Disclaimer: See page 1
AN: When a squadron scrambles, it means that they have launched their fighters rapidly.
Susan walked into the briefing room and scanned the ranks of pilots sitting there. Built to hold twenty people at a push, the room looked distressingly empty. The survivors of the attack were sitting in a clump, almost as though they were scared to let each other go.
There were two exceptions. In the right hand corner sat a tall dark-skinned Osean man, one of twenty Osean pilots who were selected for a four-week pilot exchange and spread across Yuktobonia. His name was Lieutenant Lionel Cook aka Judgement. At the other end sat Lieutenant Elena Blade aka Ferret. Generally disliked, Elena was noteworthy for spreading rumours, regardless of whether they were true or not.
"Right, listen up. As of today we are mounting full wartime procedures. We will have defensive combat air patrols in the air at all times. We don't know if today was a one off or the beginning of something bigger, but I'm determined not to get caught on the hop again." Susan paused. "I know that we only have five pilots available but we're the best pilots in the air force. If we can't do it, who can?"
Lionel put his hand up. "If it's ok with you, I'd like to volunteer myself into your ranks. Its not like I'll get in trouble for it, I'm on the edge of retirement." Before adding "Besides I've got some combat experience and I reckon you could use that."
Susan smiled. The Osean pilot was a fairly popular addition to the squadron with his sharp sense of humour and impressive charm. He was right. They really could use all the help they could get. She could feel it in her bones. She didn't want to leave Teresa Cook a widow though so she asked him. "Are you sure? I don't want to have to explain to your wife if you die."
Lionel just looked at her. "Squadron Leader Susan Vandom." He began "There is no way I'm gonna get killed by these third rate amateurs."
Susan was about to thank him when Peter Ryan rushed in with an urgent message from a regiment at the Versuan/Yuktobonian border requesting immediate support. They were under attack by a huge contingent of Versuan troops supported by fighters. Without further ado, the squadron scrambled.
Squadron Leader Carl Zeph smiled as he looked down at the scene below. His pilots were performing their job reasonably well given their lack of training. Despite the Yukes fierce resistance, they were being forced back. Without air support, the Yukes forces on the ground would not last much longer against his pilots.
Five Mig 21's and one F-5 headed towards the battlefield. In the distance, Susan could see that there was no shortage of Versuan fighters. There were at least twenty enemy planes there, of various different types. But the difference in numbers did not phase Susan in the slightest. It was as though a sense of complete detachment had settled over her.
Squadron Leader Carl Zeph didn't realise it at first when the first fighter went down. He thought that ground fire had gotten it. Then he saw a Yuke Mig 21 shoot up the very troops he was protecting, the Migs UV-16-57 rocket pod emptying itself into the troops few armoured vehicles. But this was the last mistake this Yuke would ever make, of that he was sure. With a growl he threw his plane, an old Mig 19 Farmer down towards what he believed was the only Yuke fighter in the area.
Susan looked up to see no fewer than fifteen planes diving on her. She grinned. Things were going as planned.
Charles watched as four Mig 19's, two F-104 Starfighters, six Folland Gnats and five Aermacchi MB-326's all dived on Susan. Surely they couldn't all be that badly trained he thought to himself. And yet it was clear they were. After all, what kind of trained pilot didn't look UP. He sighed to himself. "All pilots begin your attack. Good hunting." He said. What he didn't add was that it would be pretty hard not to.
Carl watched the Yuke turn his fighter around to face him. He approved of that. He wanted his kill to be a man, not one of those freaky females the Yukes had let into their airforce. He was sure that no mere woman would dare face him. Suddenly and without warning, two of the fighters that were flying beside him exploded as two missiles flew into their tailpipes. Looking up he saw four Mig 21's and one F-5 decimate his command in a matter of seconds. Out of the fourteen planes that had followed him down, only four remained. But in the heat of the moment he made a cardinal error. He forgot about Susan's plane.
Pulling her nose up slightly Susan's thumb pressed down on the cannon firing button and 23mm shells tore into the cockpit of the Mig 19 in front of her. Susan watched with grim satisfaction as her pilots proceeded to decimate the Versuan force. Those who were left fled, more scared of Susan's squadron than they were of their own leaders.
Susan's squadron tore into the Versuans ranks with deadly efficiency. Cannon fire, rockets and bombs all decimated the Versuans. The ground forces drove them back thanks to the air support. But as the Versuans retreated, a lucky shot with an anti-tank missile hit the last Fishbed in line.
"This is Ferret. My plane is damaged. Looks like one of those third-rate amateurs managed to hit me after all."
"This is Major Hawkins in command of the ground forces. We can handle things here. Get your pilot back to base."
"Roger that. This is Lightening to all planes. We will escort Ferret back to base."
Elena made it back to base, but as she landed, her undercarriage collapsed and she broke several of her bones in the resulting crash. The other pilots visited her in turn, each determined to look after one of their own. Even one as unpopular as Elena. When Susan visited her, she could see that the normally caustic, peroxide blonde girl was unusually subdued. She had a downcast look in her green eyes and usually Susan would have asked her what was wrong, but right now Susan was just too tired to care.
AN: Sorry this ones late. I would have put this up yesterday but was having trouble.