Red Crown: I decided to make one last callsign change. I'm sorry and I promise this will be the last one. "Wells" callsign is now changed to "Duke." Now on to the adventure. By the way, this chapter is long compared to my average lengths. You might want to eat something while you read.
"Every Communist must grasp the truth; 'Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.'"
― Mao Zedong
CHAPTER TWO: "Friction Within"
Date: December 10, 2016
Time: 2100 hours, 9:00 P.M. (Beiijing Time)
Location: Beijing, People's Republic of China
Major Lei Feng continued to look at the screen in front of him. He was of medium height and had fair skin for a person of his heritage. His narrow sharp eye brows and eye heterochromia were what made him distinguishable. One of his eyes was dark brown while the other was a light hazel gray.
At the moment he was in a car with one of the most trusted and politically powerful generals of China sitting right next to him, General Yang Hu of the People's Liberation Army. The general had a snake-like scar that went along his right cheek and down into the collar of his uniform. He had hair that was graying over and eyes that were worn from combat. Although his eyes were worn from war there was something else in them as well. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled, but deep in his orbs was a hidden fire of passion that had remained over his many years of life.
They were both wearing their dress uniforms and sitting in the back of a limo that had a large TV in front of the cabin. The night sky was dark and the city was bright. Thick rain had made the view outside the windows appear very blurred, not that it actually held their attention.
They both watched as a national news station was airing a crisis in one of their country's cities. The shortage of oil had caused social unrest and massive riots to break out all over the Middle Kingdom as people lacked the basics for gas and other sorts of fuel. The government had suppressed news outlets that tried to report on the situation. Ultimately the People's Republic could never afford to look weak, but sooner or later the story was going to break out. It was pretty clear that intelligence assets in the United States were getting antsy about it as they already knew. Multiple attempts had been made by the government to subdue unrest and uprisings from within. On the screen was an image of PLA armor rolling into a town as soldiers fired tear gas grenades everywhere. Police in full body armor were getting in brawls with ordinary citizens. Every now and then a shot fired would cause the people to scatter, but it was only temporary. The image switched to another town where the PLA had simply resorted to lining people up against a wall and having them shot execution style.
Just then the car stopped moving. Feng looked outside and could see that the car had stopped right in front of one of the many consulate buildings within the city. He also noticed that there were several other cars right outside along with their own, only these cars were armored vehicles.
"Major," the general said to make sure his had his attention. "There are two things China needs right now if it is to maintain its power. Do you know what they are?"
"No, sir," Feng replied. He turned his head away from the TV to look directly at General Yang. When the general looked back at him he saw a certain kind of malicious violence and intense determination in his gaze.
"Oil and a distraction."
The general opened the door and stepped out of the car. Feng got out and closely followed behind. Just then the doors of the armored vehicles opened up and Feng watched as soldiers armed with assault rifles and clad in body armor stepped out into the rain. The soldiers had the insignia of the Ministry of State Security on their uniforms. They quickly joined them as General Yang led the entire group up to the front doors of the building, which were guarded by two officers of the Secret Police. Surprisingly, the officers did not stop him or even check his papers. Both of them acted as if they had been expecting him to arrive and opened the doors upon seeing him.
Feng had no idea what the higher ranking officer was planning, but he ultimately trusted General Yang's motives were for the overall good of China. As Feng followed the general he quietly began to wonder to himself exactly what was about to happen. The General had made Feng his right hand man for the most part in recent months. Feng had been transferred to a special unit that reported exclusively to General Yang over a year ago. Since then he had been conducting training for a mission that he was told would take place on the Paracel Islands off China's southern coast. The amount of respect and admiration General Yang carried with him was well known throughout China.
Just then they stopped at a set of very nice double doors that had a large painting of the ancient Chinese empire and all its kingdoms. General Yang opened the doors and walked inside. In the room was a large table, at which sat the Minister of Defense and State Counselor Long Jing and the rest of his staff. It was clear that this was a meeting of some sort and they were uninvited. Jing looked up surprised by the general's intrusion. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked.
Quickly the soldiers walked around the table and encircled the group as the members of Jing's staff stood up looking surprised. Long Jing was a combat veteran of Vietnam, the same as General Yang. Feng knew he held plenty of clout and was also probably the only one with enough influence and daring to halt whatever Yang's plans were if he figured them out. Most of the politicians and military leaders in China knew this too.
"General, what are you doing? I knew you had plans, but this time you've simply gone too far."
"I have more than just plans, Minister. I have the Secret Police on my side," Yang said as he walked along the length of the table. He then looked all of Jing's staff in the eyes. With ever so careful tact he spoke to them. "China needs two things right now: Oil and a distraction, preferably one beyond our borders. The legitimacy of the regime is on the line. Taking the Spratly Islands and their natural reserves would be the answer to all our problems. Those islands rightfully belong to the Middle Kingdom by the traditional borders set by our ancient ancestors. We've always had the right to take them, but now we have a need to do it."
Long Jing's eyes narrowed. Even facing death he did not show an ounce of fear. "You are going to bring war and devastation upon this corner of the globe. You're also forgetting about the Americans. Surely the US Navy will be sent to fight our forces if such a move were taken."
"All of the United States' forces are being focused on efforts to rebuild the Middle East and get oil flowing out again. They know that this conflict is the result of a shortage of oil and they would prioritize that to solve problems here. They won't have the resources or the time to get involved. This will be a short and decisive war," the general stated.
"History has shown that promises of short and decisive wars have rarely ever delivered." Long Jing rebuked as he looked at the general's eyes. When General Yang looked back he could see undeterred determination. "You know as well as I do what war is like and you're still pursuing it? I will never side with you," Long Jing said with shear disgust in his voice.
"You're forgetting a very basic rule about cruel governments," the general said as he reached in his uniform and pulled out a handgun. "They only maintain their power if they provide for the basic needs of the people." He then leveled the weapon at Long Jing's heart and pulled the trigger. Following a loud pop and a muzzle flash Jing fell to the ground holding his chest as blood flowed freely from the wound. The ping of an empty shell casing hitting the floor was the only thing audible as everyone in the room fell silent.
"Does anyone else want to side with the Minister?" asked the general. None of Long Jing's staff spoke up. They were either afraid or in full agreement with Yang's methods. With a lot of inspiration in his voice Yang said, "Now then, let's do what's necessary for China."
General Yang then looked at the soldiers and said, "Men, take the rest of the building. Clear out any forces that are still loyal to Long Jing."
As the soldiers scrambled out of the room the general approached Feng. He looked directly into his eyes as if to scan for any reservations. "You understand fully why I am doing this?"
"Yes, sir," Feng replied.
"Do you agree?"
Feng had some doubts that he held in reserve. If the general went to war and lost the war, then the Chinese government's legitimacy would be even further put in danger. If he went to war and won the war, then it would bolster its legitimacy as well as provide oil, bringing about internal stability in the process. The general was taking a big risk, but in light of the other alternatives for China this was one of the least bad looking options. Feng generally agreed with Yang's methods. He decided to give an honest answer. He doubted blatant flattery would not be caught by the general and he did not want to come off as a brown nose. "You're taking a big risk, but you have my full confidence. I'm at your side, general."
Yang gave his right hand officer a smirk. "I'm pleased that you have enough courage to be honest with me. I value an honest opinion." He reached into his uniform and handed Feng a folder filled with documents. "I'm going to need you for a crucial operation in the coming weeks. You're going to the Paracel Islands a few days from now."
Feng opened the folder and saw several papers ordering his transfer to a military air strip on the Paracel Islands off of China's southern coast. He then spotted a photograph of a squadron of Chinese Su-30MK2's being painted to look like Vietnamese Su-30MK2Vs. The photograph was of poor quality and in black and white, but he could clearly see the roundels and camouflage scheme of the People's Liberation Army Air Force being removed and replaced with those of the Vietnam People's Air Force. This made him all the more curious about what was happening.
Feng followed General Yang as he exited the building, leaving Long Jing to bleed out in front of his staff. The sound of automatic weapon's fire was audible throughout the night as the Secret Police soldiers began to cleanse the area of Long Jing's remnants.
Date: December 11, 2016
Time: 0730 hours, 7:30 A.M. (Philippine Time)
Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines
"For the last time, Hockey is not the greatest sport in the world," Bear said. "Soccer is."
As Luck walked into the briefing he could not help but to quietly laugh to himself when he found Bear and Stix debating something with Mozart that was in all practicality futile to argue with a Canadian.
"Are you daft?" Mozart fired back. "Kicking a ball back and forth across grass is not special at all. Hockey requires several talents being used at once and it requires real heart and real intensity. You have to ice skate, maintain your balance, use a stick effectively, the list goes on!"
Stix jumped in. "Soccer's played worldwide. It's the number one most played sport in history."
"That's only because most people on earth live in more areas covered with grass than they do with ice."
Just then the new CAG walked into the room. He had the same stone-serious expression on his face. He handed a folder to each of them before walking to the front of the room to give his briefing. "Today our foreign allied squadron commanders will meet for the first time. You will also meet your new DCAG. I want you to be on your best behavior. They should be coming in any minute now."
As the Dark Horses quietly waited they began to wonder exactly who the new DCAG was. The fact that he had not picked Luck as the DCAG made them all begin to wonder if he decided to have a foreign pilot take the role.
Just then the doors opened and in walked eight Australians and sixteen Thai. All of them were wearing flight suits with their respective nation's insignias. All of them took their seats except for the leader of the Australian group. He walked right next to Duke and stood with his arms crossed.
It was then that they noticed the Australian leader was of medium height. His hair was a dark sandy blond color and was kept in a clean shape. His eyes were a dull hazel blue color and there were wrinkles at the edges of his eyes. He looked older than everyone in the room. He was at least in his mid-forties. There was a blond five o'clock shadow on his face that made him look hard. He was very lean and well fit. The name tape on his uniform read "Alex Remington."
As they had quickly surmised, Duke said, "This is the air wing DCAG, Wing Commander Remington. He will now introduce himself."
Remington's voice was harsh and scratchy. His Sydney accent had a certain character to it. "My name's Alex Remington. I've commanded Australia's Electronic Attack squadrons since they were made three years ago. Before then I flew F/A-18F Super Hornets for four years and before that I was mixed in with several Legacy Hornet squadrons for six years," he began.
As the Dark Horse pilots did the math in their heads they realized that he had a total of 13 years of experience in all the major variants of the F/A-18 Hornet family of aircraft. That was a lot of years and a lot of experience.
Remington continued. "I've trained in the United States, Thailand, Malaysia, and Japan. On a low level I worked building cooperation with Vietnam. I've worn many hats and I look forward to working with everyone in this air wing." With those words he stepped back from the center of the room and returned the attention to Duke.
If anything that resume instantly earned him the respect of the Dark Horses. Now it was Duke's turn.
He stepped forward and said, "My name is Ryan Wellington, callsign 'Duke.' I have flown the Super Hornet for ten years and among other things I have finished in the top of my class as a TOP GUN graduate."
TOP GUN was the Navy Fighter Weapons School at NAS Fallon, Nevada. It was made famous by the movie of the same name. Ultimately it was a place where fighter pilots took several courses to train obsessively to not only get better, but to become perfect. Graduates from TOP GUN had trained and been schooled in the art of every facet of aerial combat to a point where no one was as knowledgeable or as skilled as they were. They had practiced war to perfection. The fact that Duke came out at the top of his class meant that he had beaten out the competition, which was a remarkably impressive feat.
Duke spoke on, "We are here to prepare ourselves for any confrontation with foreign powers in this region and in particular over the Spratly Islands. Our mission is to become the best of our own representative nations and to bring that experience back to our own countries so that our own nations will be better prepared. In addition to that we are also here to learn how to fight together as a cohesive unit. Communication will be key to our success. We have a curriculum I devised for us to better enhance our ability to cooperate."
The rest of the brief was very concise as Duke explained the curriculum of their training. He used a Power Point presentation to show his plan for the air wing for the next two months. The more the pilots looked at the curriculum the more they realized that it was extremely rigorous, even for them. It was laden with hours of flying, followed by hours of briefing, subsequently followed by hours of planning, which was in turn followed by more hours of briefing. Duke was going to work all of them very hard.
Several hours later the Dark Horses Air Wing pilots were outside checking their aircraft and preparing for the various training missions that they were about to undertake. Just as Luck was going through a systems check with his aircraft he decided to walk over to Frost's hanger and see how she was doing. Occasionally he liked to bug her by irritating her in some way. She secretly liked it when he bugged her, but she would never admit it. It was part of their little game that they played with each other.
It was then that he found Frost sitting in the cockpit of her brand new aircraft: a JAS-39E Gripen. Her Gripen had the same pale blue body and white nose paint scheme as the other Gripens. However, it had markings of the Royal Air Force. The JAS-39E was the next generation of Gripen. It featured some of the most advanced avionics and had significant improvements in range and payload over the older JAS-39C Gripen.
When it looked like the F-35 wasn't going to be combat ready anytime soon and the EF-2000 proved to be too expensive for the needs of the Royal Air Force the United Kingdom decided to look at using the JAS-39E Gripen to fill the gap. They had only acquired two of the early pre-production Gripen Es, both of which were inside this hanger. Frost had been selected as one of two RAF pilots to become proficient in the Gripen.
The other pilot was sitting in the cockpit of the other Gripen running through checks of his own. His name was Squadron Leader John Anderson. Truth be told, none of the other pilots in the Dark Horses, with the exception of Frost, knew much about him except that he was the brother of Frost's deceased flight lead Bishop Anderson, who died in a dogfight over Greece against Russian mercenaries. He had the same basic look as Bishop. He was very tall with broad shoulders and a powerful build. His hair was smooth and dark brown. His eyes were a deep hazel brown. He had a strong jaw and high cheek bones.
Luck walked up to the Gripen that Frost was in. He decided to sneak up by the cockpit and surprise her by suddenly raising his head close by while simultaneously shouting at the top of his lungs, "LOOK OUT!"
Frost was startled and nearly jumped out of her ejection seat. When she recognized who it was she quickly punched him in the arm and said, "I hate it when you do that!"
Luck laughed in response and began rubbing his arm from the impact. He looked over at John and couldn't help but to notice that he was staring at them both. He could not tell what was going through John's mind, but he decided to pay no mind to it. "So what do you think of the Gripen compared to your Typhoon?"
Frost turned her attention back to the systems check she was running in her cockpit. "Well the avionics are almost just as good. The new AESA radar is having a lot of problems though since it's not finished. It doesn't have the same range or payload as the Typhoon, but it's a lot lighter and it's more maneuverable. Overall, I'm content with it."
Just then Mozart and Stix, who were walking by the scene, entered the hanger. The same thing was on both of their minds. They quickly walked up to their two original squadron members with a look of complete frustration.
"Hey, Luck, Duke is going to work us crazy. We need to find a way out of this," said Stix.
Mozart quickly joined in. "Or at the very least slow him down."
Luck took a deep breath to calm himself before he responded. "I have no intention of fighting anything Duke does."
They both looked at him with a mix of surprise and disappointment.
"Why not?" asked Stix. "You have more combat experience than him and I'm sure if we all pool together we can get his curriculum just a little eased up."
"He's the CAG now. Whatever he says goes. If we spend a lot of energy fighting him, then we just complicate things within the air wing." Ultimately, Luck truly believed that Duke's words earlier were right. Having an air wing that was overworked and angry was much better than having one that contradicted itself on the inside.
It was then that they spotted Bear running towards them with a frantic look on his face and a slip of paper in his hand.
"Luck, you need to see this! This is screwed up!" he said as he reached him. He then shoved the paper an inch away from his face.
Luck pulled his head back and took the paper out of his hand. He saw that it was a list of the Dark Horses Air Wing inventory. It had a list of all the aircraft planned for use in the air wing. It read:
# | Model | Operator Nation
4 | F/A-18E Super Hornet | United States, Canada
4 | EA-18G Growler | Australia
2 | JAS-39E Gripen | United Kingdom
8 | JAS-39C Gripen | Thailand
4 | JAS-39D Gripen | Thailand
Luck looked at it for a minute before realizing that Bear's F-15E Strike Eagle was not listed. Below the inventory was a list of every pilot in the air wing. After scanning through the list he realized that Bear's name was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he was not a part of the air wing anymore.
"I'm not on it!" Bear said frantically.
"Hold on a second," Luck said. "This might be a mistake. Let's go talk to Duke."
With that said, the original members of the Dark Horses went to the office of their new CAG. Luck knocked on the door and heard Duke say, "Come in."
When they opened the door they found that his office was arrayed meticulously in order. On his desk was a phone, a computer, a load of paper work, and a model of an F/A-18E on a stand. To the left of the office were various awards and accommodations, including plaques, trophies, challenge coins, and medals. A small library stand was on the right filled with books about warfare and tactics. A music box he had was connected to his iPhone and was set to a playlist of Vietnam War-era music. Currently the song Voodoo Child by Jimi Hendrix was playing. Duke lowered the music down to a minuscule level when his subordinates walked in.
"There must be some mistake on the inventory list. Bear isn't on it and neither is his plane," Luck said.
"There's no mistake. I've worked with our foreign relations arm to get him transferred to Singapore. He'll fly alongside the Singaporean Air Force's Strike Eagles for training. He'll also serve as our air wing's bridge to that nation's air force. It's the most beneficial way to use him and makes use of his experience by sharing it with an ally. It also saves us a lot of maintenance from having to source extra parts for a different type of aircraft."
It was then that Bear asked, "Don't I get a say in this?"
"No," Duke flatly replied. "Singaporean officials are expecting to meet you tomorrow evening."
"You can't do that," Stix said, a hint of anger in her voice. "You didn't even provide him with a notice of transfer first. It's a requirement that you send him a notice within 48 hours for this kind of transfer. He is an original member of this air wing and deserves better that this."
Frost followed with, "You would be removing a valuable asset of this air wing that could be used for the betterment of the training here on our own pilots."
The look Duke gave Stix and Frost was chillingly cold. "First of all, I'm your CAG. Don't ever tell me what I can or can't do. Second of all, you are all not members of the armed forces anymore. You're mercenaries. Protocol for transfer is defined by me. I'm not going to couch this lightly because you want your little gang to stay together."
Luck was furious. He could almost feel his fellow pilots looking at him to speak up against this, to somehow fight this. He watched as Duke's eyes leveled on him, waiting for a reaction. As much as Luck wanted to push back he knew that he had agreed to not disagree with his CAG in public. He also knew that it was for the good of the air wing to keep things cohesive and that if he disagreed with Duke the rest of the pilots would follow him wholeheartedly, resulting in Duke pushing back harder and stronger friction within the air wing. Much to the surprise of his men he merely said, "Okay, sir. Thanks for clearing that up."
The room became surprisingly quiet with the exception of the music box lightly playing. Luck could almost feel the hurt he had done to his comrades as they simply didn't say anything further.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Duke asked.
"No, sir."
"Then you're all dismissed," Duke said as he nonchalantly went back to his paperwork. Slowly, but surely the original Dark Horses crew turned around and walked out of the office.
When they were outside again and well out of earshot of their air wing CAG Stix said, "Luck, if you don't fight him he might break us up completely. What's to stop him from sending anyone of us away to train in some other country apart from each other for his definition of 'the good of the air wing?'"
Luck looked directly at her. "From a purely objective point of view his decision makes sense. Having a Strike Eagle here would put a larger burden on maintenance crews and the connection our air wing gets to Singapore would be more valuable than the overall training he could provide to our allies in the air wing. I hate the fact that he's one of our own leaving, but the fact remains that it's a logical decision." Luck then looked at Bear. "At least you won't have to go through the crazy training curriculum that Duke made for the air wing. We'll be working our butts off while you're in Singapore. You should see if you're wife can come over for a visit."
It was then that Bear's expression lit up as he realized that he did have an easier work load set up for the near future, which meant more flying and less briefs. "Katie should be free around that time too. That's a good idea!"
Bear had married an ex-Russian spy who had defected. Her birth name was Vanya Maraklova, but when she defected she changed her first name to Katie and her last name to Zachary, in anticipation for Bear to marry her. Bear married her shortly after dating for a few months and the early name change guaranteed less paperwork for her. "Maybe this is a good deal after all," Bear reluctantly said.
Mozart put his arm around him. "We're going to miss you, friend. I wish you the best of luck in Singapore."
"I'll keep in touch," Bear responded with a smile.
They each separated to go to their own individual aircraft hangers. As Luck was walking to his jet Mozart walked right along side with a water bottle in hand and said, "I'm just wondering if you would do anything differently had he tried to send Frost away to train somewhere else." Luck looked at Mozart with a smirk. The Canadian liked to test him every now and then, mostly to better understand where he stood on certain issues. Mozart had also become one of Luck's more close friends that he could confide in.
"I would fight that tooth and nail. He told me nothing would change about her staying in the air wing at the same rank."
Mozart merely nodded in understanding before taking a drink from his water bottle. Luck smirked as he decided that now it was his turn to take a shot at Mozart. "So is anything going on between you and Stix?"
The Canadian choked on a gulp of water and quickly spit it out in reaction to hearing the question. He then began subsequently coughing since some of the water went down the wrong pipe. When he finally got a hold of himself he then said, "You're joking right?"
"I see you two together all the time," Luck said as his smirk deepened.
"Maybe that's because we're in the same air wing and flying the same aircraft," he fired back defensively.
Luck merely shrugged as they reached their F/A-18E Super Hornets. "If you say so."
Red Crown: As always, more reviews means the next chapter will come sooner!
