XX A/N XX
I'm embarrassed to admit I made a mistake in the past chapter: I wrote them as calling the Odin instead of the Pontus. I corrected it, but it took me two weeks to notice. I plan ahead so far, I get details and names mixed up when I write current chapters, and this particular one slipped past the revision. Again, I apologize for the retcon. I would also like to again apologize if my descriptions of aerial combat aren't the best—I'm still learning.
X Vera 8 Days after Meteors X
"Many decades from now, history will look back on this as one of the most crowning achievements of the Rubinelle Navy." As that message undoubtedly played across every Rubinelle ship, I decided the Admiral said it partly to advance his own image. But he was right; a rescue operation of this scale had never been attempted, even during the last war. Given the amount of men on land and the number of ships the Fleet had, I wasn't even sure it was possible. But this was a scenario where action was needed, even if it might not be 100% effective. Those men and women had to come home.
The Admiral had devised a plan that was being discussed throughout the fleet. We'd seen it three hours ago, and it would involve every person, aircraft, and ship that we had. The Fleet's remaining two carriers would stop 65 miles south of Lazuria and launch fighters from there to patrol the skies; all attack aircraft would remain on standby in the air. A cruiser squadron (a squadron consisted of 3-4 ships) would defend them and the fleet's two destroyer squadrons would guard the south. The battleship division (which was composed of three battleships) would sail within fifteen miles of the coast and spread out to bombard the city if needed, with one of the frigate squadrons for support. Four cruiser squadrons would spread out in the waters to the east and three squadrons to the west to guard against enemy counter-attacks. The Fleet's submarines (only higher-ranking officers knew the number) would patrol the waters around the operational area as well. The last frigate squadron, being composed of the smallest warships, would sail into the harbor itself to provide close support. Except for the cruiser squadron guarding the carriers, most of the squadrons were under-strength—one cruiser squadron only had two ships left. We hoped that what we have would be sufficient to stop them for now.
Once the operational area was secure, the rescue would begin. Navy and Marine transport helicopters, numbering around forty, would fly into the city and evacuate any wounded or combat-ineffective personnel to ships back to the Fleet. Landers from the Fleet would then go in and pick up more men to ferry back. If possible, they would pick up whatever equipment they could. This would continue until all forces were evacuated. It was a good plan, but not without faults.
The first issue was the harbor. After the initial landing and our counter-attack, it was largely clogged by sunken ships. If a lander struck something and was sunk during the operation, it'd be catastrophic. Furthermore, it would make it an extremely slow process. Time was an enemy in a combat environment. The longer we lingered in Lazurian territory, the more dangerous it would become.
The second issue was space. We would be evacuating a division, which usually had about 10,000 to 30,000 men, and we wondered where we would be able to find the space to fit them all. The Fleet did have ships designed to carry Marines and their equipment. Four months earlier, it had been decided to upgrade the Marine units within the 1st, 4th, and 7th Fleets from Expeditionary Units (2,000 Marines and equipment), to Expeditionary Brigades (14,000 Marines). Due to the lack of available personnel and equipment, the proposal became a practical and political failure. The Fleet, however, had received a few of the ships meant to carry the new forces. Some of those ships were mostly empty, but even then there would only be enough room for 6,000 people, assuming they left the bulk of their equipment. The ships in the Fleet were painfully cramped, but they could probably squeeze ten to twenty extra people on the cruisers, destroyers, and frigates—maybe a hundred per battleship and carrier. That was about a thousand people—which meant that at least five thousand would be stranded. It still seemed impossible in my mind, but I shoved these thoughts away; the operation had already begun, and I had a job to do.
Slowly, the elevator lifted our plane up onto the deck. From the safety of the cockpit, I watched Josh and Tanya's planes launch and then a Navy helicopter lift off. A member off the deck crew waved us forward, and I carefully taxied the plane over to the catapult. Behind us, the elevator went down to pick up more planes. The plane settled into the catapult and the crew began their inspection. As I glanced out to the sea, I could faintly see the Fleet's other carrier to the west, sandwiched by a pair of cruisers. Both carriers were facing north; directly to the north was the city.
"We ready?" I called.
"Perfect." Heather confirmed. I nodded and watched a sailor kneel near the front of the plane. I gripped the stick tightly. Once I saw his arm drop, I accelerated as the catapult flung us forward. Once off the deck, the plane dipped but rose steadily. I quickly gained altitude and kept going after retracting the landing gear. Due to the urgency of the situation, planes were to fly to the city as soon as they were airborne instead of waiting to organize themselves.
"This is Raven 3-7, we're in the air and heading North to join the CAP." I announced over the radio.
"Copy that." Kerrigan's voice. "Hurry up, out." I applied extra thrust, bringing the plane well near its max speed. Down below was a small Fleet of landers sailing from their parent ships to the city, followed by several helicopters. A few minutes later, I passed over the Fleet's battleships. All of them were spread about three miles from each other, their main batteries pointed towards the city, which was rapidly growing larger.
"3-7, take up position on the northeastern side of the city and watch for hostiles." Kerrigan ordered once we flew past the port. Planes from the RNS Thalassa were patrolling the western boundaries, while we were tasked to guard the eastern side. The two flights from the Odin weren't as numerous as we were, but we could still perform our job. The northern side would be patrolled by two squadrons from the Pontus. I banked the plane and headed to the city's eastern limit, looking down as I did. Even from above twelve thousand feet, I could see the columns of soldiers and Marines as they streamed towards the port. They really wanted to get off the Lazurian mainland.
We'll make sure they get there.
"Nice of you two to join us." Josh greeted us over the radio as the city below turned into forests split by highways. Aside from Hannah and his plane, Tanya and David were close by. Both planes continuously circled the city limits in a loop, north to south. Another pair of planes, Vincent and Amy's and Kerrigan and Amanda's, were flying a similar path a few miles out over the forests that stretched over large portions of the continent. Madeline and Kayla's plane was patrolling further north, where we were supposed to be.
"We were the last off the carrier." I explained, banking the plane towards the north. "Any activity?"
"No." Tanya radioed back. "Still quiet." Both planes wagged their wings as we passed them. It was an un-official salute some pilots exchanged as a symbol of 'good luck', 'good job' or just 'hello'. Normally, I wouldn't bother with such a thing, but this time I did it as we roared past. I might as well need some good luck today. We continued north and soon all that was below us was forest. Madeline and Kayla's plane fell in behind us when we showed up.
"Same pattern as before?" Madeline asked as we fell into a looping path in our patrol area.
"Affirmative. You two fly at 2,000 feet, we'll stay at 15,000."
"Roger." Their plane dived down and out of visual sight. We both fell into our patrol route. Having done the task for more than a hundred hours, one more uneventful patrol wasn't a difficult task. We fell into a mental loop as well as a physical one. Circle and check radar. Circle and check the radar. Every third pass we'd radio Madeline and the other pairs to check in and report anything significant. It was a boring cycle, but not everything important or worthwhile was exciting, so we handled it with grave focus.
After twenty minutes of patrolling, a notice came over the radio from the Pontus' Combat Direction Center. "First pick up is complete. Say again, the first 2,000 troops have been evacuated. All forces maintain the perimeter." I took a quick glance at my radar. The IFF still identified a mass of blue dots at the waterfront. Since vehicles usually carried indicators, I had to assume that the pick up had been mostly infantry. It didn't matter what their job was, they were all safe now.
"I'm glad this is working." I told Heather.
"We saved a lot of them in just the past day. Proves how much people can accomplish together."
"I guess there is good to do in this profession." We fell back into our patrol route. Two more pick-ups occurred, which evacuated another 4,000 infantry, without any activity occurring. The enemy was quiet. Perhaps David had been wrong about them waiting to strike. Or maybe the others were right about the enemy being unable to deploy more forces to stop us. Maybe there was a chance to brush off the skirmishes and establish peace.
"I'm thinking far too ahead." I chastised myself. I had to focus on the task at hand. We maintained our patrol route. The landers and the helicopters returned for yet another pick-up. By this time, it wasn't impossible to imagine that things were getting crowded in the Fleet. But it actually looked like we would accomplish the impossible... It was inspiring, in a way.
We had just finished another loop and were reporting our status to each other when we heard the warning.
"This is Raven 1-3, I have contacts on radar!" The message cut through all the chatter; for a moment, the airwaves were silent. A moment later, our own radar gave out a warning signal. My eyes glanced when I looked down. There was not one blip, but a mass of them. My breath caught in my throat for a moment.
"Pontus CDC to all assets," The carrier sent out a message to all channels, "Fifty-six bandits confirmed approaching. I repeat, fifty plus hostile aircraft have entered the operational area. Eliminate them immediately and watch out for friendly fire." So the enemy had decided to attack, even if most of the troops had already been evacuated.
"Signature matches MiG-29s." Heather told me at about the same time several other people called it out over the radio. It was a mass of fighters sent to eliminate us. There were likely attack planes behind them as well, and their job would be to strike the troops and ships after we were eliminated. It was one of the older and most obvious military tactics, but some tactics remained efficient even as they got old. "We're slightly outnumbered." She warned.
"All planes, do not counter-attack. Say again, do not engage just yet." Captain Stancill warned over the radio. The squadron leader introduced a new strategy. "Turn south and engage them above the port." Everyone quickly realized what he meant. Even if their capabilities were less when compared to a cruiser, the frigates' anti-air systems would help even out the balance in our favor.
Along with the rest of our flight, I pulled up and left and flew back towards the sea at about the same time the Lazurian fighters passed over the edge of the city. Across the vast sky, the small specs in our radar, which belonged to the rest of the squadron, turned towards us. My hand gripped the stick tightly, ready to take evasive maneuvers if the tracking tone turned into a missile-warning tone.
"Be advised, part of enemy formation has gone into a holding pattern near the northern city limits." One of Colonel Prin's pilots sent the warning. I spared a quick glance at my radar and noted that about fifteen planes had stayed at the edge of the radar while the rest approached; we'd have to go shoot them down if they stayed there.
In the harbor ahead, three anti-air missiles from the frigates streaked up into the air and on towards the enemy fighters. I felt some sort of odd glee at seeing one of the enemy blips disappear from the radar, despite there being at least thirty more behind it. As all planes converged near the same point, Captain Stancill issued another order.
"All planes, disperse across the waterfront. Spread the enemy out and conserve your munitions."
"Stay with your wingmen." Kerrigan ordered our flight in particular as nearly 4 dozen flights scattered all across the edge of the city. A few flew farther out to where the battleships and other frigates were. I spared a quick glance and nodded when I found Madeline and Kayla had stayed near. They stayed close as I flew out to the sea, to a point southeast of the battleships.
There were approximately forty enemy fighters out there. Between the Carrier Air Wings and the Marine squadron, we had roughly the same number. But in an engagement with so many combatants, things became dangerous. I didn't have time to realize the fact I'd found myself in the biggest engagement since the last war; I was concentrated on surviving.
I did a quick and complete check of our surroundings. The frigates in the port and the anti-air vehicles still on the ground were firing on the enemy. Out in the sea, the battleships began throwing up streams of 40mm shells in the direction of the city that eventually combined into a terrifying wall of death that stretched nearly to the port. Even from here, I saw three enemy planes that had flown out disappear within the wall in bright balls of flame. In either direction, Lazurian fighters chased down Rubinelle planes as they scattered. I saw at least two of ours go down, but I couldn't tell which flight they were from. And then I noticed a trio of MiGs heading towards us.
"Enemy!" I warned over the radio to Madeline and Kayla. "Separate and we'll watch each other's six o' clock!" While I pulled our plane into a hard right turn, they performed a hard left. A missile was fired at us just as we began the turn and zoomed past, far away enough not to detonate near us, but close enough that we could see it detonate at a safe distance. We both came out of the turn further apart, but we were now facing the incoming enemy head on.
Two of the MiGs had been close enough that they passed right by at the same moment we saw them, but one lagged behind and was directly in front of us. Our plane shook as Heather took the initiative to fire the machine gun. "Fox-Three, Fox-Three for the kill." The MiG-29 burst into flames, and the flaming hunk was so close I dived down five hundred feet to avoid it. It exploded in mid-air a few seconds later. There was no parachute.
"Splash one!" I called, not realizing again that I'd been holding my breath. They'd nearly been right on top of us...
"We're maneuvering behind one. Be careful, one of them has turned back after you." Kayla warned us just as the tracking warning turned to a missile-lock warning. That was one of the few advantages MiGs had over Rubinelle planes—they were maneuverable enough that they could turn around quickly to re-engage.
"Counter-measures!" I called as I immediately started the evasive maneuvers I'd learned in flight school. Somewhere there was a bang, and the plane briefly shook.
"Intercepted it. No damage!" Heather called. "They're still behind us!" She warned, so I didn't stop maneuvering. Up, down, left, right. The plane didn't stay in a straight line for any longer than two seconds.
"Signal broke!" Heather reported as I pulled out of yet another turn. Now, to go on the offensive.
"Where are they?" I asked.
"They broke off and ascended on the last dive. They're above us!" She warned. I looked up and saw the unmistakable shape of a MiG. I pulled back on the stick and pointed the plane upwards. "Madeline, Kayla, you okay?" In that time I spent evading that MiG, I'd lost track of everything else that was happening around me.
"We're initiating counter-measures." Kayla responded. "They don't want to stay still!" Our ascension had brought us up roughly two miles behind the enemy plane.
"Locked...Fox-Two!" But the MiG had gone into a vicious roll as soon as we'd locked, and the missile flew past. The roll also slowed the enemy plane down, forcing me to turn right quickly to avoid passing them and flying literally into a crosshair. "They went left." Heather informed me. I took a quick glance at the radar for Madeline and Kayla. They were further out to sea; there was still an enemy blip behind them.
"We'll get the bandit off their tail." I decided and immediately turned towards them. Before we got close enough to get a solid lock-on, the enemy plane saw us coming and broke off its attempts and flew back towards the city. Madeline and Kayla took the opportunity to give chase. I pulled our plane around to join. We'd turned just in time to see Madeline and Kayla's plane launch a missile at the same MiG that had been chasing them. The MiG turned to evade, but the missile got close enough to detonate. The MiG stayed intact, but thick black smoke billowed from its tail and it slowed down. The engine had been destroyed by the shrapnel.
"Enemy down." Kayla called coolly. As the MiG began to descend in a glide, something flew up from its front. A parachute blossomed a moment later.
"Looks like the pilot ejected." I observed. I felt good about that. The idea of death was still a foreign idea to me. I didn't bother to remember the plane we'd just downed a minute earlier. The parachute drifted down towards the water; I could already see one of the frigates defending the battleships steaming off towards the location. Maybe we could find out something valuable from the pilot... I'd think about that later.
"All forces, be advised, enemy fighters are retreating to the north." The CDC radioed in. I watched through the radar as the remaining blips left the waterfront and headed towards the formation that had taken up patrol along the city boundaries. I couldn't immediately tell how many planes had been shot down, let alone how many of ours. But the landers and the transport helicopters were speeding quickly away from the port; we managed to defend them. That didn't justify the losses we sustained, but it proved that we had done our job.
"All planes, report in." Kerrigan ordered. All the other flights did their own roll calls. Josh and Hannah responded. So did David and Tanya. We, Madeline, Kayla reported in next. Vincent and Amy reported last. That was... all of them! I felt sort of giddy at the realization. In only two minutes of savage air combat that had seen both sides lose planes and pilots, our flight hadn't lost a single person. I wasn't sure what to make of it.
"All planes regroup and prepare for enemy counter-attack." Captain Stancill ordered. While the enemy was bearing down on us, all flight leaders designated an area for their members to fly on over open channels and the mass spread out all over the waterfront. Only when that was done did I realize we'd indeed lost some of our number. Our own squadron had lost two planes, the carrier's main squadron three, and the Marine squadron one. The squadron from the other carrier appeared to have lost four planes total. The numbers seemed grim in my mind, but the mass of enemies retreating north was without a doubt much smaller, maybe even half its size.
"Enemy squadrons are combining." Colonel Prins sent out a warning.
"Standby." Captain Stancill ordered. We all watched our radar tensely. It wasn't until the fighting had entered a full lull that I realized how hard my heart was beating.
"We still have roughly 2,000 troops to evacuate." Now it was the Admiral's voice that went out over the airwaves. "We will not let these men down. Maintain air superiority over the evacuation point. I have faith in everyone that they will carry on and survive." The Admiral didn't sound his usual self; he sounded somber. It was chilling, in a way. But at the same time, it did increase my resolve. We were close, we'd gotten so far already. Just a little more till we were done. We could survive.
"Enemy formation has changed course and is heading for us!" A pilot yelled over the radio. I watched my radar as the entire mass in the north suddenly began moving south.
"Same strategy as before: keep them in range of the frigate's AA systems, out." Captain Stancill ordered. "There's less this time, but stay alert!" The enemy blips got closer.
"We ready?" I asked.
"We still have a sufficient number of weapons and counter-measures." Heather confirmed. Okay. We'd gotten through the first wave; we could make it through the second.
"Stay close." I called to Madeline and Kayla as the second wave began to attack.
X RNS Pontus X
The bridge of a Rubinelle carrier is busy, even in peace time—more so if it also happened to be a flagship. In an active battle, it was busier, but it maintained a controlled air. A situation map, constantly updated, was surrounded by Admiral Ryman and Captain Benedict. The Pontus' skipper tapped a finger on the display a few times. "This could spiral out of control quickly." He warned.
"Very quickly, Captain." Admiral Ryman nodded. "The next run should pick up the last of the stranded forces, though. They're too late to destroy them." Everyone had anticipated such a counter-attack would be to destroy the ground forces, but not so late. "Not much to gain by attacking the city now." He mused. Any smart person in uniform realized as soon as they stepped into battle that propaganda was wrong: Lazurians were some of the craftiest bastards around. When most of their weapons and equipment were singularly worse than their Rubinelle counterparts, the same didn't apply to the people who commanded them. He didn't immediately dismiss it as a last minute attempt to look tough.
"The Fleet's had too easy a time getting this close..." That had secretly nagged him throughout the whole event. Now, it practically screamed at him. He'd set up a decent perimeter, but would it be enough to stop a determined attack?
"Sir, transport helicopters have dropped off their loads and are heading back to the city. The landers will be doing the same soon." A young ensign informed him.
"Tell them to hurry." The Admiral's eyes never left the map. Only about two-thousand men were left... "Might have to pack up and get back to home port real quick." He admitted. "But we can definitely rescue all of them."
"Still looks sketchy, sir." Benedict didn't sound so sure. At that moment, two younger officers barreled into each other behind them to confirm his fears.
"Sir, Rear Admiral Murray reports an attack by enemy aircraft." One regained his composure quicker.
"Sir, Commodore Rift reports he has detected enemy ships approaching his squadron." The other reported. Ryman quickly glanced down the find the two cruiser squadrons those men commanded. Murray's cruisers were to the west, and were closest to the Lazurian mainland. Rift's cruisers were on the east, and the second nearest group from the mainland. That was the same direction from which those vanishing ships were supposed to come from... An officer turned from the panel in front of him delivered more bad news.
"Admiral, Commander Klerber reports that his destroyers just sunk three enemy gunboats!" Ryman remained calm as he took all the information in: an aerial attack on one flank, a naval attack on his other flank, and a smaller naval attack on his rear. A pair of shoes pounded the floor behind them and the two men gave way to the new arrival: Vice-Admiral Wells.
"I heard there's been some sort of development." The Fleet's carrier squadron commander sounded as if she'd ran all the way from one end of the ship to the other. The other two men quickly summed up the news. "Well, that's a bloody disaster waiting to happen." She commented as soon as they finished.
"Very bloody." Benedict nodded grimly. "Admiral?" Both looked at Ryman now. The Admiral quickly put on his glasses and started giving out orders.
"Spread the A-10s out, but keep them inside the perimeter. If we get a hard push from enemy ships, we'll need to beat it back." Benedict quickly left to carry it out.
"Someone call Vice Admiral Lightfoot and tell him to get the battlewagons away from the mainland." The battleship squadron commander always took care of his big guns- he'd commanded battleships all throughout the Great War and still held full confidence in them. No enemy would take them easily. "Have the frigate squadron stay with them." He couldn't scale his forces back more than that. "Wells," He looked up at the Fleet's second-in-command. "We'll need to maintain a CAP for the entire Fleet all the way back. Can we do it?"
"Pilots might be weary after it's over, but yes." She answered.
"Don't have much of a choice." Ryman reluctantly admitted. He turned and walked over the Bridge's communication center. "Put me on every allied channel." He ordered.
X Vera X
"Bandit down! Alright!" Josh yelled confidently. He'd fired a missile from afar, and it had connected with the MiG that had been chasing us, obliterating it in a ball of flame from which no parachute emerged.
"Thanks!" I radioed back and looked around for a new target. Since starting a minute ago, the battle wasn't going well for the enemy. We outnumbered then this time, and our advantage showed. Like the plane we'd just witness to go down, many of them were being attacked by more than one plane. It wasn't one-sided, however. I'd heard a distress call as a damaged F-18 plummeted to the ground, its canopy unable to open. The pilots' last desperate words before the radio cut off had sent a powerful jolt through me. Another plane had been damaged and was retreating to the carrier, and three irresponsible pairs were heading back to rearm after expending their munitions.
We still had three missiles to use, having fired off two at enemy fighters that had evaded. Madeline and Kayla still had two on their plane. They'd managed to shoot down another MiG that had tried to shoot us down with its cannon. We were still together and very much armed, as was the rest of our flight. Both our planes were banking to where most of the remaining enemy fighters were when the radio crackled to life.
"All Rubinelle forces, this is Admiral Ryman." We listened in. "Additional Lazurian forces are launching attacks on our flanks and rear. The operational area has become compromised. I'm pulling back and redistributing some assets to ensure security. All other forces are to remain alert and prepare for immediate retreat once the evacuation is complete. Brave men and women of Rubinelle, good luck."
"Gee, that's encouraging." Josh said carelessly over the radio. An anonymous pilot agreed with him before Captain Stancill ordered all chatter to cease.
"It's not in the context Rubinelle officers usually say 'retreat', don't you think?" Heather observed. She was right; the word was usually an accusation or a curse.
"We're deep in enemy territory. We don't belong here. But we're accomplishing something before we leave." Before we could get close enough to assist, the enemy MiGs, 19 of which were still in the air, turned and retreated north. A Rubinelle plane chased the group and managed to down one of the retreating MiGs with a long ranged missile shot before returning. At the same time, another plane had to return to its carrier to rearm.
"I hope that's the last time." I told Heather. "I hope none of the pilots on either side suffered too badly either."
"They're at a critical disadvantage now. No sensible commander would attack again." They were badly outnumbered. In two quick and savage battles, they'd lost around 30 planes—we'd lost around 10. And even with a few returning to the carrier, we still had at least two dozen of our planes still in the air, and Navy cover below.
"You can never tell with these people." I admitted. "Better stay alert anyway." We thought they had made a wise decision until the enemy planes once again stopped near the north of the city. "Go home already!" Hadn't they seen enough of their own die yet? What was there to accomplish in this? In response to the possible threat, each flight regrouped itself again.
"They're so stubborn!" Hannah fumed.
"They're determined." David corrected. "They have some reason to be." I wondered if he still believed his theory. It seemed a bit late to do any real good.
"Everyone report on your weapon loads." Kerrigan ordered.
"Three, over." David reported.
"Two, over." Kayla reported.
"Three, over." Heather reported.
"Two. We tried to fire another one but it stuck to the rail. Over." Amy reported. Under my helmet, I grimaced. Malfunctioning missiles were never a good thing. We were very fortunate it didn't detonate as well.
"Only one, over." Hannah reported with a hint of mis-belonging. Kerrigan took the information in stride and ordered Vincent and Amy to return to the carrier and hand the plane over to maintenance crews. Along with the other flight leaders, she reported the information further up the chain of command. Captain Stancill came on the radio a few seconds later.
"I was just in contact with the Pontus, the helicopters are a few minutes out, and the landers just behind them. We shouldn't have to stay much longer, but the situation is deteriorating quickly; another attack was launched on our flank." He paused to let this sink in before continuing. "We need to maintain air superiority. All aircraft fly north and engage the enemy."
X RNS Pontus X
Electronic warfare was one of the fastest-growing but less known aspects in both militaries since the end of the war. With it, one could theoretically block missiles, intercept or sever enemy communications, and many other useful things. Unfortunately, due to near-equal technology and operator standards, Rubinelle and Lazuria tended to cancel each other's efforts, which meant that battles were mostly influenced by human hands.
And just as in the decades before, human error could cause serious consequences; in this new era, errors would be magnified even more. Radio traffic was easy to intercept and listen in, especially if the sender was suffering from stress-induced carelessness. That was how two Rubinelle cruisers—one in the southwest line and one in the east, had picked up a few interesting enemy exchanges. Those exchanges now made their way to the very top.
"Admiral." The ensign who received them quickly jumped from his seat. "We've heard from two different CICs about intercepted enemy communication concerning a Lazurian aircraft carrier." That grabbed everyone's attention away from the light probing attacks against the naval shields to the east and west. Unlike Rubinelle, Lazuria saw carriers more as support ships than centerpieces. This was best reflected in the way they were designed; although they carried only half the aircraft component of a Rubinelle carrier, they had enough armaments to rival the heaviest cruisers in existence.
"Tell me the essentials." Ryman demanded, privately contemplating the possibility of pulling the plug completely. A rescue operation would do little good if it got half his Fleet sunk in the process.
"Both reports were received within five minutes of each other." The ensign read the dispatch out loud. "Both communications were between Lazurian forces. In both instances, Lazurian forces were heard questioning each other on the whereabouts of a carrier, the Admiral Kruitikov. Based on the content of the exchanges, the carrier was supposed to take part in the attacks, but contact was lost before the attack began.
Was that good news or bad? Ryman wasn't sure just yet. But what did it mean? A carrier just didn't disappear off the face of the earth without the trace or a whisper. Something else was going on here, and it sent an unexplained jolt down the Admiral's spine.
"We'll ignore the fact for now." He announced to the gathered staff. "Just tell the evacuation forces to hurry. I want all ships alive and in Rubinelle waters within the next few hours." Whether or not it would be safer was yet to be seen.
X Vera X
Equipment didn't necessarily decide a battle as much as the human factor did. But in this instance, it played a role. The simple fact was that Lazurian MiGs, while not faster than the Air Force fighters, were faster than our own. They'd fled further north and out of our sight when we approached. We never regained visual sight of the enemy, and they inched further and further away on the radar every minute. We flew on for several minutes, passing above forest and small towns before Stancill ordered everyone to head back to the city.
"We'll re-establish patrol over the city." He announced over the radio. "Communications from CDC say the enemy is getting testy, so we may be bugging out soon." Soon, but not before we evacuated the last troops.
Obviously. What person stops short of completion? A tone beeped in my ears, tearing me away from my thoughts. "Contacts?" I looked down at my radar display. Red blips were beginning to appear at the bottom range of the screens. "The enemy is chasing us again?"
"Must've decided they weren't beat yet." A pilot from another craft answered.
"They're gaining speed!" Another warned. If they could outrun us, it was very obvious they could catch up to us too. We were still many miles away from the city.
"Signature is MiGs again...but there seems to be more of them." I recognized Tanya's voice. I looked at the radar again. It was almost impossible to discern by eyesight the exact numbers, but I did admit the mass of blips did seem denser. Even then, that would only give them a slight advantage of three planes; a very miniscule reserve that shouldn't have given them any hope of success.
"All planes stand by while I radio command." Stancill ordered. It lasted a few minutes as the enemy caught up. While Stancill radioed command, a pilot pointed something out on the radar.
"One's flying on ahead of the rest. He must really be itching to get his hands on us." Sure enough, despite the fact the rest of the MiGs had to be applying their full speed, one single blip was ahead of the mass, traveling at what could only be described as near un-tolerable speeds. Planes had broken apart under stress, and that pilot clearly seemed intent on doing that to his craft. It was still a ways behind us when Captain Stancill spoke up again.
"All planes, maintain course." He ordered. "We'll set up the same defensive net as before. Landers are ten minutes out." Even though the MiGs were technically faster, the distance closed slowly. Aside from a warning that we were being tracked by their radar, there was no threat. But that one MiG continued to close the distance rapidly. Then, to everyone's combined horror, the radar picked up something new.
"New enemy contacts coming up behind the main group. They're attack craft!" Just as he'd said, the signature matched Su-25s. The fact made emotion flood my thoughts. Why? There was nothing to gain! Even if they managed the sink a few landers now, the losses would be so disproportionate... We were low on weapons and fuel too... My grip on the stick tightened at the frustration that sunk in.
"All planes, reverse course and engage the enemy." Stancill's voice was laced with frustration as well. "Try to bypass the enemy fighters and engage the attack craft if possible." We'd nearly gotten back to the city; once more, everyone pulled their planes around and headed towards the opposite direction.
"So, what are we doing?" Madeline questioned.
"The attack craft are the biggest threat." I pointed out. "We need to attack them." I looked at the radar again, observing this time the enemies' altitudes. All of them were flying at a relatively high altitude, no doubt hoping to lure us away from the low-flying attackers. "This is 3-7." I radioed that to the rest of the squadron. "We'll descend altitude and slip under the enemy to intercept the attack craft."
"We'll follow." Madeline assured.
"Copy that, 3-7." Kerrigan replied.
"This is 1-4, we'll tag along." I watched one of the other planes bank over to where we were.
"Good hunting." Someone else wished. Everyone rearranged themselves to face the oncoming threat by spreading out while the three of us dipped our planes down to roughly 1,500 feet off the deck. The distance between both masses decreased rapidly now. The first contact came just a minute later, when the lone fighter that had charged ahead met the rest of the group above us. It disappeared into the formation, and I was certain it wouldn't come out again.
The tree tops raced by just below us, and I could see some of them sway as we passed. The enemy got closer and closer. Each group spread apart to meet the other without getting too crowded. Now that they were visible, the enemy fighters did look more numerous, but only slightly so.
"None of them seems to notice us." Heather observed as the first long-range missiles soared across the gap. None of the enemy planes dived or angled to oppose us; all seemed intent on the planes higher up. Hopefully, we were invisible on their radar. I had to fight to keep my vision focused ahead of us as we passed under the enemy; we held the well-justified fear that they enemy would swarm us. But all three planes passed under the enemy without being noticed.
"This is Raven 1-4, we're through." Our temporary companion sent the message back. No one acknowledged us, because the sounds of battle quickly took over as the two forces met each other with their full numbers. We continued on, un-noticed.
"The enemy attackers will probably notice us and radio fighter escort back." Madeline warned.
"They were sloppy by not keeping escorts with the attackers." Heather said dismissively. "We'll have a window of time to attack them, not to mention the enemy is probably expanding what's left of their weapons against our squadrons."
"Well, I think they have noticed us, 'cause they're splitting up." 1-4 warned. The fact wasn't surprising; attack craft had radars better suited for being close to the ground. But even then the Su-25s—only sixteen had been mustered for this attack—were rather slow and cumbersome like their Rubinelle counterparts. It was easy to see them.
"Spread out and engage them individually." I advised, and broke away from the others towards the plane on the far left.
"Try and close in." Heather told me as we passed and started to come around behind them. "Better to use the gun and save missiles for faster targets."
"Understood." I nodded as I leveled out the plane behind the enemy. Su-25s were very slow aircraft, and I had to lower my speed considerably to avoid missing them. The enemy weaved left to right to avoid us, rolling and sweeping between tree tops. Our altimeter told us were barely 1000 feet off the ground. My efforts were momentarily disrupted when there was an explosion somewhere to our right so great I could hear it over the roar of jet engines and the bright light shined against the canopy.
"Target down!" Madeline sounded the slightest bit startled.
"There was a big secondary explosion." Kayla did as well. "Be careful. Whatever these guys are carrying has a big punch to it." Taking that in mind, I kept behind the Su-25 ahead of us. I didn't flinch when another of the enemy went down somewhere to our right. It was Heather's judgment on the trigger, and she waited for an opportune moment before firing the rotary cannon. The plane shuddered as the gun fired, and I watched the Su-25 shudder as the bullets hit it, causing it to pitch downward. I pulled up and a second later the enemy plane hit a tree top and launched into a vicious forward cartwheel, followed by a thunderous explosion that propelled the flaming plane forward at least a mile through the forest. I hope that doesn't start a forest fire. Such a wide expanse could burn for a year without human interference.
"They must be carrying 500 pound bombs." Heather observed the explosion for herself.
"Well, they won't be able to use them on anyone now." I said, trying to block out thoughts of what carnage that would be. I started pursuing another jet. Between the three of us, we downed eight more of the enemy planes before we found ourselves near the tangle of fighters again. The problem was the fight had shifted back above the city. The number of fighters had dwindled further; I estimated that maybe twenty five were left. A majority of them appeared as blue on radar, fortunately. Even from here I could see all the landers sitting in the port, and my heart started hammering.
"We need to down the rest of the enemy!" The shouting probably wasn't necessary, but I still did it. The last five Su-25s were making what could only be described as a suicidal dash to the port.
"You don't say?!" If not biting, 1-4's response showed their own worry. "We only got one missile left." We only had one left ourselves; our gun had run out of ammunition and we'd used two missiles downing two of the enemy planes. Kayla reported they had the exact same number. We had three missiles, but there were five enemies. We'd never be able to down all of them.
"The frigates should take care of any we leave behind." Heather spoke.
"I'll contact them!" Madeline quickly volunteered. As we crossed the city limits once more, I radioed ahead while trying to get behind one of the Su-25s.
"This is 3-7. We're engaging a flight of enemy attack planes. What's the situation here, over?" It was a moment before someone answered me.
"This is 1-3!" If it was a flight member responding, that had to mean the squadron and flight leaders weren't available. Hopefully, they'd just headed back to the carrier. "The landers are starting to pull out now with the last men. Down those planes and get back to the carrier! Out."
"You hear that? Let's hurry." The prospect of finally getting out of the battle gave me a little more energy.
"The frigates are re-adjusting their weapons." Madeline informed us as we pulled behind the last enemy plane.
"Fox-Two!" Heather fired away the plane's last missile. "We're Winchester." That meant we had no weapons left to fire. The last missile streaked away after the enemy, and connected a moment later. The enemy plane plummeted into the city below. "Enemy down."
"Enemy down." 1-4 radioed.
"They evaded." Kayla reported. Three Su-25s remained, as did several enemy fighters at high altitude, but all we could do now was return to base. I tore my attention from the enemy and applied power to the engines, raising the plane to a modest altitude and heading out to sea. Below us, landers were streaming from the docks and dispersing to make themselves smaller targets. I noticed with satisfaction that a few enemy fighters were finally retreating now. The frigates were leaving from the docks as well, still sending up missiles at planes either above or behind us. The battle seemed to be ebbing into its end.
"Enemy Sturmovik to the left ahead!" Heather shouted suddenly. I turned and looked down. Flying just above the dock buildings was the little plane that had once been the world's most feared fighter-bomber. It was speeding straight for one of the frigates that was leaving port, its starboard side facing the city and its deck gun turned the opposite direction.
It was too late to get on the radio and warn them. Or maybe they'd seen it already and couldn't react in time. The fact remained that all we could do was to watch with helplessness and horror as the event occured.
The Sturmovik came over the last building and dived towards the frigate. At least two dozen colorful streaks—unguided rockets fired from pods under wing—flew from it and into the frigate. There were no misses; all the rockets connected with the tiny frigate. Most raked its thin hull, tearing it completely apart. A few rockets skewered the ship and blew large holes in the port hull. The rest detonated against the superstructure and other sections of the ship. Like the hull, some of the explosions tore straight through to the other side. The Sturmovik banked away and headed back over dry land as soon as it was over.
A older warship with its heavier armor might have stayed afloat longer. As it was, the tiny frigate's thin armor had been completely destroyed, allowing water to flood the interior. In what was mere seconds, the small ship sunk like a rock under the waves, taking with it whatever complement that hadn't been blown apart. I was unable to look away from the horrific site, my mind unable to form a comment on it.
It was a mistake. An unexcusable mistake I never should've made. But I did. I let myself be captivated by shock and horror, and forgot about my surroundings for five seconds too long. An enemy plane had spotted and gotten so close to us that the missile it fired only took four seconds to reach us. The first warning blare brought me back to my immediate situation, but the remaining three seconds were nowhere near enough for me to react. Even if we'd been alert, we probably wouldn't have had enough time to act anyway.
The missile hit the back of the plane and detonated. If we'd still been armed or had more fuel in our tank, the plane might have blown up then. As it was, it shook violently as the mass that wasn't incinerated began to break apart. The plane began to drop. I didn't have a moment of clear thought then; I had one of panic.
Out. We have to eject!
I'd hoped I would never have to pull the ejection handle located beneath the seat. But now I was more than eager to pull the circular lever. Ejection was a simple thing: the canopy would be blown off by a small charge, the two seats would individually be ejected also by small charges, and the pilot and co-pilot's parachutes would open on their own. Those steps occurred without error, but then things became complicated.
The sky was still filled with planes, mostly fighters, fighting and soaring every inch through the air. The wind they created pulled, pushed, and jerked the parachute to and fro. Despite the handles to control my descent, I rapidly descended like a puppet that had lost its strings. I lost sight of Heather; everything around me was moving too fast for me to absorb any details.
Down and down I fell. Directly in front of me spanned a visually indefinite stretch of sea. I tried to steer the parachute around, lest I land far away from any friendly forces. I managed to glide around to face the combat area. A small number of jets zoomed by in the sky above the water, but more specs were above the city still. And there, directly below me, were ships streaming out of the port and into the open sea. I made that my objective, trying to touch down into the water nearby. The murky expanse swelled in front of me. I braced myself for the impact.
The water was turbulent, having been stirred up heavily by the numerous ships nearby, so I went under as soon as I landed. I detached the parachute and pushed myself back up to the surface. I gasped as the cold seeped into me despite the heavy flight suit, but I kept my arms and legs moving. I'd taken swimming lessons when I was young and had placed very well during training, but even then I had some trouble staying afloat. Fortunately, I'd managed to land close to one of the frigates sailing out of the port.
During the times when the waves weren't over my head, I could see it turning towards me, while its deck gun and anti-air armaments still fired into the sky and filled it with loud and terrifying sounds. I didn't look up, but the sound of jet engines was much louder that propellers seemed nonexistent. Hopefully, the rest of the attack craft had been shot down and those were just fighters up there.
I stopped worrying about that and focused on myself; there was no more I could do... and I was still too bewildered to realize or analyze much at the moment. A life boat appeared over one of the waves, and a flotation device tied to a rope splashed into the water close to me. I swam over and grabbed it, and it was immediately pulled back in. When I got close to the boat, two pairs of hands came down and grabbed me. I was pulled, soaked and undignified but alive, up into the lifeboat.
"You all right?!" One of sailors had to yell to be heard. I pulled off my helmet and coughed for air. The three sailors and a Marine in the boat leaned back a little, expecting me to vomit. I didn't, but not through lack of the urge to. I finally looked up and saw several fighters zoom past overheard, too quickly for me to know which side they belonged to. A pang of guilt and fear hit me as I turned my head to look at my surroundings.
"Did you see another parachute?!" I asked.
"Saw two on the other side of the ship." One of the sailors answered, jerking his head to where the frigate obscured the view.
"Thank you." I replied breathlessly. I put a hand over my mouth to help me calm down. Heather was okay... The whole flight should be okay then. I had to grab my arm with the other to keep my hand from shaking. The landers continued to stream out to sea, and our fighters started pulling back with them. The remaining two frigates stayed close to cover the last as it picked up the life boat. It was hitched and raised back up.
"Inside, hurry up!" A sailor wearing body armor and a helmet waved us off the small boat. My legs felt wobbly and I had to be carried in. I didn't really mind. In fact, I barely noticed. The two carrying me stumbled as the ship turned sharply as it made a dash to safety. Everyone had escaped, including that division.
We're okay.I was focused on that fact. We're all okay. And then, I had a different, odder thought. I'm not dead. "We did it." I thought out loud, in a tired voice. We'd executed the near impossible...
Now what?