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Last time: Wardog prepares for a strike against the Hrimfaxi.
This time: The strike against Hrimfaxi.
"So Kid, how're you going to tackle the Hrimfaxi if the Raptor can't carry any antisub weapons?" Pops asked as the ace did a preflight of his fighter. Blaze didn't spare him a glance back as he continued to make sure his aircraft was war-ready.
"You should know what my plan is, Pops," he answered ducking under the wing and giving the Sidewinder strapped into the side bay a firm couple of tugs to make sure the missile was firmly attached, shining a small flashlight he'd procured from a pocket around the inside of the bay, making sure there were no irregularities.
The elder ace sighed. "Yeah, I know what your plan is, you told me when I asked what loadout you wanted…but I think that this plan is a piece of shit!"
Forrest sighed now as he checked the main gear and slid under the open ventral bay to check the two two-thousand-pound JDAMs slung there. "You see any other way?" the ace asked with a grunt as he wriggled out from under the jet. "Because I don't." He stood and dusted off his olive-drab flight suit. His piercing blue eyes seemed to bore into Pops. "If you have another plan, I'm more than happy to listen, trust me."
The Raven regarded the pilot in front of him. Blaze was six feet tall, maybe six one, a solid one hundred seventy pounds, somewhat pale, rather ordinary looking, but not ugly, with straight and fair brown hair, so dark it was almost black, and with ice-blue eyes that seemed to change shade depending on what mood he was in. Sometimes they were light, like when he was hanging out in the Hangar or O'Club, and joking with mechanics and pilots, or other times they were dark and serious, like when he got ready to fly. Forrest's eyes were what struck Pops the most. The mechanic wasn't gay or anything, but you couldn't help but notice the young man's eyes when you looked at him.
Maybe it was because people blue eyes with brown hair were uncommon, but they stood out. Finally Pops spoke. "Look, your plan is one method of attack, but couldn't you call up one of the Navy guys and get a Viking or an Orion to help?"
Blaze scratched his head. "Yeah, I could, but the thing is, I don't think one of those has a decent enough performance to get above five thousand in a hurry if Hrimfaxi launches one of those damned burst missiles at us."
"But having sonobuoys in the water is better than having nothing! One of those could tell you where the thing is at if you don't sink it the first time through, even if the aircraft itself doesn't participate in the attack!"
The former Mobius 1 smirked, a surprisingly arrogant expression for a usually mellow pilot. "With any luck, we won't have to make a second run." He scaled the roll away ladder that led to his cockpit and vaulted inside, like a hot rodder jumping into his 'Vette. It was the usual method for entering a cockpit, at least among Viper and Raptor pilots, who considered themselves the best of the best.
"That's the other thing," Pops added as he followed with the pilot's helmet. He handed the protective headgear to the ace, who promptly pulled it on and snapped his oxygen mask to it. "So much of this rides on luck. What're you going to do if you don't sink it on the first run?"
"Does it?" Blaze countered as he began flicking switches. "We're attacking when the Hrimfaxi is on the surface. It should be alright."
Pops lowered his voice, so the other three wouldn't hear. "Do you know the risk this poses to your squadron? What if they get shot down?" He leaned in closer under the pretense of checking Blaze's straps. "What if they die from a burst missile?"
A tenseness came over the ace, and Pops wondered if the pilot hadn't thought about it. He shook that thought off almost immidiatly. Of course Blaze had considered it, if he hadn't, he wouldn't be fit to be a flight lead.
"Of course I've thought about it. And the thought that one of us may not make it back is always on my mind, but," He looked at the Raven, a small grin on his face, "if I didn't have total faith that they could pull this off, I wouldn't be doing this mission this way." He continued with his before start checks. "Look, Pops, you've only seen them as student pilots, and I know you know how much better they've gotten, but trust me, you have no idea. Give them another few months and I'd have no problem inducting them into Mobius Squadron if we were in ISAF."
The mechanic sighed, knowing there was no way to dissuade the pilot from his seemingly suicidal method of sinking the Hrimfaxi. Blaze's plan was audacious, and could succeed, but at the same time, it left a number of variables up to luck. The plan, according to the former Ribbon, was to come in low, under radio silence, and hope to catch the ballistic attack sub off guard as it took on supplies and, supposedly, more burst missiles. Following a hopefully undetected penetration of the picket sub ring, the four fighters were to arm and prep their JDAMs for firing. Once in range, they would use the toss-bomb method of delivery to send the bombs in an arc to impact, and hopefully punch through, the deck of the Hrimfaxi and cause fatal damage to the interior.
When Blaze had explained his plan to the elder pilot, Pops hadn't been able to believe it, hounding Forrest about it from suit up to preflight, trying to convince the younger man to change his method. The ace had argued back by saying it was their best plan because Arkbird wouldn't be able to supply the laser in order expose the engine room to Wardog's heaters, and that he'd thoroughly explained it to his team members and they were in agreement that it was indeed their best bet. That was Blaze's second argument. If his team was all for it, why not give it a shot?
Brian could see that Pops' worries were far from assuaged. "Don't worry Pops," he said with a confident smile. "We'll be fine. I went after Megalith with less of a plan."
The balding mechanic shook his head. "Yeah, but you had a ground team and an entire wing to back you up. What do you have now? No ground team, and three pilots who have less experience than you do."
Blaze reached for the switch to close the canopy. "I know that. But I trust Wardog with my life, the same way I trusted Mobius. We'll be fine." Pops still didn't look convinced. Forrest shook his head. "Jeeze, you're worse than my mother. Okay, how about this? I'll buy you a couple rounds at the O'Club when we get back and we're partying about sinking Hrimfaxi."
Pops nodded, knowing it was a promise Forrest would keep. "Sure thing, Lieutenant. I'll hold you to that."
The ISAF ace nodded solemnly. "Right. See you tonight, Pops." Then the canopy came down and sealed, cutting off all further conversation. The mechanic retreated a couple of paces and then he heard the jet fuel starter come to life, increasing its whine before a deep roar drowned it out as the left engine caught and turned over. The right engine followed soon after and the F-22s lights came to life, lighting up the chill pre-dawn darkness that hung over Sand Island, the red beacon lights flashing, then the strobes pierced the darkness, blinding the Belkan ace every time they flickered. The lights began moving and then Pops found himself getting hit by a blast of heat and a heavy smell of kerosene as Forrest's jet heeled right and headed for the runway.
Archer, Chopper, and Edge followed and the darkness was silent, except for a faint whine farther down the ramp as the four hit the hold short area. Pops turned to go back into the hangar, then his ears were hit by a deep-throated roar, and he looked up, seeing four flames and two sets of lights, as Blaze and Edge passed overhead before turning out over the sea and heading for Razgriz Straights. Chopper and Archer followed soon and then the darkness was well and truly silent.
Hours later found the Four Wings of Sand Island coming up fast on the KC-10 Extender that Headquarters had allocated for their use during the mission. Blaze would've preferred a KC-135, but all those were busy servicing the mudhens and hogs working close air support on the front.
Thankfully, the sun was up now, so Blaze didn't have to rely on the lights of the tanker to guide him. For that he was glad, because refueling in the day was dangerous enough. At night, if he wasn't careful, he could hit the tanker, or find the boom coming through his canopy. Both were obviously undesired outcomes. There was a jolt as the probe and receptacle met, and Forrest glanced down to see the numbers on his fuel gauge spinning rapidly upward.
After topping off, the four sped north, the slate gray ocean below them beginning to be broken by the ice white of massive icebergs and glaciers. Soon even the water was gone, hidden by a constant blanket of ice and snow, the sky a few thousand feet above them as gray as the ocean below.
All the pilots had been bantering off and on the past few hours, to relieve the boredom of endless flying in a straight line, and now Blaze came up on the comm., cutting off Chopper as he told yet another drunken sister story.
"Okay, listen up, Wardog. We're getting close to the target now. Another hour and we should be there. Just so you guys aren't caught off guard, in a half hour we're gonna head for the deck and fly inbound at 1000 feet. Make sure your systems are set to CCRP and not CCIP and be ready to drop tanks."
To keep refueling to a minimum, and to make sure that the four were at maximum fuel, the Wardog Raptors had been fitted with drop tanks. After the tanker stop, they'd switched to the tanks, drawing off the disposable pods until the last possible second. The drop tanks would run dry around the time the four Raptors made their dive to 1000 feet.
Blaze finished. "You guys ready?"
"Chopper, roger."
"Edge roger."
"Archer, roger."
"Good. Get ready. I'll give you a mark to dive." That brought about a flurry of activity as the four checked systems and made sure that their TOT was still in the green. In just a few hours, the Osean army would launch a massive assault on the Yuktobanian forces and drive them to Cinigrad. If the Four Wings of Sand Island were even a few minutes late, the Hrimfaxi would be able to shoot off a couple burst missiles and would cause massive casualties on the front lines.
Half an hour later and Blaze began the countdown. "Five…four…three…two…one…mark." He pushed his stick forward and the F-22 began hurtling towards the deck, passing from ten thousand to nine thousand in just under half a minute. In under five minutes, Wardog flight was on the deck and Forrest reached for the button that would punch his tanks and pylons clear, restoring maneuverability and stealth.
In a move like some World War II movie, the drop tanks fell away as one, along with the pylons. Forrest felt his jet lurch from the sudden loss of weight, but he danced on the controls and managed to stay at 1000. All too soon, the four began approaching the picket sub line.
A familiar voice came over the radio. "Wardog this is Thunderhead. You are approaching the limits of the submarine ring. Standby to go to radio silence."
"Well," Chopper grumped. "Maybe I'll try talking to myself." There was a burst of static as one by one, the others cut off their comms and Blaze shut his off as well. Now he was alone, except for the low whine of his engines and the whoosh of his air conditioning system, those two noises only broken by the sound of his own breathing in his mask.
The world on the other side of the canopy was stark white and lifeless under the gray sky. Before the ace had been able to see pockets of water poking up through the ice cap, but now even that was impossible to see. How the sailors of the Yuke submarine corps managed to stay sane cooped up in a tube like a sub, and be surrounded by all this lifelessness was beyond him. Even the desert had more life and personality to it than this.
A blip appeared on the former Mobius 1's radar, which was running in air-to-ground mode, so he was able to pick up ground targets. If the Yukes had interceptors coming after them, the ace wouldn't be able to see them, unless he found them with his own two eyes. Soon Blaze was able to see the entire ring of subs on his scope and he found a gap in the ring, hopefully one that would be wide enough for four F-22s to slip through without being noticed.
'Let's hope this works,' he thought as he angled his jet for the gap, trusting the other three would follow him like they'd briefed. Wardog 2, 3, and 4 were to keep their eyes on him and follow his lead. That way, none of them would stray and inadvertently catch the attention of the Yuktobanian subs. It would be tough flying, but if anyone could do it, it would be the Four Wings of Sand Island.
In the distance, Brian could see the faint outlines of conning towers off to his left and right, towers which seemed to slide past with agonizing slowness. Hopefully they weren't…
"This is the Advisor from HQ! We just detected ELF traffic from one of the picket subs to the Hrimfaxi! She's going to dive!"
Caught.
Chopper came up next and he was obviously happy. "Well, our cover's blown anyway! I'm gonna start talking now!" Blaze just rolled his eyes before issuing orders.
"Okay! Full throttle and get ready for the run! Move it!"
The ace matched his actions to his words and rammed his throttle into full afterburner, locking on to the huge blip on his radar that could only be Hrimfaxi, and began concentrating on the line that was running down the center of his HUD. He was waiting for the circle at the top to begin blinking, at which time he'd haul back into a gut-turning climb and release his JDAM, sending the bomb in a long arc to impact the Hrimfaxi.
Then it hit Blaze. That was only if the sub wasn't rigging for an emergency dive, like it was now. If that submarine dove, it'd be beyond their reach and countless Osean soldiers on the front line would die! The Ribbon punched a button on his MFD, changing the attack method from CCRP to CCIP. CCIP would allow him to release much closer to Hrimfaxi and get a larger chance of blowing the damn thing out of the water.
He heard surprised shouts behind him as the other three Wardog members hauled back in CCRP mode. Edge in particular was screaming at him to come back, but her shouts fell on deaf ears. Blaze of Wardog was gone, and General Forrest of Mobius Squadron was in the pilot seat. Now was the time for action and Forrest had no time to explain his plan, because it would cost them precious time.
Thirty seconds left. It would take him probably ten to reach the target, another ten to get set up and that left ten seconds error time. It would come down to the wire. He also had Wardog's bombs to worry about now. If he was too late coming off target, he'd most likely get hit by his own squadron's bombs.
'C'mon baby, I need miracle,' he thought desperately to his Raptor. Apparently the war machine heard him because Hrimfaxi was looming in his HUD, and growing larger by the second. He pitched up hard, crushed into his seat by g's and screamed up to five-thousand feet. There he rolled and pulled, going into a fast Split-S, gathering speed, and as a result, lengthening the distance he'd need to pull out safely. The ace felt his pulse quicken as he dove on the dart shape below him, counting the seconds until the sub was able to dive and also counting the seconds until Wardog's bombs hit their mark.
"Come on!" Forrest growled as he watched his altitude speed down, his airspeed blast up, and the pipper dance over his target. Time seemed to slow. The pipper shot one way, then the next. If it didn't line up in the next second, Blaze would be forced to pull up…
The pipper merged with Hrimfaxi.
"Blaze pickle!" He shouted gleefully as he hauled back on the stick and was once again crushed by the g's, the jet bottoming out a mere fifty feet over the waves, and heading away fast. The Ace of Aces pulled back to gain altitude and twisted around in his seat, seeing Hrimfaxi slip below the waves. He cursed fluently for a second, realizing he'd miscalculated his time, then there was a fountain of water blown high into the sky, larger than a one ton bomb should've created.
Three smaller explosions blossomed a second or two later and Blaze compared the size of the explosions. The earlier one was much larger. That confirmed it. He'd hit Hrimfaxi. He laughed hysterically, both because his impromptu plan had worked and because he was still in one piece and not in many pieces sinking towards the ocean floor.
Forrest became aware of frantic voices shouting, the voices of his squadron.
"Blaze!"
"Kid! You alright!?"
"Captain!" Forrest moved back toward the point where he'd abandoned his team and found the three Raptors moving in a three-man formation and circling, evidently waiting for him.
"I'm alright."
There was a simultaneous cry of "Blaze!" then the radio was alive with questions. Forrest capped them before they got too out of hand.
"Alright, cut the chatter. We've still got a mission to do. I didn't manage to sink Hrimfaxi. It's still there, but I think I managed to damage it." Ignoring the continued questions about how he knew and just what the hell he'd done to achieve that damage, Blaze looped back toward his target, rising to above five thousand feet, just in case the submarine tried to pay back his damage in spades, trusting his squadron to follow after him.
The four found themselves orbiting the sizeable arctic lake with an island and a facility on the island, presumably barracks for the submariners when they got cabin fever. Somewhere below the surface the Hrimfaxi was lurking, hopefully damaged. Only in Blaze's dreams would he wonder if he'd single handedly sunk the attack sub.
The ace glanced at the clock in his cockpit and noted that the blitz into Yuke territory had begun. If that stupid submarine was going to attack, then this would be the time.
Almost as if to answer his thoughts, Edge got on the radio.
"The Hrimfaxi's antenna has appeared above water!"
Blaze looked down and, sure enough, there was a massive shadow looming up from the depths, like a whale coming up from below. The surface exploded and the Hrimfaxi was on the surface again.
"Get it!" Blaze shouted, rolling into a dive to attack the submarine. They were too late. A pillar of smoke rose from the bow of the submarine. Blaze began hounding Thunderhead. "Where's it going!?"
The AWACS was silent, then came back on. "It's on its way to the front lines!"
Chopper made the situation worse. "Uh, guys? That thing just launched some kind of weird carrier drone."
Forrest made a disgusted noise. "UAVs. I hate UAVs!" But all the same, the ace abandoned his attack on Hrimfaxi and went after one of the three carrier drones that were now dancing in the sky. He locked one up after a quick switch to air-to-air mode and rolled in on its tail. The operator was good, but Blaze wasn't Mobius 1 for nothing and kept up with it. This was his worst nightmare come true. A fully air-to-air capable UCAV. The drone would be able to pull more g's than he could, and it was lighter, but like every weapon, that drone had a weakness, and Blaze was willing to bet that it was the UCAV's camera.
If the Predator was anything to go by, there would be a big blind spot wherever the camera wasn't looking. The drone Split-S'ed and Forrest followed after it, trying desperately to keep on its tail. When the drone rolled, Blaze saw what he was looking for. There was a small bulge on the underside of the UCAV, and the ace caught the wink of glass reflecting sunlight. Forrest hoped that that reflection was the camera lens.
"Hey! Blaze to Wardog, I think I found a blind spot! Get above them and come down from up top! The camera's on the bottom!" Clicks came back, so Forrest rolled level and pulled up, going up above the drone, then dove again. The drone was weaving in a serpentine pattern below him, obviously trying to find the pilot. Blaze switched to guns, not bothering to reaquire the drone, because the lock would tip off the operator to where the Raptor was at.
Forrest held his fire for a second or two, then lined up his pipper and pulled the trigger. The buzzsaw in his wing root came to life and a stream of lead shot out and shattered the drone. With the UCAV on a one-way ticket into the water, Blaze turned away and found his other three wingmen in battles themselves. The ISAF ace was surprised to see that all three manned planes had the initiative and were taking full advantage of it, hounding the UAVs relentlessly, forcing the operators of the drones to constantly evade slash and dash dives as the Raptors dove on them, never allowing much time to recover.
Edge slashed again, then pulled up, going high again in an effort to gain alititude on the drone. She didn't quite make it and the drone got behind her. Now Nagase was on the defensive, rolling, jinking, and diving, doing everything she could to throw off the persistent UAV.
"Damn!" She cursed. "He's really glued on me!"
Blaze rammed the throttle to just short of afterburner and took off in pursuit of his wingman's foe. "Hang on, Edge!" Forrest called reassuringly as he locked up the drone and got ready to open fire on it. "Give me a second!"
The drone didn't give him that second, the UCAV rolled inverted and dove, heading for the slate gray ocean, Forrest in hot pursuit, determined to keep the drone in front of him where it belonged. Blaze would commit suicide before he let himself get shot down by a fancy RC toy!
The two aircraft passed over the island, then wrenched around in a hard turn back towards the battle. Brian caught a fleeting glimpse of Edge above him, reversing as well, either giving him back up or just keeping an eye out for the Hrimfaxi, because the sub had yet to surface, or launch a missile. Even as he rolled to stay with the drone again, Blaze couldn't help but wonder why the attack boat didn't launch a burst missile right then and there. Drones were expendable, so with all of Wardog tangled up in a mini furball below five thousand feet, a burst missile would kill them off, unless they disengaged to get to a safe altitude, in which case the drones would follow and shoot them down. He could only hope that the bomb hit had done enough damage to prevent an undersea launch.
A river of red poured from the sky, but Blaze hadn't been the one doing the shooting. The UAV burst into flames and arced for the ocean, blowing up just before touching the waves. Forrest looked around for the source, then Edge dropped from the sky and latched onto his left wing.
"I had a good shot," the female pilot remarked smugly.
The Ace of Aces grinned behind his mask. "Well, Splash One for Edge. Chopper, Grimm, how're you guys doing?" He looked over and saw either Chopper or Archer screaming on a dive, the drone he was aiming for hotly chased by the second Raptor. A stream of tracers divided the sky and the drone exploded.
The two reformed and rejoined Blaze and Edge. "Pretty good, Captain," Grimm remarked brightly. The flight turned around and headed back for the submarine's lake, climbing to above five thousand feet as they did, just to make sure that the Hrimfaxi wouldn't be able to get the drop on them.
A livid voice came over the radio. "What're you four doing!?" Blaze recognized the voice as that advisor guy from HQ. "The troops on the front just took a burst missile hit! Attack you idiots! Sink that sub!"
Forrest shook his head and replied. "I'd love to sir, but the sub dove."
"It did what!?"
"Relax, man," Chopper cut in. Blaze held his piece, content to let the louder pilot shut the advisor down. "The Kid did a fancy bit of flying and damaged the sub. Now it looks like they can't launch an underwater assault."
The advisor huffed. "Be that as it may, Lieutenant, the fact still remains that the Hrimfaxi will slip away under the ice cap! So attack!"
Forrest chipped in now. "Look, we'd love to, like I said, but the sub is under the freaking surface! Besides, it won't run."
"How can you be so sure?"
The former Mobius 1's face split into a wide grin. "Because," he said simply, noticing a small wake appear above the surface, "it's coming up now." He signed off and set his radar to work, getting ready to dive on the Hrimfaxi and sink it once and for all.
The surface exploded again and the dart shape of the Hrimfaxi appeared on the surface again, a plume of smoke rising into the sky.
"Hrimfaxi launching burst missile!" Thunderhead called. "Wardog it's headed your way!" That wasn't at the forefront of the aces' minds as the plates on Hrimfaxi's hull slid aside and triple-A and SAMs lit up the sky.
Forrest knew time was short. They had a limited leeway before the burst missile struck, and the sub appeared to sticking this out to the bitter end. This was it; it was now or never!
"Blaze to Wardog…We're going in!" If the other three were shocked by his decision, they didn't show it because all four planes of the flight rolled onto their backs and dove, screaming towards the ocean, bombs prepped and ready to go. "Hit whatever looks good!" Forrest put his pipper right on the bulge that was the Hrimfaxi's bridge and hit the button. The F-22 lurched as it shed a literal ton of weight in a second, Forrest pulling up hard, Edge Chopper and Archer right behind him, having released their bombs at roughly the same time.
The ace's altimeter cleared the five thousand mark right as the burst missile went off. The four aircraft bounced around on the bare fringe of the deadly shockwave, but they were above the safe altitude and Forrest looked back the moment the light behind him faded.
He whooped excitedly when he saw what was happening below him.
Hrimfaxi was listing badly, four gaping holes blown in her hull, the two closest to the water were filling rapidly every time a wave broke over the ravaged ship's frame. Even as the ISAF ace watched, the list increased and the ship was rapidly slipping below the surface. There was clearly no turning the ship around.
Wardog orbited, watching the death throes of the Yuke submarine, but if the ship managed to right itself, there would've been no way for the four aces to sink it again because all four had used their two JDAMs, so they were effectively out of the fight, unless Forrest tried for a lucky Sidewinder shot.
Blaze switched to the intercepted comms frequency.
"Hrimfaxi, we need another burst missile!"
There was resignation in the voice that replied. Perhaps it was the Captain. "We can't. The Hrimfaxi is going down."
"Wait, what do you mean?"
"We're taking on water right now and there's no way to stop it."
"Who sank you!?"
"Four F-22 Raptors from Osea. I think they're the same ones that sank Scinfaxi."
There was silence on the line. "Godspeed, Hrimfaxi. Be assured your actions will be honored."
"Thank you. I guess they were the Demons of Razgriz, not us." There was the sound of rushing water in the background.
"Yeah."
Blaze switched back to the proper frequency and noted the submarine's bridge slip under. The four Raptors made one more pass, seeing a vague shape sparking beneath the slate ocean right before there was an audible 'whump' and a massive fountain of spray was blown high into the sky.
"Blaze to Thunderhead."
"What is it?" There was a note of hope in the AWACS controller's voice.
"Inform Sand Island and the higher ups that the Hrimfaxi has been sunk." Evidently Thunderhead was too shocked or relieved to speak again, because Forrest only got clicks back.
The four F-22s turned away, setting course for Sand Island and leaving nothing but floating bits of debris on the surface.
Reaching Sand Island took longer than before because now Wardog no longer had their drop tanks to draw off of, so they had to refuel once where they'd been before and again about three hours out from the island, but soon enough, the tropical island came into view, and the four Raptors swooped low, by prearrangement doing victory rolls over the runway.
The aces were greeted by cheering mechanics and other base personelle as the four taxied to their spots and shut down.
A grinning Pops was at Forrest's side the moment the canopy began to come up, taking Blaze's helmet and clapping the ISAF ace on the shoulder.
"Remind me never to doubt you again, Forrest," the old man said with a laugh. "You're a suicidal guy, but I can't deny that you get the job done!"
Brian grinned right back. "I've been told that a couple of times. Didn't I tell you it'd be fine?"
"You did, but I guess I just don't know what you're capable of when you put your mind to it." Both men laughed as Blaze unstrapped and descended the ladder, where the ace was promptly mobbed and hoisted on to the shoulders of the cheering soldiers, the other three members of Wardog being treated much in the same manner.
The O'Club was probably the most extravagant building on base, with black and white checkered tile floors, mahogany trim and baseboard, bar and barstools, the glass of the bottles behind the bar shone from being polished with meticulous care, and all around, on the walls, were photos of graduating classes, various notable pilots who'd been stationed on Sand Island since it's establishment as a base, gentle lighting, and, more solemnly, a small monument in one corner which had a metal stand, polished to a brilliant shine, and was draped with equally shiny dog tags.
Every person on base, from the lowest enlisted, to Colonel Perrault himself, knew of the significance of the monument. It was a tribute to all the KIAs who came from Sand Island. Some hundred tags hung there, swaying and twirling gently in the Club's air conditioning.
Wardog's members were plunked down in a booth and ordered a round of drinks by one of the Security Forces guys on base. When everyone in the club had a shot of Jeremiah Weed in one hand, the same guy raised his glass and announced in a loud voice,
"To Lieutenant Forrest and Wardog Squadron! The best damn fighter pilots to ever set foot in the sky!"
A loud "hear hear!" rang through the club and they all drank, Forrest enjoying the acid-like feel of the drink burning its way down his throat. He hadn't had a shot of Weed since the destruction of Megalith five years before.
Blaze spotted Pops in one corner with a smile on his face and a shot glass in one hand, the glass filled with gold liquid.
"Hey, Pops! Remember, yours is on me!"
Pops raised his glass in salute and drained it, then the party got started.
It was a rousing celebration that lasted until well past midnight, with all four pilots drinking heavily, though Brian was careful to watch himself so his tongue didn't loosen and reveal that he was Mobius 1. Edge too didn't seem particularly interested in getting hammered, but the same couldn't be said for Chopper. He was slurring words within the first hour of the party, though his playing skills weren't diminished.
The loud pilot had produced an electric guitar somewhere and sang a drinking song by a couple of Viper pilots from Osea, but they'd found fans all over Usea as well. Forrest had lost track of the times one of the guys he used to fly with, a man who'd later joined Mobius Squadron for the assault on Megalith, had grabbed a guitar and played this song, Jeremiah Weed, and others like World War III and Predator Eulogy.
The song's authors, known as Dos Gringos, were a favorite of Blaze's and he joined in with the singing. Finally the party wound down as the soldiers got back to their duties and Forrest reminded his team that they had a mission the following afternoon.
Forrest went to bed that night feeling pleasantly warm from the Weed and the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, this whole hiding in Osea thing would work out in the end.
So the Hrimfaxi's dead and we arrive at what I like to think of as the half-way point in the game, which means that this story is roughly half-way done. Keep an eye out for more frequent updates for the next few months as I'm now on summer break. Not daily updates, not by a long shot, seeing as I'm working on two other stories besides this one, but certianly more than the roughly once a month I've been managing.
Glossary:
ELF: Extremely Low Frequency. Gotta love the military's creativity with names right? This is the preferred method of communication between subs.
UCAV: Unmanned Combat Aerial Vehical. Pretty much a UAV with teeth.
KIA: Killed in Action. Self-explanatory.
Jeremiah Weed: No, it's not a joint. It's a bourbon with a VERY high alchohol level. I think it's somehting like fifty percent. Favored drink of fighter pilots everywhere.
Dos Gringos: Belive it or not, but these guys are real, not just a figment of my overactive imagination. Trip and Snooze (TAC names obviously) are a couple of Viper pilots who started a band and decided to call it Dos Gringos. The song titles I mentioned are real songs and most of them can be found on YouTube. Check it out.