Like shadows, the birds hugged the ground, going faster than the speed of sound. Their black-on-black shade mingled with the darkness of the night, and only the presence of the full moon revealed the golden hue of their canopies. At an unspoken command, two missile racks on the undersides of the fighters opened up, and two Mavericks came out of each one. They primed and fired their thrusters, speeding off to the targets ahead. Each went out in a satisfying thump, but even those sounds seemed muffled.
Silently, the three birds of prey turned and returned to base, still undetected by radar. But the enemy would be here shortly, so they had to make haste. Each pilot pushed the engines to just under the afterburner point, so they wouldn't leave large heat signatures in their wake. The ground below matched the sky above, and one move would mean instant death. This was irrelevant, however, to these birds. The three Raptors, the three Ghosts, had completed their mission.
Thanatos had struck again.
---
Freelance Alliance: The Sky's Angels
Chapter: 03
"Thanatos"
Caelum Umbra (Heaven's Shadow) AFB – March 25th, 2007 – 0300 hours
---
March had passed with no further incident. The fighters for Bronze Gate One had been built, and they had been conducting defense maneuvers and recon runs to find the location of the enemy forces' forward base, but to no avail. The Ysgard Battle Fleet had been in a few skirmishes themselves, but so far there had been no losses. Their intelligence ship had intercepted a few burst transmissions, and had determined that the enemy had forces in Southern Usea, Osea, and even as far south as Antarctica. Also, they had encountered Patrol Ships, and figured that maybe they were finally on the trail of the Navy.
Thanatos, the stealth squadron of the Freelancers, had had the best luck. They had found an enemy forward base about five days ago, and had launched a few attacks on it. However, the air-defense grid surrounding "Base Alpha", as they called it, was pretty strong, and they had to limit themselves to flying fast and low and in flights of three. Word from Erick was that ISAF (Independent State Allied Forces) was going to lend some support, as they had a base nearby.
Joseph Burns, leader of Thanatos flight "Ghosts" and commander of the base overall, had yet to see these flights. Instead, he and his team of pilots had been hard at work on a generously provided spare Raptor. At first, they thought about cannibalizing it for parts, but when Joseph mentioned something about his fighter not responding as fast as he'd like, the rest of his flight got an idea: they were going to illegally modify one of the spare Raptors to accustom the skill of their flight leader. Dubbed the "F/A-22JB Variant", they spent their off-time working on the fighter.
The leader of this project wasn't a Ghost pilot, but in fact one Juan Septiano, a young pilot from Anea. He had looked up to Joseph since he came about six months ago, and the two had formed something of a friendship. He had yet to see flight, as his fighter wasn't here, but the ISAF government said that they had something special coming up for the young pilot, who showed great promise in the AAF (Anean Air Force) military university. It would come, they said, when the "back-up" came.
Juan was in fact awake when the last of the Raptors landed. The Raptor belonged to Second Lieutenant Nayden Kilpatrick. Nayden was probably the most social and vibrant in all of Thanatos squadron, and since the skirmish at Bronze Gate One, Joseph had sent the young pilot in his place. He had shown up about two months ago, and hadn't even known what he was supposed to be doing. But he was an excellent pilot, and he knew the ins and outs of a Raptor like the back on his hand. When the team reworking the spare Raptor needed help with some of the black box parts for it, they always asked Nayden, and he would always know.
The last Raptor pulled into her hangar, and the wingtip lights shut off. Another night of attack runs had ended with no loss for Thanatos, but probably no real loss for the well-organized enemy as well. Juan put his pen down and reached on to his lap for his Walkman. He shut off Mozart with a press of a button, and took off his earphones. He placed both objects under his bunk and turned out the light.
---
Caelum Umbra – March 25th, 2007 – 0700 Hours
There were a total of about 10 pilots in Thanatos, many of which were still rotating in from other units. Most of the pilots that sat in the small briefing room that served both flights had only five pilots, Ghost Flight. They were Thanatos' only active flight right now, as the Spectre wing hadn't been completed yet. Also, one of the pilots for the Ghosts, Juan, was without a fighter. On top of that, most of the crew that was supposed to be working on the fighters and running the base in general was nowhere to be found. Worst of all, the command staff had died in a plane crash, leaving Joseph to run the base.
So it could be easily said that Thanatos was understaffed, under armed, under financed, and generally at a third of the strength it should be. However, despite this, the squadron had pulled off about seven sorties with no loss of life. Their night raids had been getting progressively tougher at the enemy's forward base, far to the south of the region near the original Ice Creek base Mobius 1 defended during the Continental War.
How the enemy came upon the base and took it over was currently one of the bigger mysteries facing the Freelance Alliance, and especially Joseph. Erick had given him orders to destroy the base, but the night raids didn't work well. They needed more men, more supplies, and more time. They had none of it. He was working under pressure to fix a problem that shouldn't need to be fixed.
But who was this enemy? Since the fight at Bronze Gate One, there had been no assaults on the FA bases. The only ones to see action was the rookie Navy they had. The enemy had a large, expansive naval force of some fifty ships. Their fighters consisted of mostly Tomcats and Hornets, but Glen had reported seeing a fleeing squadron of Joint Strike Fighters. Unlike the assault on Bronze Gate One, these fighters were manned, and they fought really well. Though Barracuda had not experienced many casualties, they had lost every fight so far.
More disturbing, reports from Barracuda fighters marked everything from Osean to Erusan, Belkan to Anean ships. The enemy forces seemed to buy things from everywhere, but the question was still who they were.
Joseph walked into the briefing room and walked up to the podium, a stack of papers in hand. It listed the last known locations of the enemy navy. As they had no name, Erick had listed the navy the unoriginal "Alpha" fleet. Looking over the papers another time, the Thanatos leader frowned at the navy's last location: About two-hundred miles west of Caelum Umbra. It looked like they were planning an air strike.
"All right, Ghosts," he said to the attending five pilots. "I have some good news and bad news. Since I don't like to play around, we'll cut to the bad news," he reached under and clicked the mouse, bringing up a slide of their base via satellite imagery. "This is us," he clicked again, and the slide moved to the west slightly. "This is the location of fifty enemy ships, ranging from patrol ships to super-carriers. Our objective is to attack and do as much damage to the fleet in as little time as possible. This would be suicide for anyone but us, guys, but it will still be incredibly tough,"
"Our primary objective," he continued to the attentive pilots as he clicked to the next slide, showing a zoomed-in version of the enemy fleet, with the five ships in the middle. "…will be these five carriers. Our secondary objective will be the Arliegh-Burke AEGIS Cruisers and Battleships, and everything else is purely for the kills. We'll split ourselves in to two halves, Splinter Thrace and Splinter Rhegium. One Splinter will have their fighters overloaded with anti-air weaponry, and consist of Mas and Crystal; the other will be me, Freespace, and Viper, loaded with anti-ship missiles… and in my case, something special. Any questions?"
"Yes, sir," Juan spoke up. "I don't have a fighter. What am I going to do, sir, grow wings and fly?"
"Actually,
no," Joseph replied, shuffling some papers. "Your fighter came in
this morning when everyone was asleep. You probably don't know what
it is, but I do… and let's just say you'll all be pleasantly
surprised when you see it,"
"Sir, what's so 'special'
about your fighter?" Nayden asked, curious. Joseph sighed, and put
the papers under his desk.
"Thanatos, as you know, guys, is the ultimate in special operations. Eventually, we'll be outfitted with the best equipment, and the best pilots. This morning I found one of the reasons we're so under financed… loaded on to my fighter is a single Midgar,"
The room fell silent. The Midgar was the ultimate in weaponry; a range of a thousand miles or more, speeds of up to Mach 4, the maneuverability of a Sidewinder, and it could be launched from a fighter… delivering it's hydrogen-fueled nuclear payload right into the heart of the enemy. Of all Usea's inventions, this one was probably the most terrible. They had been working on the prototypes the day Mobius 1 destroyed Megalith, finishing it in secret two months later. Now, there were nine of these terrible weapons built, each with a demonic name.
"…which one is it?" Nayden inquired, shaken at the thought of the weapon.
"Levistus," replied Joseph. "The Ice Prince," Nayden nodded and looked away. "Dismissed… we'll begin the operation when the sun goes down,"
---
Caelum Umbra – March 25th, 2007 – 1300 hours – Hangar 8
Juan stood at the open hangar door, gaping at the giant box that held his fighter. It arrived via boat, and the sailors on board had been loath to speak of what was in it. It was probably the experimental new fighter, the YF-23, like Viper had, but it wasn't what "Crystal" wanted. It wouldn't matter in the long run, when he was either dead of captured, he reasoned, but what the hell.
Nayden stood on top of the box with the other pilots, armed with nothing more than a simple crowbar. It had taken them since 9:30 in the morning to begin prying out the nails, but it was finally done. All they had to do was unseal the "Hushed Casket", as Nayden jokingly called it.
"All right kids, here we go!" he shouted, shoving the crowbar between the side and top of the box. The other two pilots did the same, and began pulling on it hard. Juan backed away from the box as the Thanatos pilots struggled against the box's refusal to move, giving it every ounce of strength they had. Slowly, surely, the top of the box began to give, allowing them enough room to fit an overhead crane arm in to. They jumped off and let the machine do its work, joining Juan at the front to witness the new fighter.
The crane pulled, and easily pulled the crate's side off. An avalanche of moth balls followed, covering the three Ghosts in them. They fought against the wave and looked up with expectation… then disappointment. Despite all the moth balls, the fighter was still mostly covered, showing only the cockpit and front. It resembled a Black Widow's (YF-23A) face, but sleeker and longer. The nose was more curved, as well.
Curious, Juan walked up to the side and grabbed on to the rope ladder hanging from the side. He scurried up it, and opened the canopy. He slid himself in and closed the canopy, sealing himself inside.
The controls were certainly more different than anything he had ever seen. The flight stick was situated more to the right than the center, sitting on a black box with a few screws attached. It resembled a video game controller more than an actual flight stick, but he ignored it. His left hand rested on a bar that started green and moved to orange, then red. He lifted his hand and saw that it was a throttle indicator, but no stick was in sight. In front of him, there were five or six large blank screens, revealing nothing about the fighter.
He sat there, confused for a few seconds. He looked around the cockpit before finding an object resembling a memory stick hanging off of the seat. He grabbed it and stared at it, but couldn't make anything out. He looked around for a few seconds more before finding a slot for it, and inserted it gently.
Instantly, the fighter came to life. The dash lit up with a red/orange glow. The stick to his right moved by itself for a second and to his left the throttle lights jumped up and down before resting at "IDLE". The dash in front read in binary for about five seconds before coming up with digitized versions of all the familiar gauges he had grown to memorize, albeit in slightly different positions.
He looked ahead just as his HUD projected a screen. It read:
EASA
Project W
Model: X00000-000THA
So this is an EASA ship? Juan thought to himself. Not surprising, I guess; only they could come up with something this confusing. He checked his fuel gauge to be "0", but his battery gauge read 100. It was a hybrid engine running behind, which worried him slightly. Nonetheless, he wanted to get this stupid thing out of the box, so he looked for some way to go. He looked for a throttle stick in vain before just shouting "Go, already!"
The fighter throttle suddenly read 25. There was a brief whirr, then a lurch forward out of the box. He watched his friends scurry out of the way before he regained his head and pushed right on the flap pedal hard before realizing that it wasn't there.
"What the hell!" he shouted. He grabbed the flight stick and twisted right, like one would do on a PC controller. The fighter responded and turned right quickly, narrowly avoiding the grass. The autopilot suddenly kicked in and began to taxi itself to the runway.
"Wait, stop!" he yelled at the fighter. "It's not time for launch yet!" As he finished speaking, the throttle dropped to "IDLE", and the fighter stopped moving. "Now, that's better," Juan said before reaching down for the key and pulling. Of course, the fighter wouldn't let go. "Umm… shut down?" The fighter let go and then shut off, even opening the canopy for him.
Grumbling, Juan put the key around his neck before throwing the rope ladder out and climbing down. He left the fighter there and walked back over to his friends, who were gaping.
"Sorry about that, guys," he apologized. "But my fighter literally got away from me… what?"
"Dude, didn't you notice your bird?" Nayden asked, not even looking at the young pilot. "Look at it!" Looking at Nayden dubiously, he turned around and walked to his fighter… then stopped midway. He saw the butterfly tail, the sleek shape of his jet, and more noticeably… he recognized the wingspan. There was no one else with this kind of fighter, save one, and that guy was the hero of Usea.
"There's no way…" Juan whispered as he ran up to it, touching one of the V-shaped wings. "This has to be a mistake," he climbed up the rope ladder, than jumped to the top of the fuselage, touching the raven-colored metal of the fighter. He stood and looked down at the jet as if he were walking on water.
It was definitely a Wyvern.
Juan jumped in the air and screamed gleefully.
---
It this land, the sun always set early, and by seven p.m. it was dark as pitch. The five pilots had assembled in their fighters on the runway. In their lead, Joseph or "Darkside" had begun the taxi to the runway. Behind him, his team was talking amongst themselves.
"I can't believe it," Nayden was saying. "Out of everyone, Crystal gets a Wyvern!" He laughed.
"I don't understand why me, though," Juan said. "I'm not that great a pilot. Besides, I'm still not completely sure of how to fly this thing," Juan had spent the rest of the day reading the built-in tutorial in the Wyvern's databanks and practicing some very basic maneuvers in the air. He had acquired a good grasp of the voice commands in the jet, but flying the thing himself was a serious challenge.
"It doesn't matter," Freespace interjected. "The fact is that you now have this bird, and we'll need you at your best, whatever that may be,"
"Yeah, but still…" Juan began.
"Don't worry, man," Nayden interrupted. "You'll be alright. Even if that is a well-built bird, I can fly circles around you, alright? Just follow my lead when we're in the air,"
"…yes, sir,"
Joseph took off, followed shortly by Freespace. Viper and Nayden launched at about the same time, leaving Juan alone on the ground. The pilot ignored his sweaty palms as he gripped the flight control, then let go. I can do this. He thought.
"Begin launch sequence," he commanded, and the fighter took over. In seconds, he was in the air and in formation with the others. He grabbed the control stick and kept the fighter in position as the squadron sped up. He heard a whirring noise as the fighter's wings tucked into themselves and the butterfly tails flattened. He took a deep breath, and focused only on the green HUD.
"Activate NVS," the HUD flashed briefly, then faded out completely as the cockpit took a gray hue. He could suddenly see very well in the dark, and thanked EASA for the gift. The HUD slowly reappeared in a sharper green tint, giving the pilot more ease. He started to relax when Joseph opened a squadron comm.
"Listen up, pilots," he said. He voice had changed; it was cold, stone, unfeeling. "We're going in fast and low, just like usual. We're about ten minutes away from the enemy fleet, so we're going to hit them hard. I reconfigured the AA fighters a bit and gave you two Mavericks sitting just under the wings. This will give you some ground firepower, which you should use on this initial run. Darkside out,"
Instantly, the lead F/A-22 began to dive. The other fighters followed easily, though with such a strong ability to turn Juan had to be more careful than the rest. He set the throttle to 80, and easily kept pace with the others. Juan felt his pulse quicken; it would be his first true sortie, in one of the most advanced fighters in the whole of Erusea! Why did he get it? It must be a mistake. He reasoned. But I sure as hell am not complaining. He grinned as the fighters leveled out only hundreds of feet below the ground, the adrenaline in his body pumping through his veins as he saw the tops of evergreens pass just under his fuselage.
"So," Nayden suddenly began. "How about after we take out this Navy we go home and play Pong?" There was silence on the radio for a brief time. "Anyone? Oh, come on, you can't say that you don't like Pong, guys. Everyone likes Pong,"
"Hush," Freespace ordered. "There's no room for a conversation like this, Mas. This is more opposition than what we ever faced before, and we have a newbie flying with us,"
"…you're right, of course," Nayden relented. "I'll shut up. But I won't like it,"
"You never do,"
Juan heard the click of a com shutting off. Looking ahead, he saw only the dark of night, the soft glow of the HUD and dash, and the horizon loomed ever farther away. Juan closed his eyes and let the autopilot handle the flying as he leaned back and closed his eyes, knowing that this moment of peace would not last. He subconsciously prepared for the fight at hand; the obligation to kill his fellow man indirectly with missile fire.
Little did he know, the other pilots were doing much the same. Nayden shut off the lights in his Raptor and closed his eyes, falling asleep instantly. Joseph crossed himself and began praying, to both God and his son for strength to get through this fight. Freespace imagined his attack runs in the fight, preparing for them accordingly.
Silence fell over the Ghosts as they assumed their silent form. It was this point that the flight called their "Ethereal Jaunt". From this point on, their actions would speak for them until the fight was over. It was how it was for Thanatos; they were so in tune with each other that they didn't have to speak to each other. They felt another's presence. They felt Juan's anticipation, Nayden's apathy, Freespace's vigilance, and Joseph's dark, dark hope.
Thanatos became the Ghosts. And the Ghosts were out for blood.
---
Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean – 2100 hours – "Alpha" Fleet
The technician sitting at the radar/sonar screen was falling asleep. His shift would be over in half an hour, thankfully, so he just had to stare as yet another pod of whales passed by one of the battleships. Apparently Humpbacks were more common than what people originally believed.
Suddenly, a blip appeared on his sonar. Just as suddenly, it was gone. The tech figured it to be a glitch, and ignored it. But then there were five blips, this time about half the distance of the sonar from his little patrol ship. But then it was gone again. The young technician was seriously debating on whether telling his captain. It was just a glitch, he presumed after a while; nothing to be worried about.
Just then, an explosion was heard from port. The tech looked up from his post, then stood up with the rest of the crew and ran up to see what had happened. As he reached the window, he saw the flames reflect in the water, and he knew something bad had happened. He couldn't figure it out, though, until he saw the burning battleship. There was no missile alert, no radar blip, nothing… but there was the battleship, burning brightly in the night. The tech widened his eyes as he finally realized what he had seen.
Just as he did, a silhouette's silhouette appeared in front of him. There were three pinpoints of light, then blackness again. The tech wondered briefly before a Vulcan shell the size of his forearm pierced his head. He didn't get to see as the tiny patrol ship became a hulking wreck.
-
Meanwhile, the Admiral of the fleet on board the primary carrier had just witnessed five of his ships destroyed without so much as a muzzle flash or a missile contrail. He knew it would be difficult for his pilots to see, but something had to be done.
"Launch all fighters," he ordered. "Fight these Raptors, and kill them," He looked at his right-hand man as he nodded and began giving the orders. He looked outside as he saw a group of three cruisers panic, turning and firing wildly into the sky. Against the cannon fire, the admiral thought he made out a single fighter and the nose of two more before they disappeared. Half a second later, one of the cruisers exploded, cut in two. Another second passed, and a patrol ship within the reason of a jet's turning arc popped like a balloon.
The Admiral narrowed his eyes as another cruiser went down, again like nothing really happened. At the same time, he saw one of his prized Tomcats go into the sky. He smiled as the fighter headed for the source of all the death; but then, the Admiral saw the fighter trail smoke and crash into the ocean. He didn't even hear the scream of jet engines as the jet disappeared, but he thought he saw a shadow against the moon.
Somewhere in the man's mind, he knew that he wouldn't live to see the end of this fight. These pilots knew their jets well; so well as to conceal three jets as just one brief blip on radar. He looked ahead at the flames, and then watched with curiosity as the gun crews and engineers on deck began firing wildly into the sky, as if in a panic.
He knew then that his time was already up. He wanted to face his death with dignity, though, and walked up to the front of the tower, looking out the window at the sky. He saw the three fighters suddenly, clear as day, as they came in for an attack run on his fighter. He watched the three open their bomb bays and drop three tiny bombs. Two of the bombs landed on deck, and the third ran into the tower, just under the bridge.
The Admiral looked up to the moon.
There was an explosion.
-
The Ghosts were invisible to man. As the lead one led the other two around, gun crews saw bullets pass through them. Missiles couldn't lock on to the Ghosts as they made their way around the fleet.
The Ghosts seemed incorporeal as they destroyed the first carrier. Flames erupted from the deck below, but none found their mark as the birds passed by unharmed. They circled back and opened quick bursts of fire on a battleship, muffled by their own etherealness. The crew of the ship didn't see where the gunfire came from, nor did they hear it, before the separate guns and the bridge slid into the water, cut down by laser-precise gunfire.
Higher in the air, two more ghosts seemed to act as a single Reaper, cutting down the fighters before many even got off the carrier. There were still enemy birds in the sky, though, but it didn't take long for these to see a flash before their eyes as their jets because hulking scraps of metal.
It was a slaughter. The Ghosts near the water seemed to pass under the water and through the enemy ships as they cut down the carrier escort with only guns. The ones in the air used acts of deception to feint enemy movements, sometimes destroying two or three birds in one run. At one point, a pilot made out the shape of a Wyvern against the moon, unfurling her wings, before it seemed to pass through him, causing him to panic and lose control of his jet, stalling it and plummeting into the deck of the very carrier he launched from.
The water spirits took this opportunity quickly. They passed through the first destroyed carrier and came up behind the second. They opened their doors, and three missiles slipped out. There wasn't even a vapor trail as the missiles flew to three separate points on the carrier. There was an explosion as the carrier was destroyed, a bright ball of orange flame forming a miniature sun for almost a full three seconds.
The Ghosts passed through the flame harmlessly, it seemed, and headed for a single unfortunate battleship. The crew had enough time to scream before feeling the pilots' wrath.
-
Juan wasn't… himself. Something had taken control of him. He could see the ships without the help of Night Vision, Radar, or HUD; in fact, he turned them all off. He could hear the commands from his fellow pilots, though they spoke no word. He could duck, weave, and turn with nary a thought, when before he had the most difficulty in controlling his Wyvern. It was something… unnatural. Juan did not know, nor did he think about any of it; his only thoughts were on the enemy pilots in the air… he thought about how he would kill the next one.
Their fear… he could smell their fear. It was a putrid stench, one that was the equivalent of a man wetting himself. He could taste the engine fumes as he pulled up behind one and shot a small burst of shells into the cockpit. As he pulled up into the sky, he turned impossibly tight, tighter than a human body should be able to pull off.
He pulled up, and felt the moon to his back. His fighter slowed, and his wings flared. He bore down on an unfortunate Tomcat, passing by it – or was it through it? Juan did not seem to know, notice, or care. As the enemy pilot panicked and fell into the ocean, it was just another kill. He was the Grim Reaper. Better yet, he was a God. There was nothing he could not do in his Wyvern.
He fired three bursts almost aimlessly, but each one hit the Hornet that used the smoke to hide. It crashed into the burning deck of the first carrier.
Juan then laughed; it was an evil laugh, and it sent chills up every enemy spine.
-
To the enemy, the Devil was in the sky. It took the form of a great five-headed Dragon, and it rained fire down upon their hapless ships. The smoke from their ships filled the heavens above as the devil did his dirty work, killing man and destroying machine. Five black-on-black silhouettes streaked about, never giving any quarter, never giving an echo. At one point, all eyes turned up to see, through the smoke, birds of prey.
These were not the birds they were used to. They saw the familiar black shapes of stealth aircraft. Their shades matched the night sky, and they were coming down hard. A pilot screamed as they shot by him, their combined momentum tearing his fighter apart. Before he died, he saw the fighters clearly for what they were: black birds, smeared with red blood; the blood of his comrades and countless other men the pilot knew had to have been his allies. Then the Wyvern's right wing cut into him, tearing him in half at the chest. He felt no more as his body tumbled to the ocean below. The Wyvern, its wing streaked with blackened blood, flew on like it was nothing.
The fighters turned, and bore down on its last target; the only surviving carrier. The crew on board looked up, but didn't see the five Ghosts coming towards them. However, they felt the presence of pure bloodlust, and screamed. They didn't even fire their weapons as their deaths awaited them.
Guns opened fire and missiles streaked silently toward the final target. Crew on the deck ran to and fro, but with nowhere to go, they only died. One crewman witnessed five of his best friends become paste before he felt a shell enter the top of his head. Another one managed to get out of the way of a missile blast, only to be killed when a piece of shrapnel hit him, severing his head from the rest of his body. He watched his own headless body fall to the ground before the bridge – crew inside still alive – fell into pieces on top of countless men.
Some men got the bright idea to jump into the water. However, the Reaper waited for them there, too. As if attracted by the massacre, countless sharks had come to join in. One man jumped right into a Great White's gaping maw, screaming as he realized his fate. Another managed to swim for a piece of floating metal before two sharks came from behind, each grabbing a leg and pulling him under, tearing him to shreds.
In the sky, seagulls, streaked with oil, flew away, panicked. Soon after, five black Ghosts flew off, toward the east. The moon, waning in the sky, became obscured by black smoke.
-
Caelum Umbra – 0750 hours – March 26th, 2007
Juan walked into the mess hall, dazed. His fellow pilots had come already, and were sitting in separate spots, eating the mush they called breakfast. He wanted to talk about the night before, but couldn't fight the heart to sit with any of the others or finds the words to describe his feelings. He simply grabbed a bowl of mush and sat away from everyone.
He stared at his hands, palms up, and contemplated the night before. It was as if he were watching a movie; a terrible, horrible, bloody movie. Was that really me? He asked himself. How could I have -
His thoughts were interrupted as the PA came on.
"Attention, Thanatos pilots. We have three contacts coming in, asking for clearance. It appears that they're from the Navy, Joseph,"
Joseph stood up and walked away from the room. He went past Juan, who once again became lost in thought. He made the short distance to the front door, and walked out into the frigid morning sky.
He walked to the runway and watched three jets come in. The first two were Tomcats; like any other Navy flier, they hit the runway hard, being accustomed to landing on short carrier decks than long runways. The third jet he saw was a rare one in the Freelance Alliance; a Rafale B. In fact, there were only two or three pilots that had one.
Looking closer, Joseph noticed something unsettling about the jets. The lead Tomcat was scorched black with burns in many places, and its wings had been clipped slightly, with uneven holes in both the swing wings. The second, when it landed, suddenly buckled, and the front wheels folded in on themselves. The nose of the Tomcat nearly hit the ground as it streaked to the end of the runway, sparks streaking every which way. The last jet, the Rafale, was in the worst shape Joseph had ever seen: The tail was just gone, and in its place was a black mark. The engine kept sputtering and quitting as the pilot landed, and the brakes wouldn't even come up. The landing gear came out halfway, and the Rafale made a clumsy landing the rest of the way. Then Joseph noticed that the left wing was cut in half jaggedly by either a missile or gunfire.
The lead Tomcat taxied to a spot not far from the Thanatos leader. Crew quickly pulled a step ladder up and opened the canopy. A figure with long hair stepped out and quickly leaped down the ladder, yelling at the crew to run, also. Dumbstruck, they complied, and seconds later, the Tomcat erupted into flame.
Suddenly very uncertain about the status of the Navy, he walked up to the pilot, who was bent over farther away from his jet, his long hair covering his face.
"Glen?" he asked, and the Navy lead looked up slowly. "What happened to your jet?" Glen only looked at the older man for a long time, gray eyes staring deep into his. "Are you okay? What about the Navy?"
Glen's eyes flashed for a second, and then he stood, a resigned look on his face. Joseph knew from the look that something bad had gone down…
"The Navy…" Glen whispered, his voice coming out more as a break than anything else. "The Navy… has been destroyed,"
To Be Continued…
"Next: Chapter 04 – Slaying of the Hydra"
