighter: "We lost Gierr 5!"

Avenger 2: "Alright! Calibur's got one down already!"

This caught their attention quick, and two Belkan F-16s were already making bee-lines for Calibur. He pulled back on the joystick and began a tight Immelmann turn. After a brief moment where he could up and see the ground and make out the eyes of his chasers, Calibur effectively cut his engines and began a sharp drop. The fighters flew past him as he fell. A few moments passed and he gunned the engines again and began chasing the fighters himself.

"Grave, engaging."

The F-15 sped right behind the enemy attackers snaking between the mountains. They kept to the peaks, which meant they were easy to target. Soon enough, her HUD beeped, locked on the rear craft.

"Fox 2." The Sidewinder unlatched, fell, and screeched away. As the smoke trail followed the rear plane, it climbed up hard. It was a Tornado. The others climbed hard too, and Grave fired a Sparrow at the next one even as the Sidewinder still flew towards its target.

Suddenly, her radio started screeching. Miranda gritted her teeth, the noise penetrating her ear so much it hurt. It threw her concentration off, until suddenly it stabilised.

Belkan fighter: "It's him! The pegasus!"
Belkan fighter: "I can't sh-!"

Looking up, an explosion marked the sky. Ok, that's another 200. Slowing down, Miranda watched the Tornado chased by the Sparrow dive back among the mountains off to her left side, as the two leading the flight and climbing continued their maneuver into a loop, and then dived at her at a roughly perpendicular interception course.

Belkan fighter: "Let's get him! Edelweiss 3, continue the mission! Go for the target!"
Belkan fighter: "Edelweiss 2, fox 2!"

Miranda saw the flash, and pulled hard to starboard, her F-15 reacting fast as lightning and dodging across two peaks. The sparrow exploded against one of the peaks, sending snow and shraphnel in every direction even as the Tornados fired their machineguns at Grave. The Black F-15 dodged by sticking to the mountain's surface as it dived down, the bursts hitting the snow and the rocks on the wrong side of the mountain...

She felt the g-suit tighten around her thighs and abdomen as she pulled the Gripen around in a highspeed left turn. Luisa didn't feel so bad after a bombing run. That's not to say she was completely comfortable with it, but not having to watch the self-guided bombs was easier on her conscience. Still, she tried not to look at the source of the fires below her though.

Her inventory of four Mavericks depleted, Luisa headed back to base. She keyed her mic.

"Valais, this is Snow Angel, over. RTB," she reported. She didn't really need to ask for confirmation, she supposed. If she made it back, she made it back. If she didn't, that wouldn't be so bad, now would it?

She expected not to have survived this mission, but the predicted air cover had been curiously absent. Even then, the pair of Tungusta M1 AAs had downed her wingman before she could take them out. She hadn't seen a chute.

Luisa descended, intending to fly low through the mountain valleys, back to Valais. She was almost there when a black shape, a blur really, flashed over her canopy. The next thing she saw was the peak before her exploding into smoke and flame. Her head swivelled again, like watching a supersonic tennis match, as two Tornados passed her as well, intent on the black fighter.

"Valais, Valais," she called out over the radio, with an enthusiasm she didn't feel. "Snow Angel engaging!"

With a flick of a switch, she disengaged her empty drop tanks and pulled up, gaining altitude and pulling left. As the horizon flipped, she rolled over and righted her orientation, above and behind the Tornados. They have to know I'm here, she thought. Run, you bastards! Get the hell out of here!

In her helmet, she heard the deathknell tone of a hard lock. Her heart sank in resignation. "Fox two," she whispered, firing the Sidewinder off her left wingtip.

Grave continued her dive, knowing the Tornados would be following her. Nevermind, she was going to give them a surprise. The insistent tone of her warning systems didn't make her as nervous as she admitted she should be. Then, the warning changed to a missile alert. That reminded her about the Tornado heading for Valais.

Edelweiss 1: "Yeah, this one will... EDELWEISS 2, BREAK LEFT!"

Edelweiss 2 had no time to break before Snow Angel's Sidewinder crashed into its port engine, disabling both and sending it down against the mountain's snow. The Tornado pilot played it well, though, gliding down as much as possible while still trying to slow down. The plane slid surprisingly smoothly down the mountainside when it touched down, the snow cushioning the crash and preventing a fire, until it rolled over onto its side and remained there, smoking.

Again, the Tornado proved its resilience.

Even as Grave continued the dive with a sharp turn left and into a narrow ravine to dodge the enemy missile, the alert was off. The missile was a Sparrow, so it had to be directed to the target until it hit. But this meant the launcher had either been shot down or scared away.

Edelweiss 1: "Damn you, war dogs! This isn't over yet!"

Grave watched Calibur, Avenger and their opponents disappear in her radar as her F-15 shot into the ravine at high speed. But her chaser was still behind her. What was worse, now she couldn't warn Valais. But she had the advantage in this situation. More machinegun fire passed beside Grave, but she simply climbed away and out of the ravine. The Tornado could not climb this fast.

"Wind Read, this is Grave. An Attacker is still heading for Valais. Can you intercept?"
"This is Wind Read, Homme squadron is in the air above Valais, they'll take care of him."
"We also have a crashed Belkan in this sector. Down on a mountain side. Send a SAR, will you?"

With a barrel roll, Grave positioned herself above the ravine upside-down, and watched carefully. The ravine continued on for miles on end, and the Belkan Tornado had not come up. It hadn't crashed either, since there was no smoke coming up from the ravine or a flash indicating an explosion. But that was fine. Slowing down and leveling her F-15, Grave sighed. High speed combat was her specialty, no matter the restrains on space, but it was very taxing on her senses.

"Grave here. Who got one of those Tornados off my back?"

She watched the AIM-9M detonate, then turned away as the Tornado went down. She didn't want to watch that, knowing she herself could suffer the same fate some day.

She searched the sky for the other plane, but it looked like the black Eagle had chased the bandit off.

Luisa watched the graceful flight of the Eagle, followed its path, then shook herself from the distracting sight as the radio transmission came through. She keyed her mic again.

"That would be me," she said heartily, gaining altitude to meet the F-15. She carefully brought her Gripen alongside, off the big plane's right wingtip, then edged forward so the canopies were parallel.

"Snow Angel here. May I know whose back I just scratched?"

She took a look into the Eagle's cockpit and gave the pilot a thumb's up. Then she took a look at the light gray smoke rising from the valley.

"Hey, he could still be alive?"

Luisa's heart leapt.

Avenger 3: "Hey, Calibur! That was too close for comfort!"

Calibur had nearly collided with Avenger 3 in the process of pulling off another kill of the Belkan squadron. It was not his intention to hit him - It was intended that he come within feet of the fighter - But never to actually make contact. Whatever the case, he had downed the third fighter. Avenger Squadron managed to blow away two others, but Avenger 2 had been lost.

Calibur: "Then get out of my way."

They seemed to take his advice and pulled away a little bit. They were still in the fight, but now Calibur had enough room to work. Taking down his fourth fighter was easy, the Belkan had gone chasing Avenger squadron, and Calibur preforated the bottom of the F-16 as he ascended with his gun. As he watched the pilot eject, he figured it was the first one to get out alive. The last two, a ways off, accelerated at him as he turned to face them head-on. Now playing a deadly game of chicken, the two Belkans and Calibur screamed towards each other. A Belkan let off a missile. With almost inHuman accuracy, he shot the missile down with his gun. Keeping the gun going, he shot out the cockpit of one fighter. The last one was surprised with Calibur's own missile.

Calibur: "All bogey's neutralized."

Miranda answered the thumbs-up with a nod. "For now, I'm just Grave. We'll talk at base. And yeah, I think those guys are still alive. Those are some lucky bastards, nobody who ejects out here survives."

At least that I know of. But some thirty examples are enough, I think. Looking back at her radar, Grave picked up Calibur's message. Good. Was starting to get tired. 14:40 and I still haven't eaten anything.

"Wind Read, do you pick up any more hostiles?"
"Negative. Also, the straggler heading for base is down. Homme caught him."
"Good. Permission to RTB?"
"Permission granted. Good job, guys. And gals!"

The good-humoured last words didn't do much to raise Miranda's spirit. The sky was clear now, but there had been an explosion not long ago that probably meant the death of two people, not to mention the enemy fighters intercepted by Avenger and Calibur. As much as Miranda was Ok with flying... but her stomach growled. Setting course for base, Miranda unhooked her breathing mask.

"Anyone knows what's the menu today? Supposing we get there on time, of course."

Luisa was taken aback by the decidedly neutral tone of the other pilot. She bit back an instinctive smart-alecky response. Maybe... maybe she's just too much of this war... she reflected. It wouldn't be surprising.

She lowered her airspeed the tiniest bit and gently pulled back on the stick, her Gripen responding easily, dropping back and gaining a bit of altitude. Luisa looked over her craft, making sure her last Sidewinder was still in place and that there was no surface damage from the debris knocked off the peak earlier. She doubted any had struck her, but she wanted to be careful.

With that done, Luisa shrugged and gave in to her curiousity to look over the Eagle whose wing she flew off of. The most noticeable aspect of the big fighter was the all-over black paintjob. Very vreative , she thought wryly.

Without a word of warning to the other pilot, Luisa barrel rolled over the F-15's exhaust, ending up in nearly the same spot on the other side, give or take a couple of meters up or down.

"What's with the pegasus?" she asked, not answering the menu question.

The Avenger Squadron did not cheer. They had lost a squad member. Calibur could understand, but felt nothing more than that. It was not that he had not cared for the pilot, or was some harden battle veteran. It simply did not know anything else other than piloting that plane. Everything else seemed enigmatic to it. Despite that, the silence of the radio was sullen and dark. But the dulled roar of the engine and passing wind was enough for Calibur.

As Avenger squadron pulled away back to the Valais base, Calibur stayed behind. In the cockpit, he appeared to be listening for something. What he was trying to hear was a mystery since little to nothing could be heard up there. But he was picking up something. Something did not feel right to him, and he was trying to find out what. After he found what he thinks to be the cause of this feeling, he suddenly pulls back on the stick and ascends quickly.

Wind Read: "Calibur, where are you going? Return to base."

He did not respond, and continued to climb.

"..."

Miranda kept flying in a straight line, the shadows in the cockpit around her telling her more or less what Snow Angel was doing. Such vitality...

"It's a memory..." It had been Miranda's innocent self. Her past life. And above all, a memory of those she had flown with, fought with, and... watched die. Sinking in her seat, she rubbed her eyes. That was when...

Wind Read: "Calibur, where are you going? Return to base."

Checking her radar, Miranda saw Calibur was climbing hard. Miranda's first instinct after noticing this was following suit, but it would be stupid to waste fuel just for... a hunch? With a gentle pull, the black F-15 started to ascend.

"Calibur? What's the matter?"

"Calibur, where are you going? Return to base."

Luisa noticed the diamond shape rising into the sky. Is that Calibur? she wondered. She checked her instruments, nothing on radar besides the recovery bird moving in to retrieve the downed Tornado crew.

Her's wasn't a sensor suite as extensive as the Eagle or the Raptor, but near as she could tell, there was no reason to go vertical.

Maybe it's a ritual between these two? she thought.

"Calibur? What's the matter?"

Okay then, maybe not, she reconsidered.

She went over her instruments again, and noted her fuel status. She'd needed the drop tanks to make it to the objective, and emptied them enroute. She could have dropped them at the scene, but with the way the war was going, she had figured it might be a good idea to bring back the reuseable equipment she left with, if possible. Especially after her wingman had bought, losing his drop tanks, armament, plane and skills in the process. She did have the fuel to spare for a climb, but she was uncertain what she could do for two pilots she didn't even really know.

I don't even know the name of the Raptor driver, her mind argued.

"Valais," she called in. "You might want to send another team to retrieve two drop tanks about a kilometer East of the crash site..."

"RTB."

She loitered a bit, watching the first recovery team claim the Tornado crew without incident, then, with another look at the two ascending aircraft, headed for home.

Despite all the questions he was hearing about his ascension and the orders to return, Calibur silently continued to climb. Something told him to get up high, for what reason he did not know, but he followed his instinct. Not noticing that Grave was slowly coming up with him, Calibur passed through the clouds, and after a moment of low visibility, came out on the other side.

Calibur: "There."

He had always trusted his instincts, and it was a good thing he had listened to them this time around too. Just above the cloudline was a high altitude stealth bomber. A variant of the B-2 from he could tell, but definitely a Belkan craft. They must have spotted him, since they immediately unloaded their bomb load and throttled-up. The bomber was taken down easily enough, but the bombs were whole different matter entirely.

Calibur: "Wind Read. Get everyone to shelter. We got bombs."

So the eight F-16s were a distraction for a distraction. A little overdone, but it worked. The bomber must have mostly been off the radar, and when it was it was either too small or hidden by the other craft. A complicated mission, but one that was about to complete its ultimate goal.

Calibur was not about to let that happen without some intervention. Now pushing down on the stick, he literally made a controlled fall towards the ground, chasing the bombs themselves.

At the cry of bombs, Miranda looked into her radar searching for enemy airplanes, but she caught nothing until...

Suddenly, the bombs flared, their rears lighting up. At least six contacts showed now on the radar. Miranda's face winced in disbelief when she saw the flares above and to her left. What was more, the bombs started catching speed, and stabilised into a semi-horizontal flight. In the blue sky, the bombs had become missiles. And those missiles were big enough for Miranda and Luisa to see them from their positions.

"This is Grave! Those bombs are missiles! Wind Read, do you copy? Tell Valais to prepare the SAMs!"
"Roger that!"

God fucking damnit! With a gentle pull, Grave took an interception course, ascending and running along the missiles' trajectory towards the base. It was a course almost parallel to the bombs, but engaging her afterburner and going at max speed should put her in the correct position to bring some of the missiles down. As her F-15 accelerated, she felt her own body sink into her seat as a gentle tremble shook the Eagle.

"Wind Read, six contacts! Look like..." Taking a closer look, and judging by the smoke trails the missiles left behind... "... those are big ones! Might be cluster or nuclear, I have no idea!"

Miranda thanked God for AMRAAMs as she armed the medium-ranged missiles. Four of them against six missiles. The computer started locking on, but it still would take 20 seconds to get in-range. Would she get to use the Sidewinder and the Sparrow she had left, shorter ranged than the AMRAAMs? She could only try and hope Calibur still had some AMRAAMs left to hit the other two.

Speak of the devil! Miranda watched a blip come down on her display, before looking up and seeing an F-22 fall like an arrow above the missiles.