10

Author's Note: None of the content lying herein is truth, but pure fiction, any similarities to actual places, people, events, or organizations are fictional. All military ordinances are properties of their respective creators and industries. Ace Combat and it's storyline from The Unsung War and The Belkan War are not mine.

1st Assault: Newbies and Aces

"Dear, take care of yourself, you're about to be immersed into a world of duty, honor, and prestige mixed with suffering, self denial, and stress. Just remember to be yourself whenever you can be. You'll be fine, I know it. . ."

Those were the words Alizia Lavitze recalled as she stood before the admission committee on that bitter cold November night in the Fafnir military facility in Heierlark. She tried to suppress a shudder despite the warmth of her uniform.

The stark steel gray ensign's uniform freshly pressed and folded held a wool interior lining with wind resistant fibers on the outside. It looked sharp on her despite her petite frame. Taking a risky glance to her left and right she noticed that she was the second shortest in the row of freshly graduated commissioned officers from Osea.

They held no symbols of any named squads though they all knew that they might all be assigned as a new team altogether, as they were the largest cadet squad to ever graduate back in the city of Oured with twenty strong out of a class of fifty, nearly half of the original number. If she remembered correctly, the standard ratio was about ten percent; only five out of fifty, yet here they were 300 percent higher than the normal number of graduates.

It didn't really matter that she was only one out of seven girls in the group; she had proven her worth during the final tests, passing with the third highest point total in the whole class. She saw Kim, a southern sweetie from somewhere in the allied country of Ustio, standing nervously at attention while the headmaster looked her over for missing parts of the uniform. He nodded, approving her uniform and passed to one of the guys in the group as Kim nearly wilted in relief. She was always the cautious one in the group, never doing something unless it was in her favor or being left with no other options.

Next in line was Cyan Featherlight, a Cherokee from the plains who had joined them late in the training back home. He had been teased because he was the easiest to recognize in the sneaking simulations utilizing disguises, but what he had been weak at, he was now a pro as far as his classmates went. The ever vigilant yet quiet watchman, he had quickly been voted as the best spy, sniper, sneak or whatever, they assigned him as once they graduated.

In spite of his quiet nature, he was quite friendly and outgoing, willing to try anything new before saying that he didn't like it. He was the second tallest in the group, standing about five-eight even though he was eighteen and the oldest amongst the new graduates.

Kyle was next in line for inspection. The rowdy kid from the country was considered the crack shot in the party. He had grown up in mountain regions close to the Belkan border, hunting often with his father with the high powered revolvers they had. The inspector made some sort of comment at his longer than standard rusty red hair and mentioned something about a haircut in the future. Kyle only nodded, though his eyes were saying something against it. A nudge in the ribs brought her back to attention. She tensed, expecting to be reprimanded for not being in form.

None came. Glancing with just her eyes, she saw concerned look on a brown eyed youth's tanned face. Amillio, the only Spanish person in the team risked a small smile. She thanked him inaudibly. He was one of two trained computer experts in the group; the other one was an oriental named Kurando Ricdaeu. If they were to become a whole new team, as the administrators had been discussing earlier, then the two of them would become vitally important. The only strange thing about the two of them was that neither talked much.

Kurando's case was understandable, he was a mute. That didn't stop the team from understanding him though. Amillio's case was that he couldn't speak English fluently enough. He had gotten considerably better, but he was still shaky on certain terms and their multiple meanings. Kurando was the second oldest, also eighteen, but six months behind Featherlight.

Finally, her turn came up; the administrators looked at her intently. One of them was giving her a look that could kill if it was a weapon of any form. She swallowed visibly, but held her form, looking back at him, though not directly into his eyes. He was the first Ustio officer that she had seen outside of her own classmate Tsukiyomi, Kurando's long time girlfriend. His eyes held an amber tinge, and she felt as if he were looking her over like his next meal; but after an instant they filled with a strange mischief and playfulness, laughing though his face showed nothing of the sort.

His hair was golden red, contrasting with a deep navy blue formal uniform with a set of commander's stripes down both sleeves. The inspector seemed to be taking an eternity to finished inspecting her uniform when he stood straight and raised a hand as if to hit her. Everyone knew what he was about to do but no one moved as the hand came across her face. A loud crack resounded in the room, stopping everyone in the hangar. They had just gotten off the transporter when their inspector demanded an inspection of the new recruits. A loud voice resounded in the air just barely a second after she recovered from the abuse.

"Captain Renolds! Just what the hell are you doing? I do not recall ever allowing any officer, much less soldier to strike other military personnel. You had better have a damn good reason for doing so to a fresh recruit."

A rough looking oriental with wild, wind blown hair in a flight jumpsuit was approaching the line of graduates. Everyone in the room saluted, Alicia and her party were slow on the uptake. He waved his hand dismissively and everyone returned to their duties the best they could; anyone who had been slacking off before he came in got their bodies moving. Before their inspector, Captain Renolds could answer the one of the officers spoke up with a hint of mirth in his voice.

"Ah, I believe that the Captain here smelled perfume on the young girl. Its scent is weak though, put on in the early morning I surmise."

The man raised an eyebrow and looked sternly at Renolds; Alizia blushed a deep pink.

"You're lucky that I have a sortie to go on in a few minutes, otherwise I'd been giving you the once over myself. Let the girl have her vanity! There is nothing in the Code that prohibits the wearing of cologne or perfume so long as it isn't over powering for anyone on the base. Sheesh, you're like a plank of wood Renolds, not flexible, and that lack of resilience will get you and your men wounded or worse one day. You understand me Captain?"

Renolds nodded as he saluted and then continued with his self proclaimed inspection. After yelling at the Captain, he walked up to Alizia and she saluted to respect his position. He returned it and smiled apologetically.

"Young lady, I ask that you forgive him, he can be pain at times 2nd Lieutenant . . .?"

"Lavitze sir." She responded swiftly.

He smiled broadly as he extended his hand. She took it and they shook firmly.

"Then Lavitze it is. Good to have you and your class with us!"

He nodded short and crisp and left the way he came, walking over to the one of the fighter planes that had held her class in awe before they filed off the troop transport; a Y-F/A Katana-class multi-role aircraft; one of the only modified Sukoi Su-37 Terminator fighters in existence. A line of pilots saluted as a unit and relaxed as he started to give a briefing. The red haired officer came up to the class and grinned slyly.

"That is Brigadier General Reis Günter of the Ghost Eagle squadron. He is one of the most powerful people here even though the higher ups won't admit it. Their squadron is one of the ten most misunderstood units in the service of the U.O.A, but the most trusted by their superiors for their surreal combat records."

All of her fellow graduates nearly blanched. Several of them looked behind at the Commander to see him going over aerial combat maneuvers with a pair of fighter planes on small sticks, his squadron in rapt attention.

That . . . is the famed Reis Günter? The one that defended the carrier Ruby Edge with only two fighters against two squadrons? Alizia thought madly, this is unbelievable! To think that we're stationed at the same location as one of the previous war's ace fighter pilots . . . I wonder what first-hand tales he can tell us?

The flight briefing didn't last long as the pilots in the commander's unit fanned out and talked with each of their respective plane's maintenance crews. One of the fighter pilots began walking their way, and they all snapped to attention with a sharp salute, a Lieutenant Colonel's insignia was embroidered on her jumpsuit. She was a Yuktobanian with slightly reddish hair, and a sharp wit was in her voice as she addressed the newbies.

"Well, I see that the Captain has already taken a fancy to the lot of you."

All of the 2nd Lieutenants nodded silently. By looking at her, would never have known that she was in the military, and even if you could tell, not as a pilot. She was just too much of a beauty.

"Well, I hope to see and hear more of you guys in the future, if we make it back in one piece . . . man, why does he have to give me the trail position again?"

Glances were exchanged with that comment. The trail position? That meant that she would be in the very back of the squadron, being the first target for anyone who managed to sneak up behind the squadron. It was the most dangerous, but necessary and unavoidable positions in any squadron; in the air or on the ground. Another pilot approached from behind the Lieutenant Colonel, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as he casually threw an abbreviated salute at them.

"Howdy," a thick semi-country drawl came from his throat. "So ya'll are them thar miracle class of newbies I take it?"

The man seemed nice enough, and maybe a bit too slack; as he had been napping on an empty munitions canister before Günter's entrance. His flight suit had only a slight bit of fringe hanging off of the sleeves and pant legs, giving it a sort of cowboy look. His hair was combed and sprayed back in a retro kind of fashion; reminiscent of the 1960's. The woman he hung off of groaned and pushed him off. Her flight suit was the same color of shadowed black and trimmed in gold like her southern wingman, only without the cowboy fringes. She did have a strange emblem on hers just below the eerie visage of a crimson-eyed eagle with a scythe in its talons; which served as the squadron's trademark alongside their uniforms.

It depicted a cloaked figure holding a swan necked flask. She grinned at the nuggets before she turned and went to her fighter; an F-2A Collaboration fighter. Alicia's eyebrows furrowed. The Ghost Eagle Squadron had been known for their AA sorties, but she was piloting a ground attack aircraft. Not that it looked like any F-16 Falcon she had seen before.

Its body frame was too streamlined and it looked as if the exterior hard points had been done away in exchange for an integrated SFFS weapons canister. Only a single verbal warning went out before she slapped her hands over her ears from the deafening roar of the fighters' engines whining and protesting their ignitions.

One by one the fighter squadron rolled out of their parked locations and came to a halt at the lift elevators which led up to the surface launch pads. The airbase was one of the cutting edge early warning scramble bases which could launch four squadrons at one time if they needed to. The brass behind them chuckled and demanded the attention of the twenty recruits and they all turned with a salute.

"Alright. I believe that Commander Günter wants all of you to come with me to the upper level control tower and see them take off. Consider it a welcoming gift from the Ghost Eagles themselves."

All of the newly graduated officers eagerly followed the officer to the elevators. As the doors shut and the lift activated, a sound transmission crackled over the intercom.

" . . . agle Five ready and waiting . . . Shadow flight Leader ready . . . all planes are ready for go . . ."

They came out of the lifts to see a massive set of screens. Each one showed the launch pads with the GE Squadron finishing their final prep checks. The aircrafts' gray bodices glared in the bright spotlights that dotted the airfield. Brightly dressed techs ran from the planes as each one's engines lit up in a hue of flames. Günter's voice resounded over the monitors as his visage appeared on the central screen. His helmet was decorated with two neural attachments.

"This is Commander Günter, all birds in the nest are green. Please proceed with countdown after all TCC's have been accounted for."

A transmissions tech to their right nodded and gave the okay as Günter continued talking to his fellow squad mates.

"All fighters, Bright Flight, Lambda formation take off; Shadow Flight, Starburst formation takeoff."

Alicia could hardly believe what she was seeing; an air show worthy formation takeoff from one of the most prestigious fighter squadrons themselves. Eight of the sixteen fighters rolled onto the launch pad one directly behind one another with blast shields behind each one as to not kill the plane behind it with the superheated jet exhaust. In the very front was the F-2A with its engines spewing a bright crimson yellow flame from its exhaust port. A new voice poured into the command post.

"This is Bright Flight leader, ready Lambda launch in thirty . . . and mark!"

The fighters, all of which Alicia now noticed, were also modified F-2A's, roared down the runway in a single file line before lifting off the runway. Half way through the shallow ascent, every other fighter in the flight flipped upside down. Half of the new recruits nearly freaked out. All eight fighters launched simultaneously just as the counter hit zero and began their climb. Just as they approached five hundred feet, the fighters switched positions. The ones who had launched upside down turned right side up and the others inverted.

As they reached the 1000ft. marker, the righted jets pulled up, increasing their pitch just as the inverted fighter planes passed underneath the one in front and just above the one in front, barely missing the other two planes by a person's height. The whole class stood flabbergasted, even some of the control staff had stopped what they were doing when the maneuver was finished. The Leader of Bright Flight's voice crackled over the intercom, her voice belonging to the woman they had met just before they deployed.

"Bright Flight leader to base. Moving out. Recruits . . . welcome to Fafnir Air Base!"

The young cadets couldn't help but smile, knowing that another show was about to occur before the whole squadron met up and continued with their real mission. Günter's voice came over the speakers again.

"Alright, alright!! Well done Bright Flight, now it's our turn to outdo you guys." A choir of groans and mild challenges were exchanged between squad members. The red haired beauty piped up.

"Okay Commander, if you're going to outdo us. Hmm. I want to see the Major run the gauntlet of Starburst Formation this time around."

Hesitant words were quickly heard throughout the control room and over the com systems of the pilots. Silence hung in the air for a clean minute before Günter came back on line.

"Major, fly the gauntlet of the formation, do you copy?" a quiet voice was heard through the silent room.

"Sir, I'm not ready for that position yet." Irritation filled the Commander's voice.

"Do I have to make that an order? You've passed the simulated run and dry run seven consecutive times flawlessly. If you don't have the confidence, I don't need you in my squadron, do you understand me?"

A large amount of force could be felt in those words. A silent double click was the only response before a lone Terminator still on the ground launched ahead of the final seven aircraft. An officer in the control room started yelling into his microphone.

"Commander! Don't make him do this . . . the last thing fresh recruits need to see is the death of a comrade during a show-off presentation of your squadron!"

Nods followed across the room.

"Cut the crap Captain!" was the bitter reply. Everyone was shocked at his language.

"They'll see death in the face on the battlefront, which by the way . . . is NOT when they need to be feelin' sorry and sick to their stomachs about this line of military work. Killing is part of war. So sit your lazy no-blood-spilling ass down and let me handle MY squadron! I am not making him do this without knowing full well his abilities. It's just that he's too damn shy!"

Alicia had heard nothing about this side of the ace fighter pilot. But then again, it made some sense; an ace couldn't be a goody-goody nice guy and get to his position and reputation for survival rates among sorties flown. Any softy would have died in the previous war, which had been violent enough.

The pilot took off, a lone jet stream in the rising dawn sun. Aircraft from the rest of the flight proceeded down the runway and took off, each one heading to a different position on the imaginary clock. As the Major flew down across the airfield in a flyby, the rest of the formation dove in on one another. He would have to make it past every fighter while performing a continuous aerial roll. The exhaust flames would then ignite the phosphorous gas left behind each of the other planes.

It had been known to take the life of inexperienced pilots who didn't know what they were getting into. As the fighters closed in on one another, the Major began his rolls. He'd have to pass seven planes. The first one passed, then the second and third. For three intense seconds the recruits and control tower staff were silent. As he passed the sixth, everyone blinked. The seventh fighter wasn't there, but was flying straight at the Major who had just ceased his rolls.

"Not bad Major! Now here's the hard part." The Commander's voice rang throughout the com systems.

The lead plane then passed the Major just above and inverted as he traveled down the path he just flew down. The explosions from the vapors were still raging. Everyone in the room panicked, but could do nothing as the fighter rolled through each flaming inferno. Passing the last one, the plane held itself sideways, giving the newbies a look at the top of the Katana fighter. It held their eyes in awe; the fighter was spewing flames that gave off the illusion of a firebird. The flames died out to reveal a relatively unscathed fighter with its cooling exhausts active. Cries of awe went around the room. The formation realigned itself with its leader as the intercom crackled to life.

"Hey! No one passed out I hope. Welcome recruits! That, was a new formation stunt we've been planning at the Major's insisting. He calls it the Neo Starburst Phoenix . . . we like it well enough! Shadow flight . . . is moving out."

Half of the top brass in the room cursed under their breath. The officer with them laughed heartily.

"It appears that Günter and his infamous squadron has topped the most dangerous stunt record again! He'll never get tired of making the top brass mad. Actually, the Major is a Lieutenant Colonel, the rank name is just a fun title they use because of an old incident with a visiting unit from Ustio; and he is the other pilot Günter flew beside during the Ruby Edge incident."

Everyone among the new recruits gaped. The colonel who had been cussed out laughed. He appeared to be around his mid-twenties. Laying his headset aside, he approached the new members and smiled.

"Sorry about that, it's a little joke that we put on for all the new members in the base. Kind of like a ritual if you look at it that way. My name is Luca Marris"

Various answers crossed the air. Most were curses under their breath. The colonel scratched the back of his head before putting on a serious face.

"However, the commander is correct that if you aren't ready to see and confront death, then you shouldn't be here. We have the lowest losses of the Western Front bases, but we still run the risk of losing people every month. It's not something that isn't unknown; in fact, everyone here knows each other quite well. Naturally as a result, practically everyone also knows everyone that has been injured, or died on a mission. We are a close knit base; like a surrogate family due to the base's size. So get use to it quick."