XX A/N XX
UPDATE 2019: Chapter has been heavily revised to fit within Ace Combat canon lore.
Fun fact- Blaze's head can be seen in one of the cutscenes in game that proves he was black hair. Most we've ever seen of a PS2 era protagonist.
Some people might gawk at the number of fighters I gave The Race, so let me explain how I got close to my number. Between the Air Force (Nat. Guard included), Marines, and Navy, the US has about 2000 fighters. This to about 1,300,000 personnel in the Army and Marines. I simply scaled the numbers up to the Race's number of ground forces.
X November 30th, 2010. Southern Yuktobania. X
"Shit, shit, shit!" The Osean infantryman swore as mortars exploded around him, throwing up showers of dirt. Private Willian Guzzo was, to use one of the less offensive words in military jargon, fresh. His division- the 9th Infantry Division, the thirteenth Osean Army division to deploy to Yuktobania- had only arrived in country a week ago.
It was part of the southern front, along with the 2nd Marine Division and 6th Infantry Division, which was tasked with pacifying southern Yuktobania and securing its border with its three southern neighbors: the nation of Verusa, the Republic of Kaluga, and the People's Republic of Romny. The city of Gunizudo was the primary objective, being the main economic hub between Yuktobania and these three nations.
The Verusan and Kaluga borders had already been secured by the 6th Division, leaving only Romny's border and Gunizudo to secure. That's why the 9th was brought in- to secure the border with Romny and aid the Marines attacking Gunizudo from the north by attacking from the south. The 3rd Brigade, of which Guzzo was a member of Alpha Company, Second Battalion, was the unit ordered to circle around and strike the southern flank.
That had meant driving through the Yuktobanian countryside. Wide open fields, in other words. Osean air cover was sparser in this part of the country, which explained why Yuktobanian bombers had managed to decimate the convoy he was in. The strike had brought two whole companies to a halt, and the survivors were forced to scramble soon after as Yuktobanian A-10s arrived to finish the job.
They certainly lived up to their reputation, although Guzzo would've preferred to be on the other end. To make matters even worse, mortars had started coming from their right- the same direction Guzzo had fled in.
"Oof!" In his swerving motions to avoid being hit, he'd ending falling into a stream. The shallow water wasn't as bad as the 52 degrees weather that made standing up nearly unbearable.
"Nice landing!" Someone shouted, and Guzzo raised his head to see another soldier further down the ditch. He stumbled over. "You alright?" The same soldier, a corporal, asked.
"Well," Guzzo was well known in his unit for keeping a sense of humor and his mouth moving no matter what situation they were in, "I wish I'd taken my old man's advice and gone to college instead of joining up straight outta high school." It had been a whim choice, confident in his ability to collect a free paycheck twice a month for a few years since the world was all quiet. "You Alpha?"
"Nah, B Company. Corporal Featon." He pronounced it 'fate-on'.
"Private Guzzo." Both men hit the dirt when a lucky mortar shell landed in the stream a ways down, spraying water over them.
"Private, you have any idea where those mortars are?" Guzzo shook his head. "Shit. Let's just keep our asses parked till it passes." That's what they'd been told before hand- Yuktobanian forces in this sector were more often than not just conducting hit and run attacks. They didn't have many forces down these ways, mostly second line motor-rifle divisions.
End it eventually did, although both riflemen stayed put until they heard their comrades up and about. As it turned out, neither had made it very far from the road where both company's humvess and trucks sat in flames. Dozens of other men were coming up from wherever they'd just gone flat on the ground and hoped to not get hit.
Guzzo only recognized one other person, PFC Nichols, another rifleman in his squad. He couldn't spot anyone else though. He'd been gathered with all eight of them right until the A-10s came and they scattered. From the looks of it, a lot of units seemed to be missing people.
A surviving lieutenant managed to rally whoever survived to set up a perimeter while helicopters from the division came to pick them up. Total casualties across both companies were 131: 84 dead, 33 wounded, and the rest missing. It was, for many of them, their first taste of combat.
And what a bitter taste it was.
X December 1st, 2010. 127th Emperor Hetto. X
The Conquest was to go ahead as planned, or under modified plans anyway. It had not been an easy decision to make, and it was a decision made on reasons Atvar had never anticipated he'd he to confront. It wasn't hard for any other male to see their leader's mental state had changed in the recent months.
Tosev 3 was part of it. Despite so many similarities to The Race's own society, a lot of it deviated from all forms of common sense and knowledge The Race had accumulated over its vast history. Its Empires were capable of reaching space, but were still separated and fighting among each other. Its rate of technological growth was still incomprehensible. And what social habits the probes had picked up made absolutely no sense to even the Fleet's scientists. To males who'd lived their lives in perfect order and confidence in the natural state of all of existence, it was maddening to take in.
Some days leading up to their arrival, Atvar had completely forgotten the original reason they'd been sent to this planet. The more intercepted images they got, the more Atvar was convinced there was more to lose than just a new planet for their Empire if he turned around. The Tosevites were violent, they grew technologically at an extreme rate, and they were already grasping at the basics of space technology.
They were a threat, or at least could very well become one shortly at the pace they were going.
That idea was perhaps the most unbelievable to come to any male's mind in centuries. The Race had enjoyed complete control and prosperity over the known universe for thousands of years. But should another species take to the stars, something Tosevites certainly seemed capable of, all that would be threatened, and by extension The Race itself would be threatened.
It was with that thought at the front of his mind that Atvar made the decision to continue with the Conquest and started drawing a new plan. Even with how advanced the Tosevites were, Atvar remained confident his forces were capable enough to wrest control of the planet from them. They had the advantage of numbers. Their forces were unified in a single command whereas the Tosevite nations weren't, and thus less effective in organizing a planet-wide defense.
There was the issue of logistics though. The fleet had brought plenty of munitions with it, but as many targets as there now were, they'd go through it fast. The Fleet had factory ships that could convert raw resources into equipment for their forces to use, but only on a small scale that wouldn't support even a tenth of their total forces if they in constant fighting.
To that regard, Atvar had looked to the Tosevites themselves. They seemed to have as much industrial capacity on this planet as there was on Home. If his forces could capture some, an easy task considering a lot of it seemed undefended at the moment, and destroy the rest, success was certain.
There were other issues, most of all being the weather on some parts of the planet seemed atrocious at this time of its rotation about the sun. But if the Tosevites could survive and fight in such conditions, surely The Race could as well.
Another, slightly more disturbing thing they'd learned was that the planet had survived meteor impacts only a short time ago. It wasn't surprising, given how cluttered this solar system seemed to those of the other planets in the Empire. But even that event had had an astronomically small chance of happening, and a repeat even more so. The planet could still be colonized.
It was possible. And even though all three species in the Empire depending on certainty more than possibilities, possible was the best answer in this scenario. It could work. The Race would make it work. They had to make it work.
Atvar had likely made his decision earlier, but it was only then that he was resolute enough in it to call the shiplords together and inform them of it. By the time they'd all arrived at the Bannership, Atvar knew it was too late to go back. From here, it was either success of failure. Even in the unlikely event of the later, Atvar could at least be glad in the fact the Tosevite's growth would be stunted long enough to warn the rest of the Empire.
"In spite of these…troubling developments, I have decided we will continue with the Conquest as the Emperor has ordered us." All present cast their eyes to the ground. "Remember: We are The Race. We control an Empire stretching across the star. These Tosevites are only one planet. Even less, they are factions on one planet. We are far more powerful than they could ever hope to be!"
"Truth." Several shiplords agreed at once.
"I will admit some of their advancements are…troubling." An image came up on the holo-projector of two artificial structures in orbit above the planet. One appeared to be an observation station of some sort, although in an incompleted state. The other appeared to be a incomplete giant cannon suspended in orbit, something unfathomable in size or concept for The Race. Unlike the first structure, there seemed to be Tosevites working on the second, which meant they were trying to complete whatever it was. "Stamping out what little progress they have made in space will be simple; we can capture these structures by use of shuttlecraft."
"This orbital craft they call the... 'Arkbird' is only an unarmed experiment from what we tell and will be no issue." Atavr went on, referring to the great white ship they'd seen around the planet and had tracked in radio signals. "The planet surface itself…will be more difficult."
"But a plan to compensate for that has been made, Exhalted Fleetlord?" Straha spoke up, an act that earned him surprised glances from the other shiplords. Atvar hid his annoyance. Of course Straha would speak up; he wanted to claim responsibility for the role he'd had in said plan. Atvar still remembered the conversation the two males had had after Straha came to visit the Fleetlord.
X A week ago X
"If I may, Fleetlord?" Straha bowed respectfully.
"Proceed." Atvar granted. Straha was an unconventional male, but Atvar had grown weary in recent days of other shiplords confidently dismissing such monumental changes and insisting The Race was more than capable of easy subjecting the natives. Hearing something different would be a break.
"Have you considered using our stockpile of explosive metal bombs?" He asked, referring to the powerful and terrible explosives carried by the fleet. No male had seriously considered they'd be needed, given the technological inferiority of the previous conquests. It was a matter of norms, just like why they'd brought so many tanks and killercraft against an expected weak foe: They were going for a war, so they prepared for every possible aspect of war.
"In a…unconventional way, should I decide to go through with the invasion." Atvar responded. In the past weeks of reading hundreds of reports and theories by scientists and analysists daily and trying to come up with some possible plan of success, the Fleetlord had been under great stress and some very disturbing and unconventional thoughts had crossed his mind.
In a few fleeting moments of tiredness, the idea had briefly crossed his mind of just using the Fleet's entire stock on the planet and leave it, telling the Colonization Fleet behind them to turn back. No trying to wrap their heads around the mysterious Tosevites, no worry about males dying in a war that would certainly cause death, and no more worrying about the threat this planet could pose to The Empire. But that was unrealistic- they only had enough bombs to completely devastate the landmass called Usea, and maybe have a few left over. That realization had been part of the reason Atvar realized only an invasion stood a chance of preventing the natives from becoming a threat.
"Detonating them in the atmosphere would create an EMP effect that would destroy their electronics." Atvar explained. "This should weaken them enough that our forces can defeat them, and we do not damage the planet for the Colonization Fleet." Straha nodded in agreement as he spoke, but had more to say.
"Fleetlord, have you yet seen the Tosevite explosive metal bombs?" He asked, and Atvar had to avoid hissing in annoyance. He'd seen that recording: seven explosive metal bombs all going off together. It did not appear to have occurred during the current conflicts on the planet, but rather one in their history. He knew, but he did not like it.
"Yes. What are you attempted to convey, Straha?" Atvar questioned.
"Our scientists are quite certain that the natives reacted very negatively to this event. It even stopped that war. If we were to deploy our own against their forces, they would surrender quickly just as they did in that last war." He explained.
"And we wouldn't have to contaminate the planet too badly." Straha went on. "This Empire…Osssea." He pronounced the name carefully. Though they introduced their language, customs, and government to their subjects, The Race did not tend to change the names of the local areas. "All their forces are not there, and would quickly fall apart when we captured the land supplying them. Surely you've considered this?"
"I have." Atvar confirmed. He'd seen it as an alternative to facing their military forces, which seemed quite large compared to other empires on the planet. They would capture their industrial areas as well, a very important gain. As long as they destroyed those boats they were using, he didn't have to worry about the forces coming back either. That was curious still, using boats in a military role.
"That still leaves the other major Tosevite power…Yuk..to...bania." Straha had to take his time to say it. Such an unusual language these natives spoke in, or some of the languages anyway; there seemed to be dozens. "Many of their military forces are massed near Osea's. Were we to drop one or maybe two explosive metal bombs, we'd deal severe casualties to both their forces. The two strongest powers on the planet, eliminated as a threat at the cost of only a very small area made radioactive."
Atvar considered it for a few brief moments, his tail stump twitching in agitation as he realized Straha made a very good, if radical, plan. Atvar already planned on ordering bombings of Tosevite cities to lower their morale, but this idea also had merit. The ends were tempting, very tempting. But Atvar had no desire to immediately subjugate himself.
"I'll consider your proposal, Shiplord. You are dismissed." Atvar sent him off. Straha bowed his head and departed, probably already knowing even then he'd have his way.
X Present X
"I repeat, this is only a limited deployment of our explosive metal bombs." Atvar stressed. A few of the shiplords seemed to approve of the idea. Most, however, seemed surprised. Atvar pushed on with the meeting. "I do not want to delay any longer, so our starships will be landing as soon as it is safely practicable. Our invasion plan is as follows."
There were several types of starships in the fleet for various purposes, and two that carried the Race's troops. One was a killercraft carrying ship, of which there were 80 in the Fleet. Each one carried approximately 600 killercraft, 200 transport craft and 50 refueling craft and was capable of launching them and picking them up in high orbit. This would be necessary at first until appropriate air bases could be set up on the surface. The second carried the ground troops of The Race. One ship carried 60,000 males, 900 land cruisers, 1800 troopcarriers, and 600 helicopters organized into six equal 'Large Combat Groups' that included combat and support forces.
"Our killercraft carrying ships will enter orbit first. This…'Arkbird' is within the range of some killercraft weapons, and can be destroyed. All of our killercraft will descend from orbit and strike Tosevite targets…including using the explosive metal bombs… before the starships carrying our ground forces land. More precise targets will be distributed to the proper commanders after the meeting. Based on the geography and military strength of the Empires, I've come up with a new plan of force deployment." Atvar waved at a technician, who replaced the image on the projector to the plan he'd crafted over the past twenty revelations of the planet.
The map showed the four inhabited continental landmasses, the borders of the countries on each, and the starships and number of Race forces to be deployed on each. 900,000 infantry males were dedicated to the continent 'Usea', as well as 4,800 killercraft. More than half of those were dedicated to the Empires referred to as 'FCU' and 'Erusea', given their military strength. One starship was to land on the island 'North Point', and conquer that. None of the other islands were under consideration; they were seen as of little military importance.
The continent of 'Anea' had been marked with 1,200,000 infantry males and 5,400 killercraft. Half of those forces were delegated to the smaller eastern Empire 'Estovakia' due to the horrific violence taking place there now. 390,000 were tasked with the Empire called 'Emmeria', including a large island that was apparently part of it. The rest of the troops were to take the last Empire on the landmass: Nordennavic, or the largest islands of it anyway.
The map differentiated the continent called 'Osea' and the Empire of the same name. A whole 3,000,000 infantry males was tasked for the continent along with 9,600 killercraft, 2,100,000 and 6,600 of those to the Empire Osea itself despite being undefended. 600,000 males and 1,800 killercraft were tasked for the smaller Empires north and east of Osea: 'Wellow, Belka, Ustio, Sapin, Recta, Gebet, Fato, Ratio, Wielvakia, and Nordlands'. The rest was to land in the southern Empires of 'Leasath' and 'Aurelia' and work their way north to conquer all five countries south of Osea.
The entirety of the remaining forces, nearly 9 million infantry males, were tasked to subjugate the final continental mass- Verusa. Five million infantry males and 12,000 killercraft alone were to land in the Empire 'Yuktobania', since it was the site of the most violence on the planet. Two groups of two million males and 1,200 killercraft were to land west and south of Yuktobania and conquer the smaller countries there.
The assembled shiplords all looked at the map displayed on the holo-projector or examined it more closely on personal information devices. Atvar watched them and waited to see if any would ask questions or bring a matter up. Truthfully, even he could see flaws in his own plan- he worried he was not deploying enough forces to successful occupy the smaller Empires.
"Fleetlord." A shiplord of one of the killercraft carrying ships spoke up, sounding cautious- questioning a superior's plan was also rare in The Race. "These plans only account for 2/3rds of our killercraft in the second stage. Surely we would want to employ all of them?" That was a question Atvar had expected, and one he only reluctantly gave out an explanation for.
"These numbers incorporate possible casualties for our killercraft during the first stage." He explained, and immediately heard an outbreak of hisses and murmurs as such an idea first popped into their heads. The idea of losing males in combat was alien to many, no doubt. The technological gap had ensured the previous two conquests suffered no combat casualties. There'd been only a few in both instances, all do to a rare accident.
"However, these are only initial plans." Atvar went on. "I remain confident in our capabilities and will assign whatever surplus killercraft there are to the appropriate efforts." Privately, Atvar was placing his hopes on Osea falling quickly to Race forces; two million males and 6,000 killercraft were a lot, and he was certain that more forces would be needed elsewhere on the planet.
Despite Straha having set an example, no other shiplords came forward to voice concerns over the plan and accepted it as was. Many of them seemed just as confident and sure as they'd always been, believing the conquest would be a quick and easy affair.
Even with all the evidence to the contrary staring him in the snout, Atvar still hoped so too.
X December 3rd, 2010. Sand Island AFB. X
Like any professional Air Force, the OADF had rules against fraternization, rules that covered a wide arrangement of behaviors. The two people in the Sand Island Air Base break room- one male, one female, both with black hair- seemed unconcerned about them as they were more or less slumped against each other on the couch in a state of slumber. Both had the rank insignias for Captain. The man's name tag read 'Austin'. The woman's read 'Nagase'.
Another individual entered the break room, this one younger and with a ginger set of hair. When he noticed the other two were asleep, he turned to leave, and ended up smacking into the wall. The sound was enough to wake the others and make them jump up.
"Oh, Grimm." Andrew Austin recognized his wingman and calmed down. "You scared us." Both individuals sat back down and rubbed their eyes. All three pilots of Wardog Squadron (or Razgriz, as they were being called) were tired and on edge. Their bodies had all been pushed to the limits in the past months as they were constantly put out on combat sorties against Yuktobania.
"S-sorry. Captain." Grimm recovered from his embarrassment. "I didn't want to wake you and Captain Nagase while you were sleeping."
"Well, I'm up." Andrew rose from the couch again, this time slowly to keep his aching body from screaming in protest. Nagase hadn't said anything and seemed to have fallen back asleep. She'd slept a lot since their last sortie. Andrew had been sleeping a lot since November City too. "What is it?"
"I just thought you'd want to know, Captain." Grimm explained. "Our new planes just arrived." Even though they'd survived the fight over November City, their planes had taken a lot of damage. Replacements had been ordered.
He glanced through the window blinds to see three planes being guided to the hangers: F-35As just like they'd had before. They were relatively new craft in the Osean Air Defense Force brought in as a cheaper alternative to the F/A-22. They originated from Belka, and Osea now had the official rights to reproduce the aircraft (Yuktobania had deployed some C variants from the Scinfaxi as well, no one knew where they'd gotten the design documents). Fast, agile, and boasting a reduced radar signature, it was easily amongst the best planes available to Osea.
"Good." Andrew nodded.
"Captain?" Grimm asked after glancing to make sure the third member of their squadron was still asleep. "Are you and Captain Nagase alright? Neither of you have been up much."
"Just tired." Andrew stretched, deciding he wasn't getting back to sleep, and started walking towards the kitchen for some coffee. Grimm followed. "Tell me, Grimm. How long have you been in the OADF?"
"Uhh." It took the younger man a few moments to recall. "Only five months, sir."
"Nagase and me have only been in for seven." Andrew told him. Andrew Austin had joined the OADF out of college as part of the ROTC scholarship he'd used to get his education. He'd intended to do his six years and get out. He hadn't even been assigned to a real squadron before the war broke out.
The whole event had severely changed the 23 year old's life. He'd suddenly found himself the leader of a squadron and responsible for those in it. And though he'd never hoped to fight in a war, he'd ended up proving tremendously talented in it and was now at the very front of it. The days flew by as half of them were spent in the air, and the only thing he had time to focus on was trying to protect those in his squadron.
That was the one thing he was trying to do above all else: keep his friends alive.
"Neither of us ever expected to be where we are." Andrews explained after taking a sip. The hot liquid slightly rejuvenated him. "Both of us never really expected to be fighting a war like this. We're tired of it, and all these sorties aren't good for our health. And now with Chopper…" He trailed off and both young men shook their heads.
"But…the war will be over soon, right?" Grimm asked. "The news is saying we're less than 100 miles from Cinigrad."
"I hope." Andrew nodded. "It'll be nice to finally see the world at peace again."
"Yeah…" Grimm agreed. "Captain Nagase's looking forward to that."
"We all are." Andrew nodded. "We do what we have to for peace." It was a peculiar belief, and one that had gotten more than a few raised eyebrows from the people who heard it. Maybe it was even hypocritical, coming from the squadron that had killed around 4,000 Yuktobanians between them. But it was their genuine belief. It was in the name of their country's armed forces, even: Osean Air Defense Force, or the Osean Maritime Defense Force. Defense Forces. They defended peace, and that entailed fighting the nation that had shattered the world's peace.
"You're looking dead on your feet." Andrew commented, looking at the dark spots underneath his wingman's eyes, indicating he was having an opposite problem since they lost Wardog 3. "Try and go get some sleep, Grimm. We'll need rest for wherever they send us next."
"Yes sir." The younger man didn't argue. Andrew watched him go before leaving the kitchen and heading back to the lounge where Kei was, still asleep. He grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair and carefully laid it over her before heading to his own room, intent on something other than sleep.
On his desk, underneath the light of a lamp, was a vanilla folder whose contents he'd had a hard time acquiring, due in no small part to its classified nature. It was a report of the massive air battle over November City. Thanks to the hundreds of cameras that had been at the event, the OADF had been able to quickly compile a thorough report on how the Yuke aircraft had got in, and how the battle had unfolded.
Forty Yuktobanian fighters, and later a squadron of stealth bombers. It amazed even Wardog that they'd held out against those odds. Blaze kept their formation tight, fired only when they knew it would hit, and outmaneuvered most of what was fired at them. And yet it hadn't been enough to keep Chopper alive. The barracks were a lot quieter now that he was gone.
That was why he'd been looking over the report during his waking moments. His orders had been good, but not good enough. There was no guarantee, especially if Cinigrad was their next target, Wardog wouldn't find itself in another mess like that. Andrew had to find out where it had gone wrong, and how to prevent it again.
He was the squadron leader. He had to keep them safe, no matter what they faced.