Note: I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. This chapter took a lot of work. I had to make up a fake language and actually do research on this one. As for the armored jargon, SCUD, and SAM references, I'm aware I may not be totally accurate on their usage...I'm not a military expert. By the way, I'm no longer using Fox 1, 2, and 3 designations. It's too repeditive and these chaptes are long enough. So regardless of that, I hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and...whatever.
Chapter 14: The Wild West Show
"...this war is not just about defeating the enemy. This war is one of liberation from the military government of this...Versuan White Crow Regime. This war is not against their people of Versua. They are mostly an impoverished nation whose population has long suffered under civil war, disease, hunger, and a corrupt government system that seeks to build its military power on the backs of these people. This war is about promoting freedom and justice for all. I ask the Versuan people not to be afraid of our presence, but to embrace us; those who care about others, and reject and turn your backs on a regime that has done nothing but held you back as a population."- Mary Cohen, President of the Osean Federation
Prometheus One Zero, Versua-Yuktobania Border
December 17, 2016
0800 hrs
Grimm remembered hearing that kind of a speech once before. Six long years ago in the skies over Dresdene, Yuktobania, the supreme commander of Osea, General Howell, delivered the same kind of spiel to the Osean troops. Of course, the result of which was an unprovoked bombing by those Belkan aces, the result of that being Wardog taking the blame for it. But this war was much more complicated as they were dealing with things that were totally beyond what he or Blaze, Edge, or likewise experienced in Yuktobania. Dispater was only half the problem.
They were dealing with a highly committed, battle hardened enemy. They could also call upon an army of irregulars known as the Opren, the counterpart to the Mujara, former tribal leaders who fought the White Crow regime. The Allies had an idea of what it was like in this country, but there really was no telling what they would find in Versua. As the Allies entered into this war, Grimm returned to war itself as a new persona. As such, he needed a new alter ego in the plane. No more could he be Archer; thus the pilot formerly known as Archer became "Cygnus". There was an interesting story about that very nickname. Six months ago, during a visit to the famous Echo Park in Oured. Lauren had pointed out to little Catherine about the Maroon Cygnet, a rare form of swan indigenous to Osea. He wasn't sure if it was Kei who brought up in conversation or he remembered it that made him go by that name...but it didn't matter. To the world, he was Cygnus now; he was Elliot Preston.
But for Grimm though, the mental picture of Lauren's legs being cauterized by that devastating weapon made him sick to his stomach...and angry as hell. Now he knew how Blaze and Edge felt out in that ocean. But perhaps Catherine was lucky; her death was quick. Lauren would have live her pain for many years. And it wasn't just Lauren who had suffered. She was lucky compared so many others. Those lucky few survivors...some of them would require skin grafts that would still deform them. Those who avoided the direct hit were doomed as superheated electromagnetic pulses of energy tore through their bodies, burning flesh like magma.
But Grimm found that he didn't need to earn his respect with these veterans of this new war. Of course, the pilots formerly known as Blaze and Edge had long held their respect, but men like Captain Alou and Scirro who were take-no-prisoners, consummate aces needed no impressing. They were bloodied that the Dispater existed all together. Lauren's horrible wounds were enough to convince them. But Grimm was new at war again. But it was clear that this war was weighing on the souls of those who fought it. They were darker, less patient, and less sympathetic by the day. They were cold, efficient pilots, despite some of their peculiarities. They were goo and well versed in their arts; they had flown more combat missions in a month than the entire Razgriz had flown in the entire previous war.
As for Lucien Jackson, he wasn't concerned about Hans Grimm...er...Elliot Preston. He wasn't sure when it happened, but this Sueltana Devia kid somehow became the heart and soul of Wardog. She was so influential on the morale of the group that they actually insisted on bringing her with them to yet another makeshift forward airbase. They had moved nearly a week ago, as news of the exploits of Wardog and their new found Verusan given-nicknames... "Deceivers" began to spread. But there were more problems ahead, problems that no one expected until now.
George Mason Clarke, his associate from Section Seven, had infiltrated a Versuan Resistance group and was slowly feeding whatever information he could gather to the allies. And the situation in Versua was a confusing one to say the least. There was a lot of grumbling at the leadership's core, which only bought the Allies more time. But considering the amount of ethnic group in Versua, once the war was over there was no telling that where their loyalties would lie. One had to remember that Versua was like the Wild West before Masson came along. Had Masson not been a malevolent crazy person, Verusa would actually be in decent straits. But the care now was to avoid civilian casualties. The war in Versua had the largest civilian population in combat zones per capita than any other war since. And the enemy's strategies were only making things worse.
Jackson knew that despite the mob of criminal sycophants in Masson's circle, there were enough smart people at the top to ensure that Versua didn't fall apart at the seams. But the Madam President knew better than anyone how much of a powder keg this country was now. If this invasion was not carefully waged, there could terrible consequences. President Cohen had to slightly micro-manage the war so that when the Allies won, they weren't perceived as invaders...but liberators. So Mary Cohen made a special address to all the Allied soldiers, Versuan civilians, and the Osean People the night before. Lucien Jackson entered their briefing room to address the squadron on the upcoming Operation Windsor.
"Alright people, let's settle down. As you know for the last few days, we've been preparing for an attack into Versua. We're not calling it an invasion, by orders of the President. But let's cut the bull, it's an invasion. We're going into this massive sweeping desert called the Moab Madra, the first obstacle on the way to the war's end." said Jackson, bringing up the maps on the computer screen.
"I know that in training you ran a simulation of the previous war's Operation Desert Blitz in preparation for this, but trust me...Operation Windsor is going to be an entirely different ball game." said Jackson, pointing to the wide map of the entire battlefield.
"We have approximately 475,000 troops against their 650,000 arrayed all around the desert. The Allied objectives are to liberate Vastos, these two major highways, and this city Reja Madra as well as all the villages around this area. We're expecting heavy resistance...anti-air, SAMs, tanks, the whole shebang. Not to mention this place is the stomping ground of those red planes you keep running into. They'd been flying out of Vastos for weeks now. They are dug in deep and they will not leave politely, ladies and gentleman." Jackson continued, "There's just one problem. Their army commander has done something utterly stupid and smart at the same time. Take a look at this picture and see what's wrong with it."
Lucien pulled up a digital map of the combat area. Manipulating the computer controls, he zoomed in onto a large area. The battle area was covered in red markings of different designations for enemy troop formations. Green was the color of Allied units and yellow markings were civilian. There was a high concentration of red around yellow...which was not a good thing.
"What are we looking at? What's the deal?" Andrew asked.
"Look carefully at their army divisions." Lucien said, trying to get the group to focus on the picture. It didn't take much longer to put the entire picture together.
"Oh…those bastards! They arrayed all their divisions in formations around all the civilian towns!" said Lillian, having made herself rather visible with those black mascara circles around her eyes. Grimm looked at her as if someone had punched her in the face twice. But somehow this Lillian Izzo had made it fashionable. Grimm knew he wasn't in Kansas anymore; and he thought Chopper was weird. He had nothing on this bunch of crazies. Jackson didn't mind it though. Actually, he just tolerated it because she was such a good pilot. Of course, she probably couldn't get away with it in any other squad…one filled with normal people.
"So?" asked Polly.
"So, that's smart! We can't use our bombers against the mass enemy formations because of the civilian towns. Even with precision guided bombs there is a risk of mistaking something for military and then have it turn out to be civilian." said Cormorance.
"Hell, we learned that lesson in the last war." said Paulo, shaking his head.
"That is beyond low...using their civilians as human shields!" Kei shouted.
"No one was surprised. The Yukes did the same thing in the last war with our POW camps. Nevertheless, we've got to attack this enemy formation. The road to the first three major Verusan cities goes though the Moab Madra and we've got no choice but to attack head on." said Jackson.
"And that means answering a million calls for help from the ground troops. Unbelievable." said Grimm, thinking out loud. Of course, there was plenty of precedent. He remembered all too well of that nightmarish day six years ago.
"Not really. Army training was totally revamped after the last war. You won't find much of that mess this time around. The only issue is enemy planes interdicting. That's where you come in. You're going to run aerial interference for the ground troops." said Jackson.
"What else is new?" said Alou, almost expecting the answer.
"This operation has been divided into four different objectives. Your objective will be to help the ground troops in the central area. This will feature four tank units; the Osean's own Lynx and Dachshund regiments from the 1st Mechanized Infantry Division and two rather battle hardened Sotoan tank regiments, codename Isis and Anubis. Their goal will be to seize...er...liberate Vastos. In their way are a ton of tanks, artillery, mines, etc. And that's the easy part. The hard part is Vastos itself. The enemy has been rather diligent in shifting in and out forces. They do it mostly at night when our UAVs aren't as effective. Enemy strength surrounding the city is, as best as we can figure, to be a regiment sized force backed up by artillery, AA guns, SAMs, and two or three squadrons of planes. You'll probably be attacked by those same planes on the way to Vastos." said Jackson, pointing at a blown up picture of Vastos.
"What about the elephant in the room? That Dispater thing?" said Grimm.
"Well, we know the enemy isn't going to bring Dispater down on their own people. They've gotten orders not to unless Masson agrees to it. And as crazy as he is, I don't think he'll bring that wrath down on his own people." said Jackson. But Jackson minded himself not to say the words, so soon in the war.
"So why keep the civilians in the towns then? They could have evacuated them, and Dispater neutralizes our bombers threat." asked Kei, trying to figure out the Versuan High Command's thought process.
"No sense in questioning their motives now. This is going to be a long, violent slugfest...but it's the only way we're getting our foot in the door." said Jackson closing the data file.
"It's going be like an old western movie out there." Polly said.
"Your ordinance load-out must be able to handle any and all threats in the air and on the ground. Paulo, it'll be up to you to split up responsibilities between the squad members and the rest of you will carry the proper ordinance as needed. Don't expect this to be a short affair. We're going to be out there for hours, so get ready." said Jackson, as he finished closing the screens.
David, Grimm, and Kei looked at each other. Their looks were a mixed bag of confusion and anticipation. But it was clear that they were going into chaos. But, there was no fear on their faces...not even from Grimm who was going on his first combat mission in six years. The hatred and contempt he had for the enemy removed any fear. The only question was: could it destroy him?
Duga, Versua
December 17, 2016
0830 hrs
Pharon and Mephisto Squadrons just never got along. Pharon contained the same number of pilots as Mephisto, but there were no similarities between the two. Pharon was a group of showoffs and arrogant people. Mephisto had the consummate professionals. As much as Baraka found himself disliking that Osean ace and his friends...Cale Morala and his sycophants in Pharon were just intolerable. To add insult to injury, Mephisto was playing second fiddle to Pharon in this battle...an unthinkable proposition. Mephisto had been pulled off the line in favor of Pharon's group. Not to mention that Pharon had received some new planes to toy with. But these planes looked different. They looked like Typhoons, but their designations were not as such. Each one carried a large missile beneath their bays. Baraka knew the Star Bursting missiles were rather effective...but he'd never seen this type of missile before.
It was an insult to Baraka Molina who felt that High Command had lost faith in them. But Command always seemed to like playing favorites with the aces, much less everything else. While Baraka hoped this switch brought victory anyway, it was a tremendous blow to his personal pride. Alex and the others, despite the rifts forming...were of the same mind. Mephisto had an intense pride and tradition to its existence. However, Xalia was of a different mind. It had been a point of contention between the two. Xalia was the person who wanted to live one more day. Baraka would have traded that day for a chance at the Deceivers.
"That smell in the air...it smells like death. But it's not ours...that belongs to our enemy." said Morala. Morala was one of the more attractive men in the air force. Sodel Josen was better looking but Morala had convinced himself that he was the best looking man...and the best pilot...in the service. His brown hair was a wavy silk and his eyes were like slits, but the pupils behind them gave them a starry look; an attractive quality that even Xalia had to acknowledge. But Xalia was never interested in him. Xalia liked people who had the proper balance of intelligence, wisdom, narcissism, and professionalism that was so rare in the common pilot. That's the reason she fell for Kaida once, and it was the reason that she was with Baraka now.
"You sound like Sodel." said Baraka.
"Perhaps. But, in all fairness, he's not as good as you...nor are you as good as I am." said Morala. Morala was easily the most arrogant pilot in the force. In his mind, he had no equal.
"That's a lot coming from someone who has yet to fight the enemy in the same manner as us." replied Baraka tactfully. He didn't want to argue with this guy.
"If that were the case, then why were you pulled?" Cale said.
"I don't know. High Command acts as if they understand what's really going on out here." said Baraka, "It felt so arbitrary. And there was no advance warning...just leave, we're sending a new squad to replace you." said Molina.
"What I understand is that these Deceivers have been tearing our air forces to shreds. They took out poor, reliable Dorian and so many others." said Morala. Baraka looked at him as if he were a crazy person. Baraka long knew that Cale and Dorian were not the best of friends. But before he could even speak of the issue...
"Let me just point out that nickname is the stupidest nickname for a group of pilots I've ever heard." said Xalia pointing one of her fingers at Cale. Baraka ignored her comment.
"Why throw a pity party for her? You didn't even like here!" Molina retorted. Cale stood there without speaking for a few seconds, still looking annoyingly vivacious...for a man.
"Nevertheless, a prominent party member is dead and this situation requires more than your...ordinary skills, albeit well-earned and practiced. However, I've never understood why they respected you more than me; but it appears that has changed." Morala said, walking around stretching out his arms. Baraka was insulted deep down, but again he held back his disdain.
"Of course they respect him more...he was one of their finest members." said one of Morala's wingmen. Baraka's eyes bulged. He did not just say that, he thought. It was something that he hoped no one would mention. Xalia was confused.
"Those days are long gone." replied Baraka.
"Well, everyone says that." said Morala. Suddenly, one of Morala's pilots came up to him.
"Sir...the front line troops have made first contact with the enemy at the Casero Ridge!" he said. Cale was fuming...but he didn't let on that he was angry. That was not his style. Deep inside though, he was angry because someone in the ground command had screwed up royally. They were supposed to head to Vastos an hour from this time, but with the Allies attacking they had to leave as soon as possible. How in the world did all those troops get across the border without anyone at the border noticing?!
"Then it has begun...they slipped in overnight. Clever. I guess someone on the ground is going to be blamed for this. Now...let's see what these new beasts can do." said Morala, staring at his multicolored jet in the distance. He and his men began to walk away and Xalia stared at Baraka for a mere moment. She grabbed his arm and had a look of serious concern on her face.
"What was he talking about?" she asked him. Suddenly, he became angry and shook his head tearing himself away from her embrace.
"I don't want to talk about it. It's something you don't need to know." Baraka said, suddenly walking off. Xalia felt hurt now. She'd heard so many rumors about Baraka's past. She refused to believe any of them. But now, it was the first time someone had directly confronted him about it.
Xalia was angry at everyone now. She stared at the petal of a Blue Orchid flower. Sasha had sent her squadron a bouquet of White Orchid flowers, one for each member in the squad. White Orchids were a traditional, indigenous sign of good luck. But it seemed they would be wasted for today at least. Kaida was lucky. He got Blue Orchids. Blue Orchids were the sign of love. Xalia was angry at the war. She was angry at everything. It seemed the war was about to become brutal and heartless...even though she'd lived only to protect that which mattered most. But Baraka's outburst upset Xalia more than simple rudeness or distrust.
What Xalia most feared was turning into the monsters, the bad human beings, like Cale Morala and Valen Yancing were or Dorian Daydenko was. She didn't want to lose her soul in war. Those previously mentioned aces were people Xalia often felt sorry for. They were cold, sad people who rejected any peace in their lives and resigned themselves to a life of violence and terror. They cared nothing about the people they protected, only their own murderous pride. But the fact Sasha had sent Xalia a Blue Orchid still meant there was some humanity left in what could be a vicious, heartless war. Xalia desperately wanted to hold on to her humanity; she only prayed that Baraka wasn't losing his.
Basra, Versua
December 17, 2016
0845 hrs
Whatever happened all those days ago was showing up in the cities of Versua. Basra was a large city of five million people. Basra and Valuria were the heart and soul of Northern Versua. To lose those towns would have been disastrous to morale and equally bad from strategic and tactical standpoints. But the population wasn't really concerned with the effects as much as they were dreading this new martial law imposed upon them. Curfews were in place and blackouts were the norm. Army personnel were all over the place. It was keeping Rue on the edge of a nervous breakdown.
Rue Daydenko remembered the chaotic early days of the war from the opposing side. She remembered that she felt she was doing it for the good of the people. Stability was maintained in the short term. But few in Orchid knew or cared about what it was doing to the civilian population. The Mujaran leaders of old, as well as their constituents, developed a deep distrust of the government. It didn't help that Orchid had lived up to its ruthless reputation with its myriad of secret prisons and internment centers. Daydenko was a new recruit near the closing years of the White Crow's stab at power. Rue was twenty two when she entered the service. Some of the things the guards did to people in those prisons...it made her have one nightmare after another. The pay was excellent, but the cost on her soul was immense.
Rue felt she had to atone for what happened back then. She didn't want to be a combatant, but she wanted to be someone who contributed rather than stand on the sidewalk. Of course, getting into the door of the resistance was one animal...keeping their trust was another matter. The initiation to the resistance was both ironic and brutal. She had to endure many of the same kind of treatment she dished out when she was in Orchid Division. Interrogation, electro-prodding, truth serum treatments, polygraphs, blindfolds...
But she got through it, and was only supposed to wait for a contact. Luckily, this all occurred in a single day. She had a tense time explaining the bumps and bruises to her husband. As she learned more about the resistance, she knew about the three types of members: Soldiers, package boys/girls, and scribes. Soldiers were the obvious type. Package boys/girls was more of an informal term. Package people were the ones who delivered things to resistance hamlets and their members. Scribes were the ones who produced propaganda. Package delivery was the easiest way Rue could earn her due. Her previous job had been working in the mail room at an office building before they went out of business. Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door.
"Come in." said Rue.
A man entered her room and with him a small envelope under his arm. She knew who this man was. This was Soma, a brown haired, older man who lived in the city. It wasn't until recently though that she found out he was a member of the resistance. When he spoke, he spoke only in the very old tongue of Versuan. Old Versuan was so archaic that only those in the villages of the Central Highlands knew it; and the Central Highlands were the heart of the resistance. But its use was more than just trivia. It was the language of the resistance. Most soldiers didn't know what it meant. They thought it was pure gibberish. But luckily, Rue knew it well. She had to on her assignments when she was Orchid. Its language was convoluted and had a high context to its words.
Aara, sim Nikko asu vera cah venas...vera suervei a inaeremia...Saluda. (So, Nikko told you about us and you survived the initiation...well done.)
Parsi. Aara vera hare ca elencea para vai? (I see. So you have a job for me?)
Duso, elencus a se due. Para complene tao vera no troubas para vera familain fino. (There's always work to be done. I understand that you don't want to endanger you or your family's lives. )
Pai, pasen. (Of course.)
Una vera'sene angestance vera welle a lise pai sanctua va elencean an Basra. Pare fechevera un elencea tae aquenoan Maras. (Since you're one of us now, you'll be given a list of safehouse we've got all over the city. I got you a job on at the docks at Lake Maras.)
Pare no as tase. Para no thae anima. (I'm not lifting crates...I'm not that kind of woman.)
Vera no tasen a Diosgugo. Para hare a suveraial a viseo quara emota a venas Animus welle a caveat. Vera welle carsi on mui exelea. Vera welle se uncuala animus familio...parese vi vera perfos a elencean. (You won't be lifting a goddamn thing. I have a manager down there who is sympathetic to our cause. I call him...tell him he's got a new delivery person. You're on the rotation, no questions asked. A time clock is punched in and out for you. And you make the "delivery" runs for our guys in the city.)
Rue smiled. More and more she found herself liking it; more and more she liked the sound of those words. Soma gave her the envelope and the smile got bigger. Rue finally felt she was doing something important.
Prometheus One Zero, Versua-Yuktobania Border
December 17, 2016
0845 hrs
Operation Windsor had already kicked off hours ago and the first contacts with the enemy had already been made. Allied Command had deliberately kept everyone off balance as to the time of the attack in order to confuse the enemy. It was annoying, but they had to win the battle anyway. During the early morning, the river crossings were relatively uneventful until the Yuke's 5th Tank Group met stiff resistance from the Versuan 3rd Divsion at Casero Ridge. All three army groups crossed the border in a large armored column. Actually, it was more like a sheet of metal advancing towards the line. And thus began the absolute Versuan march...backward. Every Allied artillery piece had been carefully hidden and despite several raids by Verusan planes, they all relentlessly opened up at once at 8:11 A.M. Casero Ridge and the Varbo Plains were covered in dust, shrapnel and flame from thousands of artillery guns.
Of course, there were other dangers in the waiting. One legitimate threat was of course, chemical attacks. Lucien had made that fact clear almost two weeks ago.
There is another major problem we may encounter during the invasion. Some of you may not be aware of this, but the Versuans have been notorious for using chemical weapons. I know all of you went through the NBC training before you got your wings, but the threat of a chemical attack is high. Our concern is not so much your health, but that of the ground troops. Mostly, these weapons are delivered by SCUDs or even more dangerous, guided weapons. But expect mostly SCUD attacks; cheap, though effective, and easily a quick striking method. Don't be surprised if you're asked to go SCUD hunting.
Grimm was rather...grim about all of this news. He was angrier than that though. He'd already seen the effects chemical weapons had on war once. But it appeared that these Versuans treating this kind of a deadly weapon like some kind of child's toy. Speaking of child's toy, he was greeted by this Sueltana Devia. This kid was a statistic of people who'd been adversely affected by the terrible Yuke civil war that mercifully and thankfully ended some weeks ago.
"Good luck now!" Sueltana said to each pilot as they walked out of the squadron area and onto the tarmac. If chemical weapons were going to be used, one obvious concern the pilots had was for this little girl's safety. So Polly, who was strangely the first to realize this, took it upon herself to teach this kid some basic NBC procedures. However, this kid was much smarter than she looked. She put on the standard gas mask without any assistance from anyone else! Although it was a bit oversized, it was clear, and to everyone's amazement, that she was quite knowledgeable about such terrible things. It was then clear that she'd survived several gas attacks during the Yuktobanian civil war. Lillian, who had a smaller sized head, gave her mask to this kid and took the original.
Despite the obvious innocence of her appearance, this girl was becoming more and more aware of the world around her. But then again, girl, possibly an orphaned girl, having to live such a vagabond life was forced to grow up fast. Kei felt compassion for this child because her own occasionally peripatetic childhood. To that end, Paulo was actually pulling strings with some friends in other squadrons who knew some Yukes. He was trying to figure out if Sueltana's parents were alive. But that was essentially like looking for a needle in a haystack in a maze of haystacks. But her purpose was obvious to the squadron. She was their cheerleader.
"I wish we had her six years ago." said Grimm to Kei. Chopper served to that effect back in the old days. But this kid had such an infectious joy to her. Sueltana knew that these people were gods to her as Grimm knew those young pilots at Heirlark once were when they took them Sand Island.
"How you feeling?" she asked him, breaking the string of conversation.
"I feel good. I'm ready. I'm ready to show them I can still bring the house, as they say." said Grimm...or Preston. Grimm, in order to keep up his masquerade, had to be cockier than he was before...if he even was a bit cocky at all. David had suggested it, feeling that the group had to had another cocky typecast.
"We may need more than the house this time." Kei said. The trio stopped and took one long look at each other. It was a strange pause...but it wasn't an awkward one. They'd spent so much time trying to get back in sync like they used to be in the craft...and it wasn't that off either. Looking at each other, they felt like old souls caught up in their own individual quests of revenge. But at this point, it didn't matter. It just felt good...it felt right for them to be back like this. They'd always be one pilot short, as Grimm had known long before that Snow was gone.
"To us...being other together again." Kei finally said. She put her hands on the shoulders on her husband and Grimm. Grimm, strangely, didn't feel uncomfortable by this. The touch was more than simple friendliness. It was an affection that went beyond words or friendship. Deep down, these three loved each other. It was these bonds that kept them together though all of the toxic tragedies they'd suffered, in and out of war: Lauren's sudden fiery paraplegia, Catherine, Kei's miscarriage, and the deaths of Chopper, Grimm's mother, Snow, Michael, Pops and all those people who had died when they fought, enemy or friend.
"Together again." David said, putting his arm around his wife's neck.
"Together again." Grimm finally replied after a long pause. Kei let go of her husband and moved to embrace Grimm as she did once after the events of November City six years ago. The group hug didn't catch a whole lot of attention, but it was a necessary affection for these three old souls. Though, they weren't invisible.
"You guys need a room...I swear to God." said Andrew, walking off to his plane. They ignored the jibe and Kei looked right at Grimm. They were of the same mind, and Kei hadn't neglected to tell Grimm. Kei had told David she didn't want to let hate get in the way of their lives. She could keep the hate from destroying their relationship...but the hate she still had for the enemy would not go away. She put her hand back on Grimm's shoulder.
"Take it. Don't forget to take it for her." said Kei, speaking of revenge. It was that edge that allowed Kei to keep that killer instinct she possessed. If Grimm was going to survive, she felt he had to have the same thing. Of course, David survived without it against the red aces once...but he was just a damn good pilot. Grimm needed no explanation though. He was not only going to pay back the enemy for Lauren...he was going to earn it.
Moab Madra
December 17, 2016
1050 hrs
The battle had been going on all morning long. The bulk of the Allied attack had been towards the right and left flanks of the city. Now about four hundred allied tanks were closing in on Vastos. But that number was going down ever so slightly. This forsaken desert itself was harsh enough. The fighting had been rather vicious once the Versuans made contact with Lynx. For the past forty minutes, the tanks had endured relentless artillery attacks, close calls with mines, and a few enemy plane attacks. But so far, things were looking relatively good. They were making good progress, partly due to the air support above. But the Oseans had held their ground and not panicked like in the previous war. That was the major reason they were still advancing at a frenetic pace.
As for Wardog, the battle had been grueling already. The first events of the battle were rather chaotic. Anubis unit ran afoul of an artillery trap, as well as a tank ambush near the eastern ridge by the Deras Crater, a crater created the Ulysses XF04-1999 asteroids years ago. At the same time, Daschund was hit with the same thing some time afterwards. Paulo had designated assignments for the wing. Dragon, Medusa, Zealot would maintain a general presence over the area. Harpy and Spider would scout ahead and engage ground targets at will. Artemis, Cygnus and Jacks would provide counter-air support. It was a simple affair until a mess of enemy ground attack planes came their way. It got ugly at one point with Isis Unit losing five tanks, but the attack was broken up.
After a RTB to resupply ordinance and refuel, they were back once again. By now, the Allies on the flanks had made significant progress. But the central units were being pounded by enemy tanks again. In a change of tactics, Paulo ordered all the planes to be restocked with air to ground weapons. A vicious battle was followed up by several close calls with attacks near several civilian villages. Luckily, Wardog had Maverick missiles for that. By now, the desert was filled with the smoking remains of tanks, armor and downed aircraft. Despite the losses, Windsor was going swimmingly all over the battlefield.
"This is Lynx 1, we're about 60 miles from Vastos. We're encountering heavy resistance at point Three. We're heading north by Route 345."
"Enemy tanks at Point Six! It's an ambush!" said another of the Lynx units.
"Roger, fire SABOT! I repeat all units, fire SABOT!" said another of the ground troops.
"There are three to the right! I've targeted one...wait...nevermind, one of the planes took it out. Proceeding to Point Eight." said yet another tank crew.
After a third run back to the base, another set of fighters had been detected approaching the convoy of vehicles. Cormorance was determined to cut them off so someone could reach Vastos in one piece. He led his wingmen to the fight. Grimm, in behind, didn't feel uncomfortable following Alou rather than David. He was used to being the follower. He followed David and Kei in the last war. Hell, he'd followed them to this godforsaken place. But Alou was acting a bit large for his size. Then again, Alou had no idea that Elliot Preston was actually Hans Grimm, the pilot formerly known as Archer and a fourth of the Razgriz. Grimm had to remind Alou who really ruled the skies.Alou had spotted a group of what looked like Tornado GR4s in the distance. Alou had begun the merge with Andrew and Elliot in tow. The Tornados had started the fight when several long range missiles were fired their way. Alou decided to keep it close as they didn't want to be strung out just in case they needed to assist the ground troops.
"Alright, Preston, let me show you how It's done!" Alou shouted.
"No...Let me show you how it's done!" said Grimm. Grimm broke off when two of the interceptor versions of the Tornados swept behind them. Grimm did a rather stylish high-G turn, something that he couldn't perfect for a long time and launched a pair of AIM-9Xs at the two bandits. Alou had to engage with one fighter that was right in front of him; so did Andrew. But Andrew had taken a look back to see what Cygnus was doing.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Alou said to himself. But Andrew actually liked what he saw. For some time, Andrew Fisch thought this Elliot Preston was a bit of a talker. He was someone who reminded him of the late Michael. But this guy could not only back up his words, but he demonstrated a lot of chutzpah, as Polly would say. Alou even changed his mind about Cygnus leaving formation when he scored the two kills and damaged another fighter in the span of about thirty to forty seconds.
"Why I'll be... I like this guy already!" said Alou.
"Keep going! Ha! That's great work buddy! Let's send these Versuan bastards back to their mothers!" said Andrew.
David and Kei were busy shooting at ground troops to see the battle, but judging from the words of encouragement from Artemis and Jacks, it was fair to say that Grimm was back to his old form. But there was more than an old form to the man formerly known as Archer. Back in the Circum Pacific war, Grimm had never relished the idea of an enemy dying in an aerial, flaming blaze of metal. It made him sick to think about it. Now though, he still didn't enjoy it…but it didn't horrify him like before. It was more than simple indifference though. It seemed to make him angry. Those planes were just more annoyances in the way of his revenge. It was then he realized that the enemy was ancillary…just insects to be stepped on. The end of the war was his goal.
David thought about that same thing as well from time to time. But it was mostly about Grimm. He had said something along those lines to David days ago. But David couldn't blame him. David tried to keep the hate out and focus on his mission. Kei and Grimm tried to keep that hate in and focus on their mission. So far…both strategies seemed to be working. But it didn't make the battle any less chaotic. There was radio pandemonium on both sides.
Meanwhile, while all this was going on, Polly and Lillian were still flying over the center of the battlefield. At this point, the enemy had long opened up anti aircraft fire over the skies. But these two crazy women didn't care. In their old squadrons, they trained for stuff all the time. They almost welcomed it. They weren't intimidated in the slightest bit. There was no threat of Dispater, and even though they had to be careful because of the proximity to civilian areas...they were primed and were ready to do some more damage.
"You know, the ordinary woman spends her life avoiding dangerous situations...!" said Polly.
"But girls like us make our living getting into dangerous situations, Polly!" shouted Lillian.
"This is Scion. Pluto and Miranda Tank units have reported hits by SCUDs just now. Elements of Lima and Charlie Divisions took direct hits from SCUDs. We think the launchers are near the ridge next to the canyon at vector 315. Gas alerts are already up. Switch to SCUD patrol." the AWACS said.
When Paulo heard this, he immediately imagined the horror of the ground troops having to endure chemical attacks. He had to act fast. SCUDs were launched off mobile launchers eighty five percent of the time. And since intelligence flights had not fingered any stationary launch sites, the trucks could hide underneath highway culverts to avoid air attack.
"Roger. Spider, Harpy…drag left and destroy the mobile launchers before they can get back to their base. Artemis, Jacks follow them and keep them covered." ordered Paulo.
"Roger. We're going into the pipe...315." said Polly.
It was some time of hectic flying to the target. Flak was relentless, and they'd crossed the paths of a few Allied air units. A few SAMs had already been fired in their direction.
"SA-12s! 010 nose low, about six or seven contrails coming in hard! We're almost over the target area!" shouted Lillian. Polly had seen them, but she didn't expect more than seven. But suddenly, more of them were coming in. They were probably a "telephone poles", aka SA-2 Guidelines; an archaic surface to air missile. They came straight up, forcing both to pop chaff to avoid the radar guided missiles. It was an interesting fact about the Versuans that they were mostly a ground controlled military force. Polly humorously thought the Versuans' defense budget had been wasted on the Dispater Tower…only to not be able to use it in fear of hurting innocent people.
"Harpy! Watch out for SA-9s coming in your area. They've got us all locked up!" shouted David. Polly then began to notice the serious increase in contrails.
"Whoa! It's getting a bit dicey here folks!" she shouted. It took some fancy maneuvering to get through the surface to air missiles, but they got through and were primed to take on these cowardly missile trucks.
"I've got trucks heading towards the canyon there." Polly said. She was looking through the camera of the "hot" Maverick missile she had ready to fire. She then spotted the bridge across the canyon.
"340 nose low! That bridge down there, we've got take it out!" Polly shouted.
"Roger. I'll take the front support you get the rear." Lillian replied. They were some dozen miles from the bridge at about 12,000 feet. Polly then descended to get a better look at the action. She could see the trail of vehicles heading for the first part of the bridge.
"Wait until they're on the bridge." Polly ordered. It was the simple matter of allowing the seven trucks get onto the first part of the bridge.
"I've got toll. Fire away!" said Lillian. Both of them fired their Mavericks at their respective portions of the bridge. With a near simultaneous pair of blasts, the bridge collapsed under its own weight, taking those wicked SCUD carrying trucks with them.
"Scratch one bridge...and about six or seven enemy SCUD launchers!" said Polly. Suddenly, Scion cut in again.
"We've got another report of an enemy squadron that's hammering our A-10s in the east. Fly west at 240 and provide whatever assistance you can." said the AWACS.
"It's got to be those red Su-37s from before. They just don't know when to quit!" shouted Paulo.
"Roger, we'll head on over to intercept." said David.
David was rather anxious to battle these Red planes. The problem was threefold though. First, the red planes weren't there. Second, any fight had to be a quick one since fuel and weapon loads were a concern. Third, a disagreement and a bizarre order a thousand miles away was about to affect the outcome of this battle.
Dispater Tower
December 17, 2016
1100 hrs
Zorba wasn't insulted at Makin coming back so late. It was just his timing now. Rather, it was more of her personal frustration at the arbitrary decision to keep Dispater in stasis. Percival was equally angry. Why now? That was the primary question. Makin had taken a bereavement leave of sorts, and then he was rather ill for two weeks. And just when he was getting better, he came back to a strange situation. The defensive flanks were crumbling under relentless Allied air and ground attack. The center was slowly being pushed back as well. Things were not looking good. The allies were, in places, advancing with little or no opposition.
It appeared that Crixus realized had made a strategic error in his battle plan and was trying to correct the problem, but by the time that he did...it was too late. Percival liked the original battle plan. It was a smart one in the moment, but they had the Allies figured wrong again. They ran war games for the Allies, particularly the Oseans, with their ground troops expecting heavy air support. Since it was the first war that Osea had fought in six years, and given their liberal history on warfare, the Versuans expected little change in the Osean military. That was not the case at all. They advanced far under their own power, with little air support at all. Now the defensive flanks had completely imploded and the allies were now advancing on Vastos and the rest of the desert. But, Zorba had different concerns.
"Ah, welcome back Makin. It's good to have you back here...but I wish it was under different circumstances." said Zorba upon his approach.
"What do you mean?" Makin asked, almost listless...as if he didn't care.
"Well, we can't use the Tower against the enemy arrayed in the desert for obvious reasons. Personally, I wish Masson would stop being so cowardly with this weapon! All the power in the world at our fingertips and it's being wasted in its idle state. All that work to repair those gremlins and we can't even use it! And we're getting beaten back in this battle!" Percival shouted in anger.
"It's an outrage. Isn't he the one preaching sacrifice...but yet won't risk it against those people in the north. Forget them! They are insignificant!" said Zorba.
"Funny...he had no problem killing innocent people during the last war. But suddenly he has a conscience now." Percival said slowly, almost contemplating the entire thing.
"Things change...but I'm not willing to buy his changing attitudes." replied Makin.
"Well, there's got to be something else we can blow up...wait...hold on...we're getting some kind of message." said one of the officers. One of the machines was a sort of advanced facsimile machine that transmitted special orders from High Command. This particular time, a message came over the wire that had a set of coordinates and only said one word: Abaddon The officer sitting there was confused as he read the message.
"Abaddon? What the hell?" said the officer. His face was one of extreme worry. Percival took a look at the note.
"What...they want us to fire the weapon in the desert?!" said another technician.
"Wait a minute...why now? Shouldn't we have done this hours ago!?" Zorba said. But just as she said that, Makin made a grab for the central controls. He'd received a message from Ignis about the special order as did Percival and Zorba. Percival would gladly fire the Dispater if ordered...but Makin taking control made him uneasy. As he configured the controls himself, Percival had to ask.
"Wait...what are you doing?" Percival asked Makin. Percival then suddenly noticed that he'd increased the power to 100 percent. This was bad news. Full capacity for a specific area was a terrible idea because of the possibility of fratricide. Usually, lower outputs of power were used for such a precision attack. But Makin wasn't interested in precision. He wanted the chance to put the fear into the hearts of the Allies. He was not going to drop the full wrath of that power on Vastos…but there were tons of Allied troops in the desert.
"It's what the boss wants!" Makin said. But Percival quickly wondered if he really meant Masson…or himself.
"Not maximum power Makin! What are you thinking! Stop! Slow down!" Percival yelled.
But it was too late as Makin activated the switch. For now, he could finally take out all the rage in his heart on the Allies. He was going to do more than put fear into their hearts...he was going to tear out their hearts.
Moab Madra
December 17, 2016
1103 hrs
Pharon had just made the first radar contact with the Deceivers. Morala had looking forward to facing off with these enemy aces and doing what Mephisto could not. There was nothing he'd have liked more than to show up Mephisto. He was tired of savaging the run of the mill Allied planes. He wanted to meet that challenge out there. There was just one problem. The sheer scope of the battle was immense. Pharon soon found they were being forced to cover for the floundering ground troops all over the place. They'd come on behalf of the Special Projects Division to test some new kind of weapon. They were given few details about it, but from what Cale Morala could figure…it had something to do with the Dispater as it was developed by the same people who supposedly worked on that same massive project. Suddenly, they found themselves being required to do more than simply dogfight.
Morala had toured the Dispater Tower once along with Diablos Squadron lead Valen Yancing. Morala was still disappointed that Yancing was chosen to be the squadron that defended Dispater from air attack instead of Pharon. But Yancing had to be respected though; even though his cold personality was severely disliked. But Pharon was back in the action but had been unable to fulfill their mission due to the severe battle conditions. Morala hated ground combat. It was ugly, brutal and boring. Never mind that it was necessary for ground troops to win wars; Morala only cared about what he and his men were doing. In his mind, people like Morala and his ace companions were going to win the war. Never could logic be more flawed.
But in order to win a war, things had to go right for the winning side. They had to catch some breaks. Neither side caught it when all of the sudden…Dispater came calling.
"I've got toll...wait...what the hell!? My radar's out! What..." said one of Morala's wingman in a panic. Morala panicked. He knew what the radar warping meant. The question was…why would they unleash it now of all times. Perhaps desperate times really did call for desperate measure and it wasn't like Morala cared about anyone but himself…but why now? Dispater was an equal opportunity weapon and it would destroy everything in its path.
"Damn! Get out of the center!" Morala ordered. Cale was puzzled.
"They're going to fire it now!?" one of his wingmen asked in an angry and confused tone. Cale Morala was not going to let his men be victims of this. The Allies had suffered heavily from these attacks before and now that they were all out in the open… Pharon figured this could be fun to watch.
A long way away, David saw it first. He saw the slight purplish lighting of the sky among the blue clouds. Then his radar began to act up again. Oh no…he thought. Everyone held the same sentiment: shock. Total shock.
"Damn! I thought they were going hold it back!" shouted Paulo, having seen the radar warping as well.
"I guess we were wrong!" Cormorance shouted. He was total disbelief as was everyone else.
"This is Scion, we've detected multiple touchdowns from rounds from Dispater. We have additional touchdowns in your area!" the AWACS said.
"Set jammers! Spread it out! They've got us zeroed!" shouted Cormorance.
Grimm wasn't looking forward to this. He'd seen videos of the attacks, but he wasn't sure how to describe it. No one did. Not even Lauren could describe it in a purely lucid state. When Grimm asked her how it felt…she responded in a breathless, pained voice.
When it hit…no one had a chance…it was like lava melting my feet. I was lucky because I was some distance away…but…it was…it was just so quick. I couldn't even move. All I remember was purple lighting. It was…I'd never felt pain like that in my life. It was like a million needles pouring into my body…a million hot, burning needles.
The ground troops for the most part had been exposed to this kind of destructive power. It was hoped by Allied Intelligence that a countermeasure could be constructed in the time being. But unfortunately, those countermeasures did not arrive soon enough. No one was prepared for the violet death that rained down all over the battlefield.
"Dachshund Three's been hit!" said one of the soldiers below.
"I've got no response from Isis 6!" said another tank unit.
"What is going on!? They said they weren't going to use that thing!" yelled one of the Lynx units.
"Keep going!" ordered Lynx 1. There was little the ground troops could do but keep advancing. There was no sense in retreating now. Bolts of death rained all over the battlefield, destroying everything in their path. By now, the Versuans were forced to change tactics because of the rapidly advancing flanks of the enemy. But it didn't help. They were all in the open trying to do everything they could to slow down the enemy assault. But the Allies were already fighting for air superiority over Vastos. The Versuan battle plan had been based off the assumption of poor infantry tactics by Osea. They were wrong. The Allies held their ground and the Versuans were not prepared to hold back the juggernaut. Reinforcements were ordered up the line, but the dam was almost about to tear open. A strange afterthought of an action began the bursting of that proverbial dam.
"What the hell?! This is Ganymede Four, we've just spotted a few bolts near Vastos. One enemy plane just crashed right into a tower!" said one of the Sotoan planes, lost in the constant communication. Wardog was hurting bad. Polly had been damaged by a grazing of the attack, not to mention the shrapnel that hit the planes.
"What do we do?! Do we keep up the attack!?" Andrew asked confused. David almost knew what was coming next.
"Scion here. We've received orders from High Command for your squad to withdraw from the central battlefield and await further orders."
Kei was shocked. The idea of abandoning the tanks below was unthinkable. If worse came to worst, she was going to stay
"We can't just leave the tanks out here in the open!" she yelled.
"We've got no choice...our jammers aren't stopping them! Retreat at 185 and hold the bearing. We're no use to them if we're dead!" Paulo said.
"Damn it, Paulo! We're just going to leave them to die!" Kei shot back.
"Then what are you going to do about it then!? You can't stop it! We can't stop it yet! Until we can figure out a way…we can't waste time trying to punch against a brick wall!" Paulo ordered in his sharpest tongue. Kei banged the instrument panel right in front of her. Grudgingly, she and the others began to turn around. The attack did not seem to be making Wardog mutually exclusive.
"Can you make it back to the base Harpy?" asked Comrorance.
"I think I can...I hope." Polly replied.
Grimm was also worried about the troops below. As more of the terror from the skies poured in, the ground exploded with fury and fire went everywhere. But the Allies were determined to push forward.
"Don't worry about us, Wardog. We can handle ourselves. Keep moving forward!" said Dachshund commander to his men.
When Grimm heard that, he was filled with both sadness and confidence. In the past, they would have cried for help. Not this time. They were ready to fight and die if needed. It was almost as if they truly believed the words of the Madam President. But it seemed they were walking into grim death itself.
David gritted his teeth. Kei was pissed off, but Paulo was right; but they wanted to stay there just a little longer. Kei did, Grimm did, David did….everyone else did. But all three realized that they would probably suffer the same fate as Chopper did all those years ago had they stayed. It seemed bizarre that they were running. It was the first time in a long time that the man formerly known as Blaze ran from something. But, it was just like the 8492nd all those years ago. There was no use in dying now. Besides, the attacks didn't last long either.
That mysterious Dispater weapon inflicted a tremendous amount of damage on the advancing Allied forces. But they never stopped moving despite losing a ton of men and equipment. In the end it was worth it. Treya, who had been dogfighting enemy planes over Vastos alongside Ganymede, had reported to command that the enemy's GHQ had been an innocent victim of yet another bizarre occurrence. An enemy plane had been hit by a Dispater bolt dangerously close to Vastos. It crashed right into the control tower where the acting Vastos air defense force commander, General Maser, was located. It set off a series of explosions that, more importantly, also claimed the life of General Crixus, the theatre commander. Crixus had indeed made a serious mistake with the battle plan and was moving to another base to coordinate with the other officers when he was at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Dispater Tower
December 17, 2016
1110 hrs
When Percival realized the allies were retreating from the center, he knew the desired effect had been completed. So now he had to get Makin to shut down the Dispater. This crazed man, suffering from sleeplessness, depression and some kind of rage issue was not the man that should have been operating the weapon.
"Shut it down!" Zorba shouted, trying to manipulate the controls. One of the technicians finally entered the override code at his terminal and the Dispater began to power down.
"Switching to emergency shutdown mode!" he shouted. Finally, after a tense few minutes...the machine turned off. Percival found himself face to face to with an equally angry Makin.
"What happened?! I ordered short controlled bursts!" Percival shouted.
"What difference does it make? He'd already gone back on what he promised not to do." said Makin, speaking of Masson's motives. But Praeten knew that it was more about his own revenge than the reality of the battlefield.
"Are you insane!? This isn't about revenge!" shouted Percival.
"Did Masson not send the order?" Makin retorted. Percival quickly turned away in disgust. There had to be some doubt in his mind about the validity of the order for him to act this way. He turned to Zorba.
"I'm going to talk to him. I want his reasoning behind this." Percival said, "I want full stasis on the weapon until further notice. I want the full story on anything that comes up before anyone does anything. And Zorba, you keep an eye on Makin until I get back. Is that clear!?" Percival demanded.
As Percival left after the nods and grunts of approval, he realized that the effect of the attack was already short lived. The Allies would regroup later and continued the advance. With the GHQ destroyed, there was absolutely no command and control on the ground. Chaotic radio calls filled the airwaves. The retreat became a rout of epic proportions.
But Percival secretly knew the reason and the source of the order while his cohorts did not. He'd been given that order by General Ignis from Lord Masson himself. The problem was…the transmitted message did not come from him. So the question was…what happened?
Vastos, Versua
December 18, 2016
2100 hrs
Operation Windsor was finally over. Wardog had stayed in the air for hours, fighting off relentless ground attacks from the determined enemy forces. But their resistance was in vain as the Versuan's defensive line cracked apart. The left and right defensive flanks had all but collapsed for the Versuans as the Allied armor tore through the last pockets of resistance before they turned on Vastos. The Versuans' command and control evaporated as one unit tried in vain to coordinate with other units. The enemy's attack with Dispater did little to change the outcome. A few hours after the retreat was ordered, the flanks collapsed all together and with their GHQ in ruins, the soldiers panicked and fled. When the battle was over, the entire desert looked as if it was on fire. Black smoke was everywhere. The Allied casualties were very high, but the result was achieved: Total victory.
David was worn down, as was everyone else. But for some strange reason, they didn't act like it. It was victory time. They Allies had claimed their first piece of enemy territory. But instead of returning to Prometheus, command wanted Wardog to stay in place at Vastos. It was not well received by the squad, as they knew they would be the first to be attacked in the almost inevitable enemy counterattack. It felt good to be inside the enemy's home. Vastos though, was by no measure of reality inside that home. That would have to come later. But Polly Elbe's sentiment about the taxing battle had come true. It was a true Wild West showcase out there.
Kei didn't like the retreat order, personally. Kei didn't like running. It was bizarre though. Kei believed in fighting another day, but she didn't want to leave those guys down there. Then again, they were dealing with a weapon no one could stop. But in this case, she was probably thinking with her heart more than her head. But they were alive. Everyone was alive. Even Grimm came back in one piece after a solid day's work. But they couldn't waste time thinking about who had died.
So David and Kei celebrated like rational people did. David began painting the black eye shadow on Kei while she painted her nails black. Lillian was rather upset at Kei stealing her fashion statement. But then Polly did it, and now it was probably going to be a squadron ritual. David actually thought it was actually kind of fun. Most men would have questioned his...masculinity because of it but, he didn't care. Of course, Kei couldn't paint her nails black and her eyes at the same time. She wanted to finish this before they went to sleep. Though Jackson had warned them to be ready for an enemy counterattack at any time…it didn't quite sink in yet.
Kei knew she was changing on the inside anyway...and changed on the exterior as accordingly. She had finished her toenails some time ago. For them, this was therapeutic. Grimm knew, and didn't question it at all. Then again, everyone in the squad had some oddity. So David liked to put makeup on his wife from time to time. Was it any more abnormal than those who had gambling obsessions, alcoholism, and collecting spiders and rats?
"Man, I've never been more worn out in my life. That was the most taxing mission I've ever had to do." said Kei, looking just worn down.
"Was it more taxing than flying down a massive underground tunnel or blowing up a falling satellite?" David asked quietly in her ear, putting the finishing touches on his wife's...makeover. He didn't want to speak out loud and expose their real identities.
"Of course, but those times were tense than tiring; I feel so old and yet I'm only a few days from thirty." said Kei, recalling a bit of her mortality.
"You're not old. You look more beautiful than six years ago. People like you get better with age." said David. Kei smiled at him in a very strange way. Then she laughed at that sentiment. She didn't care if he meant that or he just said so she could feel better. It made her happy in the moment.
"Like that helps. God, my back is killing me." said Kei, finally letting her true feelings be known.
"Well, I think I can take care of that." said David, smiling at his wife. Kei, knowing what he meant, smiled back, turned and laid down face first on the pillow, pulling her shirt up so David could massage the aching musculature of the woman formerly known as Edge.
David eyed his pupils towards his own hands as he guided his hands across the tight muscles of Kei's back. David had ignored his own exhaustion and focused all of his pain into diving out his wife's own. Her skin felt like he was touching a warm piece of silk. He stared at her for a mere moment, almost becoming lost in his emotions. Kei could feel it too. She found herself lost in her own emotions as well. She suddenly found herself dreaming of something a bit more...pleasurable. And it wasn't only returning this...sensual favor.
It hadn't been a long time since the last time, but this touching was making her feel rather...funny. She had experienced glimpses of it as the emotional high during this entire affair. Six years ago, it was David's presence that turned her on. Now it wasn't just that. It was the strange conflicting emotions of remembering why they fought. It wasn't just for Catherine...it was for themselves.
Now, David's hands were at her waist now. They were moving closer to her navel and Kei started to shudder. Both of them did. But this time, there was no eleven year old to spy on them. They'd won a hard-fought, brutal battle in the sky dodging AA fire, planes, and that damned Dispater. As Kei turned around and upward towards David's face, they were both thinking about the same thing. They were nose to nose, face to face and there were all smiles...until suddenly there was a major series of violent crashes. Screams came from around the base as more shakes and explosions could be heard. Both the pilots formerly known as Blaze and Edge looked shocked as they realized that their time together had been in vain. The look of anger crossed each other's faces.
"Versuan counterattack! Scramble the jets! Go!" they heard a shouting voice say.
David jumped up and Kei rapidly did the same. She grabbed her flight jacket angrier than hornets at a child throwing rocks at its nest. It seemed the enemy wouldn't even allow the couple ten minutes of much-needed time together. Now it was personal. But irrelevant of that, it was then that everyone on the Allied side realized that the war was not going to be as easy as it looked...
Next: Chapter 15: The Home of the Enemy