8
"Sure is crappy weather down there, boss."
"Better for us. Intel says they don't have IR sighs or stuff." lieutenant Petra "?" Adler replied.
I looked into the distance through the windshield, over LTJG Merson's shoulder. I smiled and let out a sigh of content.
"What's with the smile, Krissy?" Merson asked and smirked. I wondered how she'd even seen that.
"Call me 'Krissy' again and I might get distracted. You know, press the wrong button, jam the 54-mike." I replied.
The lieutenant laughed. She took a deep breath before commenting.
"You do realize that there were two thing wrong with that threat, Kristina? One, it wouldn't matter, because we're not gonna fire a shot, or even see the hostiles. Two, I'd have you back there fixing it yourself, or feeding it manually, if shit really hit the fan." she said and turned in her seat to stick her tongue out to me.
"Bah. Fair, point, ma'am." I said and saluted sarcastically.
"Anyway, time to get serious for a minute, you two. Daphne, run checks on jammers and counter-measures. Sensors should be good but the log said something about a starboard IR transmitter being sticky." the lieutenant continued.
"Awesome. I mean, it's not like that defense system is there for a reason or anything." Daphne scoffed.
"Come on. Five out of six online isn't that bad. And you said it yourself. We're just a glorified air taxi here. Kristina, go though fire control and targeting. Oh, and better check turrets and ammo feed too. Wouldn't want that fifty-four to jam, you know?"
The lieutenant's sunglasses hid her expression but her voice was so calm and cool it practically said 'poker face'. I sighed and turned on the screens in front of me. Daphne was muttering something about taxi drivers being mugged at gunpoint.
The two ultra-wide, curved, 34 inch touch monitors in front of me were brand new and state-of-the-art. Honestly, they made me feel like I was living in Minority Report. The resolution of each display was enough to make full HD feel inadequate. If push came to shove and our commandos needed fire support, I could control both of the 26mm rotary cannons and the 54mm revolver cannon at the same time. Typically, that's exactly what I had to do. Daphne had her hands full with electronic warfare and missile defense. Most of my time was still spent helping our commandos less directly.
I set the weapons system to run self-checks and swung my chair 90 degrees. I tapped a few buttons and turned on the even larger 55 inch monitors on the wall. Most of my job consisted of coordinating the commandos' movements. We had more information and better chances of processing info without distractions so we helped the team leaders by compiling information about their targets, hostile movements, best routes and marksman vantage points among other things. I'd kept the system off for most of the flight. The mission was already clear. Right on cue, Daphne gave us an update.
"We're now northwest of Estovakian islands. It's all Nordennavic air space south of here. Nordennavic Royal Air Force Mjollnir R-40's joining us soon. Bearing 250, 50 nautical miles."
"R-40's? They're sending some serious guns to babysit us." Petra commented.
She had a point. Everything pointed to a small group with no heavy weapons. They wouldn't have fled to the northern islands with the ambassador if they didn't fear an attack. They must have known the Nordennavic government would track them down eventually. A risky maneuver like that only made sense if they didn't have the numbers nor the tools to defend themselves. Something that didn't make sense, though, was first exposing themselves by moving and then "hiding" on an island with less than a hundred inhabitants.
"Those jets are basically for show. No foreign military jets in their national airspace unescorted and all that. The whole thing is a balancing act between sovereignty and risking Nordennavic lives. They want us to get our own ambassador out. If something goes wrong, it's all on us. Diplomatic disaster averted." Petra said.
"I'm surprised they didn't want to score some points with the international community by heroically busting down the door and carrying the ambassador out, unscratched and forever grateful." Daphne said.
"Romanticized images much?" Petra scoffed.
"Hey, I can love romance as much as I want. I'm easily badass enough to make up for it." Daphne said sarcastically.
We all laughed. Petra sent us into a relaxed southward turn and started to descend from our cruise altitude.
"We're 15 minutes from the DZ. Kristina, have the teams get ready. Daphne, I'm not liking the crosswind here. Do we have meteo data of the AO?"
"Affirm, lt. It gets better below eight thousand. It's so calm on the surface the ground teams are basically going for a relaxing swim." Daphne replied.
"Right, in fifty-degree weather." I dryly pointed out just before keying my mic and briefing the teams in the back.
"That's... around plus ten Celsius, right?" Petra asked while I was talking on the mic.
"Well, exactly ten Celsius." I pointed out as soon as I'd released the mic. "Sorry, I forgot. You grew up in Emmeria, right?"
"Just a couple hundred kilometers from Gracemeria. We use the proper measurement system on this side of the pond." she said jokingly. "Dual citizenship, though. My father is a businessman, originally from Oured."
"How did you end up in the Osean Navy and not Emmerian Air Force?" I asked.
Daphne interjected.
"Let me guess. You went to study in Osea and decided to stay after you graduated."
"Hah. That's amazing. You're spot on. Went to college in Bana City. I was in Oured when the Gray Men orchestrated the attack on the airport. I was in November City when the president was attacked. I saw that mystery squadron, Wardog, Demons of Razgriz, fight. I just... knew what I wanted to do. I mean, kicking ass and protecting people? The stories about what Razgriz Two did... Yeah. Plus, you know, Anean Continental War breaking out didn't exactly make me want to go back." Petra reminisced.
"Wow. Talk about a crazy coincidence. Razgriz Two, Kei Nagase, was my inspiration too. And I think we were in Bana around the same time. My mom is a lawyer from Bana City. I studied there too. When you were watching that battle at Apito International, I was in Bana, trying to avoid goddamn poison gas. You were lucky. I spent two weeks in the hospital. Made me want to do my part in keeping that crap from happening again." Daphne opened up.
"We've shared our stories. What's yours, Kristina?" Petra asked.
"Yeah, the new crew bonding talk. Let's all share our stories." Daphne said and laughed.
I laughed and shook my head.
"I'm way less interesting. My dad was an Osean Air Force fighter pilot. My mom was a Navy heli pilot. I loved flying when I was so young most people my age hadn't even been in a plane. In my teens I found out my eyes weren't exactly perfect." I motioned at my glasses. "so following my parents' footsteps, right into the cockpit of a Navy jet, wasn't an option."
"Oh, crap. I'm so sorry." Daphne said.
"I'm not finished. I've logged hundreds and hundreds of hours in aerobatic planes. Six-G Immelmanns don't pay the bills, though, and it was either this or serving drinks to ungrateful tourists and snobby businessmen on commercial jets." I continued.
"I've got a feeling you haven't had to second guess yourself much." Petra said.
"Hah! That's putting it mildly. And hey, I'm still in a cockpit of a plane, even if it's just a prop VTOL transport." I scoffed.
"Four Royal Nordennavic AF R-40's now coming alongside. We're officially a go, ladies." Daphne announced.
"Visual." Petra confirmed.
I brought up the tactical map on my screen. I saw the fighters had their transponders set to transmit their callsign and comms channel. It was a little surprising to see them use a protected channel. Specifically, one that fully supported the latest Osean Defense Force protocols. I pushed the thought aside and ran the usual checks on the data links.
"Data links check out perfectly. I little too perfectly if you ask me. How the hell is their system interfacing with stuff most of our own planes don't have yet?" I wondered out loud.
"Umm... Hello? We bought most of the data link stuff from Macmillan. It was made for Nordennavic AF. The reason they won the contract was because the systems were already in production. Development costs: zero." Daphne pointed out.
"Oh? Umm... I have to admit I didn't know that." I said with an embarrassed laugh.
"Plus, Macmillan tech is some of the best in the world." Petra added.
"Well, thank you, Nordennavic tax payers." I said and laughed. "These things are so easy to use and can do almost anything."
"If you know what you're doing, sure." Daphne said.
Daphne called the fighters. We agreed that the fighter team would stay above six thousand feet, above clouds. We would drop to the deck and skim the waves. The drop point was a few miles from the island. We'd slow down, hover and drop off the commandos. All we could do after that was leave, skimming the waves again, and climb to a holding pattern. I called the teams and ran final comms checks. Daphne was monitoring radar and radio signals as well as weather.
"The weather is beautiful. This'll be a cakewalk for us. Weird radio signals bouncing around here, though. I can't ID them. Could be satellite Internet or something." Daphne pondered.
Petra was taking us down to the drop point.
We were less than a minute away.
"Opening ramp, opening ramp. Stand clear. Opening ramp." I heard Daphne say on the cabin intercom.
I heard a very slight change in the noise around me. The ramp was opening.
"All yours, Kristina." she said.
"Copy." I replied.
For the next few moments I could only wait. Petra extended the flaps and turned the propellers toward the surface. I felt us slowing down. I was using the upper screen behind Daphne's seat for flight data. I saw our speed drop from around 110 knots to zero. The altitude reading held steady at approximately 300 feet until we'd stopped. Then it gently descended to a little under a hundred. Petra was good.
"Green light for jump." Petra said. I saw Daphne tap the 'traffic light' control and watch the rear ramp camera.
A siren sound blared from the cockpit speakers. A saw warning lights flash.
"Emergency jump! Close the ramp asap!" I heard Petra order.
I keyed my mic instantly.
"All units, emergency jump! Emergency jump!"
There was roughly two seconds of charged silence.
"Teams out, ramp closing." Daphne finally said.
The plane turned violently and the nose rose a lot. We were moving backwards and gaining a little altitude.
"Dagger One, Control. What is going on?" came a radio message from the commandos.
"Stand by, Dagger." was all I could say.
"What is going on? Did we stall in hover or what?" I asked, noticeably impatient.
"Seems to be like we're stab- Holy fuck!" Daphne gasped.
I looked at Daphne.
"What the hell? Was that... A missile?!" she exclaimed.
What?!
"Take a deep breath, Daph. I need your head in the game. Yeah, that was a missile all right. Arm IR jammers and ECM. Kristina, contact the fighters. Find out if they saw anything." Petra said calmly.
I took a couple of deep breaths myself and selected the fighter team's channel.
"Sølv squadron, Indigo two-one. Do you copy, over?"
"Solv one copies. Please report status. We saw a light that almost looked like a missile, over."
"Solv, Indigo. Under attack. Repeat, under attack. Break, break. The light was a missile, over."
There was a moment of silence.
"Solv One copies. How do we proceed, ov-"
I could head the pilot releasing the mic. Another moment of silence.
"Indigo, Solv! Hostile fighters inbound!"
What the fuck? There is no way I heard that right.
"Solv One, say again."
"Indigo, Solv. Be adviced, we are engaging four hostile aircraft. Break, Break. Type Nosferatu. Break, break. Nationality unknown, negative markings."
I turned to Petra.
"This is fucked up. We have hostile fighters here. Sølv is now engaging four Nosferatus."
"Wait. Hostile fighters? So it wasn't a SAM?" Daphne asked.
"That one probably was but now we're dealing with more." I replied. "Boss, how do we proceed?"