AN: That's right. I'm alive.
Standoff in the Skies
By Blue Dragon
September 20, 2019/Los Canas Region/0852hrs
"MiG-31s! We can take 'em gang! They aren't Yellows!"
"More could be on the way, keep your guard up." Mobius 1 warned Omega 8 as the pilots began to sidewind out of formation to engage the oncoming fighters. It seemed to be a conventional fight.
At first.
"Hah! These things move slower than my grandma!" Omega 11 shot down one craft, the missile impacting after the two played an uncomfortably long game of chicken in the sky.
Rapier 19 leveled his craft onto the trail of another approaching MiG, and began shooting and firing missiles at the same time, dodging the stray pieces of the craft that flew back at him.
"AWACS, I got another kill!" Rapier 19 yelled excitedly as another MiG went spiraling towards the earth. Mobius 1 was not too thrilled.
"AWACS, this is Mobius 1. Are the aircraft moving a little . . . oddly to you?" He asked, hoping his fears would be dispelled.
"Mobius 1, this is SkyEye. Yes, it seems very odd indeed that they send just five fighters here while they have reinforcements. The aircraft are also fighting quite poorly, worse than our data says that they should. Stay on your guard."
"You worry too much, man." Omega 8 shot down the third aircraft after the two flew almost parallel to each other for a few seconds, before the faster pilot pulled back and emptied his ammunition into the other.
"No, I'm not. These mistakes are elementary. You'd think they were rookies up in the sky. No, worse than rookies, they're all making classic textbook mistakes. That one isn't even trying to shake you, Rapier 14."
"Well he's going to regret it!" the Rapier pilot's thrilled shouts followed after the distant sound of two explosions, coming from the two other MiGs that were splashed. Both aircraft ignited into balls of orange flame and began to plummet towards the jungles below.
"Mobius 1, you should have gotten in on that!" Rapier 19 laughed as the group flew lazily around the canopy, making sure every plane crashed.
"AWACS, all enemy aircraft splashed. Mobius 1, is something bothering you?"
"Yes. All of those planes were intact but I didn't see a single parachute. The mistakes were dumb . . . too dumb. Why would they send people that were less than rookies out on a mission to try to attack the President's escorts?"
The pilot couldn't wrap his mind around it, and then everything clicked.
"Diversion! Those were unmanned aircraft! They're a diversion, stay on guard!"
As if on cue, AWACS began communications.
"Fighter squadron, this is SkyEye. We have detected a signal from above traveling 10 miles from your position at Mach 5. That gives us only a few seconds."
"To do what!?" Omega 11 panicked. How were they supposed to avoid this? They sky began to rumble ominously. It was like Stonehenge all over again. "Mach 5? What the hell?"
"Gain altitude! Those dummies were trying to lure us lower to the ground from combat! Our original flight positions were much higher! Gain altitude!"
Without questioning his logic, the pilots immediately began to gun their afterburners towards the darkening sky above them. They couldn't imagine what was coming for them.
"Gain altitude, pilots! ETA in 5 seconds. 4 . . . . 3 . . . . 2 . . . impact . . . " The sky darkened as what appeared to be a meteor from the sky hurled down far away from the pilots, sending fear through them as they rocketed their F-22s miles and miles into the air. The weapon filled the darkened sky with nothing but a streak of ominous red that left its afterimage across the sky.
"NOW!" The meteor landed in the jungle, sending shockwaves throughout that immediately incinerated many square miles of jungle.
Then the panic started.
As if powered by the devil himself, a fiery wave of energy began to fill the sky over where the blast had shaken to jungle, and consume every living thing above it. The fiery wave was headed straight for the ace pilots, but if Mobius 1 knew one thing, it was this: He was not going to die there. Whether it was his skill and determination, or his destiny whispering in his ear, it was the one thing he was sure of.
"Omega 8, hit the afterburners! Omega 8!" Rapier 19 screamed out to his wingman, but it was too late. The flames consumed the back of his aircraft, and with a strange creaking sound that filled the sky, it caught fire and began to plummet to the ground.
"Bail out!" Omega 11 yelled at his comrade, his speech gargled over the damaged radio. "Bail the hell out! NOW!" But no one saw if he made it or not, because Omega 11 soon met the same fate, followed by Rapier 14, spewing unnaturally red flames and spiraling out of control.
"Martin! Martin! Buddy, you still alive?" Mobius 1 flew higher than the others, looking down towards the ground as gravity pulled mercilessly at his neck.
"Mobius! Help--" Rapier 19 began to fall as well, but immediately recovered. The blast of heat had stopped, and as if rehearsed, the two aircraft immediately straightened out."
"This is AWACS. We will be sending a rescue team--"
"Screw that, sir. Rapier 19 and I are going down. Our flight just went down behind enemy lines. Send reinforcements for our president."
And though they had no place to land and were in enemy territory, the two pilots swept downwards to search for their fallen comrades.
September 20, 2019/Sand Island AFB/0942hrs
Ced peered over Nagase's shoulder, thinking that he might see somebody watching him. When he found nothing, he looked back at Nagase, and then the line that had only gotten longer.
"Is everything alright?" She asked him, looking concerned at the sudden flash of interest that had began to gleam in his eyes.
" . . . Yeah, everything's fine." He looked down at the table, quite sure that more than one thing was not fine. "You know, maybe we should come back here later? It doesn't seem like we'll get anything to eat anytime soon, and we probably want to do more research on the ISAF if we're going to be facing them.
She began to look even more concerned.
"You're not still worried about Mobius 1, are you?" She asked, knowing the answer to her question even as she did. "No one has ever been able to stop us before when we flew together, and now we actually have our military supporting us. I think we'll be fine."
He sighed.
"What about the fact that we've gotten sucked into another war? Doesn't it bother you that we have to fight the Yukes all over again? This time they're saying that their presidential escorts couldn't get clearance to fly over any Erusean airspace, as if they were trying to stop them from getting together with the ISAF. I don't even know who to believe."
Nagase looked very thoughtful, and then released a breath that caused her hair to move slightly.
"I think that there's always a lot more to a war than both sides are willing to let on, and even now I'm sure that there's something very strange happening." She rested her hands on his and he looked up. "But I think that we can get through it. We've struck, defended, and been in more dogfights than I can count. Mobius 1, I'm sure he's good, but he's just one pilot. And you've never been one to back off of a standoff." She squeezed his hand.
"You've always been the only one to know what to say to me. I--" He was soon cut off.
"Wardog! Er . . . I mean Razgriz! Please report to the briefing room ASAP! An update has been processed that explicitly requested your presence. And if there is a pilot by the call sign of 'Knight Air' on base, please report to the briefing room immediately. That is all."
"Knight Air . . . wasn't he the one in the red plane?" Nagase asked, more to herself than anyone as both of them stood up and headed towards the briefing room. Ced was thankful for the opportunity to stop thinking about the woman across from him.
"Knight Air . . . do you think he's the spy?" He asked her without looking at her as they briskly moved down the newly lit corridors.
"No, it seems odd that he'd participate in a fight against his own allies, too risky . . . and I saw him chase down a few other aircraft. He seemed pretty serious about helping us, but I've never heard his call sign before."
Grimm walked from around the corner and joined the two.
"What do you think we're in for? The last time we were called to this office we had a gun pointed in our face!" He swallowed nervously, and the others couldn't help but recall this fact as well.
When the three finally entered the room, they were met with Westary, another officer, and a well-built looking guy with a day-old beard.
"I take it you're call sign 'Knight Air'?" Nagase asked as she took her place in front of the two officers.
"Just call me Lenny . . . . for the time being."
"What?"
"That's enough!" Westary barked. "We have reports of a group that calls themselves the Blue Squadron and we need facts. You all are the most skilled and experienced pilots here, and we've decided that it would be wise to get our information from you. Lenny here came from the Oured G.H.Q. and will be assisting us in training the nuggets."
Ced responded immediately.
"I've never heard of the Blue Squadron in my life. We--" Before he could finish speaking, the radio on the officer's desk began to crackle.
"Sand Island? This is the Free Erusean Naval Commandant Jose Marquis. Our weapon was successful. We have three splashed bandits from the Presidential escort squadron and two circling the area. We will have our people there shortly but would be honored if the Razgriz would try to finish off the reinforcements over Los Canas."
" . . . What bandits are you talking about?" Westary responded.
"Omega 8 and 11, Rapier 14 and 19 . . . "
There should be one more . . . Ced thought to himself. He could feel it.
"The only one hat wasn't damaged. Call sign Mobius 1."
Westary's eyebrows raised.
"Hmm. Blaze here and Mobius? What a standoff that would be! We'll deploy them overseas tonight."
September 20, 2019/Free Erusea Airspace/1553hrs
"Mobius 1, the famous ace pilot?" Jack asked, for some reason in doubt that he could be searching for the same person.
"Yes, I wanted to interview him." She shifted so that she could face him more comfortably. "You see, I feel that none of the ace pilots from the war were ever really properly thanked or interviewed afterwards, and I wanted to let them know somehow that there were people that cared and were interested.
"Hmm . . . " Why hadn't he thought of that? This entire time he hadn't even decided what he would do when he actually met the pilot that had saved his town. Now that he was faced with it, it would probably be a good idea to figure out what to ask him. "I lived in San Salvacion, too. My family was killed by the shell of a plane from a dogfight. It was Mobius 1 that eventually shot the perpetrator down."
Suddenly, a look of realization dawned on her face, as if something important had been revealed to her that she had hidden before. She looked up as if ready to speak, and then stopped before starting again.
"Jack . . . "
"Yes?"
" . . . "
"Wait, how did you know my name?" He was suddenly very intrigued. There was something about this girl that seemed familiar, something that he couldn't quite place his finger on. But as he stared into her dark brown eyes, he couldn't help but feel that he was forgetting something important.
"Jack Bryant. Wow. It's been a really long time. I didn't know you were still alive." Tears began to fall down her face, even though it kept the same somber expression.
"God, what's wrong, did I upset you?" He asked, suddenly concerned. What was the matter? Had he said something to make her upset?
No. He thought to himself. I've forgotten something, but what?
He didn't get a chance to answer, because McCarty began talking over the intercom.
"Flight! We've detected a hostile bogey at our five o' clock!"
Swearing loudly, a military official began rushing to the cabin, no doubt wanting to initiate communications. Jack and the woman shifted back the their original positions. The entire cabin crackled with a distressed air, and it fell completely silent before the voice of the military officer rang over the radio, which had been channeled to the cabin so that everyone could hear.
"Unidentified craft, we are a commercial flight on our way to another airport. We have no wish to fight."
"Commercial flight! Pilots and engineers. I know your goal! You're probably attempting to return to Comona AB to repair the facilities. Unfortunately, I can't let you do that. My F-16 and I know better than to let the enemy gain access to valuable intel and workforces like what I'm sure this plane is carrying. I'm afraid I'm going to have to shoot you down."
"How the hell did this guy penetrate that far into our airspace!? Our AD systems must be wet paper bags! Screw this stupid war." An aggravated Lieutenant Colonel smashed the seat next to him, clearly distressed that there was nothing that he could do at the moment.
"Hold on!" A new voice cracked over the radio, and everyone on the flight could hear the sound of jet engines. Jack, prepared for the worst and feeling helpless, stared out of the window. It was a TND-ID5, zooming, sidewinding, and flipping through the skies like an ace pilot.
Wonderful, he thought, It's going to shoot us down . . . but the hostile said he was in an F-16. That must mean . . .
"Hostile aircraft, stand down. Did you seriously that they were going to fly without an escort? This is Mobius 8. Stand down or I will be forced to engage you. Reinforcements from the Mobius Squadron are already on the way. Land at the nearest airfield and you will not be harmed."
For a hopeful second, Jack believed that Mobius 1 would come as well. Of course, he realized that if Mobius 1 was anywhere around they would have used him to escort the plane to begin with.
"Mobius 8, hmm? Of the famous Mobius Squadron. How are you doing, Rin? I'm afraid I can't stand down, no matter how many aircraft you send."
Both of the other pilots swore loudly, and mothers began covering the ears of their children as the cabin began to erupt into nervous chatter.
"Yes, yes, you all may know me as a representative from what you call the 'Bloody Squadron'. I hope you know now to stand down and your casualties will be minimal. I repeat, stand down or I will shoot you down as well as the commercial craft. I am Blue 66."
AN: The ultimate goal is that people start getting connected. What do you all think? Too short? Not enough plot movement?
