Exile Studios Presents: A Special Production OVA

Freelance Alliance: the Sky's Angels

---The Beginning of the Cycle

------By: Glensather Galanodel

---------Published by: Exile Studios

Bronze Gate One (Under Construction) – May 6th, 2006

The men sat in a dark room. A single lamp dangled from a cord connected to the ceiling, casting dull shadows against the plain off-white walls. They sat around a circular table, with a projection in the middle showing a list of everything from names to equipment. These eight men composed the leaders of the special black-ops squadron, soon to be formed under a singular banner.

They all had their reasons for being here. Some were obscured in shadow, and others were glad to tell of their past. However, they all had the same reason for being here: they were hand-picked by a secret organization within the United Nations of Erusia and the Independent States of Usea (ISU) to head the Freelance Alliance – a squadron of men and women from around the world of varying backgrounds and skills, brought together for different agendas, maybe even greater than their own.

The posted "leader" of this band of rogues came in the form of Erick von Long, a man just hitting the age of forty. His military-style haircut was hidden by the fedora he wore, and his M1911 was slung casually in a holster on his back. He adjusted the strap quickly before assuming a relaxed position, slinging one arm over the back of the chair and propping his left foot up onto the table, his steel-toed boot gleaming dully in the light.

"So," he said, his voice gruff and hard; that of an experienced individual. "We've seen the proposed size and magnitude of this base when it's finished. But what are we going to do about pilots?" he adjusted his hat. "We can't exactly pick them off the street, you know. I sure as hell don't want a crop duster covering my wing,"

Two of the men looked at each other and each gave the other a nod of consent. The older of the two shrugged before leaning forward, slipping a CD into his laptop and pulling up a list of some thirty individuals. He then shortened the list to some twenty. His bright blue eyes looked up at Erick, who stared almost intently.

"These pilots have been the ones observed and believed to be of the best use. Lieutenant Santos and I want to shorten this list to about eight, making the Temnota Squadron into a dual-flight wing of five each. Like us, they hail from different backgrounds and nations, but they'll still be quite useful, especially when they fully develop their piloting skills. You'll notice that many of them are Airmen; well, there's a reason for that. We fully believe that we can train these pilots to be the best, and eventually replace us in the long run," Erick scanned the list for names, and shrugged.

"How are you going to recruit them?" he asked. "Many of them won't want to join, and many still won't be good enough to join,"

"Well, that's why we're keeping the list large," replied the pilot, his Captain's insignia catching the light of the laptop and overhead as he shifted in his seat. "We figure that out of these twenty, only six or seven will actually be willing to join. We may still have to find people, but at least this way it won't be so bad on us. If it's ok with you, then we'd like to get some people to find these recruits,"

"Granted," said Erick without hesitation. "Try and find these pilots before the year is out, too, all right?" The Captain nodded, and then looked at his colleague. The younger one nodded approval and the older turned back, relaxing slightly in his chair and looking about at who would but their suggestions up next. When none were forthcoming, Erick turned to someone at his left.

"Tell us about how Air Ixiom is proceeding," he suggested to the as-yet-unranked pilot sitting there. The young man pulled his chair up closer to the table and greeted the flight leaders with a rather cold stare, taking aback even his best friend and comrade. He glared at Erick for a second before proceeding with his suggestions.

"Needless to say, Air Ixiom needs bombers and attackers," he began. "Unfortunately, we have neither, except for a B-2 pilot that joined up upon my friend Captain Jacobo suggesting that he do so. Like Temnota, we need two wings of five attackers each. If at all possible, we're trying to recruit some Strike Eagle pilots," he smirked at the man sitting to his left. "Captain, if you will?"

"Right," said Captain Cid Jacobo, sitting up and pulling up a list of almost forty names. A bullet dangled loosely from a silver chain necklace that glimmered in the light as he began clicking on names. "These are all the Eagles we could find. About half are Strikers, but I figure "hey, what the hell?" and have put all these guys for you to see,"

"And other than taking up time, Captain, why don't you highlight only the guys we need to get to join?" asked Erick, a faint tone of annoyance edging his voice.

"Well, to be honest, sir," answered Jacobo, chuckling lightly. "…I forgot which ones were the Strike Eagle pilots," he smiled crookedly at his friend, who could help but laugh too. "So it looks like we'll have to go to each one until we get the right guys," he un-highlighted the names and made the list a bit bigger. "These are all respectable pilots, sir. It'll be up to you as to who should be in it permanently as we bring them in… sir," Erick nodded.

"Well, like I said to Raneses and Santos, you have until the end of the year," he said, reminding the other flight leads. He put his foot back on the floor. "Now, moving on, what have we got for the Naval Air fleet?" A long-haired, young man pulled his chair up, and his gloved hands began typing on the keyboard in front of him, pulling up a list of only ten names. "Is this it?" asked Erick.

"That's the idea," was the light reply. "I'll have them by the end of June, sir," he looked at the computer a second. "Make that July,"

"Right," confirmed Erick. "Now, instead of going over Thanatos squadron, how about we recess for a second? I could use a cup of coffee right about now," The group conceded, and Erick turned off the projector. "Ok, then," he stood and adjusted his hat before walking out of the room. The Air Ixiom leaders followed him, followed by the leader of the Air fleet. Lastly, the leaders of Thanatos and Temnota squadrons left.

The overhead lamp swung aimlessly.

Bronze Gate One (Under Construction) – Catapult 2 – May 6th, 2006

A pilot stood at the back of the launch pad as the technicians lowered a Hawk on to the launch ramp. The test pilot – a computer – relayed information to a nearby screen, detailing everything about the jet's status. The wheels of the jet retracted into its belly as it was lifted onto a "chute", where magnets pulled on the aircraft, keeping it aloft.

Joseph Burns, an older pilot with graying hair, watched with passive interest as the computer seemed to complain about the strain on the aircraft and itself. It register that a force of about .5G was pulling on it from all directions. However, the thruster of the jet still began to turn, causing it to push out a lot of hot exhaust. Technicians put up the barricade.

"Begin first stage launch sequence," ordered the lead tech. A few key commands reversed the magnetic field, pushing on the fighter instead of pulling on it. The nose-end of the fighter, however, remained the same; as in, the magnets continued to pull on the fighter. The computer complained farther as the Hawk felt the strain of the competing magnetic fields.

"Begin second stage launch sequence," The door at the end of the catapult opened, revealing the open daylight of noon. Guiding lights blinked in sequence to the end of the launch chute. "Launch!"

A simple command set the chute into motion. The magnets in front of the fighter pulled on it, accelerating it, while the magnets behind the fighter pushed, propelling it forward. The Hawk zipped in a straight line right for the exit. At halfway it hit 500kp/h. At ¾ of the way it was breaking the sound barrier.

As soon as it hit the last set of magnets, the Hawk suddenly lurched to the left and down, bounced off the wall, and flew out into the open in pieces. The computer went off-line as it broke apart into atoms. Klaxons blared.

"Shut off that alarm!" shouted the lead tech. As one of the lower engineers went to work on it, he looked over at the test area of the launch bay. "What was it this time!"

"The same problem as last week!" replied one of the lower techs. "The last five magnets are to strong on the left side of the tunnel!" The alarms went off, and the red lights died out. "No matter what, it seems that until this base is finished, that magnet will always pull. Right now, though, we simply don't have the resources or the money," He looked back at the screen. "Maybe we should just go for a traditional runway,"

"But where would we put it?" interjected the attending pilot. "Unless we spend that much more on knocking down these concrete walls, then we won't have enough room to put a conventional runway. Instead we're going to use these catapults to shoot fighters out. It's cheaper and, hopefully, more effective,"

He looked at the lead technician and nodded. The younger man grinned and nodded back. Joseph Burns turned about and left, reassuring himself that Caelum would use a solid asphalt runway.

As he walked into the hallway that ran the width of the… base of Bronze Gate One, he ran into two pilots, both of which were talking amiably. Their eyes locked onto the sullen and formal Captain of Thanatos squadrons and suddenly felt the urge to shut up.

"Pilots," he greeted formally. They nodded in return.

"Captain Burns," the older pilot said. "How are you this morning?"

"Fine," replied the old man. Then he walked past them and left. The younger pilot watched him go until he was out of earshot.

"What a weird old man," he laughed. It was replied with by a smack to the back of the head. "Ow! Damnit, what'd I do?"

"Don't disrespect him," scolded Raneses. "He's a much more experienced pilot than both of us, Cid. He's got some problems, sure, but don't call him weird,"

"What about old?"

"Oh… well, I don't know,"

"Didn't think so," A grin spread once again across Cid's face, and the two resumed walking down the hall, touring the base at their leisure. They had barely gone halfway when quite suddenly the hallway ended, leaving a giant crater where a fighter had bombed the base during the fight of Megalith.

Like most parts of the base above ground, this section of the fortress had been damaged or destroyed by the attack conducted by Mobius Wing last year. So not only were the engineers and construction workers remodeling the base; they had to rebuild whole sections. Most of the above ground rooms near the center of the base, and even some underground, were severely damaged by the destruction of the large missile.

"Well… damn," Cid said with his eyes wide. "That is a big hole,"

"Gee, really?" RM replied dryly. "What gave you that idea?" Rolling his eyes, the older pilot turned and walked off. "No wonder they hired you!" he called back toward Cid. "You're such a genius, after all!"

Cid promptly chased him down and tried to beat the living hell out of the older pilot.

Bronze Gate One (Under Construction) – Outside Generator 2 – May 6th, 2006

A gloved hand reached down and pulled a box out of a coat pocket. Tipping the box over, a white cigarette came out and landed into the open hand. The carton was placed back and a lighter was produced. A quick light started burning the nicotine and tobacco in the death stick. The pilot took a drag and let the smoke out through his nose.

"Hey," a voice said. The man looked up into the blue eyes of Captain Chris Johnson. "You look like you could use a friend,"

The black-wearing pilot, leaning against a wall, pushed himself off of it and shrugged. Taking another drag, he began walking off; back to the door Chris came out of.

"Perhaps," he said, looking over his shoulder. Chris began to follow.

"You and Captain Burns are probably two of the most unsocial people I know," Chris began. "I'm sure both of you have your reasons for the ways you are, but don't you think you're flight wing might be a bit disturbed or not trustful of you?"

"They'll get over it," was the quiet reply. The pilot took another hit from the cigarette. "They'll have to, if I'm the flight lead,"

"Yeah, but it's a question of morale," Chris argued. "You're not going to be dealing with seasoned veterans, Lieutenant; you'll be dealing with nuggets, barely even polished. You want them to respect you, not to fear you. It'll only cause them to mess up in the long run. We want them to live, not die. Don't you?"

"Of course," he replied quickly. "Of course I do. But I'm not going to change the way I am for nine other pilots. Eventually they'll learn not to fear. If not, then they'll die anyway. I don't think it'll be a problem," Chris narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, but what if they do?"

"…You have learned to accept me, have you not?"

"Well, yeah, but-"
"Then this conversation is over,"

Long coat flowing behind him, the black-clad pilot threw the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it, ignoring Chris's protests.

"Hey, wait, what's your name? At least tell me that!" Chris shouted after him. The pilot turned a corner, and Chris cursed. "Damnit," he complained. "What's his problem?"

"It's not so much a problem as a personality," a voice from behind Chris made him jump. He turned to see Erick standing there, frowning with disdain at the crushed cigarette on the floor. "It's just how he is. He's not very social, but he's a good pilot. It may not look like it, but he'll train the new guys well; within his own limitations of course. It's exactly what you will do, too, Chris,"

"Yeah, but…" Chris shook his head. "It just doesn't make sense, I guess. Oh, well…" he shrugged. "It's not my fault he's a prune, so what's up?"

"Nothing, just rallying the pilots back together," he said. "Head on back to our "briefing room", Chris. I'll be there shortly," he looked ahead. "Let me catch this fellow," he adjusted his eyes before walking off, turning the same corner the other pilot did.

Chris stared, shrugged, and shifted off. He headed down the hallway where Erick came from, and nearly ran into his fellow flight leader, Alfred Santos. "Whoa, sorry there," he said.

"It's ok," replied Alfred. "I was just talking to Erick when he walked off. I was going to catch up with him, but he told me to report back to the room,"

"Same here," said Chris. "Let's go,"

Along the way, the duo ran into Air Ixiom's flight leaders, then into Captain Burns. Together the group headed back for the elevator that led to the below ground complex of the city. Meanwhile, Erick finally caught up to the Navy pilot.

"Well?" he asked when he approached the still pilot. "What do you think, Glen? Too much happiness for you?"

"Funny," came the snide remark. "I'll have you know that I don't mind the overall cheery attitude of this place right now. However, I do enjoy my privacy. When it's violated is when I begin ignoring people,"

"I know," Erick muttered. "But anyway, it's time to head back. Come on," Glen nodded, and the two began the trek to the nearest elevator.

Bronze Gate One (Under Construction) – "The Room" – May 6th, 2006

"So here we are again," said Erick. "It's been a good couple of hours, so let's get this started,"

"The first order of business is to find out where the large planes are to be launched from. We thought about extending the main tunnel into a third catapult, but that is proving to be too expensive. The ground is too short for a large plane like a B-2 to launch from, and the road that runs perpendicular to the two catapults is too wide,"

"How about we make a runway that extends into the water?" suggested Chris. "We could use the third tunnel as a hangar of sorts, and launch the planes from there. If we put anti-air defenses along the edges of the runway, it'll prove to be an effective runway,"

"I agree," concurred Santos. "I'm sure that if we coated a platform of steel with Teflon so it wouldn't run, we could make a long and wide enough runway,"

"But what about the cost for a runway like that?" asked Erick. "Every missile launched from a SAM is about ten thousand credits. If we scrapped the defenses, it may work, but the anti-air defenses for the catapults may not be able to cover the runway if a fighter flies in low,"

"That's a risk we'll have to take…" The others paused, and then nodded. "Right, let's get back to work…"

Freelance Alliance: The Sky's Angels

---Nuggets

1 Year Later...
A new pilot stepped out onto the dock on Bronze Gate One, to the east of the base's primary entrance. The music faded as he began walking to the base, swinging the bag behind him to carry it easier.

The young pilot walked to the front door and was stopped by the two guards standing at attention. He allowed them to search him for any dangerous items, and took away his USP. He protested, despite assurances that he would get the gun back if he checked out to be OK. Nevertheless, he was herded inside, where he found a young secretary who asked for his identification card. He reached into a back pocket and pulled out a slip of folded paper, along with a small credit-card sized object. She took them both and scanned the barcodes. They checked out to be just fine.

"Very well," she finally said. "Welcome to the Freelance Alliance, Airman. If you head through the doors behind me, you will find a long hallway. Head to the first junction and take a right, where you'll take your oath of secrecy and meet the base commander. You will then be assigned to a squadron based on your flight record and preference of aircraft," she flashed a pretty smile. "It's good to have you with us, Airman Fukai,"

The man, Fukai, nodded and walked into the open doors to the secretary's right. As she said, there was a long hallway, with a junction at the end. He walked it slowly, counting his footsteps until he came to a 4-way junction. As per his directions, he took a right. He found that, save for the door at the very end, this hall was relatively blank. He put a hand against the wall and ran his hand over it as he made his way to the end. There, he found an elevator, and two guards. They let him pass without a hitch.

He stepped in the elevator, and the two men followed. One of them pushed a "B" button, and the AFC felt a lurch as the elevator started and began its trip downward. One of the soldiers made a half-hearted apology to the pilot, telling him that there were still a few "kinks" to work out in the system. "It should be fixed by the end of the month," he claimed, smirking at the pilot, who shifted uneasily as the elevator dropped three feet before catching itself.

But the ride was short to the B3 floor, and the pilot stepped out of the elevator and put his feet on solid "ground". Before him were a series of hallways – a barracks of sorts – and a grinning young man wearing a flight suit.

"You must be one of the nuggets," he said.

"…I guess," replied Fukai, wary of the friendly pilot before him. He looked at the pilot's jacket and on it the name "Jacobo, Cid" was stitched on. On his sleeve the mark of Captain shone proudly, and the bullet that dangled from his necklace reflected brightly, showing the lower-ranked pilot his own distorted reflection in it.

"You are… AFC Rei Fukai, correct?" Cid asked, his dark eyes laughing at the uncomfortable pilot. "Come with me to the briefing room down the hall," He turned and began walking down the hall, and Rei obediently followed. The older pilot, Cid, thought the new guy weird, but he didn't argue for now; they needed still more pilots, and this new guy would probably fit the bill for an effective fighter pilot. Temnota and Air Ixiom were still three pilots short each.

Meanwhile, the younger of the two pilots also had thoughts about the man leading him around. For one, he was incredibly friendly for a pilot; many of his old allies in Yuktobania were only slightly more talkative than he, and even then the strict discipline flight leaders demanded rarely left time to talk, or even have time to do anything but sleep, snack, and shit. A smile flashed briefly across the fighter's face as he remembered the CO he beat the crap out of, but it dropped when he entered the quiet briefing room of Colonel Erick von Long…

Over Bronze Gate One Construction Site – March 10th, 2007 – 1540 hours

Meanwhile, back at the surface, at the far end of the catapults, two wings of five jets were making their rounds. The first wing consisted of two F-14Ds, a Rafale B, an F-4E, and an F-14A. The second had three F-14Ds, an F/A-18E, and an F-35C. Far above them, an E-767 AWACS watched the flight maneuvers from the safety of 35000 feet.

"This is AWACS Hijacker," the pilot called to the fighters. "All aircraft report in,"

"Barracuda Leader, standing by,"

"Barracuda Wing, standing by,"

"Barracudas 3-7, standing by,"

"Barracudas 8 and 9, standing by,"

"Barracuda 10, standing by,"

The lead F-14D opened his channels to the other pilots.

"Ok, we'll now test the flight ability of our new recruits," he said. "Banshee, you know what to do, right?" The blue-eyed pilot of the F-14D leading the other flight glared at his leader.

"Of course I do," he growled. "It was my idea!"

"Then let's get to it," replied the leader, unphased by his wingman's customary short temper. "All aircraft form up behind either me or Barracuda Wing. We'll send you the co-ordinates of a set of rings. You are the follow either me or Banshee through the rings. If you miss one, you will have to start over. Got it? Good. Let's begin,"

Fourth in line for this exercise was Jonathan Anderson, also known as "Viper", according to his moniker, pulled into line behind the lead plane and gripped tightly onto the controls. He put the visor down on his helmet to keep the sun glare out, and got ready for a complicated flight. He wasn't the greatest pilot here – maybe he was the worst – but he wouldn't let that get him down, or stop him from at least trying. I'm ready, he thought. I can do this.

The rings came up on his HUD. He gunned his afterburners the same time as his flight lead, and he and the other four that chose to follow him began to fly straight ahead, going through the first five rings without a hitch. They got a little more complicated as they began to pull upward and spiral into the sky at a 30 degree angle. Due to his jet's terrible yaw rate, Jonathan was forced to slow down, as were many. The F-35 pilot pulled out ahead of them, taking the spiral with ease.

"Good job, Barracuda 10," their flight leader commented. "However, you don't want to leave the others behind. Notice how I'm staying within a hundred meters of them,"

"Yes, sir,"

"Remember, pilots, this is not only a test but a lesson in mechanics. You're going to find out the limitations of your aircraft and yourselves by doing this. For example, look at how easy the JSF handled the spiral of the barrel roll," He leveled out and waited for the others to do so before continuing. "The Tomcat, and even her variants, was not made for yawing; they were made for high-speed mobility. Though her turning arc is significantly wider than many other craft with afterburners engaged, it is faster than many aircraft. Now, let's begin lesson 2,"

As the rings began a straight line down into the ocean, Viper felt a sense of excitement. Watching the ground rush up at him while he was still at 15000 feet was amazing. He wanted to pull up, but following his wing leader was thrilling him. He smiled as, at the very last second, the pilot pulled up and engaged the air-brakes and flaps, flaring the aircraft and slowing it down immensely. He knew that, in order to survive, he would have to do the same.

"Oh… damn…" he said as he disengaged afterburners – and the throttle – to zero, and opened his air brake and flaps, pulling his nose up as he did so. The aircraft screamed under the strain of the complex maneuver, but it held. As he neared the ground, he pushed the throttle up all the way to afterburners. He heard the engines kick in and roar into the sky, and hoped that it would be enough.

There was a moment when his F-14 hovered over the water, with the number "10" reading on Viper's altimeter. He gasped, and then laughed, as the aircraft pushed forward. The flaps retracted and the brake was lowered, and Jonathan grinned as he caught up with his flight lead.

"So how'd I do?" he asked eager to hear the wing leader's response as he stared into Barracuda Leader's cockpit. The long-haired pilot looked at him.

"You keep flying like that," he said darkly… then relented. "You may become an excellent pilot, Anderson," looking back, both of them saw that the other fighters had pulled out of the steep dive, rejoining with Barracuda Wing's exercise.

"Look at that," someone said. Up above, Hijacker watched as cargo planes, filled with disassembled fighters, landed on the completed extended runway to Bronze Gate One, one after the other…

Bronze Gate One (Under Construction) – March 10th, 2007 – 1540 hours

Airman First Class Sam Deakin, 20 years old, stepped from one of the cargo planes. He was greeted by a few guards and escorted to the same elevator where Rei Fukai had gone down some moments ago. He had already been here once before, in a C-17 loaded with men, but had been called back when he was on his way to acquire his fighter. As it turned out, his fighter had been disassembled and placed on a C-17 as a type of covert method of transportation.

As he walked into the elevator, he noticed another pilot was inside. It was one of Air Ixiom's flight leads, RM Raneses. The older pilot nodded to the younger.

"Welcome back to Bronze Gate One," he said.

"Thanks, sir," Sam replied, saluting. RM returned the salute, and the airman stepped on board the elevator. "They disassembled my jet and put it on a cargo jet heading for here,"

"I know," Raneses said. "But it's the only way to get multiple fighters here. Besides, it's not like we'll be using them for a while,"

"Still," Sam began, before biting his tongue. It was a superior officer he was talking to, not a pilot with his rank. "Permission to speak freely, sir,"

"Go ahead,"

"Even with the contingent of emergency Block 60s here, I doubt we could fend off an attack of some sort, don't you think?"

"Well, yeah…"

"Wouldn't it be a shame if we were attacked about now?"

The elevator stopped, ending the conversation. Raneses stepped out first, followed by Sam. He led the young pilot to the briefing room, where Erick sat, feet propped up, hat over his face. Another pilot, who Sam didn't recognize, stood at attention, a frown etched on his hard features. Sam smiled wryly at the naïve pilot, who didn't know that Erick hated not only having someone call him sir or even saluting him, but he didn't like people standing at attention for him.

Sam took a seat behind the newcomer. He wanted to watch how this played out.

On board Air Ixiom Airlines Flight 701 – Above Farbanti Airspace – March 10th, 2007 - 1540 hours

The girl looked out from her window to the white clouds as the jet she was on began its initial approach vector to land in Farbanti International Airport. Rena Davenport was 16 years old, with light brown hair and piercing green eyes. She was beautiful, and her body seemed to belong to that of a girl two or three years older. Her long hair fell to her shoulders as she looked out the window with her intense eyes.

She loved flying. She and her brother both were avid hang glider pilots and she alone had spent over two weeks worth of her life in the air. Her older brother, Alvin, had just joined the Osean Air Force. He was undergoing flight training right now, if the hour wasn't too late. She smiled as she thought of her older brother, whom she believed was the only one who understood how she felt about flying. It was funny that they had even picked out callsigns for themselves, for when they'd begin flying.

It was also strange that she, at a too-young age, had been summoned by her stepsister, Leila, to Farbanti so she could sign-up for the ISAF Air Force. She of course had heard about the ISAF/Erusan conflict, and like many wanna-be pilots, she dreamed of becoming as good, if not better, than the famed "Mobius 1", the unnamed pilot who, along with the best pilots from other squadrons, formed "Mobius Wing" and won the war; not to say of the countless men and women that died, as well.

But she was curious; since when was an ISAF installation put right outside Farbanti? Granted, it was some few hundred kilometers, but that was nothing for a company of fighters to come in and create havoc in the city.

Rena sighed, propping her chin on a hand as she stared at the sky as it fell from view. The thought of joining a squadron to fly was exciting, but it wasn't the real thing… and that's what she wanted. She could only hope that whatever her stepsister had in mind would be nice.

Bronze Gate One (Under Construction) – March 10th, 2007 - 1600 Hours

The door to the briefing room opened, and slowly the rookies trickled inside, along with the higher ranks and flight leaders, minus the air fleet and Thanatos. The soft blue glow of the giant computer screen behind Erick lit the front of the room, displaying a highly detailed map of Erusea, down to the separate small towns. The area of Bronze Gate One, highlighted in red, shown in contrast to the blue and green hues in the mainland Erusea, separating it from the rest of the map with its color.

Erick was oblivious to this as he seemed to sleep. Fukai had given up a long time ago and sat in the front row, staring intently at the map and taking in the features he saw. Behind him, Sam Deakin couldn't help but snicker to himself.

"Hey, cut that out," Raneses whispered as Cid repeatedly made obscene sounds next to him, eliciting a laugh from the younger pilot.

"BOOM!"

The room jumped, and people fell out of their desks. Rei clutched his heart, paralyzed with surprise at the sudden motion of the Freelance Alliance leader. Sam snickered, and then roared with laughter at the rookie.

"Now that I have your attention," Erick said, standing as the crowd settled down. "Let me first welcome you all to the Freelance Alliance. I will be your commander, Erick von Long. Your flight leaders are all seated among you, but I trust you've already met. For those who haven't, I suggest that you find out soon," he paused, looking at the map behind him, before looking back at the nuggets and tipping his hat to them.

"Soon you'll all begin your first tours of duty with us," he began. "Hopefully, the reason won't be for war. Mostly, you'll be working recon and scouting, probably even a few parade runs and escort duties. However, don't expect anything major. We had two flights not here, Thanatos and-"

Even from five levels below, the explosion rocked through the base as one-hundred Long-Range Air-to-Surface Missiles collided with the base in various random positions. The computer screen behind Erick turned into a giant red "WARNING" logo. Erick fell to his feet, then quickly scrabbled up and ran for the phone on the wall.

"Bridge, what the hell was that?"

"We've been attacked! Radar picked up nothing on the scopes! Visual contact has just confirmed that ten B-2s have been seen leaving the area at vector 108, on a steady high rise. Hold on…" There was a silence on the phone as the bridge crew exchanged some words. The flight leaders quieted down the rookies. "Casualties are all over the place, sir. Almost 100 men have been confirmed dead,"

"The catapults?"
"Number 1 is operational and suffered no damage, as neither did Number 2. However-"

"Number 2 still doesn't work, I know. Tell me about Runway 3,"

"Good to go. They've finished prepping the Block 60s and your F-4X for pursuit, sir,"

"Block 60s? What about their fighters?"

"Not finished assembling them yet, sir; they still need time in the maintenance bays and – hold on… Sir, there's a squad of almost 20 bogies on their way here. Radar lists them as mid-size, coming in at Vector 160. Probably carrier-based,"

"Damn, looks like we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way, then," Erick hung up the phone. "Listen up, kids!"

Instantly, the rookies snapped to attention.

"We're moving out! Your fighters aren't rebuilt yet, so you'll be using F-16 Block 60s. Our mission is to pursue the escaping B-2s if at all possible and to intercept the incoming aircraft!" He paused and looked at the rookies and flight leaders' faces; they seemed determined, ready to carry out their mission. Inwardly, he smiled. Outwardly, he laughed. "Let's do it to it, boys and girls! Move, move, move!"

The room exploded into motion as twenty men rushed for the two doors to the hangars…

Freelance Alliance: The Sky's Angels

--Perimeter

"Move kids, go!"

Pilot Fukai closed the canopy of the F-16 as it bobbed and weaved aimlessly in Catapult One's magnetic field. He stared down the center of the launch tube and held a hand on the throttle. Below him, a hatch opened, another Falcon loaded on it. Behind him, the launch crew and the waiting pilots prepared for him to launch. An arc of electricity connected two magnets far down at the other end briefly before dispersing.

"Go! Go! Go!"

Rei was pushed back in his seat as the fighter quickly sped up to beyond Mach 1. He gunned the afterburners halfway down, giving him another boost of speed. The shaft of darkness, illuminated by dull lights along the bottom, quickly began to brighten as he neared the end of the launch bay. He tried to pry his hand off the throttle, but it was unresponsive at this speed and force.

His Block 60 burst out of the tunnel and began a rapid descent to the ocean. He pulled up instinctively, and his fighter strained as its nose pointed up to the sky. Above him, the rest of the Temnota squadron had been deployed. The fighting hadn't started yet, but the enemy fighters were quickly closing in from almost five kilometers away. For this he was glad, because he had a chance to catch his breath.

He pulled into formation with the rest of Temnota. His flight lead, Chris Johnson, quickly designated him as Raven 4.

"Closing to 3000 meters," Curse said. "Listen up, Fell-Ravens! We'll be the first to engage the enemy. We're only loaded up with 4 Sidewinders and 2 Sparrows, so make every shot count! Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Rei whispered, pulling up behind Raven 3, an airman named "Shadow". I'll take your wing,"

"Roger that," the other pilot replied. Another click on his com switched channels.

"Raven 4; report your callsign and status,"

"My name is Rei Fukai, callsign Yukikaze. My status is good,"

"Ok," Curse said. "Alright, here they come, Ravens!" Curse suddenly shouted. "Engage, now!" In front of him, Curse suddenly pushed down, sending the fighter to the ocean. On his heads up display, Fukai saw about 20 boxes, each one labeled "F-14A". Shadow suddenly pulled to the right and up. Rei followed quickly, just as a Lock-On indicator lit up. His HUD quickly turned red. He pulled on his flight stick in the same direction he was already going, only harder. His Falcon strained under the pressure, so he cut off his burners and let the momentum of the combined speed and fall act as a speed boost to his already existing Mach 1+ speed. The poorly fired missile streaked by the underside of his fighter.

His wing lead no where to be found, Yukikaze set the fighter into a low run, just above the ocean, where he had a moment to look for his missing wing lead. In front of him catapult 2 loomed… and a jet roared out of it. Rei and the pilot of the incoming fighter both pulled up at the same time. The tighter turning radius of the Falcon saved his life, though, as both he and the other pilot barely scraped the undersides of their fighters.

"Whoa, there, pilot!" The other jet's pilot, Erick, shouted. "Watch what you're doing!" the com clicked off, and an F-4 pulled out in front of Yukikaze for a second before going into a loop. Meanwhile, Rei leveled out his fighter and targeted an F-14 flying across his field of vision toward the east. He pulled his fighter to the left and began pursuit. He was shaken slightly by the recent events, but he tried not to let it get to him as he pushed his throttle up.

The enemy craft, seeing his pursuer on radar, quickly banked to the right in an effort to shake him off. Yukikaze replied by waiting one-half of a second before also banking hard right. It took all of his jet's effort to keep up with the other fighter as it hit afterburners and peeled away from him. Narrowing his eyes in annoyance, Yukikaze turned the opposite direction and began a wide turning arc. He slowly tightened the turn on his aircraft until he came face to face with his opponent.

Without even waiting for a tone, Yukikaze called "Fox 2!" and launched the Sidewinder from his right wingtip and tightened his arc to its deepest angle. His opponent had no time to react to the missile as it plowed into the Tomcat's nose, crushing the pilot in the cockpit before detonating in a red and orange glow. Pieces of jet turned into shrapnel as it flew in all directions. Another F-16 narrowly avoided the blast, and pieces of jet pelted off the fighter's canopy.

Grimly smiling, Yukikaze leveled off his fighter, and then pulled up to meet another opponent.

"Sir, if we keep using Catapult One, it will overload," one of the engineers claimed as Erick quickly walked through the underground hangar. "We need to use the second launch tube!"

"…fine, then," growled the FA leader as he reached the elevator that took him up to the catapult decks. "I guess I have to be the first to go out of it, too,"

"Well, your fighter is the next to launch, along with another fighter from Air Ixiom,"

"Figures,"

Erick stepped out onto the launch deck of catapult two. Far in the back, behind a barricade, engineers and technicians prepped the tube for launch. He eyed them for a second before taking off his hat and putting on his flight helmet. He pulled the visor down and stood at the edge of the platform.

A door opened in the bottom of the catapult, and there his F-4X rested, ready to launch. As it neared the midpoint of the chute, the magnets along the top caught the top of the fighter, and the old jet lifted off its wheels into the air and hovered. Erick walked around and climbed up the rope ladder hanging out of the cockpit. As he set himself in, he coiled the ladder up and threw it behind his seat. He then closed the canopy door and lifted the landing gear.

Narrowing his eyes down the launch tube, Erick prayed to that nothing would go wrong. He gripped the throttle and flight stick tightly, as if he were wringing someone's neck. He kept the fighter steady as he began to push the throttle up, stopping just under the afterburner range. The fighter went forward three inches, but otherwise stayed put.

"Sir, we have word from the Air fleet," someone from command said in his comm. "They're on an approach vector and ready to help us out. ETA is six minutes,"

"I'm guessing Thanatos is too far away?" Erick asked rhetorically. "So we have to hold them off for six minutes? Not a problem," he grinned. "I'm ready, guys,"

There was a lurch as the magnetic field began to propel Erick and his Phantom forward to the wild blue. Like the rest, he gunned afterburners about halfway, as soon as he breached Mach 1. His speedometer raised rapidly as the massive engines in the F-4 shot them quicker forward, pushing the fighter to the limits of its hull integrity. Later, Erick would claim to have seen the fighter elongate as it propelled down the catapult.

As he neared the end, Erick closed his eyes and hoped that the malfunction was fixed. He reached the end, and he began feeling something pulling his flight stick to the left. Reactively, he pulled to the right. The fighter kept steady, but it quickly became too hard to hold straight. He reached the exit bay, as he stared with wide eyes as his left wingtip came dangerously close to the wall.

His fighter screamed out the tube, shooting waves of water into the sky. Erick breathed a sigh of relief, and then looked ahead. He saw an incoming fighter, a Falcon, and pulled up hard the same time as the other pilot. Both fighters nearly scraped the bottom of their fuselage.

"Whoa, there, pilot!" he shouted into the com. "Watch what your doing!" He leveled out the fighter, and then switched to another channel. "Guys, you make me do that again and I'll kill you," he shouted into the com before closing the channel and looking for something to shoot. His eyes locked on to a Tomcat doing a flyby of the command center above ground, peppering the concrete with shells. He pushed his fighter to an intercept course and switched to his Vulcan cannon.

His course, Erick believed, would take him perpendicular to the flying Cat if it didn't turn. Given the course, he assumed it wouldn't. As the fighter neared the right side of his HUD, Erick opened fire into the air. He made a minor adjustment, and then smiled as the enemy pilot ran right into the hail of bullets, tearing the fighter to pieces and creating a big fireball. The fighter turned a sharp left and fell toward the second catapult's concrete walls. It hit, and tumbled along at over 1000 mp/h before becoming an aluminum mess that crashed into the water not far in front of C2. A half-second later, another Falcon came out, flying through the flames.

"ETA Five minutes," Command told Erick. Simultaneously, a timer appeared over his compass indicator on his HUD. "Second wave of enemy jets approaching. Looks like another group of Tomcats," Erick clicked an acknowledgement before turning his fighter in a wide arc, facing the vector where the enemy jets were coming from.

"Something's not right here…" he whispered to himself. "The first wave hasn't even retreated yet… and I haven't heard any radio chatter from them…"

Sam Deakin wasn't used to flying a Falcon. Granted, it was similar in respects to his Typhoon, but he wasn't up for flying against enemy air units. He preferred to stay back and snipe enemy ships from a good distance away, using anti-ship missiles. This wasn't the case though, as his fighter broke Mach 1.5. As he neared the end of the catapult, a fireball suddenly appeared in front of him, plunging in to the ocean.

Sam panicked and pulled up on his fighter, but all that happened was that the nose changed its facing and pointed up toward the ceiling, still being propelled by the magnets more than the afterburner. It saved his life, however, because when he exited the tunnel, his fighter immediately shot upward, narrowly missing a secondary explosion that came from the fireball.

Sam didn't know whether to scream or laugh. So instead he took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. He opened his eyes and found that he had tone on a retreating Tomcat. He grinned and fired a missile, calling out the obligatory Fox Two. As his Sidewinder blew the enemy fighter in half, another one exploded just above his canopy. Shrapnel crashed down on to his Falcon, but otherwise it remained unharmed.

"Second wave of enemy jets approaching, "Command said into his earpiece. "Looks like another group of Tomcats," Sam looked along the vector the initial Tomcats came from, but saw nothing. He looked down, and then up, and finally saw the fighters' silhouette among the clouds.

"I've got visual," he said to the others. "Coming in and scraping the clouds at Vector one-six-zero,"

"Roger that, Eagle 4," his flight leader, Cid, replied. "You got that, Curse?"

"Got it, Stargazer," Chris said into his comm. "All right, Ravens, let's move! Head at Vector 160 and begin climbing! Zero, you mind staying behind and cleaning up?"

"And let you get all the glory? I think not. Dragunov Flight, follow Fell-Raven flight and intercept the second wave! Let Air Ixiom handle the remains," Ten F-16s changed course and hit afterburners, merging into a giant flight of ten ships, all heading for 2-to-1 odds.

"Oh, yeah, and leave us to clean up the mess," Cid grumbled. "I am not saving your ass if you need me, Chris!"

"Ha, like I'll need saving from someone who can barely shoot a target that sits there!"
"Bombing is a delicate process!"

"Whatever!"

"Something's not right here…" Sam heard Erick whisper as he pulled in behind an F-14A. He armed another Sidewinder as he waited for both reticules to converge. Just as they did, the fighter suddenly pulled up and stopped in midair, leaving Sam to blow by it.

"Damn, stall turn!" he screamed, looking behind him for the enemy. He watched the Tomcat begin falling, and then catch itself to point right at Sam. The Falcon's warning indicators went crazy.

Eyes wide, Sam pushed down on the stick and up on the throttle. He felt a lurch as the Falcon responded, facing the ocean and putting enough exhaust behind him to make the short-range missile chasing him very happy. He held the stick down, even as he passed the 90-degree mark and going past Mach 1.

The missile continued chasing him, following the course his fighter took with ease… and edging ever closer.

"Damn…" Sam repeated as he leveled out upside-down. He closed his eyes and put a hand on the ejection handle, waiting for the inevitable strike. But that strike never came; instead, a flurry of Vulcan shells behind him destroyed the missile and left Sam free. "What was that?"

"It was me, Eagle 4," a female voice replied. "This is Eagle 2, covering your six… watch out next time,"

Sam fumed.

"Coming into contact with second wave!"

Fighters broke in eight directions as the enemy Tomcats – a dozen of them – burst through the defense line with guns blazing. Curse's Falcon was caught in the right wing, but it was still flyable. Others weren't so lucky. He watched as Raven 3 billowed smoke behind him, the tail fin mangled and the flap destroyed. He found Raven 5 spiraling toward the ocean, but the pilot was floating down safely behind it, white parachute flowing.

"All right, kids," he heard Erick's voice cut into his com. "Let's get this sombitch started. The Air fleet is still good three-and-a-half minutes away, so pick your targets and go!"

Curse flew in behind a Tomcat as it bobbed and weaved around other jets. He found it nearly impossible to get a missile lock, so instead he opened fire with his cannon. The first few shots missed, but the rest caught the enemy jet in the right engine, blowing the entire fighter to kingdom come. He grinned and opened a channel.

"That's five tonight, kids!" he shouted. "That's right… who's your daddy?"

"Man, five?" Erick jeered. "That's it? What are you, drunk? Watch this!"

Erick grinned and pulled up, cutting off the engines of his jet. He hit the peak of his climb, and began dropping, and opened fire with his cannon. The enemy above him was torn to shreds down the middle. "One," As he began to fall, he cut engines to minimal power and launched a Sparrow that acquired tone. He didn't even watch as the missile collided with the right side of the Tomcat. "Two," By the time his nose was pointing down to the ground, he fired his second Sparrow and cut engines to full. The dumb-fired missile went straight through the cockpit of a Tomcat and kept going to the ocean. "Three, bitch!" He crowed. "In one sweep! Now who's your daddy, Curse!"

"Show-off," Chris muttered to himself.

"What was that?"

"I said, 'you suck, sir!'"

"Do not make me shove a missile in your tail!"

Yukikaze ignored the chatter as he closed in on a fighter. He fired a Sidewinder, and then blew by the enemy jet. It exploded in a shower of shrapnel and flame. This was his third kill in this old fighter, and he was quite amazed with how it handled. In fact, it was quite enjoyable.

"ETA three minutes,"

Cid looked up at the straggling F-14 above him. He grinned.

"Oh, look at that," he said, opening a channel. "Do you see what I see?" He pulled up behind the aircraft. "I see an opportunity to pull a little stunt!" He boosted forward and flipped upside down. "Say cheese, buddy!" He smiled and looked straight into the enemy jet.

But there was no one there.

"What the fu-" Cid didn't get to finish the sentence, as the Tomcat pulled straight up and into Cid's Falcon. It and the F-16 both twisted together, spinning in a straight line that was slowly starting to angle up as the combined afterburners of the fighters sped up the bulky mass of four wings and three tails into the sky.

Cid, amazingly enough, was alive. The canopies of both jets shattered upon impact; this should have killed Cid, but thanks to his helmet, it deflected almost all the Plexiglas. A small sliver of it cut across his brow, and blood trickled out of it as suddenly there was no reason to joke. The nose of the Tomcat was embedded into the nose of the Falcon, and as they passed the cloud line, Cid felt the air around him grow lighter. He needed to do something before he suffered a painful death from a giant missile crashing into the ocean.

"But first, to see what makes this plane tick," he whispered. He turned off his com and unbuckled himself from the seat. He stood up in his jet and grabbed hold of the safety harnesses in the Tomcat that dangled toward him; the other jet was that close. Grunting with exertion, he lifted himself in to the enemy jet and strapped himself in.

It looked like any other Tomcat on the inside, Cid noted. The only difference was that the radar screen was gone, replaced by a series of binary numbers. The flight stick was held in place by two robotic "arms" that connected to points under the seat. Unsure of what to do, Cid reached under and felt for something. He felt what seemed to be a handle, and pulled. Out came a motherboard-like object. He grinned.

Then the F-14/F-16 lurched downward. Both jets had reached the apex of their climb and began a quick and deadly decent to the ocean. Cid threw the board in the air in surprise, and watched with dismay as it collided with the tail, and got stuck in his jet's tail rudder.

"Oh, man" he groaned. He unstrapped himself and climbed out between the two jets, bracing him against both. He ignored the fact that he only had seconds before he felt a watery end. Instead, he braced himself and jumped straight up.

Cid nearly flew past the tail, had he not grabbed hold, breaking his arm in the process. Ignoring the pain, he reached with his free hand and grabbed the object he was killing himself for. He pulled hard, but to no avail.

The cloud line passed. Cid saw the battle below.

Damnit, he thought. First I'm stuck on cleanup duty, now I'm trying to get some stupid object while there's some weird plane-on-plane action going on. Screw you guys, I'm going home.

Cid let go and opened his chute.

"Oh, man," Sam echoed as he saw Cid pop open his parachute. He had witnessed the odd spectacle, and wondered how he survived and the other pilot had not. That wasn't what displeased him, though; it was the two Tomcats barreling down on the floating pilot. Quickly switching to his last Sidewinder, he locked on to and fired a toned shot. He didn't bother to hope it hit and switched to his vulcans. He unleashed a flurry of bullets, just enough to deter the enemy fighter.

A flash and explosion made Sam look up. The Sidewinder hit a flare. Damn. The enemy Cat opened fire at Sam, sending two missiles streaking his way. He evaded the first one, but the second caught his right wing, blowing it in half. Cursing, Sam pulled the ejector handle. The canopy popped open and his seat flew into the air. He got off of it and fell for a second, then opened his chute.

He found himself floating three feet below Cid.

"So, what brings you here?" The Air Ixiom leader asked.

"Just thought I'd drop in,"

"ETA Two minutes. Third wave of fighters on approach vector one-six-zero,"

Yukikaze watched with dismay as one by one his allies fell. The fight was quickly becoming lop-sided in the enemy's favor. Except for one, the Air Ixiom fighters weren't used to the air-to-air combat in this particular fighter. Temnota was faring better, but their fighters were barely on even footing with the faster, better-armed Tomcats… and now the Hornets that approached on radar.

A Falcon to his right exploded into flame, leaving the pilot barely enough time to eject before vaporizing. There was some retribution for the pilot, though, as a Tomcat evading another fighter ran into the fireball; the nose of the jet concaved as it hit the mass of shrapnel, creating a sphere of flame traveling at over Mach 1.2.

"MISSILE ALERT" flashed on Yukikaze's HUD. In reflex, he pulled up and right, looping around to get a bead on the fighter that shot the missile. He released two flares and came up under the fighter that fired the Sidewinder. The Falcon pilot grinned and managed to pull up behind the retreating fire. His last Sparrow demanded to fire as the two boxes converged.

"Fox 2!" Yukikaze shouted, firing his last missile at the Tomcat. A satisfying explosion followed.

"Not good!" he heard Erick yell. "Not good!" Behind him, another Falcon exploded, taking the pilot with it. The Hornets on his long-range radar had been armed with two Advanced Long-Range Missiles, and fired them with all haste. These forty missiles made mincemeat out of the remaining Temnota squadron.

He looped around a missile and ducked under another one. Above him, another Falcon met its maker as two missiles converged on its position, creating another allied fireball.

"This is very bad!" Erick shouted. "Damnit, where's the cavalry?"

"Right here, sir," a calm voice responded.

"Twenty contacts on radar," Command called. "It's the Barracuda Air fleet! All fighters, retreat back to Bronze Gate One!"

Twenty fighters lined up, each armed with long-range missiles. The first half, Sea Hydras, and the second half, Ghostriders, became one unit.

"Pick your targets," The Sea Hydra lead, Glensather, called. "There aren't too many targets left, but almost everyone will have their own target. Arm weapons," On his HUD, four different boxes touched four different targets. He waited for two seconds. "All aircraft, fire," He touched the release on his flight stick, and felt a slight lift as his heaviest missiles left their racks.

Almost 60 missiles launched at once, creating a giant, wide contrail. About halfway, the trails broke up into their separate missiles as they destroyed the enemy Hornets that had just showed up and took out the remaining Tomcats. Explosions popped up along Glensather's field of vision as the missiles met their targets.

When the smoke cleared and the Barracudas burst through, he looked up to the sky and watched the enemy.

"They're bugging out," he reported. "It looks like we came just in time, Command,"

"Yeah! Watch them run!" Ghostrider Leader yelled. "That's right, baby, run from the masters!"

The two lead F-14Ds from the air fleet pulled into a formation behind Erick.

"Forgive me for not being faster," Glensather said. "But we are quite some distance. Many of us are running on fumes from afterburner use,"

"Land at Bronze Gate One," Erick ordered. "Get ready for a debriefing… and prepare for a casualty report,"

"Roger that,"

Of the original twenty-one fighters that launched, only seven returned. Most pilots suffered minor casualties… but four pilots would never fly in the wild blue again.

Bronze Gate One (Damaged, Under Construction) – March 12th, 2007 – 1200 Hours

"Confirmed," the leader of the Bridge Crew responded. "We have you on visual, Cessna 1. Follow the indicators to Runway 3,"

The small Cessna aligned itself perfectly with the runway. The pilot began the normal landing procedures, as per normal, when he saw a small glint to his right, then to his left. Two fighters, both F-16s, pulled up to either side of the passenger plane.

"Cessna 1, this is Watchdog unit," one of the pilots claimed. "We'll be watching your flight in and out, so don't do anything stupid,"

"Watchdogs, this is Cessna 1, roger," the passenger pilot responded. "It's nice to have an escort," he cut off the com and looked at his only passenger. "The security is a bit different," he told her. "They didn't have fighters last week. I think something must have happened,"

"I think they were attacked," replied the girl. "Look at the sides of the base; there are burns everywhere. These guys were attacked, and hard," She adjusted her skirt. "I hope they have a plane for me,"

"You're really thinking about joining these flyboys?" asked the pilot. "They'll tear you apart,"

"I know," the girl said, this time running a brush through her hair. "But I'll stick it out. It won't be the first time people have jeered a young girl for being a flyer," she grinned. "But I have heard that there's a woman among them, so it can't be that bad,"

The rear wheels touched down, then the forward wheel. There was a minor lurch as the jet began to slow, but it was no problem to the pilot and the girl. It traveled down the runway to a nearby hangar, and turned into it slowly. There a single person waited, holding onto his hat as the turbines slowed to a stop.

"Good luck, girl," the pilot said, opening the door to his right with the touch of a button.

Rena Davenport stepped out to the concrete floor of the hangar. She looked at Erick, who grinned and nodded. She bowed to him, and then looked him in the eye.

"Welcome to the Freelance Alliance, Rena," he said nonchalantly. "It's nice to see you finally made it…"

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," she replied. Erick gritted his teeth, but said nothing. "My sister said I would enjoy it here,"

"You will, trust me," Erick told her. "Now come, there are a few things you need to see to get acquainted,"

As the two left the hangar and entered the main complex, Erick looked back at the lone soldier in the hangar. The man nodded, and then went into the Cessna. He pointed his silenced M-16 at the nice old pilot and shot him in the head.

Damn, I hate necessity, he thought to himself. But it's important… too important, this time. He looked at the girl as she calmly looked about the hall, reading the various postings to the hangar crew on a bulletin board before smiling at Erick.

You are more important than you realize.