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"The whole world is watching us because if these cannons don't do the trick, then it's all over. At the same time, many people have started to realize their offensive potential. If anything happens, we sure won't be sitting and doing nothing."
-Dr. Yang Tomic, Our Science magazine "Titan Guns" article, Apr. 20th, 1998.
The 21st Century has proven to be a difficult time, after a difficult road of getting here. There have been many losses over the past six years, but now marks the end. To bring back stability to Usea, the FCU and four other political entities are now forming the Independent States Allied Forces, or ISAF. This centralized government will allow for easier economic growth and rebuilding.
-FCU President Robert Sinclair- June 1st, 2002
8/20/03
The day of the last training exercise had come. For months, the pilots had used the simulators, seeing who had the necessary piloting talent, and who didn't. This group had been awful, as Hatchet said to them at the end of each day, but there were a few good pilots, and they learned as the others' dreams were dashed. Most of the aircraft were gone, given to other squadrons leaving them left-over planes of various types, and all the maintenance and logistics nightmares that implied.
Courtney had been issued an aging F-15 Eagle, painted ISAF dark blue. Courtney had hated the plane wanting the Typhoon, but like a young girl getting a bad Christmas gift, pretended to love it. Izzy, having the most discipline problems, had naturally shown the most natural talent so she was taken out of the former MiG-21 group, and given the solitary strawberry red Typhoon. Noah had been assigned another Eagle, this one gray, as was Geoff's F-16. Finally, Duncan had a MiG-29, painted in camo which many found fitting. Together, these five formed the future Vapor squadron. Today's exercise was simple, firing live ammo at remote controlled planes. The squadron was already in the sky, past Los Canas' suburbs and over the forest training grounds.
"So, it's a shame I'm going to be depriving you guys of experience today," Duncan boasted.
"This is the part where I say something to deflate your ego to normal levels, but that's not humanly possible," Noah replied.
"Cut the chatter," Mary said from her own Typhoon. She was the supervisor while Hatchet took care of the other trainees, "Um, bogeys right in… er, on the nose," she said, trying to remember ISAF jargon.
"Roger," Courtney said. On the edge of her radar, a white blip appeared, and a green square appeared in front of her on her HUD at the plane's location. She engaged the afterburners and sped forth. The target was an old F-4 that looked as if only a few gun rounds would cause it to fall apart. It lazily flew perpendicular to her plane slightly off to her left. The square around it turned red, and she turned her yoke to the right. The plane turned, and Courtney came out of it slightly to the right of the F-4, but was facing the same way. She smiled, and fired a missile, turning the aging jet into a fireball. Courtney looked to see Noah and Izzy each take out a plane with their guns.
"Three bandits down, I repeat, three bandits down," Mary reported, getting a "roger" from base control.
Geoff closed in on another plane, this one a MiG-15, and fired a Sidewinder, exclaiming "Fox Two" over the radar. The plane curved away, sending the missile off track. Geoff scowled, and accelerated towards the plane in a loose turn. He fired another missile, which impacted this time. In only a few minutes, twelve practice targets were destroyed, certifying the five trainees as combat pilots. The six immediately turned south and headed back to base.
"So Duncan, what about experience deprivation again?" Izzy asked.
"It's only because you guys rushed ahead to shoot them down. You'll end up running out of fuel," Duncan countered.
"That's kind of a weak excuse, man," Geoff replied.
"Whatever."
"Cut the chatter," Mary said, "and prepare for landing; I can see the city."
Six sets of landing gear rotated out of their spots and the airbrake was applied as Mary and her trainees prepared to land. The other five did the same and Mary and Noah pointed the noses of their planes down until their wheels touched the runway, and then brought their planes to a stop alongside each other. The process was repeated by Courtney and Duncan, and finally Izzy and Geoff landed. After the landing, the pilots taxied back to the hangar, clambered down the ladders set alongside their cockpits, took off their helmets and started to walk back to the crew quarters.
Courtney walked beside Noah. "So, I heard they're officially certifying us tonight. It kind of seems like they just want us out of this base as soon as possible," she said.
"Some spy plane picked up a lot of Erusein troops mobilizing towards the border or something, and top brass across town want as many pilots as possible when they attack. Probably another false alarm, they're just pissy at everyone," Noah replied.
"True, but something has to give sometime."
"Courtney, what are the odds it'll happen today?"
"Okay, now you're just tempting fate."
"No, I'm not. Stop thinking about it. Duncan's trying to nab all the new recruits' money at cards…again. He told me this morning. Can you put a stop to this?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll rain on Duncan's parade after graduation."
Courtney strode away from Noah and met up with Mary.
"So, do you know who'll end up squadron leader?" Courtney asked.
"No, they'll pick someone tonight. I actually heard they'll just yank some enlisted personnel and send 'em on the officer track. Isn't that stupid? ISAF's lack of any sort of planning, logistics, or even basic thought is actually quite amazing in how awful it is. Then again, it is a bunch of militaries tossed together, so what do you expect?" Mary replied, nearly straying off into a rant.
A truck stood ahead of the group, and they climbed into it. The airport hotel loomed ahead, and the pilots got out, and entered the hotel. The lobby was surprisingly crowded, given that most of the nuggets were usually training nonstop, leaving little time to relax.
"Hey, who are these people?" Duncan asked, "Did they really get all of these nuggets in one day?"
"Uh, Duncan, if any branch of the military meets its recruitment quota, Hell has officially frozen over," Izzy retorted. She then lapsed into her usual rapid-fire tone, "Speaking of which, my dad and I made a model of what we thought Hell looked like and we put it in our freezer once. My mom found it and said we could get her a diamond… bracelet, yeah, bracelet and…"
"We get it Izzy," Duncan said.
The group dispersed. Duncan went into the former indoor pool for cards, not bothering to change out of his flight suit, and Noah and Geoff went down the hall towards the stairs. Courtney followed suit, scaled up the six threadbare flights of stairs, and sauntered down to her room. She sat cross-legged on the floor, pulled out a black duffel bag from under her bed, and retrieved a black CD case and a battered portable CD player. She found her favorite CD and played it, letting somber lyrics and synthesized melodies flow straight to her mind. She flipped through the pages; flipping through the pages looking for the next CD she would play. At the back lay an ignored gold mix CD. She looked at it, closed the case and placed it back in the bag. As the songs washed into her mind and flowed back out and the sun dropped lower in the sky, Courtney sat with her eyes closed in a near trance, as if she wanted to leave the world behind. The world caught up to her via a tap on the shoulder.
She turned to find Geoff looming over her.
"Your door was open, and the graduation thing's in twenty minutes. We're all heading over to the terminal right now, man," he said.
Courtney wound the headphones around the CD player and put it back in the bag. She got up and followed Geoff down the stairs and joined up with their three squadron-mates, and they walked out the door in a state of excited silence, across the now abandoned avenue leading to the city, through the vast parking lot, and into the airport terminal. When they got to the former VIP lounge set aside for the graduation, they found that partitions had been set up and it now served as quarters for ground troops now stationed here. An old "Floor Is Wet" sign had been set up with a piece of paper taped to it saying "Air Force certification now in Hangar C."
"And they really couldn't have told us earlier?" Noah questioned, "We're going to be late."
"Eh, guess we'll just have to run," Izzy said with a smile. True to form, she immediately ran out a side door, and the others followed suit. After a mad dash across the tarmac, annoying drivers of various vehicles, they reached the hangar with the outline of what used to be a "C" on it. A side door lay open and they found a few rows of seats in front of a makeshift podium. The five took seats in the back row just before Hatchet came out from the opposite side and stepped up to the podium.
Hatchet scowled at the papers before him, then at the group of pilots who were now actually certified as combat capable. This group had been so eager, and actually listened to him. Naturally, they had the smallest amount of talent he'd ever seen. And for the remaining pilots; he had to give this stupid speech that seemed more suited for a high school graduation, or better yet, being thrown into a fireplace. That way, it could at least be used for warmth. He sighed before turning toward the microphone, and spoke. Unsurprisingly, no one paid attention, and Hatchet was left speaking to glazed eyes and wandering minds.
"You have undergone rigorous training, to the best standards, to be prepared for what the 21st Century has to offer you in ISAF. We live in drastically different times than ever before you must therefore be different. We suffered heavy losses in 98' and the Ulysses Impacts, but you are the ones to fill that void and return us to stability, hope, and…"
Suddenly, red lights began to flash in the corner of the hangar, snapping everyone back to attention.
"And apparently, peace too," Hatchet added.
The base commander, an older, portly man, burst through the side door and took the microphone.
"Erusea declared war an hour ago. They've just begun attacking targets. Your first mission is to defend our fleet at Axel Bay. A large number of Erusean naval fighters are on their way right now! This fleet is vital to ISAF's navy. We need to at least get those ships out of there! We'll give you an in-flight briefing. Also, another squadron needs to get to Stonehenge ASAP! Erusea just invaded San Salvacion. We can't protect the country, but we can protect Stonehenge. If the Erusians take it…"
The base commander shuddered and ran out, obviously having more important matters to attend to.
"Congratulations, you've all been promoted to Airmen First Class. Now scramble the planes already!" Hatchet shouted.
The newly formed Vapor squadron sprang up from their seats.
"This isn't possible. There can't be a war!" Noah exclaimed.
"What did I tell you about tempting fate?" Courtney replied.
Hatchet walked over to the stunned group.
"Okay, your planes already are carrying air to air weaponry, so you're headed to Stonehenge. We need as many people as we can get for Axel Bay, so you five are going alone with the AWACS. Airman Marris," Hatchet said.
"Yes?"
"You're squadron leader; I'll get you your Second Lieutenant pins when you get back. McCall, you're number two. Davidson and Daniels, you're Vapor three and four. Barnes, you can probably guess your number. Dismissed."
Thoughts of dread filled Courtney's mind. How on Earth could they just hand over officer status like that? You had to go to school for that… she had none of the qualifications necessary… until she remembered the situation. Considering everything else that happened and was happening now, she guesses it wasn't as huge as she thought. The other pilots had already started running for their planes, and Courtney followed suit.
The five pilots of Vapor Squadron hurried over to their planes. The crews were already loading the last of the missiles on to the planes.
Vapor squadron found that their planes were, unsurprisingly, just as they had been six hours ago. Their helmets lay on their seats, and they put them on. The canopies of the five jets were closed, and they ran their systems checks as the other former trainees taxied by to leave for Axel Bay. Finally, they turned their motley assortment of planes towards the runway. Perched at the edge, Geoff voiced his doubts.
"You guys think this'll end badly?" he asked.
"It doesn't matter," Duncan said, "We go in, we blow up what we have to, and we head back to base."
"Cut the chatter and take off," Courtney said. This was her squadron now, and she demanded exemplary combat behavior.
Courtney and Geoff's planes took up each side of the runway, and they barreled down it and took off, followed by Izzy, Duncan, and finally Noah. A voice boomed out over the radio,
"This is AWACS Shade; we'll be covering your squadron for all sorties. Proceed at vector 270 and head eastward to Stonehenge.
At Courtney's increasingly more frustrated commands, Vapor Squadron settled into the rapid journey northeast.
"So… you guys think they already took Stonehenge?" Geoff asked.
"It doesn't matter, we just need to gain air superiority," Courtney responded.
"Vapor 1, if they take the facility, air superiority means nothing," Noah replied.
"No, it means the Erusians will have the capability to destroy asteroids. Increase speed and head north, we're getting close," Courtney commanded.
The ground was desert now, with a few occasional hills.
"We're receiving reports right now," Shade said from the white plane above them, "Erusean fighters and other craft have been sighted in the vicinity of Stonehenge. Jettison auxiliary fuel tanks and intercept!"
"Roger that," Courtney replied.
"You think they'll manage to take it?" Izzy asked.
"Shut up and engage, Stonehenge is on the nose," Courtney said, wanting to leave the topic. The first glimpses of weathered concrete appeared on the horizon, and Stonehenge loomed beneath the pilots. A concrete wall surrounded the facility, and inside laid eight massive guns set in a circle, with a command center in the middle. They overflew the facility, and before they could comment on anything, a voice came over the radio.
"Attention ISAF aircraft, this is John Harvard, callsign Slash. I'm leading the mercenaries who're supposed to protect this place. We're fighting Erusian bandits ten miles to the east, you assistance is needed!"
"Vapor 2, Vapor 3, come with me to destroy the fighters. Vapor 4, Vapor 5, make sure no attacks come from any other fronts," Courtney ordered.
"Roger!" Izzy replied.
Courtney accelerated her plane, and soon a dogfight came into view. A few F-22 Raptors, apparently the mercenaries, were engaged with many Erusean fighters. Courtney's first target was an aging F-16, whose pilot was too preoccupied with trying to destroy a Raptor with its guns. The missile lock signal beeped and she fired a Sidewinder. The missile hit right in the engine exhaust, and the plane exploded.
"This is Vapor 1, bandit down."
Courtney didn't see an ejection chute. It dawned on her that she had killed someone. But the effect wasn't… profound. She felt as if she was supposed to have some sort of "What have I done" moment, but the explosion didn't faze her, it felt like she had simply done something new. She thought no more of it and eased her way into the mass of the action and acquired a new target.
Ten miles away, Noah and Izzy patrolled over Stonehenge itself.
"Do ya' think the situation is really under control?" Izzy asked.
"I can't tell. Besides, if it wasn't, the Lieutenant would never admit it, would she?"
"Right, anyways…hey wait a second… what's that?"
"Vapor 4, I don't really want to know what thing it is you're seeing."
Izzy's plane sped forth and the slow moving bulk of three C-17s came into view.
"Shade, this is Vapor 4, Erusean transports inbound!"
"Roger that Vapor 4, engage," Shade said, "Vapors 1 through 3, continue to engage fighters."
"Vapor 5 engaging," Noah said. He turned his plane towards the transports. Izzy was already there. She turned her plane and leveled out right behind the lead transport. She breathed in and said to herself "it's just like a video game; it's just like a video game." Finally, she unleashed a short hail of 27 millimeter shells that pierced the transport's wing, disabling two engines and starting a fire. The plane, clearly holding something heavy, listed to one side and began a slow and steep descent. One of the other transports then let something fall out of its hold.
"Tanks! I repeat, airborne tanks are being dropped from the transport planes!" Noah exclaimed.
"Roger, destroy them," Shade said, now sounding slightly nervous about the situation.
"We have no air to ground ordnance!" Noah shouted.
"Well, use your guns!" Shade shouted back, "There aren't any reinforcements within two hours of here!"
Meanwhile Geoff found himself contorting his plane and his stomach just trying to get a lock on a fighter. A few of the Eruseans were really good pilots, and they made sure Geoff knew it. He yanked the yoke hard to the left after the "Missile Alert" warning appeared on his HUD. He turned right again, to find the fighter had changed direction, and was now headed towards him. He quickly fired a missile, and the pilot began to turn hard right. However, it wasn't enough, and just before the missile hit, the pilot somehow managed to eject right before the missile struck, obliterating the plane.
"Vapor 2, splashed one!" At the same time, Duncan locked onto an enemy fighter of his.
"Vapor 3, Fox Two!" Duncan shouted. He turned with the enemy plane and fired one of his missiles, hoping for the two to connect. Unfortunately, that didn't happen, leaving the missile to shoot off into empty space. Vapor Three growled and yanked his plane hard left, trying to regain the lock. The fighter reappeared and he grinned as he engaged his afterburners, moving in for the kill. The words, "Missile Alert" appeared in the center of his HUD, and he turned hard again. The missile seemed to follow him through the turn, and just as the tiny speck on his radar was almost on top of his plane, the missile shot past, to the left of his canopy. Duncan let out a sigh of relief, and continued engaging the other planes. Others weren't so lucky. Two of the mercenaries had been shot down, despite their experience and advanced aircraft, leaving their leader and one other.
Noah and Izzy's battle over Stonehenge wasn't going any better either. While they had shot down three transports, four tanks were on the ground, steadily advancing towards Stonehenge's entrance. Izzy turned from the transports, slowed her airspeed, and pointed her plane down. There were the tanks, churning up a cloud of dust. The circle on her HUD moved towards the tanks as she aimed, and right when the dot in the circle's center landed on a tank, she fired. A hail of gunfire spewed from the front of her plane, and it impacted the tank. At first, the armor held, but after a few seconds the rounds broke through and the tank stopped. She turned to the next one, and fired her gun, destroying another tank, at the expense of most of her gunfire. She leveled out her plane and rapidly climbed back up, to find another squadron of five transports was inbound.
"Shade, more transports are coming!" Izzy exclaimed over the radio.
"Roger that," Shade replied, "and it also looks like these have escort fighters."
Noah, having just finished off his second transport, settled into formation alongside Izzy. Together they proceeded towards the transports, nervous about the alleged escorts. Before they could intercept, five more planes shot on to radar. The fighters were fast, shooting past the transports and immediately firing their missiles.
Izzy, bewildered for a moment at the incoming missile, barely managed to yank her yoke hard right and somehow shake off the missile. She turned again trying to get behind one of these planes, but they just seemed to be doing… something. Whatever this something was, it kept them away from Izzy's twelve o'clock. Another missile forced her into a dive just as one of the enemies finally crossed in front of her. It was a SU-27 Flanker, or one of its derivatives painted in camouflage with yellow wingtips.
"This is Vapor 4, everyone stay away from the yellow planes!" she warned.
"Roger that," Courtney replied. Her dogfight nearby wasn't going well. The Eruseans had Courtney cornered, and the two remaining mercenaries had disengaged due to lack of fuel, ordnance, or both, leaving her performing increasingly gut-wrenching maneuvers trying only to be out of firing range.
She engaged her afterburners, and managed to somehow get out of range of the other fighters. She deployed her airbrake, and turned very sharply, and felt her stomach rise up to her throat. She had most of her gun ammo left, and four missiles, having expended both of her Sidewinders. She switched to her SAAMs, hoping their greater range would be an advantage. The enemy fighters, a few F-16s, were getting closer.
Courtney was almost in range and about to make a killing shot, when suddenly, the fighters disengaged. She figured they were out of fuel, so she turned around and headed towards Noah and Izzy to try to destroy the tanks massing at the main gate. Transmissions from Stonehenge's command center had gone silent, and defeat was looking imminent. As Courtney overflew Stonehenge, a white streak appeared right in front of her canopy in the distance. A missile. She hit the afterburners and climbed up. The missile was still following her plane on radar, so she jerked hard right, then hard left, then dived. She pulled out of the dive to find the missile had lost track, and then she found the enemy. Courtney wasn't sure of what this plane was; it looked like a Super Flanker. She decided not to engage it, and to destroy the tanks instead.
That front however, wasn't going well. Noah was busy distracting the Yellows as Izzy, Duncan and Geoff strafed the tanks, which wasn't doing much. Only a few tanks were destroyed, with ten still intact, and the gate couldn't take much more damage. On top of that, Izzy had now run out of rounds, leaving her with two missiles
"This is Vapor 1, I'll join Vapor 5 in top cover," Courtney said into the radio, though she knew it wasn't top cover, it was a gauntlet.
Duncan was frustrated. He had emptied half of his magazine, with nothing to show for it. He would dive down to hit the tanks with his guns, create nothing but a large plume of sand and dust, pull up, nearly get a missile up his tailpipe and repeat. If this was how all sorties went, he was quitting as soon as possible. Finally, he managed to plug a tank with a few shells… to have the rounds bounce off. Damn, he hated this job.
Izzy was doing a bit better, having destroyed the one tank from earlier and three transport planes. However, now she had none of her magazine left to destroy the tanks as a dogfight raged above her. She was drenched in sweat and her hand was beginning to tremble, fearing at this rate her hand would slip off the throttle. Blood and sweat were already on her hands, so she only needed tears now, she thought.
Geoff was the one attacking when the tanks burst through. He was about to hit one, when he heard a huge thud huge thud. He turned his plane around to find that tanks were streaming across the facility and surrounding the command center. Vapor Squadron fired a few bursts of gunfire, but it was too little, too late.
"All Vapor units, disengage and RTB. Stonehenge has been lost; I repeat Stonehenge has been lost."
"Damn it," Courtney muttered under her breath. There was no way they could lose the first battle of the war!
"Vapor 1, we request permission to descend to below 2000 feet," Noah asked.
"Vapor 5, that isn't necessary," Courtney replied.
"Agreed," Shade replied. No orders have come from high command except to return to Los Canas.
Shade, far away from the mess at Stonehenge, began to turn southeast, and the fighters followed, beginning their grim journey back.
Forty-five minutes later, Beth Sorenski was hastily packing the last of her things. The Erusian onslaught had terrified the locals. In times past, they would have taken refuge in the various ancient castles that dotted the landscape, but now the only option was to flee east. And so it was with Beth. Under her cat's "supervision," she jammed blouses and jeans and skirts over her little brother's game console, as her dad locked their large valuables, like the grandfather clock in the basement.
"Beth, they've already taken Stonehenge," her mother said, checking public radio for news, "we have to go!"
"Coming," she said. She kicked the cat away from her feet, dropped her suitcase in the front hall; made sure her cat got in the car, and decided to take one last look off the back deck.
Her house was in an area considered extremely beautiful, with castles, wineries, and medieval churches; and all of those were summed up in a view of rolling hills just past the relatively nondescript tract homes and strip malls. Beth stared for a minute, wondering what would be lost if the Erusians made it here. The sky suddenly rippled in waves of energy, prompting many to look upwards in awe. Beth remembered that sight, that summer day seemingly so long ago...
Then, flaming wreckage came down, striking vacated homes and parked cars. The office supply store on the edge of town took what looked like a jet engine and collapsed. The peaceful Usean suburb was transformed into a mass of confusion and carnage.
Just like then, Beth thought. No, it couldn't be! Those days were long gone and the Erusians would be defeated quickly! But there it was; fires and impact sites.
She turned around and sprinted through her house, locking the sliding glass door behind her and closing all the curtains. On her own street, the Johnsons' home had been destroyed, leaving only the hints of walls. Had they already left? Beth couldn't remember. It didn't matter. She grabbed a few more of her things from her room, jammed them in her pockets, and headed out front. Her suitcase was already in the jam-packed station wagon, so she got in the passenger seat, the only place not stacked with stuff—and nearly sat on the cat. She placed Lord Fuffles between two boxes, and he meowed in delight at his makeshift burrow. Beth sat, buckled up, and her mom's station wagon followed her dad and brother in the other car as they left their home to its fate.
Panicked attitudes prevailed among Vapor Squadron, thousands of feet up.
"Oh my God, was our AWACS destroyed?" Izzy asked in terror and confusion.
"Shade, respond, respond!" Geoff shouted over the radio, to no avail.
"What even was that?" Courtney asked?
"Vapor 1, that was something we like to call Stonehenge," Noah said, "We need to drop below two thousand feet right now if we want to live. No doubt they're attacking all ISAF planes in the air right now."
"Roger that. All Vapors, descend."
All five planes descended close to the ground, just as another round of Stonehenge's massive guns rippled on the horizon. They flew over a certain station wagon in a thick exodus of traffic, crushing the spirits of a sixteen-year-old girl.
Merona, Erusea
Earlier that day
Golden hills flew past the car window as Katie drove down Route 30. Another visit to Grandma's in Farbanti had come and gone, and she was glad she caught up with her family and old friends; because it seemed like she wasn't able to for a long time, all things considered.
The car was laughable; a ten-year-old, two door, base model Emmerian subcompact that had the alleged benefit of being some "Limited Edition" convertible, making the tiny car look even smaller with a trunk as opposed to a hatch. It did however, tackle the switchbacks of the highway with relative ease.
Katie accelerated slightly above the speed limit on a straightaway. Her decision to stay overnight maybe wasn't such a good idea when she was needed for the afternoon shift. The radio was playing a lilting, folksy tune. The car turned around one big hill after an incline, and the whole justification for the indirect highway came into view: the Spring Sea, sparkling deep blue as the road straightened out to give a view of faintly visible fishing trawlers and sped past distressed whitewashed cottages and jetties.
The houses and a few businesses appeared in clusters now, with a few tourist draws, such as waterslides and boat rentals, now decayed. And just where one would think the town center would be, there lay a small bay. A gleaming new bridge went across its center, and as Katie got a slightly higher vantage point, she could see how perfectly circular it was. She took her mind off the bay, and the memories of the same drive from not long ago, and continued home. Her own town, Merona, lay a few miles ahead. It had the same aesthetic as its neighbor, but it seemed charmingly so, as it had been planned.
Her dashboard clock read 11:30, meaning she wasn't needed at her job for another hour and a half, which would her a bit of time to unwind. She drove through the town, giving the occasional wave at neighbors and headed towards the beach. Katie's home was a tiny shingle cottage perched right on the dunes, bought for a song in 1998. She parked the car and opened the front door. The faded blue couch and love seat in the living room matched, but little else did. No one she had invited over had ever noticed, the sliding sliding doors out to a graying deck and a marvelous view took their attention instead. All in all, the little house was exactly what you'd expect from a beach home.
Katie was watching the news when the war started. The picture changed from the anchorwoman with too much plastic surgery to a the Supreme Commander, the man in charge of the "emergency government."
"Attention, citizens of the Free Erusian Republic. All scheduled programming has been interrupted for this momentous occasion. Ever since Ulysses, with the loss of our General Assembly and displacements of our people, our country has been hobbled. We have sated the demands of the FCU in their new guise, the ISAF. We have taken in their refugees, driven by panic, in exchange for feeding and housing our own. We watched our cities decay, as theirs rebuilt. We watched their factories come back to life, as ours rust. We watched them grow rich again, on the backs of us, Osea, and Emmeria. We watched them crinkle their noses at disgust at us. We let them keep us hobbled with their embargos and boycotts. We let them gang up on us and declare us monsters. We have let our country, and you, down. Which is why after four years, we have had enough. Today is the turning point, today is our defiance, today is our…"
The phone rang. Katie got up and picked up the receiver, and went as close to the television as the cord would let her.
"Oh hey, Tyler. No, I don't think he'll declare war or anything, he keeps making these kinds of speeches… yeah, he sounds like a megalomaniac…"
The Commander's speech continued, "Today is the day when the dogs of the Federation of Central Usea see exactly what we as a people have endured. Today is the day we declare war!"
"Okay, maybe I was wrong, Tyler, but come on! The High Court wouldn't dare approve that; they'll send the troops back in a week!" Katie said out of desperation, "What do you mean I'm naïve?" she asked after Tyler's reply.
"In light of this new situation, the executive branch and the military will govern the country in the interim."
"Or not… but no one's going to approve, Tyler, trust me!"
Suddenly, the line went dead. Katie placed the phone down, momentarily confused. She figured it was the first wartime sacrifice. She'd meet up with Tyler later, but for now she'd just go to work, with the thoughts of tanks and bombs and guns (again!) weighing heavily in her mind.
She thought about the snippets of the Supreme Commander's speech as she turned off the television and headed out the door. The Commander was right, but this wasn't going to help. Not after the Ulysses riots and the crackdowns, the lack of food, the death, the impact, all of those things. They couldn't get back all the good people who had fled to Osea or to ISAF. They couldn't get their best days back, before Ulysses, meaning now, they had to grope in the darkness of the 21st Century.
When Vapor Squadron returned to Los Canas, the mood was extremely grim. Though the ISAF fleet had gotten out of Axel Bay and was now regrouping on the Petrol Coast, the Erusians had made significant strides into Delarus, Amber, and San Salvacion. Vapor squadron didn't care about that or their newfound kills; they simply got out of their planes, took long, hot showers, counted up their kills, got something to eat, and went to bed early. The next couple of weeks flew by; Hatchet and Mary worked their tails off trying to teach new recruits.
Military life had loosened up in an effort to gain as many new pilots as possible leading to some of the oddest people Noah had seen in a military uniform. There was Lindsay "Angel" Reynolds, some blonde ditz; Zeke "Duster" Benson, who had light experience flying crop dusters as his callsign implied, and no communication skills; and F-14 Trent "Riff" Donovan and his RIO DJ "Drum" Woodcomb.
Donovan and Woodcomb were an interesting case; their naval squadron in their native Emmeria was supposed to have been sent over as aid, but Emmeria had backed out of the war, saying their situation was too unstable to give Usea aid in its losing war, leaving the two to join ISAF.
The rest of the world was apathetic. Osea's only response was a longwinded speech that boiled down to "Not our problem." Yuktobania had acted in lockstep, and Emmeria had a seemed determined to not speak of the war at all after public opinion turned against it. Some of the smaller nations, however, gave condolences: Aurelia, Ustio, Sapin, and even Belka, of all places, expressed a willingness to help but could not spare the personnel; they were too small or, in Belka's case, forced to do what Osea said to.
This left Usea in a state of panic. Ugellans were flooding into Los Canas, and residents of Los Canas were fleeing to Comberth Harbor, Port Edwards, Expo City and what was left of St. Ark; and residents of those cities were headed to North Point. The TV networks were already over reporting the potential for another emigration from Usea altogether. Geoff's birthday had come and gone in a blur of heavy drinking by him and Izzy with lots of bad karaoke.
The mighty Istas Fortress fell on September 29, sending the base and the ISAF headquarters across town into a panic. Rumors of a planned fallback to St. Ark were going around, and Izzy naturally tried to distract herself. The squadron, plus Trent, was squeezed into Izzy's teal SUV heading to some place that catered to Izzy and Geoff. Sure enough, Izzy scraped her paint parallel parking in front a dingy-looking bar uptown.
"So, who's going to be driving back?" Trent asked. Four pairs of eyes immediately turned to Courtney.
"Okay, guess Courtney does," Trent said. The six entered the bar to find that the interior wasn't as dingy as the exterior. Courtney and Noah sat at the corner table as everyone else immediately headed to the bar. Trent joined the two.
"So, um, why do you guys stay away from everyone?" Trent asked.
Courtney didn't respond;she twirled a pen in her right hand and stared out into the evening. Noah nudged her.
"Oh, sorry," Courtney said in her chipper fashion, "I don't drink, I don't need it… and the demerits."
"Okay, what are you always thinking about? Even I have better focus than you do," Noah asked.
"Hey! At least I get involved in squadron matters," Courtney retorted.
"Uh, are you sure about that?" Izzy shouted over from the bar, "You just do what you're supposed to and then hide yourself away whenever you can.
"Izzy, you could at least hold the pretense of not knowing everyone else's conversations," Noah said, visibly irritated.
"S'no fun," Izzy mumbled just loud enough to hear.
"This is an interesting squadron," Trent found himself muttering under his breath.
Izzy then proceeded to forcibly drag Noah to join her in drink.
"So, is that true?" Trent asked.
"No," Courtney said, "I come out here."
"And you're doing nothing," Trent replied.
"Hey!" Courtney said.
"Sorry, you do."
"Come on, do you really think I'm like the rest of my squad?" Courtney huffed, "Well, except Noah."
"No, but you are solitary. Why don't you just go over with everyone else, I'll drive back to base," Trent suggested.
"No, I…" Courtney paused, realizing she didn't really have a reason, "You know what, I'll just head back myself. You drive Izzy and everyone else home, okay?" she decided.
Courtney got up, and walked out onto the street corner for a bus, which came in a few minutes. On the way back, she slumped against the wall, wondering how two people could go over practically her entire personality in the span of a minute.
The second day folllowing was sunny and Vapor Squadron flew another. The ISAF member-state of Delarus had fallen, but three quarters of their military hardware had been stored in the country's main port, and this mission was to destroy it before the Erusians could use it.. Vapor Squadron arrived back at Los Canas in the late morning. The pilots all got out of their planes, jovial about being able to stem their string of military losses, all except Izzy; she staggered out of her Typhoon's cockpit and stumbled through their quarters' lobby and into what was once a public restroom. She splashed water on to her face, trying vainly to wash the morning's events from her mind. As napalm was dropped over the docks, Izzy swore she could see people there, tiny black flailing blobs. She didn't know if they were soldiers or dockworkers, but if anyone was there, they were certainly immolated, burned away into the sky like so many people on that summer day. Of course, she could be mistaken. They could have been anything, a hallucination. Everyone said she was crazy, right? So they weren't real, they weren't real!
Izzy kept splashing water on her face until Lindsay came in. Everyone thought of her as a nice if slow-witted girl, and a mediocre fighter pilot. She flew an under-maintained SU-27 Flanker for air superiority missions, on the condition that her plane was even in working order that day. Despite the influx of personnel, aircraft parts were still scarce, despite the new aircraft factory outside of St. Ark.
"Um… is there something wrong?" Lindsay asked.
"No, everything's fine," Izzy lied, "I just feel gross after the mission."
"Go take a shower then," Lindsay replied cheerfully, and sauntered out. Before she closed the door, she said, "It was something on your mission, wasn't it?"
Izzy had no reply; she just stared at Lindsay, and the two exchanged a look of mutual understanding.
Meanwhile, Duncan was sprawled on a particularly ugly 80's vintage brown vinyl sofa in the hotel lobby, describing the day's sortie to other pilots.
"So, there's this one dock, and it has a lot of cranes. So Noah drops this great shot and all of it just comes tumbling down on these tanks and these two gunboats. It was awesome, just like in the movies! And we came just in the nick of time; I totally saw Erusian scouts already checking out all of the stuff piled on those docks. I guess that's what Izzy's all melodramatic about. She's earned the Honorary Osean award with her talk on how it was awful we had to kill people as she handles a killing machine!"
"Don't you think you're stereotyping Oseans?" Mary asked, walking up to the group. She served as secondary flight lead, and had long since transferred to the Officers' Quarters. "Also, how do you know they were Erusian scouts?"
"Because they were prowling around all that military hardware. What else could they have been?" Duncan answered casually.
"That's what we thought at Hoffnung," Mary said softly as she walked away.
Noah was using the base computer to search for information on the squadron who engaged them at Stonehenge. When the base finally got civilian Interet access, he was able to use Data Owl to look up the squadron of Flankers. After two hours, he found who he was looking for in an old Erusian news article from last year; the ISAF government hadn't caught on to blocking specific sites, just the whole Internet.
They were the Aquila Squadron, better known as Yellow Squadron, based out of some air base near Goldberg, Erusea. Now, they were deployed to San Salvacion, and they weren't what Noah expected at all. He had expected five stern, most likely older, bald men who thought war was glorious. Instead, they were a squadron with rotating members around one pilot, known only as Yellow Thirteen. He was blond, and well spoken according to the interview at the bottom. His only constant wingman was a dark haired woman, Yellow Four. Their names had been withheld for privacy, leaving Noah intrigued to who they really were.
"Whatcha doing Noah?" Geoff asked as he entered the room.
"Nothing," Noah said as he tried to close the window. Geoff saw the window and moved the mouse away from the "x" button.
"Hey, is that the squadron we engaged over Stonehenge?" he asked,
"Yup," Noah replied.
"They use Su-37's? Nice!"
"Remember Geoff, they tried to kill us in them," Noah replied dryly.
"They're still cool," Geoff insisted, leaving the conversation at that.
The rest of the year got even worse as more scorched earth retreat missions were carried out. While not officially stated, ISAF forces were rapidly retreating eastward. All resistance in San Salvacion, Amber and Ugellas had been crushed, giving Erusea full control of Western Usea.
The refugee problem had gotten even worse. Thousands of tents had gone up at the capitol and in the parks and even on the streets, simply asking photojournalists to investigate their residents' plight and send photos to The Color of the World magazine. The situation had gotten so bad that ISAF had run out of tents, leaving thousands living out of their cars on the jammed freeways. People were stockpiling food, and many simply bought plane tickets and left via Los Canas' other airport.
Parts had gotten even harder to obtain: only half of Vapor Squadron would go on a sortie, with the rest were grounded. All the while, the Erusian army slowly advanced towards the old FCU. In response, ISAF, still disorganized, did little besides send what units they could east to St. Ark. This in turn, led more and more to want Erusea to come, to take over and replace the inept ISAF civilian branch.
Los Canas had been tossed into the fire, and the burning was about to start.
Thanks for reading and please review or tell me any inaccuracies, I'd love to hear your opinion.