AN:

Good God, how time flies! I looked up my last update and it's been A YEAR AND A HALF?! I am so sorry to drag this on so unnecessarily. But here I am again!

Things are going good. Finished my first year at UW and I just started Year 2. I finally landed an RA position and I'm doing work on some awesome research projects. Look up rotating detonation engines. That's what I'm working on. Anyway, enough horn tooting. Let's get to business.

I have to make a confession: I've been sitting on this chapter for something like three weeks. It's been completed that long and I've been SO lazy. To make it up to you guys, I have some good news: I've already finished the next chapter. I'll let this pot simmer for awhile before adding more ingredients in a couple of weeks. I actually just wrote a lot of content for one chapter and there was enough to split it into two manageable bites. I prefer that there was no content gorging around here, but I know that some of you newer readers binged the entire story in a few days. ;)

Without further ado, enjoy! -(10/2/16)


"Do any of you have a visual on him?" a voice angrily barked over the intercom.

"No, sir. We lost him in the clouds!"

The pilot of the RVF-171EX tapped a button on his MFD several times in an attempt to adapt the radar system to the electronic countermeasures jamming his system. The huge, rotating radome above his canopy seemed worthless in all of the confusion. His commanding tone gave the impression that he was the squad leader.

"You're supposed to be some of the best pilots in the NUNAF and you lost him less than five seconds after engaging?!" Moments passed without a response. All the leader could do was let out a frustrated grunt. "Fall back into formation!"

The squadron of four slowly drifted back into the diamond formation in which they had started. Just moments earlier, each one of them had their target into gunsight and were simply out-maneuvered in a heartbeat. The stale air of mortification filled each of their cockpits. Even the air supply system seemed to pump it into their helmets as they continued to scan the skies and radar for their target.

"Keep your eyes peeled," the leader said as he continued to fiddle with his MFD, "He has some active stealth running."

"Did he bug out?"

"No." The radar display showed a vague response ping, but the red dot wiggled a bit before jumping to a different position. This phenomenon repeated itself every few seconds. "He's still nearby. I am getting a weak signal, but I can't locate the source. Just keep your eyes open and don't lose sight of him so easily next time!"

"Aye, sir…" came the subdued responses. The pilots each probably felt like they had just gotten their wings clipped, but there was still salt left to rub into open wounds.

The sun suddenly appeared as the four VFs cleared the large cloud under which they had been flying. About 1000 feet above, Cal's RVF glided along nearly the same vector as the enemy units, using the sun to conceal its position. His signature smirk appeared on his face and he chuckled to himself as he cranked the throttle to a vertical position.

Almost instantly, the grey-and-white fighter performed a flip along the pitch axis, emerging as a battroid with its gunpod in the right hand. The ELINT fin attached to the RVF's left forearm flipped out and began to glow with a bright green aura.

The enemy squad leader, piloting the RVF-171EX in the slot position in the rear of the formation, looked up from his MFD just in time to see several paint rounds impact the cockpit canopy of the VF to his front right. Looking up, Cal's RVF-25 could be seen plummeting towards the center of their formation. With expert timing, the grey-and-white battroid then swung its left arm and connected its glowing ELINT fin with the fuselage of the VF on the left. The combination of white-hot super-dimensional energy and momentum effortlessly split the craft into two pieces just behind the pilot canopy.

"Shit!" the squad leader exclaimed as he pushed his control stick forward and yanked back on the throttle. He used the GERWALK form to quickly change directions and put himself onto a pursuit path. All the while, he could hear the panicked screams of the now-vanquished pilot over the radio.

The enemy leader could barely see the shimmer of Cal's RVF in the distance, who had almost disappeared as quickly as he had revealed himself.

"Ha ha, it worked!" Cal exclaimed to himself as he admired the results of his attack in the mirrors above his head. The crisp formation of fighters was now in complete chaos.

"I can't see a thing!" one pilot yelled. With the paint rounds obscuring his vision, he was forced into battroid mode. The internal monitors would have to serve as his eyes until he could clean off the paint. However, there was no chance he could keep up with the VFs in fighter mode. The pilot frantically searched for a solution when he locked his eyes onto the deep blue hues of the ocean below.

Meanwhile, the lead pilot struggled to keep up with his target. The RVF-171EX's FF-2550F engines were no match for the RVF-25's FF-3001A powerplants. The only chance of catching up to his target would be by converting altitude for speed, since he was a few thousand feet higher. This brief advantage quickly disappeared, however, as the glimmering craft ahead turned upwards and climbed into the sky once more with seemingly little effort.

"Perhaps I underestimated him," the lead pilot thought to himself. He had not expected a Spacy pilot to fully understand that energy is king in an aerial dogfight; the vehicle with the higher altitude always has the advantage. "I'm bringing in some help," he voiced into the radio as he punched some commands into his MFD.

"Why? He's completely unarmed! We can handle him!" one of the other pilots argued as his Valkyrie took position on the leader's wing.

"Did you see what this unarmed pilot just did to us? He disabled one VF and destroyed another in a single attack! We cannot afford to fail this mission!"

The leader visually signaled to his pilot to climb altitude and both fighters turned their noses towards the sky.

Having gained enough altitude for his liking, Cal turned his RVF back towards his attackers and pushed his throttle fully forward. "With all of the time I spent modifying and programming the pin-point barrier for that move, I had better get the naming rights for that maneuver." Not exactly the right thing to be thinking about in this kind of situation.

"Cal! What's going on up there!" Kaiel's voice suddenly crackled into the radio.

"I'm being attacked by some NUNAF Valks, for some reason. I can handle this," he confidently replied.

"What? I'm coming up there to help!"

"No! Stay out of this, you hear?" came the reply, "You're flying a prototype Queadluun with special equipment. If you get shot down, we lose everything." Cal was finally thinking pragmatically again. "Get back to Island-1 and radio this in. Hopefully, the NUNS can get some units out to restore control of our skies again."

Cal watched the Kaiel's radar blip continue on an intercept vector for several seconds before pulling a 180. It was apparent that the young Zentradi pilot had to think about it for a bit before making his decision. Cal sighed in relief; he wasn't sure if his orders would be followed, considering Kaiel always acted like he had something to prove around him. Now he could focus on keeping himself alive without a pilot with virtually no real combat experience getting in the way. High simulator scores might get you a job as a test pilot for a small private aerospace company, but they would rarely translate into success in an actual life-or-death situation.

The targeting reticle on the HUD drifted towards the targets ahead and snapped into lock-on position. Cal pulled the trigger on his flightstick to unleash a volley of paint rounds. At that very instant, both enemy aircraft transformed into battroid form and pointed their GU-14B gunpods at him.

"Shit." Cal stomped on his left rudder pedal and jerked the flight stick to the left.

The two mecha boldly hovered in midair, firing at the passing aircraft without any fear of retaliation. Three paint rounds harmlessly impacted one of the VFs. As soon as Cal was out of effective gun range, both Valkyries switched to fighter mode and engaged in pursuit of their target.

"If I can't pose a threat with these paint rounds. They won't let me get near enough for another melee strike." Just then, an alert sounded in the cockpit: missiles were locked on. Cal banked his RVF to the right and saw that the smoke trails were coming from a source low in altitude. "They can't possibly think they're going to hit me from that angle… Only Ghost drones spam missiles like that."

The MFD confirmed his suspicions, indicating that there were two AIF-7S drones escorted by a pair of VF-171EXs, one of which had a radome on its dorsal side.

"I could bug out, but those drones will never give up pursuit as long as I am in the air," Cal clicked his tongue in frustration. "My jamming is having no effect on those things, either." The dogfight had already taken him way out to sea; fleeing towards Island-1 or Frontier City would leave him exposed for too long. At that point, he knew he'd probably bitten off more than he could chew. "I should have bugged out…" he grumbled to himself as he winced.

A volcanic archipelago dotted the ocean surface about a dozen miles ahead. Steady plumes of hot, noxious gases rose up into the atmosphere from the towering mountain's crater and its surrounding islands, indicating that it was a very active system. Several rock-like structures and columns rose well above the ocean surface. Here, Cal would have to make his last stand if he had any chance of escaping. Since these drones cannot hover in atmosphere, they would not be able to track him very well on land.

Cal released a single flare to counter the incoming missiles, which worked well to throw them off course. One missile destroyed the flare, while the rest continued out to parts unknown with no target left to track. By that point, the drones had unleashed another volley of missiles with no regard to their position and speed relative to their target.

Frontier's AIF-9S drones were not as adept at combat as Galaxy's Ghost X-9s that were seen during the battle over Aimo several months prior. All NUNS pilots knew that they were notorious for being overly zealous to fire at their targets before attaining a favorable firing position. However, Cal was starting to run out of room as the drones were quickly closing in. The RVF-25 leveled out just above the ocean surface. Its high velocity caused large wakes of water to splash up into the air, but the airborne liquid did nothing to stop the next volley of missiles from pursuing their target.

Cal weaved his fighter around the rocky columns and through the arches rising up from the surface. Still, the dozen or so missiles continued pursuit, dodging each obstacle. Not many countermeasures were in his loadout, since he was only supposed to be engaging in test dogfights with Kaiel. Failure to shake this volley of missiles left Cal with no choice but to unleash the last of his CMs: a pair of chaff packets.

The red zeroes on the CM counters now taunted Cal. With his options running out, he directed his RVF towards the volcano. A quick switch to battroid form and he disappeared below the tropical canopy covering most of the largest island.

"Where is he?!" the squad leader yelled as the rest of the squad approached the area. The tone of his voice dripped with anger and frustration. With all of their hardware, they were struggling to track a single, unarmed target. Each VF decelerated and then transformed into GERWALK mode to hover in place.

"The Ghost drones report his last known position as being on the main island, Sir. He's got to be hiding somewhere down there."

"I'll get him out!" one of the pilots quickly replied. "Just cover me from the air and be ready to hit him when he tries to escape!" One of the group's fighters dove into the canopy as if it was water, displacing branches and leaves in a splash-like disturbance.

The vegetation on the island was dense and fertile. Huge tropical trees towered over even the 15-meter tall mecha now striding the ground. The afternoon sun barely pierced the thick canopy, giving the perfect cover from airborne threats.

The confident pilot of the VF-171EX breathed heavily into his helmet. Working the foot pedals in battroid mode gave the mecha its human-like mobility, but it was also physically exhausting when performed over a long period of time.

"Sitrep, pilot!" a voice suddenly boomed in his ear.

"No sighting yet!" he quickly replied just as his eyes locked onto the image of large prints in the soil ahead. The monitors then outlined the impressions and the computer displayed the results of the analysis: the prints belonged to an VF-25 battroid. "Wait! I found his tracks!"

Overhead, the three remaining 171s and two Ghost drones circled in a holding pattern. The MFD in front of the squad leader showed the relative position of his pilot below the canopy, along with telemetry data.

The hunter continued to track his prey with extreme caution, keeping his gunpod trained on any possible hiding places nearby. He continued to struggle with his breathing, but at this point, it wasn't just because of physical exhaustion; the potent concoction of adrenaline and blood coursed through his veins. The vessels in his body pulsed with each pounding heartbeat.

Suddenly, an alarm chirped in the cockpit, followed by a violent shaking of the ground under the battroid's feet.

"There's some serious seismic activity going on down here!"

Up in the air, the MFD in front of the squad leader began to show the results of a scan of the geologic activity in the area. "This volcano's going to erupt soon. We can't let him use the eruption as cover for an escape. Find him quickly!" he barked.

The pilot on the ground waited for the shaking to stop before resuming. He had taken only a few steps before another alarm chirped in the cockpit. This time, the sensors directed the pilot's attention towards some movement nearby. The mecha turned its body towards the threat just as a battroid-sized combat knife penetrated the mechanical head. Half of the cockpit monitors went awry, displaying the snowy pattern of a dead signal instead. The battroid staggered forward for a couple of steps as the arm reached upwards in a clumsy attempt at removing the knife lodged into the head unit. Electricity coursed around the head, jumping to the robotic hand when it got close.

While most of the monitors were inoperative, the pilot was able to catch a glimpse of Cal's RVF in one of the working screens. The grey and white battroid was charging straight towards the pilot on foot, shaking the ground with each metallic step. Fear fully took hold as the once-confident pilot jerked his controls in a furious attempt to defend himself. A desperate battle cry sounded over the radio, marking this soldier's attempt at a last stand.

The crippled battroid raised its gunpod into Cal's general direction, opening fire before it was even close to being on target. The charging RVF raised the shield on its left arm, deflecting a couple of rounds away from critical points. This last resort defense attempt was nothing more than a spray-and-pray, but some rounds managed to graze the quickly approaching target.

Despite the threat of gunfire, the RVF-25 charged ahead, jumping into the air and into a flying side kick. The colossal impact sent the VF-171EX flying backwards, while its GU-14 gunpod dropped to the ground at the same time as the grey and white mecha's feet landed from delivering the crushing blow. The damaged head completely detached from the impact and bounced along while the body skidded to a stop at the base of a rocky formation. When the dust settled, Cal could see that the opposing battroid's chest was completely crushed, probably killing the pilot in the impact.

The victorious RVF stood motionless in front of its defeated foe. Inside his cockpit, Cal momentarily bowed his head in silence, paying respects to the slain pilot. In his previous battles, he'd probably killed over a dozen human pilots. None of those men and women whose lives he'd ended meant anything, but this time was different. It seemed that the past influences in his life were finally setting in. Several months ago, Cal would have been reveling in his kill. Now, he seemed to understand that even his enemies deserved dignity and respect when they are killed in the line of duty.

A few thousand feet above, the battle cry of the lone pilot sounded over the radio. The squad leader watched as the telemetry link to his subordinate's unit was quickly snuffed out.

"Shit!" he exclaimed to himself as he opened up a channel to the rest of the units in his group. "Alpha strike this bastard, now! Cut down that jungle!"

Cal's RVF tossed his enemy's robotic head unit aside as it sheathed the Ka-bar knife that was used to disable his opponent's sensors. The GU-14 lying nearby quickly caught his eye. Finally, a loaded weapon was at his disposal! Just as he leaned over to pick it up, bullets started to rain all around him. The distant buzzing sound of Gatling guns was drowned out by the destruction being caused all around. Tree trunks exploded into a million pieces, a constant rain of destroyed foliage began to blanket everything in sight, and clouds of dirt flew up into the air, visually obscuring everything beyond a few yards. Cal could only dive for the nearest cover.

A mixed formation of 171EXs in battroid and GERWALK forms hovered in place while their gunpods unleashed a massive hail of bullets onto the volcanic island. Thick trails of smoke snaked from the giant Gatling guns, while a steady stream of ejected shells trickled down towards the ocean below. The red hot glow of tracer rounds drew an arced path towards the target area. Suddenly, all units simultaneously ceased fire.

The ocean breeze quickly removed the thick layer of dust and smoke from the affected area. The enormous trees and surrounding vegetation were pulverized into a thick layer of biomass, while flames from several isolated brush fires occasionally licked up into the air. Two of the airborne units began to circle around to each side to look for their target, dead or alive.

"I'm waiting on that visual!" barked the squad leader.

A good half-minute went by with no response; nobody wanted to jump to any conclusions just yet.

"Sensors aren't showing anything, Sir."

"Nobody could have survived that."

Some weak chuckles accompanied the sullen responses from the squad members.

One of the 171EX pilots was suddenly alerted by his computer with a couple of quick chirps in his ear. The cockpit monitors quickly zoomed in to some commotion on the surface. "Wait! I have movement!" The pilot watched as the decimated husk of his former wingmate's VF rolled over to the side and flopped onto the ground like a casket cover. Cal's RVF suddenly emerged from the amalgamation of dirt and leaves. The mecha sat up as if it had been brought back from the dead; the copper-hued earth of its former grave slid off of its metallic skin down to the ground.

Without hesitation, the two Ghost drones accelerated towards Cal, unleashing another volley of gunfire. The RVF ducked behind the remains of the nearby granite-like rock formation for cover. Once the bullets had passed, the battroid reappeared into the open brandishing the loaded GU-14 that had dropped from the hands of the destroyed 171EX.

One by one, the drones were perforated by several rounds and exploded into fireballs as they passed overhead. The wreckage cascaded into the trees behind Cal, ending up in two explosions. The ensuing debris harmlessly pelted the area around the battroid.

All of the destruction from the combat was now causing a steady stream of darkened smoke to billow up into the atmosphere, joining the natural gases being emitted by the towering volcano. At the mountain's foot, a lone pilot desperately fought for his life against an enemy that now surrounded him on all sides.

Cal had thus far managed to evade certain death by using his surroundings. The volcanic islands provided him with the cover he needed to survive this long. The outnumbered unit dashed among the rocky formations at the base of the mountain, using them as cover as he desperately fended off his attackers with a stolen GU-14. Luck also had a lot to do with the reason he was still alive, but it was only a matter of time before it would run out on him.

After several volleys of gunfire against his targets, the GU-14 finally unleashed its last few rounds. Cal clicked his tongue and gritted his teeth. "Already out? What else can screw me over now?"

As if to answer his question, Cal felt a violent rumbling of the ground, accompanied by the impact of a powerful shockwave against the hull of his RVF. Alarms sounded from every direction in his cockpit and he turned his battroid around to see that the volcano had blown its top off. Huge clouds of thick ash and gas had now begun to blot out the sky. Bolts of electricity from the charged volcanic material jumped from cloud to cloud. Fragments of rock and and gravel began to rain all around, prompting Cal to take cover behind rocks once more.

"I should have bugged out."

Something else erupted at about the same time. "That's it!" the squad leader yelled over the radio, "I've had it with this bullshit! If you want something killed right, destroy it yourself!" the squad leader's RVF unleashed countless micro-missiles from its wing root launchers.

Alarms chirped within Cal's cockpit once more. His MFD displayed indicators for the incoming missiles, but he could only watch. Staying would have a high risk of being destroyed by the dozens of missiles now tracking his current position. Fleeing would put him in danger of being hit by the debris raining from the sky. Plus, the missiles would continue to track him after he'd left his cover. A drop of sweat slowly ran down Cal's face and he blankly stared at the display in front of him. As the indicators drew closer, he finally snapped out of his stupor. Feeling a second wind, he stomped on both of his pedals and began to work the flight sticks in each hand.

The enemy squad leader felt a sense of satisfaction beginning to settle over him as the missiles devastated the rock formation in which Cal had been hiding. A huge fireball erupted at the impact site, and rocky shards shot out in all directions with fiery trails left in their wakes. However, one of the shards was too large to be just a rock. The monitors in the squad leader's cockpit zoomed in on the foreign object, revealing a very resilient RVF-25. The satisfaction quickly disappeared and was replaced with blinding rage.

"Why won't you die?!" the pilot yelled as he pulled the trigger on his flight stick again. A handful of missiles ejected from his craft and veered towards the target.

Cal's RVF-25 had tumbled on the ground after leaping from the explosion caused by the missiles. At the moment, it continued to lie prone on the ground. Several panels on the skin of the craft had been damaged, exposing some of the mechanical interior not intended to be seen. The monitors in the cockpit were starting to show interference caused by damage to internal systems. Alarms continued to sound from all around. Cal, completely exhausted, laid back in his seat and breathed heavily. Sweat continued to run down his face and his heart was ready to beat out of his chest. His eyes then looked down at the MFD to see that another volley of missiles was on its way. He took a deep breath and began to operate the battroid's controls again.

The badly damaged mecha slowly crawled to its feet and stood motionless as the missiles closed in. Again, Cal had to make a decision, but he was seemingly out of options. He was out in the open without any countermeasures and the gunpod he'd been using was now out of ammunition. He was suddenly hit by what felt like an epiphany.

"The Maulers!" he exclaimed as he flipped the hat switch on his flight stick to an unmarked setting on the stick.

On the RVF-25's head, a pair of Mauler RÖV-127C laser cannons had been retrofitted onto the usually-unarmed head unit. The turrets rotated forward, revealing that the safety caps were still installed on the tips. Perhaps his customization request would actually save the day.

"Oh, please work. Please!" The targeting laser in his helmet tracked his eyes, locking onto each incoming missile. He squeezed the trigger as soon as all targets were marked.

The safety caps were quickly vaporized by the first shot from the laser cannons. Each missile detonated individually in midair, leaving their destructive force at a safe distance from their target. The heavily-damaged RVF quickly boosted into the air and changed into fighter mode to attempt an escape in the confusion.

"He's making a run for it!" yelled one of the pilots.

"I've got him!"

One of the units that had circled around the island began to descend towards Cal's position to intercept his escape vector. He pointed his nose to lead Cal's RVF and opened fire with the gunpod. The target evaded the shots with a couple of successive aileron rolls and pitch changes. The rounds impacted the ground instead, throwing rock and dirt into the air. The enemy VF then took position on Cal's six and continued firing short bursts.

Both fighters circled around the base of the enormous volcano at high speeds while a pyroclastic cloud began to plummet from the sky over the crater. This high-temperature, high-velocity cloud of gas and ash tumbled down the face of the volcano at nearly the speed of sound, destroying everything it its path and carrying debris and vegetation with it. The Valkyries resembled surfers desperately trying to stay ahead of a giant wave cresting over their heads.

Despite the looming threat, Cal's attacker refused to break off pursuit. With each burst of fire, Cal knew that his chances of survival grew smaller and smaller. His mind raced to figure out how he could take advantage of the situation. Looking up, the mirror showed the image of his enemy and through the canopy was the spectacle of a giant cloud of death approaching him. There was no time for debate at this point.

From behind, Cal's RVF inexplicably changed to GERWALK mode. The craft then began to drag the empty gunpod along the ground. The loose gravel and rock was quickly thrown up into the air behind the Valkyrie, which began to pelt the fast-approaching VF-171EX. The sturdy materials that composed the craft's exterior armor held up fine under the assault, but there was a weakness that not too many pilots dealt with in space combat.

The engine intake would normally be closed outside of an atmosphere, where the engines were designed to operate solely using on-board propellant. However, the in-atmosphere operation mode required the engines to ingest large amounts of air to use as propellant. The flaps that cover the intake for space operation also served as guide vanes for the incoming air when opened. Additionally, they played an important role in protecting the intakes from foreign debris.

The attacking pilot's overconfidence caused him to tunnel; his situational awareness gave way to the overwhelming desire to destroy his target. Little attention was paid to the now constant barrage of stones and debris, not to mention the cloud of death fast approaching their position. He simply watched the targeting reticule dance from side to side on the HUD in front of him, waiting for the perfect shot to line up.

His concentration was suddenly interrupted by a loud bang, followed by a long, drawn-out grinding sound coming from the craft. Outside of the cockpit, one of the guide vanes on the port engine had been smashed in by a very large piece of debris. More and more igneous rocks found their way into the turbomachinery until the resulting damage was too much for the system to handle. The craft was rocked by a small explosion from within the engine nacelle, causing a slight roll to the right.

The pilot furiously tweaked his flight stick to correct the disturbance. "What the hell was that?" The MFD in front of him answered the question, displaying the damage done to his port engine. The brief distraction was enough to take the pilot's eyes off of the target in front of him. After a quick glance towards the instrument panels in front of him, he looked up to see Cal's GU-14 gunpod heading straight towards the canopy. The pilot panicked and jerked his flight stick to the right in a vain attempt at avoiding the collision. With too little time to react, the gunpod smashed into the canopy. But the pilot's reaction also caused his Valkyrie to dip its wing into the ground, which led to a catastrophy.

Broken glass, debris, and dirt filled the cockpit as the craft somersaulted along the ground. The chassis groaned and grinded while large chunks of the body broke away. The horrifying cacophony heard from within the cockpit seemed to last an eternity. Eventually, the twisted remains of the fuselage came to a rest, flopping onto the ground upside down.

The pilot, who had miraculously survived the crash, winced his eyes shut while his heart was still racing and his chest pulsed with each panicked breath. His hands refused to unclench from the throttle and stick until he could feel a violent rumbling through the ground. He snapped out of his paralysis and reached down to pull the eject handle. The EX-gear quickly disengaged from the pilot seat and wrapped around him. But the remains of the canopy was pinned to the ground by the fuselage.

Panic began to set in once more as the pilot used his EX-gear to tear the material away from where the canopy meets the fuselage. Almost instantly, a thunderous rumbling sound pounded on his eardrums. He stretched out his body to look through the small opening that he had created in the wreckage. His heart sunk into his gut at the sight of the pyroclastic cloud charging towards him.

Cal could hear the pilot screaming over the radio as the image of the wreckage in his mirror was consumed by the wave of death that continued to tumble down the side of the mountain. Silence abruptly returned to the airwaves after only a moment. As his Valkyrie ascended from the volcanic island, he almost forgot the fact that he was not yet out of the woods.

Almost immediately, the three remaining enemy Valks took position on his six, with the lead unit opening fire with his gunpod. The fatigue and stress of the situation was quickly becoming too much to bear for Cal, and his thoughts had begun to turn towards accepting his inevitable fate. How great would it feel right now to be able to just magically be transported home and to be able to take an exasperated flop onto a comfortable bed?

The lead RVF-171EX furiously struggled to gain an aspect lock for his last missile volley. Trails of smoke from Cal's damaged craft periodically licked the canopy, becoming a bit of a distraction for the pursuing pilot. He almost didn't notice his wingman trying to get his attention over the radio.

"Sir! We have incoming!"