The Sidewinders fired by Grimm failed to connect with the Su-30SM. The Flanker had somehow managed to roll past the missiles without their proximity fuzes detonating. ECM. Cheeky bastard. His own Typhoon was not equipped with that same jamming system which meant that when missiles eventually came his way Grimm had to yank hard on the stick and pull high-speed turns to evade. The aircraft turned hard enough and pulled enough Gs that Grimm nearly blacked out despite the G-suit and prior years of training. It paid off for the missiles both missed. The black and orange aircraft zipped over doing Mach 1. The Flanker slowed down and banked to come after its prey, but Grimm was already on the attacker's tail by the time it had turned around. He fired another pair at missiles, this time at close range. The second that the missiles got within damaging radius, they went crazy and zipped off in random directions to either side, exploding moments later. Flipping up his visor, Grimm sighed. He would have to do this with his cannon. Before he could actually fire with it, the Su-30 pulled a Herbst manuever and suddenly Grimm was facing down the nose end of the Flanker. Quick on the draw, the Ocean pilot cut his engines and pulled up so his own cannon was in the direction of the enemy. The two aces pulled the trigger at the exact same time. The Flanker's 30mm cannon shells ripped into the Typhoon's nose, canopy and one of the air intakes. Grimm reflexively pulled his body to the right when something shattered the plexiglass of the canopy, saving his life as a shell pierced through that and the left corner of the ejection seat. The quicker firing 20mm Vulcan cannon of the Typhoon punched into the Flanker's right hand wing root, tapping out the Flanker's own cannon before it could kill or seriously injure Grimm. More of the shells ripped off a canard and poked holes through the wing before the Flanker fully passed and Grimm was no longer able to hit the enemy fighter. He looked behind himself. Must have hit something vital because the Su-30 was bugging out rapidly for Erusean territory. One hell of an aggressive pilot. That trait did come with its payoff by the looks of things. The Typhoon started falling with the loss of airflow to one engine, forcing Grimm to punch the remaining engine to full power to stay airborne. Wind blasted through through his cracked and broken canopy. And to add everything up his radar was gone, blasted to pieces.

'Titan 1, damaged. Need to withdraw.' Although in the current state of the operation his report didn't add to much, Grimm felt obliged to say so anyway.

'Jesus, Archer,' The Wolf Squad commander, Webber, showed up in his F-15E. 'Sure you can fly the rest of the way back?'

'Bit shaky but I should be fine.' Grimm said confidently, convinced that he should be able to make it back to friendly territory. 'My radar's fried. How many are we down?'

'Cougar, Iceman and Maverick from Titan, Crow from Wolf.'

'Shit.' Grimm said sadly.

2 Hours Later, Scofields Plateau Airfield

'Archer, cleared for approach. Crash teams are on standby.' The ATC guided Grimm in for landing with a damaged aircraft. He had to constantly pitch to one side to conteract the drift caused by one engine running. As Grimm got closer to the runway he could see two trucks in red and black tracking his approach. Panther fire trucks. Big motherfuckers. Luckily they didn't have to do much as the landing was soft. Grimm taxiied for a little bit before the ATC came in again. 'Veer over to the grass and get out. We'll recover the aircraft later.' The ride got bumpy as the Typhoon spilled over onto the bright green grass. The canopy opened and out came the orange-haired man wearing a flight suit. One of the Panther trucks quickly came along and gave Grimm a lift back to the area where his squadron was mustered. Including the major, the 242nd now stood at 36 men and women.

'Four of ours gone. A couple of other squadrons were completely wiped.' Grimm's voice sounded fatigued, which reflected as much as he felt. He could also tell that his pilots were also tired so he made it quick. 'We found out that Erusea is dependent on its drone fighter wings for battles however. We're all tired, so gear down and get some rest. I'll round you people up tomorrow.' Everyone headed for the crew ready rooms. Grimm followed them from the back. Webber walked next to him.

'I saw our newest recruit got a quick ace.' Webber referred to the rookie.

'A very quick one. She's good. Especially for a nugget.' Grimm agreed while cracking his neck.

'Thule got banged up when he was hit. Guy should be in medical about now.'

'How bad?'

'There was a fair bit of blood. Looked pretty bad.'

Grimm exhaled. Goddamn it. 'Down to 35.' The squad got into the building. 'Sort out any issues in Wolf. I'll deal with Titan.'

'Rog.' The pair split off into their respective ready rooms. There wasn't much talk in Titan. The bulk of it was talking about the events of the mission. A question was propelled towards the two piece general uniform clad Grimm.

'Sir, will we have a funeral for the downed trio?' The question came from one of the younger pilots.

'We'll do an informal one at dinner. Should be simple.' Talking about it made Grimm sad again. No-one talked after that. Everyone got into working uniform and then invariably went for something to eat, drink or just to rest after the mission. Grimm and all the surviving senior officers were called to the after-action report. He didn't really pay attention to it all. Once they were all released from the AAR, Grimm had one thing left to do before catching some shuteye. Visiting the medical bay and checking on Thule. As expected for an air base medical bay, the room was whitewashed and well-equipped. However, Thule was no-where to be seen in the general area. One of the doctors noticed Grimm looking around for his captain.

'If you're looking for Captain Thule, sir, he just got admitted to the ICU.' There was a hint of concern in the doctor's voice. He was middle-aged, bald.

'How bad is he?'

'Severe blood loss, fractures, broken ribs. Assuming he recovers from the blood loss alone, he's not going to be flying for a long while.' The analysis was bleak and about what Grimm was expecting. He thanked the doctor, left the medical bay and went for the room where he rested in when duty didn't need him elsewhere. Grimm laid on the bed and quickly fell asleep.

The major was woken up a couple of times by the base's C-RAM systems blasting incoming mortars or missiles out of the air, but quickly fell asleep each time. It wasn't until roughly 9PM at night that someone came to wake him fully. A knocking noise prompted him to mutter something incoherently. With a light chuckle from the other side, the rookie opened the door. The woman appeared to be young, with short dark brown hair and a freckled complexity. The name Hunter was embroided on the chest of her flight suit.

'They're serving in the mess hall if you're hungry sir. Captain Webber sent for you.'

Grimm sat up and rubbed his face with one hand. 'Thank you Lieutenant. Be down in a minute.' Hunter nodded and walked back the way she came. Grimm followed after taking a sip from a bottle of water and putting on a pair of boots. Since the old mess hall had taken a hit from a bomb a couple of weeks prior, the pilots were eating under a sheltered area in the courtyard with food being delivered from inside the intact galley of the building. The 242nd made up most of the contingent with some other elements from the 506th and the 508th. They were bantering with each other from what Grimm could observe. He was given a bowl by Webber as he passed out into the courtyard.

'I recommend the chicken soup. Lieutenant Kovac made it.' Webber said with a smile. In his arms were a pile of plastic bowls. Near the tables was a particular table dedicated to housing many containers with the famed chicken soup. Grimm served some of it up. It smelt good. Tasted good as well. He looked around for a spot to sit down and eat. A man, sitting with one of the flight leaders and a couple of females. Hunter and one of the Golem pilots - Brownie, Grimm seemed to remember - were with him. Grimm nodded and came over to sit down. 'Evening all. This your cooking Trigger?'

The man who had waved Grimm down nodded while taking a sip from a can of apple cider. He gulped it down. 'Possibly.'

'Well, it's good stuff.' Grimm smiled and ate some of it.

'Funny story, Trigger here used to be a chef at a 5-star hotel in Bana City.' Major John 'Clown' Davids mused. Grimm looked at Trigger.

'Better pay in that field than the Air Force. Why'd you become a pilot?'

Trigger smiled. 'Work with narcissistic pricks all the time and you'd want to transfer as well.' Everyone laughed, even Lieutenant Hunter.