"When I was young, there was peace. We weren't always at war, fighting over who has the biggest weapon or the largest army, we were... Peaceful. Then, a great fireball made its way to Earth. We built cannons and lasers to destroy it, but it was no use. The fireball split into many, impacting our humble planet and scarring it for the rest of time. We went to war because of it, scarring Mother Earth even further..." - 1st Lieutenant Kei Nagase, 2027
Act One: Rise
Chapter 1: Aces and Acrobatics
On a warm Summer day, it wasn't uncommon for air shows to take place, showcasing warbirds from the past and present, even prototypes for the future. At one such show, I found myself struck in pure awe at a sight before me - a replica of the Su-37 Terminator used by Erusian ace Yellow 13. Granted, I knew nothing of who or what Yellow 13 stood for, as I was merely a child. In the years that followed, I slowly came to realize just what Yellow 13 meant, and what his cause was. I always thought it was strange that they never taught that in school... Growing up, life was simple. We would turn on the television every once in a while to hear about the wars. War was a show we would watch, but we didn't think anything of it. Hearing about the ace pilots inspired me with hope... That is until Ulysses made planet fall...
Aurelia, the country I had lived in for most of my life, was devastated. The leaders saw fit to blame a lack of UN response as the sole cause for the casualties following Ulysses. The truth is, it was a lot more complicated then that. Our leaders at the time thought they didn't need help, and misled us into thinking that the UN would interfere with our day to day lives, that there would be mandatory blackouts, curfews and that anyone who spoke of the UN, positive or negative, would be executed on sight. And what did we do? We believed them. Even with our brightest minds in talks with the UN, our "dear leader" shunned them, and shunned any outside assistance. It never came to my mind just how foolish one could be until then...
"Keenan, you're going to be late for school..." My mother spoke. Her voice was calm and soothing, but soft and sad. She had been widowed ever since the Usean Continental War, when my father had joined the ISAF for what was called Operation Judgment Day. He was killed by an Erusean bullet, or so I've been told. On my way home from soccer practice one day, I heard what sounded like the screams of ghosts. Looking up, I saw a gigantic plane, bigger than a football field. It was black as night, with gargantuan wings. I would later learn that was the Gleipnir, a leasathian superweapon with capabilities beyond my comprehension. Two Aurelian F-16's engaged, only to be vaporized by the winged beast. Three days later, Leasath declared open war against Aurelia. That would be the last I ever saw of my home country.
My mother took it into her own hands, having seen fit to keep her little boys safe. We fled the Leasath onslaught first to the Osean Federation, and from there to Belka. It was strange, growing up in this new land. It was far colder than Aurelia ever was, but that did not matter. All that mattered was we were safe. Or so we thought... On my brother's 18th birthday, he was fatally stabbed by a Belkan Ultra-nationalist, just because he wasn't a Belkan native. At his funeral, I did my best to not cry. Every day since, I've visited his grave and left behind a single flower. The day I turned 20, I told my mother I would be joining the Belkan Air Force. "But Keenan..." She said to me, tears forming in her eyes. "That is how good men die young..."
"Mom, I know how scared you are. I'm scared too, but I promise... I won't get hurt. I'll be back before you know it." I told her, wiping the tears from her cheek. This seemed to calm my mother a bit, but I could see she was still frightened. The next day, I would depart for Valais Air Base, one of the homes of the prestigious Belkan Air Force. The ride there was uneventful, but seeing the many fighter planes performing their waltzes and circles was mind-blowing. As a child, I never thought I would be able to be a part of something so... Amazing. While on the bus to the air base, the person sitting next to me, a fair skinned man named Luther, told me that our flight instructor was a pilot who had served in the Belkan War of 1995. At first, I did not believe him, but any doubt would be erased when we arrived.
The classroom was small, barely able to fit 40 souls. In the front right corner there was a desk, with a computer monitor and keyboard on it. On the wall directly in front of the class was a chalkboard, with various diagrams of many maneuvers scrawled in white chalk. Standing in front of the chalkboard was an older gentleman, I estimated of around 60. "Good morning, Students. I am your flight instructor, Larry Foulke. As of right now, all of you are Nugget`s, untapped potential." He said. His voice was strong, which I should have expected from a former soldier. "Mr. Foulke, sir?" One of my classmates asked, raising his hand. "When do we get to kick some Osean ass?" The classroom erupted in laughter, but I remained silent, respecting my instructor.
"You, young man. Stand up." Foulke said, his gaze trained on me. My fellow classmates let out an increasingly loud "Ooooooooh", as though I were in trouble. "Yes sir?" I replied, respectfully saluting the older veteran. "Would you mind telling the classroom your name? You're the only one so far who's given me any respect." After hesitating for a split second, I finally spoke. "Keenan Lotheric, Sir." I sputtered out, earning snickers from my fellow classmates. "Keenan... Not the most leading name, but I'm sure you'll do fine here. What made you want to join the air force?" In my heart, I knew what the reason was; Revenge. But, I wanted to sound like a stable person, so I lied. "National pride, Sir."
Who are we to question the Rules of War? Those rules exist because of conflicts, past and present, that sought to tear the world asunder. They sought to tear our future apart with senseless bloodshed and fruitless, needless destruction. ~ Jackson Bartlett, 2017
[Valais Air Base]
[East Ustio]
[0550 hours]
[3/15/2024]
[Alt: 0-10000ft]
After my basic flight training had been completed, I had been assigned as the forth wing in Knight Squadron, Valais Air Base's very own "ace" squadron. When I joined, the squadron was one of four pilots - myself, our flight lead Eugene Weaver, his wingman Carlos Ortega, and a woman named Elise. The four of us got along well, but we were inexperienced. Our aircraft were older MiG's from the Second Usean Continental War, except for Elise. She flew an F-4E Phantom that was in pristine condition. It was clear she was the most experienced among us - why else would she be given an aircraft in better condition than the rest of us? When it came to personalizing our craft, we each had distinct nose art. Eugene had spray painted a bloodied fist to his craft, while Carlos had gone with an SBD Dauntless - an old dive bomber, mid-dive. "Hey Keenan. What's up?" Eugene asked me, as I worked on my nose art. "Nothing much, just finishing up my art." I told him, stepping aside so he could see.
"Aurelia's Coat of Arms?" He asked, looking at me quizzically. "Yes. Aurelia is my home country, so I thought I should show my patriotism towards my home." I explained, hoping he didn't think less of me. "So... You're a migrant?" I nodded, looking back to my plane. "After the War broke out, my mother fled with me and my brother. When the Osean Federation rejected us, citing my father's service with the ISAF as a Peacekeeper, we moved on to Belka." Eugene seemed to share a similar sentiment, nodding as he ran a tanned hand along the side of my silver MiG. "ISAF... ISAF... I worked with them for a little while, cleaning up San Dorado after the Siege. I didn't think it was possible for there to be so many soldiers in that one small city." Those words resonated with me, having been through Hell myself. "At least we see eye to eye, right?" Eugene gave a small smirk, before his face twisted into a scowl. "Hey, Blockhead! I don't touch your shit, so don't touch mine!"
The "Blockhead" turned out to be a Fallschirmjäger, the Belkan equivalent to a paratrooper. "Relax, Hot Shot, I wasn't gonna break it!" He shouted to Eugene. Seeing as how I was new to the squadron, and by extension the base, I chose to stay out of their feud. Looking back to my MiG, I sighed and returned to painting. After finally finishing the nose art, I stepped back and admired my work. I had always wanted to be a painter, making grand masterpieces, not flying a fighter jet. That being said, I never thought I would become a part of the prestigious Belkan Air Force so quickly. Then, air raid sirens broke the silence of the hangar, and the PA crackled to life.
"All planes, scramble! Scramble! Scramble! This is not a drill! Repeat, this is not a drill! Bombers have been sighted on radar on vector 101! Repeat: Bombers are attacking the base!"
With my heart racing, I climbed into the cockpit of my aircraft, as did the rest of my squadron. Over the radio, our ATC (Air Traffic Control) relayed our instructions. "Knight Squadron, proceed to Runway 2A and await clearance for takeoff. Once you are airborne, further orders will be relayed by AWACS Spirit Eye." Our planes, because of the urgent scramble, were in an odd order - Knight 3 was ahead of me, while Knight 1 was immediately behind me, with Knight 2 being the last aircraft. As Knight 3 began to taxi, I looked around and watched the AAA tracers and Surface-To-Air missiles streak into the sky. With that, the words "Knight 3, cleared for takeoff." Crackled onto my headset, and Knight 3 began her takeoff procedures. 100 meters. 200 meters. 300 meters. Then, an explosion. Her aircraft had been struck by a bomb, with the mangled, burning wreckage scraping along the runway. Knight 3 was unable to eject.
"Holy shit! Knight 3's been hit! ATC, this is Knight 4! Knight 3 was hit by... Something, and is sitting on the runway! I don't have room for takeoff. Requesting permission to take off from Runway 1B!" "Negative, Knight 4. Runway 1B was just strafed by Osean attackers. You'll have to make due with what you got." Hearing those words, my heart sank. Regardless, I applied full thrust, and began my run down the runway. Pulling back on the stick, I closed my eyes, waiting to hear to the crunch of metal, and feel the heat of fire. Miraculously... I didn't. "ATC, this is Knight 1. Knight 4 has cleared the downed bird. I repeat, Knight 4 is airborne." My flight lead said, over his radio. I could feel my heart racing. As I gained altitude to match that of the attacking aircraft, I awaited my next orders.
