July 15

444 Squadron Airbase

Trigger laid on his stomach on the top of an F-16, welding a patch onto its damaged hull. He was making another plane for the fake airbase when the door opened and in came McKinsey surrounded by guards. Trigger rolled his eyes silently and tried to bury himself in his work.

'Trigger.' The colonel called out his name, sternly. Trigger turned the blowtorch off, flipped up his visor and turned to face the jailer.

'Yes, sir?' He answered the call.

'You have a mission. Follow me.' McKinsey ordered. Trigger nodded, dropped the blowtorch and deftly jumped to the floor, walking over to a closet. He opened it and extracted his gear, changing into it. McKinsey waited impatiently. Trigger took a minute to change and then exited the service bay surrounded by the guards. He noticed that Count, Champ and Keystone were within the group. However, none of the five advisors were. Not even Blaze, the man who had personally led all of the missions thus far.

Across from the hangars, Huxian, Lanza, Grimm and Alex were sitting around an outside table. They had a few random belongings on the table; glasses, hats, the like. Alex was leaning back on his chair, looking at the horizon.

'Ran air support for the counter-insurgency ops in Fascia. Straight out of Sand Island with the 242nd.' Grimm was talking about one of his peace-time operations with the two younger pilots.

'You were one of the bomb trucks. I was in the country, 82nd from Bagram.' Lanza. Huxian's gaze was trained on the hangar. With open doors. The sounds of jet engines starting up could be heard. An F-15E appeared in the open area and started running out of the hangar. Hey, an F-15. She thought. Huxian quickly realised something.

'Commander?' She tapped Alex on the shoulder, the latter snapping out of his daydreaming, and pointed at the taxiing F-15E that was quickly being joined by a MiG-29, an F-16 Block 52 and an Su-33. Alex blinked to make sure he was seeing things right.

'Damn it. Grimm, watch these two will ya?' Alex ordered his fourth wingman before taking his glasses and sprinting off towards the hangars. Despite the weathering and fatigue caused by the war, Alex was still in good shape and managed to cross the runway by the time Colonel McKinsey and his gagglefuck of guards were exiting the hangar as the four jets left the runway and shot into the sky. The jailer saw the ace as he got close. Alex swore he heard the man curse.

'Ah, command-'

Alex didn't let McKinsey finish the sentence, punching him square in the nose. There was the crunching of bone on impact. McKinsey recoiled from the punch.

'Firstly, sir, you didn't inform me of an air operation which I am required to be on.' Alex shook the blood running off his fist and stared down the barrel of an M4 leveled at his head for a moment before looking back down at the bleeding colonel. 'Secondly, you didn't tell me about the nature of this operation, which as a member of the command team I should be privy to.'

'Williams-'

Alex snarled and kicked McKinsey in the abdomen with his steel-capped boot. 'THIRDLY, COLONEL, I am responsible for the safety of all 55 men of this squadron, one strikes like Keystone and Count, to the fucking Three Strikes himself.' McKinsey didn't reply, winded. Alex saw no point in saying anything else and dashed past the group, after his plane. He didn't bother grabbing a g-suit, running straight up the ladder and starting the take-off procedure. His helmet was in the bottom of the cockpit. Alex put it on while the electrical system of the Su-33 started.

'This is a fucking suicide mission.' Keystone complained while staying in formation with the other three pilots alongside him.

'Orders are orders.' Trigger answered. He was aware of the very real possibility of death. He justified it as the reality of his job.

'Wideband transmission, urgent, all Spare Squadron aircraft!' Alex started shouting on the radio. Trigger looked at his dashboard.

'This is Spare 15, send traffic sir.'

'I am overriding orders from the jailer, return to base. I say again, do not continue the mission.' Alex gave a direct order to the four. Trigger raised his eyebrows and looked out the canopy. Keystone was looking at his wingmates in confusion.

'Count?' Keystone asked.

'Dunno about you, but I'm inclined to return.' Count answered, shaking his wings. A black Su-33 shot past the group. Blaze.

'It's a suicide mission. Turn back.' The Razgriz pilot ordered. Trigger pushed forward to keep up with the squadron leader. Blaze noted this. 'Trigger.'

'All due respect sir, for a suicide mission you seem content to go forward with it. You need the backup.' Trigger defended his actions, still following shortly behind his squadron commander. Blaze sighed audibly before speaking again.

'What about the rest of you?' Blaze asked, referring to Count, Keystone and Champ.

'They both have a death wish. I say let's tag along.' Champ decided for himself, boosting forward to catch up.

'Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Coming.' Keystone was in the same group, speeding up to get into formation.

'Well shit. Nothing better to do.' Count made up his mind and joined on the formation. What Blaze had originally intended to be a one-man ship of himself to get the job down was now a five-man flight of the squadron's best pilots. He shook his head but smiled under the mask.

'Copy. Fall in, we've got a long trip.' Blaze said, settling in his seat.

AIRCRAFT

Razgriz 1/Blaze - Su-33M3 Enhanced Flanker-D

Spare 2/Count - Su-33 Flanker-D

Spare 8/Champ - MiG-29A Fulcrum

Spare 9/Keystone - F-16CJ Block 52 Viper

Spare 15/Trigger - F-15E Strike Eagle

They flew forward. Going ever further away from their base. The ground below changed constantly, from desert, to forest, to grasslands, to tundra, to mountains and eventually the snow-covered tops and icy waters of the Snider's Top area. Blaze shuddered. He remembered the last time he had been anywhere near here, destroying the Erusean Scinfaxi-class sub. There was a beeping in his headset that snapped him away from the thought. His radar warning receiver was picking up the air search radars of SAM batteries in the local area.

'Hit the deck. Their radar net is active.' Blaze ordered, dropping from the one-kilometre altitude they were operating at to just over 10 metres above the glassy surface of the water. Their combined engine thrust threw up water behind them.

'Their main net is centred around a facility somewhere inland. No major seaborne assets are active.' Keystone reported. His aircraft was designed for SEAD and DEAD operations, so him being part of the formation was perfect for this mission.

'Head to the base. Use the valleys as cover.' Blaze ordered, waiting for the next fjord to start moving inland towards the centre of the air defence net. The entire squad followed him. The valley was long and narrow with a small river at the bottom running out into the ocean. Flat surfaces were covered in snow but the sheer walls were a brownish black. The noise of jet engines echoed through the valley.

'Uh-oh. Commander, radar sites are starting to light up across the area.' Keystone reported.

'Spare, push it.' Blaze pushed the throttle stick forward, going into afterburner and speeding up. He pulled out of the valley, heading directly for the SAM batteries. A few seconds later his RWR started blaring. The SAMs had switched from search to fire-control.

'Keystone, your show.' Blaze called out to the pilot in the Wild Weasel aircraft. Keystone acknowledged by gaining altitude, slowing down and firing a total of six missiles in quick succession. AGM-88 HARM anti-radar missiles. They shot after the radar-emitting sources. Keystone went back down to low altitude after firing them. HARM missiles were fast, and while not highly destructive they were very good at doing their job - air defence suppression.

'HARMs away. Should be ready for DEAD ops around…' Keystone paused for a few seconds, waiting for a detonation report from the missiles. '...now.'

'Drop, drop, drop.' Blaze ordered the other four in the formation, referring to the AGM-84H SLAM cruise missiles carried by everyone. Blaze was only carrying a light anti-air loadout suitable for an interceptor. Spare Squadron dropped their missiles. They fell for a second or two before the jet engines in the missiles lit and propelled the missiles forward.

'Radars have gone offline. HARMs did their job.' Keystone reported.

'That's the least of our problems. Interceptors, bearing 065, coming straight for us!' Trigger pointed out. Blaze looked at his sensors panel. Indeed, there were fighters coming after them with radars active. Su-33s, carrier-based aircraft. Blaze banked out to approach the interceptors.

'Head on. I'll deal with the fighters.' He said to the squadron, heading onwards. There were two pairs of Su-33 aircraft. Likely launched from an Erusean aircraft carrier waiting somewhere out at sea. Blaze closed the distance. He didn't want to use his long-range AMRAAMs unless absolutely necessary. As a result, the enemy fired at him before he could fire at the enemy. Blaze climbed above the missiles and turned to the side to waste their energy. They fell out of the skies harmlessly, fuel spent and engines offline. Coming to within IR missile range, Blaze loosed off AIM-9X Sidewinders at the leading Su-33s. He then turned away and pushed his engines to max speed to stay out of the firing range of the enemy interceptors. He looked over his shoulder. There were flashes in the distance. His missiles had hit and destroyed the target. Blaze turned back for the next pair of aircraft.

'What's the status of those SAM sites?' Blaze asked the other members of his flight, who were hopefully dealing with the SA-10 and SA-21 SAM sites.

'Dealing with straggler Patriot batteries and then we're out of here, Commander.' Keystone answered.

Alright, if we're done here. Blaze thought, selecting his AMRAAMs and firing from a far distance at the second pair of approaching fighters. They may have been the only two he had, but once Spare Squadron did their job he was going to book it back south. The missiles streaked through the sky. There was one flash in the distance, a kill. Only one. The fourth fighter had dodged the missile. Blaze didn't chase down the fighter, instead pulling south and moving fast and low to the ground. As he passed the valley that the squadron had entered from, Keystone and Count appeared from it and formed up on the squadron leader. Trigger and Champ were a short moment behind them.

'That was easier than I expected. We still got enemy fighters?' The man with the three strikes commented.

'Head home, they can't catch us.' Blaze ordered. Without objection, the five-man flight exited the AO, on a heading that would take them back to Zapland and the 444th airbase.