Chapter One: Would? (Part One)


Note: This is a revamped first chapter that is going to be divided into three parts due to the length, there are a few changes that have been made and some new information added from the original chapter.


"Into the flood again,

Same old trip it was back then.

So I made a big mistake,

Try to see it once my way." – Alice In Chains


The calm winter air was shattered by the ear-splitting roar of engines, the intense rumbling from each aircraft loud enough to wake the dead. Even so, the disturbance did not affect the still landscape below them, blanketed by ice and snow.

It wouldn't be long before these planes had reached the southern coastline of Alaska, thundering towards their objective with due haste, afterburners screeching at the frozen earth below. The pilots at this point didn't know too much, just that they needed to reach the area of operations as quickly as possible.

The deployed squadron was a mix of F-18 Hornets and F-15 Eagles, some of them were more advanced variants, such as Super Hornets or Strike Eagles.

They were split up into four different flights, each flight soaring at different altitudes.

The flights that were a majority of F-15s, them being air superiority fighters, were flying at higher altitudes whilst the formations with F-18s, the Hornets being multirole fighters, were flying a few thousand feet lower.

Every plane carried an emblem that was emblazoned on each Hornet and Eagle tail fin. A red bleeding-heart set against a yellow and checkerboard background. These emblems were well-suited to the gray paint job that was also standard for the entire squadron.

In total, they numbered some thirty-five planes, nearly a full-strength mercenary squadron.

"This is AWACS WEEPING ANGEL, are you picking me up, Rapier One?"

The young pilot on the other end of the transmission listened to the radio operator's words while simultaneous inspecting his flight controls and sensors, ensuring that everything was normal with his aircraft.

"Roger, I read you just fine WEEPING ANGEL," Seamus O'Doherty replied calmly.

"This new guy sounds like he's my age. Maybe even younger," he thought to himself.

"Good, I opened this channel to the entire squadron. I know all of you were given a brief explanation back at Elmendorf, but I'm gonna give you the full rundown on the situation that's developing right now, so listen up!"

The mercenary nodded at his radio, he would definitely appreciate an explanation as to why he and the rest of his squadron were all gunning it to the Alaskan coastline at nearly full bore now. Luckily the area of operations was close enough that fuel shouldn't really be an issue for the squadron.

"Unfortunately, the US Air Force will be unable to spare any reinforcements for our sortie due to them having their own assignment with our Russian and Canadian allies in the Bering Strait. This means that Lamenter Squadron will be solely responsible for providing air cover for our contact."

Seamus raised an eyebrow at his radio.

"Top cover for a contact? So that's why they told us to pack a shit ton of AMRAAMs and Sidewinders."

"Our contact is currently being hemmed in by at least six Abyssal surface combatants, and multiple squadrons of enemy fighters and dive bombers. Looks like our poor girl got herself separated from her fleet and sailed right into an ambush."

O'Doherty cringed from behind his oxygen mask.

Shipgirls in trouble was never a good thing. Even losing a single one could be a pretty hefty blow to any allied fleet.

The Abyssals already outnumbered the shipgirls by a stupidly ridiculous figure on a global scale and many humanity-loyal forces were bogged down fighting Abyssal cultists around the globe, so maintaining the fighting strength of the shipgirls was absolutely crucial to the war effort.

He shuttered at the thought of the human cultists that swore allegiance to the Abyssal faction and the insane acts they carried out in their 'goddesses' names.

"Still can't believe what those sick motherfuckers did to Denver and New Orleans, and that's only counting the shit they did in America."

"This sounds like a pretty bad fucking day for our fleetie girl, doesn't it?" Seamus's wingman voiced his thoughts.

"Not exactly a career highlight," the voice of a female pilot joined in.

"Fucking Abbies! What pieces of shit! This was supposed to be our day off!" another pilot cursed.

The radio operator continued his in-flight briefing unhindered despite the comments from the Lamenter pilots.

"From what we have gathered, all of the Abyssal vessels have her completely surrounded and together with the enemy aircraft, are giving her an absolute beating. You better get there before she sinks. Last we heard; she had already taken moderate damage."

"And who is our shipgirl?" Seamus asked, feeling himself press into the gas even more.

He was not going to let this shipgirl die today, the extra thrust causing his plane's afterburners to seemingly roar in agreement with him.

"Good girl, we'll protect her together," O'Doherty mentally praised his Super Hornet, one out of the only four planes in the entire squadron with a red stripe painted on its left wing.

The red stripe of a Flight Leader.

He whispered a silent thank-you to the extraordinary Lamenter maintenance and ground crews that worked tirelessly to keep his F-18 healthy and capable.

If he survived this engagement, then drinks for the entire squadron, whether that be the pilots, the AWACS crew, or any of the support staff, would be on him.

He smirked to himself at the thought.

Seamus was a well-paid mercenary; he could afford it.

"Can't confirm this one hundred percent, but as we understand, it's Shimakaze of the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force, formerly of the Imperial Japanese Navy."

"That one's a destroyer, right? If that's the case, I understand why we're hauling ass now. She won't last very long by herself," Tony Vittorio, Seamus's wingman, said.

After his Super Hornet passed through a small cloud, Seamus saw the view of the coastline. The undisturbed serenity of the snow-white ground gave way to the matching silence of the dark blue of the Northern Pacific.

He silently wondered if there were any crazy fishermen out there trying to get a nice haul, sailing out to sea despite both the usual environmental threats and now the newer Abyssal threat.

Seamus was still amazed at how many people still decided sail out to sea with zero escort, unlike the supply convoys around the globe that navies, air forces, and shipgirls smothered with protection.

"Of course there's fishermen out there," he knew.

Humans sometimes tend to have balls of steel like that.

"What are the Japanese doing up here in Alaskan waters? I thought our shipgirls had this sector covered."

"Bering Strait is my guess," the AWACS operator reasoned.

"Goddammit."

Seamus grimaced as he flipped the switch to turn on his radar and then ordered the rest of the squadron to do the same. It wouldn't be long until they would reach the AO.

Many scenarios played out in his mind.

They would engage, smash the enemy aircraft, and Claymore Flight would help the Japanese destroyer sink the Abyssal ships. It would be a clean mission accomplished, and Lamenter Squadron would win the shipgirl's eternal gratitude for the rescue.

Or perhaps, they would annihilate the Abyssal air power, only to watch poor Shimakaze be claimed by the frigid Alaskan waves. It wouldn't be the first time something like this had happened in the squadron's history, especially after the pyrrhic victory that was the Bermuda Campaign.

Or worse, somehow the ambush was not just for Shimakaze but for his entire squadron as well, forcing Seamus to once again watch his comrades go down, listening to the shrieks of unhinged terror that were trapped in burning hunks of ruined metal and charred electronics, plummeting thousands of feet out of the sky…

He himself not being able to do a single damn thing to save them.

Some of them would cry out in agony as the flames licked their bodies, others would erupt into chilling screams, the doomed pilots beginning to pathetically beg and sob for God or their parents to save them.

But the worst were the silent ones.

Perhaps, they were already dead.

Maybe, they were so shocked that they could not speak.

But, there were definitely those who had accepted their fates, who faced their own deaths with a silent, grim acknowledgment.

For some reason, those ones stuck with Seamus the most. Something about an eerie, unresponsive cockpit always made his stomach churn with unease.

The overwhelming lack of successful ejections during those times was incredibly disheartening for him.

"Twenty-seven," Seamus reminded himself, "twenty-seven pilots lost under my command."

If asked, he knew that he could recite the first and last names of each of those pilots flawlessly.

A rapidly repeating smacking sound pulled Seamus out of his thoughts. It certainly didn't sound like any alarms, beeping instruments, or incoming fire, so he was at a loss for what it was.

That was, until he looked down at his legs.

He was furiously slapping his thigh, his leg bouncing as he did so.

Even a veteran mercenary like Captain Seamus O'Doherty still had pre-battle jitters, it seemed.

"AWACS, Lamenter Squadron is requesting bogey dope. Get us some targets," he calmly declared, refocusing his mind on the upcoming task at hand.

He managed to stop his nervous twitching as his radar beeped, signaling that it was beginning to detect contacts. The radar was giving a burst of three consecutive beeps for every new blip on his radar screen.

"Roger, Lamenter Squadron. You've got multiple contacts in three separate groups, possibly divided by squadron. One group of contacts is bearing vector two-eight-zero, angels ten, one hundred miles out. This formation is likely a fighter squadron," the AWACS operator replied.

Seamus nodded as he gazed up towards the F-15 formation flying above him, the sky a light blue with a smattering of small clouds. He couldn't really see them since they were much higher up than he was, but thanks to his radar, he had a rough idea of where they were.

"That formation is all you Greg."

"You got it Cap," the Texan accent of Gregory Burdette replied.

"By the way, where is your flight at right now?" Seamus asked.

"Saber Flight is at angels twenty-four, on your ten o'clock from what I can see," Greg answered.

Seamus nodded as he looked back down on his radar screen, which had been beeping non-stop since it began.

He counted at least ten blips on the radar before giving up, with new blips appearing by the second.

They were a lot of enemy contacts.

That was fine, Abyssal fighter squadrons typically outnumbered the Lamenter Squadron many times over on a regular basis anyway.

With the Abyssal aircraft typically being the equivalent of various World War two fighters, taking them on in fourth-generation fighter jets armed with air-to-air missiles, faster engines that allowed for 'Boom and Zoom' tactics, and modern avionics that included a strong radar, was child's play.

There were really only two major fears when it came to engaging Abyssal fighters.

Getting overwhelmed by sheer numbers in a close-up dogfight and running out of ammunition.

"The second group is bearing two-four-zero, angels six, ninety miles out. This formation is likely to be a fighter-bomber squadron of some kind," reported James Wrong, the AWACS radio operator.

"Roger, us in Rapier Flight will handle that one," Seamus declared.

"Alright, the last formation is flying really low, on the deck as a matter-of-fact. These guys are at vector two-one-zero, eighty miles out. Hmm…these guys might possibly be torpedo planes…" James mused out loud.

"Mac! Estoc Flight takes care of that. Intercept them before they can deploy their torpedoes. We've seen firsthand what torps can do to shipgirls, it's not pretty," Seamus ordered.

"Yes Cap, we'll take care of it," Ryan MacDonnell complied.

"Enemy surface vessels at vector two-three-zero, seventy miles out. I can now confirm that they have Shimakaze surrounded. I count at least three Abyssal destroyers, two light cruisers, their class unknown, and one…wait…that can't be right…"

Seamus double-checked his sensors, fuel gauges, and gazed out of both sides of his cockpit to make sure that the Rapier Flight planes were appropriately spaced apart from each other. The fact that some of the planes were leaving contrails made this check easier for him.

No reason to be flying in a tight formation.

"Holy shit…" James trailed off.

As far as Seamus knew, the Abyssal ambush was mainly an air attack with only a few ships to hold Shimakaze in place. Not a particularly difficult sounding mission, at least not by mercenary standards. But the tone of the AWACS operator's voice still made the squadron leader concerned.

"Hey," Seamus called out, wanting an explanation for the operator's silence.

As more and more seconds ticked by, there was still no answer on the radio. A radio that was working perfectly fine, he might have added.

"Hey! Talk to me WEEPING ANGEL! Something up?!" Seamus demanded, concern seeping through into his voice.

There was another uncomfortably long pause before James spoke again.

"Lamenter Squadron! Get there now! Shimakaze is fucked if you don't do something! That's a fucking Battleship Princess!" the urgency of the young AWACS operator's voice came in clear from over the radio.

There was a dead moment of silence cascaded over the squadron like a forming wave. But like all waves, it eventually fell with a loud crash.

"Are you fucking with us?!"

"I don't believe this shit!"

"Out here just to pick on a destroyer?! The fuck?!"

"Why here?! Why now?!"

"Are you sure?! Double-check that shit!"

It didn't take long for the mercenary pilots of Lamenter Squadron to collectively freak out.

The radio soon became overwhelmed by the chatter, urgent pleas for confirmation, and angry cursing from the pilots. The noise on the radio became reminiscent of a large hall or theater filled with talking people having dozens of different conversations at once.

Seamus knew he had to stop this.

Now.

He took a shaky deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Everybody shut up!" he barked into his radio, resisting the undeniable urge to start panicking himself.

The radio immediately fell silent for most of the pilots.

"Cap, you don't think-"

"We're not cursed, Greg," Seamus gave his reply loudly and clearly.

At that, an audible sigh from the leader of Saber Flight could be heard on the radio.

"Alright then. It's your call, Cap," Greg said with a defeated tone.

"Mark! Is your flight packin' Harpoons?" Seamus asked.

"Yeah, Cap. We've got two AGM-84 Harpoon anti-ship missiles per Hornet. Seeing that we've got seven Hornets here in Claymore Flight, that makes a total of fourteen anti-ship missiles between us," the deep baritone voice of Marcus Jackson responded.

Seamus nodded to his radio, ignoring the continuous beeping of the radar as more and more enemy blips showed up.

"Roger Mark, as tempting as it is, don't use all of them on the Battleship Princess. Remember, our mission is to get Shimakaze the fuck out of there. If the Abyssal Princess has to survive to make that happen, then so be it," Seamus coached.

He managed a slight smile when he heard the collective groans from the Claymore pilots, even hearing Marcus's own disapproval joining in with his charges.

He understood why they were upset about his orders.

Bagging an Abyssal Princess was rare and doing so gained those responsible a great deal of prestige. Not to mention bragging rights over other fighter squadrons. There was no telling how long it would be before an opportunity to kill an Abyssal Princess like this would come again.

"Instead, focus your fire on the other Abyssal ships keeping Shimakaze pinned. Once they're gone, then by all means, wake that Abby bitch up with your remaining missiles if you want," Seamus finished with a smirk.

"After these orders, we'll need to blow off some steam," Marcus replied, feinting displeasure.

Seamus was pleased with their plans and their approaches to their objectives. All four flights of Lamenter Squadron now had their own assignments.

He watched as the planes from both Estoc and Claymore flights split off towards their own objectives.

Estoc Flight turned right to intercept the possible torpedo planes and Claymore Flight peeled left to begin their attack runs on the Abyssal ships.

As if on cue, he gazed down at his still-beeping radar and noticed that the enemy fighter-bomber formation was nearly in AIM-120 range for his own Rapier Flight.

"Rapier Flight, Master Arm on!" Seamus declared, flipping the Master Arm switch to activate his weapon systems.

"Roger! Rapier Two is hot!" Tony replied, flipping his own switch.

Seamus gazed down at his weapons display monitor and saw that he had his AMRAAMs selected. He would need to be a little closer to the enemy for the medium-range air-to-air missiles to achieve a radar lock.

His display showed that his Super Hornet was armed with six AMRAAMs, six heat-seeking Sidewinder missiles and that his twenty-millimeter cannon was loaded with four hundred and twelve rounds.

"Rapier Flight, maintain angels six. We're heading right for them!" he ordered.

He stole a quick glance back down at his radar.

Another two or three minutes maybe.

The familiar thrill and terror of combat was starting to invade Seamus once more. Although he was a veteran pilot, many of those with him were not. Remembering why his squadron was staffed with so many rookies left a sour taste in his mouth.

A veteran pilot.

A blonde kid from Seattle, Washington that just had his twenty-second birthday a few weeks ago was somehow a mercenary fighter pilot.

And a Squadron Leader at that.

He sighed.

If he was going to speak, it might as well be now.

"Lamenters, we are about to be in AIM-120 range soon. Make sure you lock up your target real good and remember to switch targets after every fire."

The radio was silent for all other pilots, even James in the AWACS was quiet. Hearing their commander speak was enough to silence the entire squadron.

"Keeping a cool head will do wonders for keeping you alive. Maintain focus on the mission and mission objectives, and don't forget to relay your angels and status through comms."

Seamus glanced down at his radar, the AMRAAM he selected was nearly in range of an Abyssal fighter.

Not long now.

"And for fuck's sake, don't forget to call out 'Raygun' if you are unsure of what you are locking onto to. On that note, try to keep buddy spikes to a minimum please."

The beeping tone of his AMRAAM searching for a target turned into the whining tone of a successful radar lock. Seamus stared into his HUD, nodding in approval.

"Looks like we're ready to go here. Keep your spacing, maintain your altitude, and let's give our esteemed guests a most generous AMRAAM volley!"

"Amen, Cap!" Tony responded.

But Seamus wasn't done.

He took a deep breath before smiling from behind his oxygen mask.

This was his favorite part.

"For those we cherish-" he began.

"We die in glory!" the pilots of Lamenter Squadron all shouted in unison.

"Rapier One, Fox Three!" Seamus yelled, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he hit the red button on the top of his flight stick.

Seamus heard a distinct thump from under his plane as the AMRAAM that was locked on dropped from its pylon and for a second, did nothing but fall and let gravity take it.

Its thruster then ignited as if the missile was awoken, and the sound of the guided munition roared in Seamus's ears as it made its way over the horizon and towards its target, a brilliant white streak of smoke left in its wake.

"Rapier Two, Fox Three!" Tony declared with excitement, the Chicago native cueing up his next AMRAAM, "Let's get to work, Cap!"

"Rapier Four, Fox Three!"

"Rapier Five, Fox Three!"

"Rapier Six, Fox Three!"

"Rapier Seven, Fox Three!"

"Rapier Eight, Fox Three!"

"Rapier Nine, Fox Three!"

"Rapier Ten, Fox Three!"

"Retarget and fire again! Keep doing that until we've used up our AMRAAMs and then we'll close with the enemy with our Sidewinders and guns!" Seamus ordered.

With nine AMRAAMs from the nine pilots of Rapier Flight soaring to their targets, for Lamenter Squadron, the battle had just begun.


The other two revised parts will be out shortly!