My first fanfic posted here. My twist on "Graduation Day, Part 2". A prequel to an AU story called "Slayer Lost" in which Buffy didn't return from LA after Becoming 2. If you recognize the name or situation, it belongs to someone else, and I'm just borrowing!
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Dragon Flight
The pilot in the lead plane keyed his radio mike.
"Dragon Flight leader to Dragon Flight. Initial Point in 4 minutes. Assume your bomb run positions."
Behind them, the lumbering C-17 Globemasters began spreading out into a two mile wide line.
"Jesus God, I still can't believe we're going to do this," the co-pilot muttered into his oxygen mask.
"Damn it, that's enough of that, Mark!" barked the pilot. "You think I'm fucking enjoying this? You know we're operating under direct National Command Authority here! The President knows what he's doing!"
"Yes, sir, Colonel, sir!" Mark parroted in his best Academy cadet voice. "But, damn it, we're getting ready to wipe an entire town off the map! An American town!" He mumbled something incoherent to himself a moment. "Hell's Bells, Chris, we're carrying enough tonnage to not just flatten that place, but to bounce the rubble a dozen times!"
A static-scratchy voice suddenly filled the earphones of the pilots. "Dragon Flight, this is Samurai Two, your FAC. I have you in visual."
"Samurai Two, this is Dragon Flight leader. Roger, we read you. Where's Samurai One?"
"Dead," replied the tired voice of the forward air controller. "He didn't make it through the night."
"Is the girl still there?"
"Yeah, she's here. She's hurt bad, but she's been keeping the bastards off me."
"Do you have the target in sight?"
"Roger, Dragon Leader," he replied, managing not to sound sarcastic. Like you could lose track of something the size of a small freight train? The man on the ground carefully raised the laser designator, aimed it, and pulled the trigger.
"Target is painted, Dragon Leader." As he waited for confirmation from the aircraft, he glanced down at the girl on the ground beside him. She was about his daughter's age. He wondered again at the strength she showed as she held her belly, curling in a tight ball against the pain, hiding the terrible wound she'd suffered protecting him the night before. Why wasn't she dead? Why weren't they both dead after last night?
Behind the pilots, the navigator shouted. "Target acquired! Turn left two degrees to 178!"
"Roger that!" the pilot said, banking the huge aircraft slightly. "Loadmaster, open the ramp! All aircraft, we are commencing bombing run! Drop on my signal!"
Leveling off at their 24,000 foot altitude, the rear ramps of the giant cargo aircraft opened slowly, filling their cavernous bays with a 400 knot wind. The bright California sunshine flooded into the cargo spaces, showing a line of eight Volkswagen-sized canisters strapped to air-droppable pallets in the cargo slides of each one.
"He's calling in a strike on his own position," muttered the co-pilot. "I thought shit like that only happened in the movies."
"Their families lived there," replied the pilot, fighting the turbulence from the drag of the cargo doors opening. "Rather, they 'used' to live there. They didn't make it out of the high school. The FAC's dropped in ahead of the first airborne assault. The one the demon tore out of the sky."
"The demon. Jesus. Are we really having this conversation?" Glancing out of the side window at the town coming up below them, he asked," How many people are left down there, Colonel?"
"No one knows, Mark." The commander's voice was soft now, introspective. "The girl finally convinced the boss that nothing short of this was going to work. Said it took a volcanic eruption to kill the last one. Her homemade one didn't do the trick. You know what happened next." The images of the shattered and burned hulks of the attack copters were all over CNN. So many good men. "Be glad the boss decided against the nuke she wanted."
The bomb run clock timed out. 0530. He calmly pressed the button to signal the Loadmaster and then stared straight out the windscreen ahead of him. Behind his issue sunglasses, his eyes blinked rapidly, fighting the tears no one but his wife would ever see. God would understand, wouldn't He?
In the cargo bay, the loadmaster watched the drogue chute pop open, dragging the first 15,000 pound Daisy Cutter bomb off the ramp and out into the air stream. He clicked his stopwatch, glancing at the airspeed indicator beside him. Timing was critical for the pattern of the ten aircraft drop. Eighty of the largest non-nuclear bombs in the world. He crossed himself and prayed again that they were high enough.
At the ruins of Sunnydale High, the FAC saw the first chutes deploy and wearily laid down the laser designator. He slid down beside the girl, gathering her into his arms, smoothing her hair and murmuring to her reassuringly as she whimpered only slightly at what must have been horrendous pain.
"Almost over, Faith."