The war was over. The Yukes surrendered, the Belkans declawed, and the Grey Men wiped out or imprisoned. Razgriz squadron should have been happy. They should have been fucking ecstatic, but none of them could muster the emotion. Not now. Not here. Blaze stood at the foot of the grave, Nagase at his side. Grimm crouched by the headstone, tears running down his face. Snow stood back a ways, giving them space. He hadn't flown with them when they were still the Sand Island Squadron. When Chopper was still alive. Lieutenant Colonel Alvin H. Davenport. Killed in action during Operation Supercircus. Killed ensuring that civilians had time to escape. Killed for no goddamn reason in a pointless war. And they hadn't even been able to go to the funeral, all because of those shithead Grabacr.
Nagase started singing, quietly, slowly. "Day turns to night, thoughts endless in flight…"
After a moment, Blaze and Grimm joined in, and Blaze's mind drifted back to the day they lost Wardog 3.
"Alright, Wardog," Sky Eye said. "Fly-by complete. Return to base to refuel and rearm for your next sortie."
Blaze clicked his mic, acknowledging the order, and brought his F/A-22 around to head home, the other three falling into formation around him.
As they flew over the stadium once more, this time at cruising altitude, the AWACS controller once more broke onto the radio circuit. "Wardog! Look alive, multiple bogeys inbound from vector 2-7-0! You are cleared to engage!"
"Shit," Blaze hissed, bringing his jet around once more to an intercept heading. Pushing his afterburner to max, he opened the squadron channel. "Radar says a dozen hostiles. Wardog 2 and 3, fire XMAAs at maximum range. 4, pick up any survivors."
The triple click on the radio assured him his orders were heard, and the targeting computer parsed the enemy planes, making sure none of them were double targeted. As soon as the lock tone sounded, Blaze rippled off all four of his special weapons, then broke skyward as eight more rushed passed underneath. Edge and Chopper broke with him, Grimm hanging low for a moment longer. Ten explosions erupted in the distance, and Archer fired two more XMAAs before leaping skyward to rejoin the squadron. "Wardog, more bogeys inbound," Sky Eye spoke up again. "And not to scare you, but there's a lot of them."
"Split up and engage," Blaze ordered. "Stay alive and kill as many as you can." Not waiting for confirmation this time, he dove down on the nearest group of enemies, unleashing more XMAAs before switching to standard missiles and his machine gun to mop up the rest. For the next who knows how long, Blaze's world consisted of frantic dogfights, miraculously evading taking hits and shooting down more enemy fighters than he could keep track of. He kept one ear on the stadium security channel, hoping that no civilians would be hurt by the wreckage of dying planes.
"I'm hit!" A message no squad leader wants to hear. Looking at his comms gear, he saw it was Chopper yelling over the radio. "I'm hit bad. Need to put this bird down quick."
"Wardog 3, return to base immediately," Blaze said, breaking out of his latest dogfight and picking up some altitude.
"Negative, Lead. I won't make it that far. I'll try to put 'er down in the stadium once it's cleared out some more."
Now Archer cut in. "You sure you'll hold together that long? Your plane's not looking too good."
"I'll be fine. Just keep the bastards away from the civilians." Accepting there was nothing he could do for now, Blaze turned back to the battle, scoring yet more kills. "Stadium clear yet?" Chopper asked. "Doesn't look like it."
Several frantic moments later, the radio crackled back to life, this time Edge putting in her two cents. "Bail out, Chopper. You're too damaged."
"Can't," he responded, "canopy release is jammed. I'll have to ride her in, make sure no one gets hurt."
Blaze's panic level immediately spiked. "Chopper? You will land that goddamn plane. You will not crash, damnit."
"Sorry, Kid." The reply came back weakly. "Looks like I won't be heading home this time."
Blaze could only watch as Chopper's fighter arrowed into the stadium before exploding. An open channel came to life. "That was one of the Razgriz! They can be killed!" An enemy pilot, gloating over the death of one of Blaze's people.
He broadcast in the clear. Anyone with a radio could hear what he said next. "The Razgriz never die. You may hurt us, you may wound us, you may take one of us away. But you will pay for it with every last one of your lives. Razgriz Squadron. Kill every last one of these motherfuckers."
He could have sworn he heard Edge's scream of rage even without the radio, and Archer suddenly became very, very quiet. And then the enemy began to fall from the sky. XMAAs, rockets, and machine gun round shredded enemy planes. None could stand against the might of the Razgriz. By the time reinforcements finally arrived, there was nothing left but smoke and contrails, with three fighters floating high above it. And finally, behind the reinforcements, came four fighters, in tight formation. As they reached the stadium and the towering pillar of smoke rising from it, one man split off, leaving three to carry on.
And now they stood over Chopper's grave, nursing their grief. The grave was simple, a headstone among hundreds of others, hundreds of those fallen in defense of Osea. Etched on the stone was the image of a single fighter, the outlines of three others in the distance. The stone simply read:
Lt. Col. Alvin H. Davenport
The Ghost of Razgriz
"Not gone, merely flying far away"
Nagase was the last to speak.
Steel birds flying on wings of fire,
Soaring, swooping, fighting, dying,
Steel birds flying on wings of fire,
Reaching, clawing, warring, falling,
Steel birds sheathing their wings of fire,
Ending their Journey Home.