This author does not own the Star vs. the Forces of Evil franchise. This fan-fiction was written for personal amusement.
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CHAPTER 1
RE: TRANSCRIPT, HOTLINE
CLASSIFICATION: TOP SECRET
(PB: President Moon Butterfly)
(GSL: General Secretary Ludo Avarius)
PB: STOP ATTACKING OUR ORBITAL MISSILE DEFENSES OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO TAKE ACTION
GSL: IF WE ALLOW YOU TO MAINTAIN SUPERIORITY IN ORBITAL MISSILE DEFENSE, YOU WILL BE ABLE TO DESTROY US IN A FIRST STRIKE
CB: WHERE ARE THOSE MISSILES GOING
GSL: LIMITED STRIKE ON YOUR MISSILE DEFENSE COMMUNICATIONS CENTERS RUIN AWAITS YOU IF YOU REFUSE TO NEGOTIATE
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STEALTH BOMBER NACHOS 42
AIRBORNE OVER THE ARCTIC CIRCLE
Ten kilometers above the treeless tundras and snow-capped peaks of the high arctic, a batwing-shaped, tailless, jet-black B-2 stealth bomber (callsign Nachos 42) traced out a lazy circle in the sky. Since the beginning of the crisis, dozens of bombers like it had been kept continuously aloft, cycling between release points over secure, friendly skies and hard tarmac.
Captain Marco Diaz sighed, and took another bite out of his foil-wrapped omelet. It tasted absolutely terrible, and the dry air of the cramped cockpit wasn't helping things. Beside him, his commanding officer, Major Star Butterfly, snored loudly and obnoxiously, her flight helmet over her eyes.
Marco groaned. Star's watch had ended just before the bomber had taken on gas from the tanker aircraft, but Marco hadn't been able to sleep then. Marco looked at his wristwatch. They'd been flying in circles over the northernmost reaches of the continent for the better part of eight hours, and had taken on gas twice in that interval.
If you were going to be sent over enemy territory at a moment's notice, you wanted to have a full tank of gas.
Marco rubbed his eyes. Eight more hours until they could return to base for maintenance, proper meals, showers, and sleep. Eight more hours until the aircraft was once again a sitting duck on the ground, a helpless target to be vaporized by an enemy ballistic missile strike.
It was frequently joked that a nuclear bomber was safer over enemy airspace than at an airbase at home.
A flash lit up the arctic night. Then another. Then another. Marco's eyes went wide as a lance of nuclear flame streaked across the distant sky high above, drawing a thin line of ionized gas in the sky.
Marco gave Star a shake. "Star! Wake up!"
Star woke up. "What? Who? Marco! I told you not to wake me unless…"
Marco pulled anti-flash goggles over his eyes, and craned his neck to see the silent nuclear carnage high above.
"They're using nukes in orbit! A whole lot of nukes!"
The satellite communications suite beeped loudly and insistently.
Star and Marco both fell silent, and leaned cautiously towards the display.
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FLASH EMERGENCY ACTION MESSAGE
FM: CIVILIZATIONAL COMMAND AUTHORITY
TO: NACHOS 42
TARGET ALLOCATION/CRAZY HORSE/42
INITIATE STRIKE PLAN ROMEO
AUTHENTICATION NACHOS 42 OSCAR CHARLIE DELTA THREE BRAVO
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Star exhaled, and bared her teeth. "Well, Marco, my friend. Looks like this is the real deal. Toe-to-toe nuclear combat with the Monsters."
Star opened the safe, pulled out a large book with CLASSIFIED written in big friendly letters on the cover, and passed it to Marco. They had both trained extensively for Strike Plan Romeo, both in simulators and during provocative incursions into Soviet airspace, but Marco agreed that something like this required double-checking. Marco flipped the book open.
"Okay. Strike Plan Romeo: Nachos 42 target allocation. Primary target: Onatopp Underground Command Center. Primary target weapons allocation: Two 2,000-kiloton nuclear gravity bombs."
"Secondary target: 31st Rocket Division, Strategic Rocket Forces. SS-25 road-mobile ballistic missiles are known to be dispersed in Onatopp Oblast. Secondary target weapons allocation: Fourteen 500-kiloton nuclear gravity bombs."
Star looked at Marco blankly. "Uhh… Marco? We know this. Command bunker. Missile hunting. Kinda got drilled into our heads."
Marco blinked twice, and waved at the safe. "But I thought you wanted to…"
Star shook her head, and donned a cowboy hat over her helmet. "Nah. Just wanted to get my hat. Here's yours!"
Marco turned the sombrero over, and put it on.
Star nodded. "See? Now we look totally totally awesome! Fightin' monsters, here we come!"
A huge barrage of bright flashes lit the sky above.
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PINEWOOD AIR FORCE BASE
"ALL PERSONNEL TO YOUR BOMBERS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ALL PERSONNEL TO YOUR BOMBERS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL."
Jackie Lynn Thomas awoke to the sound of sirens, running, and blaring horns.
Janna Ordonia, Jackie's weapons officer, dragged Jackie out the door before she could react.
"Jackie, get a move on! Warheads inbound!"
Janna's words hit Jackie like ten cups of coffee, and before she knew it Jackie was outside, the bitterly cold arctic wind in her lungs, the smell of jet fuel in her nostrils, and the hard black concrete pounding hard on her boots – harder than they had ever before.
Ferguson took deep breaths as he charged across the apron, the short blond hair of his aircraft commander in his sights, running faster than he ever had in his life, faster than he thought was possible. He turned to see the crew of Bonehead 11 clamber up their ladders into their sleek, charcoal-black, low-altitude supersonic bomber – and nearly ran straight into his own (nearly identical) aircraft.
He scurried up the ladder to the cockpit of his B-1B Lancer.
"Weapons are go. Bombs are loaded, rack's working." Janna finished her checklist just as the aircraft began taxiing across the apron.
Jackie's voice rang out over the intercom. "Tower, this is Bonehead One-Two, we are lined up for takeoff."
Janna turned towards Jackie and Ferguson. Beyond their pilots' stations, Janna could just make out a B-1 bomber as it roared off the runway, black smoke pouring from its engines. Ten seconds later, another B-1 sped off the runway in an identical fashion.
Alfonzo, in the countermeasures' chair next to her, chuckled. "We're taking off in record time."
Janna smirked. "Whadaya know. Nukes sharpen the mind."
Bonehead 12 roared off the runway, rapidly gaining altitude as it sought the relative safety of the open sky.
Six minutes later, Pinewood Air Force Base disappeared in the blinding flash of a nuclear fireball.
The dulled shockwave from the detonation reverberated through the cockpit. Jackie frowned.
"My car was back there."
Nobody laughed.
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I hope readers find this alternative world enjoyable. Feedback is much appreciated, and gives the reader a chance to influence further chapters.