Art of Deception

"Mage 2, support!" Brownie desperately cried on the comms. "Somebody, support!"

"Brownie!" That was all I could put out as the barely visible outline of an orange tipped aircraft sent a missile towards her Super Hornet, shredding it into a mangled heap. And just like that, both aircraft were gone. One into pieces, the other...somewhere off the radar.

"Golem 2, lost," our AWACS Sky Keeper had to announce.

"Sky Keeper, where's the one that got Brownie?" Golem's flight lead demanded.

"I'm afraid he's long gone by now," Sky Keeper responded reluctantly. "Sorry."

I couldn't blame our AWACS for acting the way he was. He already had to account for the loss of an entire squadron and one other pilot ever since that menace of an Arsenal Bird had shown up unexpectedly. And then HQ had the nerve to think we, a group of 14 fighter planes, could single handedly destroy the damn thing with its armada of MQ-101s and impervious APS forcefield-thingamajig.

But I still had a job to do. Gargoyle was counting on us to get them out of harm's way, and the loss of Brownie only made my blood boil harder. I dumped off the last of my missiles with surgical precision at the remaining drones tagged on the last F-14D of Gargoyle that hadn't escaped yet. Those drones were gone just as fast as Brownie's Super Hornet.

"All UAVs have been splashed," Sky Keeper relayed after the fall of the last MQ-101. All I could do now was relax back in my seat and quietly mourn the loss of a friend.

"I said what I had to say," Golem's lead started after a while of silence.

"About what?" my flight lead asked with a tinge of bitterness.

"Not a girl who'd retreat. Just not in her DNA."

"That was the right decision at the time."

"No, I should've never let a fledgling like her out of my reach to begin with."

"Golem squadron, Mage squadron. Withdraw." Sky Keeper's orders were enough to shut us all up as I leveled out my F/A-18F into the cruise back to my rendezvous point with the OFS Vulture II. Still hard to believe Brownie was gone just like that. No tears. Pull yourself together. I flew in absolute silence the whole way back.

That was one week ago…

I guess now's the time for the official introductions. My name is Tomas Ramius although many of my fellow peers know me by my TAC name, Trigger. Flying was always an ambition for me ever since I first gazed upon the legendary aces of old: the Demon Lord, the Ribbon Fighter, and the mystical Razgriz. Although once I worked my way up through the academy and flight training of the OADF, the realities of an ace pilot soon became realized as the chances of actually being one were very, very slim. And yet that didn't stop most people from expecting me to perform at top marks solely because of my bloodline. Why's that? That brings me to another point. You may have heard of the Emmerian-Estovakian War a few years back, and how one squadron almost single handedly turned the course of the war in Emmeria's favor. The problem was its flight lead, Garuda 1. Why? Because the guy was my elder cousin and for some reason people thought I would bestow the same flying prowess as him. But unlike him I never had to face the level of discrimination he went through in his initial life in Emmeria, all in part to where we were born.

I was never originally an Osean to begin with. I was born in Estovakia a few years after my now Emmerian cousin was. Ravaged by the Ulysses disaster and subsequent civil war in the country, my family had no choice but to move elsewhere. We settled on the Osean Federation primarily because of the president at the time, Vincent Harling. He was a man of peace and would go bold in his strides to make his agenda a reality including the slashing of the military budget and closer ties to former enemies such as Yuktobania. That was enough convincing to get me, my mother, and my father moving across the ocean to the promise of Osea. Of course, the reality is often disappointing as my mother and father found out the hard way. We had moved into one one of the poorer districts of Bana City and had tried to make do with starting a shoe business, the one thing my mother and father were exceptional at. The Circum-Pacific War had cut that venture short as a group of terrorists hit our neighborhood hard with a gas attack. My mother came through unscathed, but my father suffered from permanent blindness as a result. Mother tried to restart the shoe business but it never amounted to much, I guess Osean folks were more interested in designer's or big brand shoes than homemade ones. Despite that, I always had something to look up to. The Circum-Pacific War had given rise to the mystical squadron known only as the Aces of Razgriz, and they were the ones responsible for revealing the truth of the war as an orchestration by some shadowy organization. They became the heroes of a so-called unsung war, and I always wondered if I could actually meet them someday.

That squadron became the catalyst for my interest in being a fighter pilot and also opened the floodgates for my obsession with other legendary aces in history. I worked my ass off in school to earn myself a spot in the Osean Air Defense Force Academy and eventually the OADF itself. Occasionally I would face some unkind individuals who had colorful things to say about my Estovakian heritage, and more so since the end of the Emmerian-Estovakian War. But it was never on the scale that my partner had to endure. What, you thought I was the only one in the cockpit? Of course not. I flew the F/A-18F which meant I was destined to have a backseater, but the person who was chosen as my WSO was one I grew to trust very quickly. Her name is Sofia Lange and was also better known by her TAC name, Gizmo. Apparently it was because of her pastime hobby for old erector sets and model kits, but that's beside the point. Gizmo was like me, born in another nation and facing discrimination. But unlike me she was some years older than I was, and had more suspicion and disdain thrown at her. Take the flak I endured and crank it to 11 for Gizmo, and only one word was needed to understand why. Belka.

Sofia was born in Belka and like me had to flee from the country during the Belkan War of 1995. Also like me, she was inspired to take to the skies by an equally mysterious ace, this one known by the moniker "Demon Lord of the Round Table". However, she didn't quite make the grade as well as I did for the pilot role, so instead she opted for WSO training which she proved much more capable at. Despite the derogatory terms she had to put up with on a near weekly basis, she somehow retained a gentle but confident demeanor. At first I had my own doubts when I was first assigned with her during training and our very first sortie of the war. But eventually her technical prowess and no nonsense attitude in the wizzo seat was more than enough to earn her my absolute trust as my partner in the cockpit. Sure Gizmo acted like a motherly figure most of the time and I was initially annoyed by it, but over time I grew to appreciate the one person who had my back and in turn I did for her. She was one of the few friends I had in the OADF, the others being my flight lead and the members of Golem squadron. Now we had lost one, Brownie, yet I still clinged on to some hope that she may have survived. If only that orange tipped bastard...

June 6, 2019, Fort Grays Air Base

It rained all throughout the morning and afternoon as if adding insult to injury for the losses suffered in the week. Not just Brownie, but also all members of Skeleton squadron and one from Gargoyle. The war had started out on the rough end, and we were losing. It was almost like an action replay of the Continental War years back, except now the endless swarms of drones Erusea possessed were going to maintain the tide in their favor. Operation Duel Wielder was supposed to be a swift end to Erusea. Instead Osea lost its flagship the Kestrel II, numerous other warships in Gunther Bay, and the two Arsenal Birds to Erusea. Now I could only wonder why the top brass would send rookies like me to fight on the frontlines against the menace that had been turned against us. Standing out in the rain like this wasn't going to bring them back...

"You're gonna get your clothes wet if you keep standing there." A feminine voice scolded me from afar. If there was any one person that had to act eerily similar to my mother, it had to be Gizmo. I turned to face the voice and there she was, standing by the hangar in a raincoat with that trademark neutral expression of hers. Some days it was just hard to tell what mood she was in. That's what you get when you're paired with a WSO who has to put up with slurs because of Belkan heritage; it hardens them and makes them steadfast in proving the detractors wrong.

"You haven't noticed? Why thank you, Ms. Obvious," I retorted back sarcastically.

"Come here Tomas," she said calmly, her expression unchanged. I just sighed and walked over to her spot. For someone in their late twenties, Sofia could easily be mistaken for someone much younger. She had flowing honey blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and a good, lean build. A lot of guys I knew would have thought her a good candidate for dating if not for the fact she was a few years older than I was, and the OADF having a plethora of regulations regarding fraternization. It didn't really matter anyway since she had already punched someone's lights out a while back for trying a rather creepy approach to her.

"I just wished there was some way to bring them back," I admitted quietly as she placed her hand on my shoulder.

"I do too, OK?" she said with a sympathetic look. "But being all pouty about isn't going to make things any better. The best we can do is fight on so their sacrifice isn't in vain. That's all any of us can do."

"It's that orange bastard." She looked confused, requiring me to elaborate. "I saw that plane. Dark grey, orange wingtips. Did you hear Brownie when she was being tailed? The sick bastard was just toying her into fear before gunning her down."

"And I suppose you want revenge?" she offered. I could only give a grim nod as confirmation. "You'll get your chance. Right now, there's other things to tend to."

"What do you mean?"

"HQ's got a briefing for us at 1500, they said it's urgent." I managed another nod.

"Alright, I'll be there."

"See you around." With that, she gave me a pat on the shoulder before heading back to the crew quarters. That just left me to ponder in the quiet serenity of raindrops falling on the tarmac, wondering about how the IUN was going to turn this one around.

In a rare example of forethought, I tidied myself up with a nice shower and change of apparel into my flight suit. The one pride and honor I had so far, it bestowed all the telltale markings of an OADF pilot with an Osean Federation flag on my left sleeve and my squadron patch on the right. The 508th Tactical Fighter Squadron "Mage", recognizable by its stork emblem and navy and orange colors. Established in the 1980s, it saw its first taste of real combat during the Belkan War and later participated in the Circum-Pacific War, so it definitely had an established history. Now, it found itself in yet another growing conflict.

I hurriedly made my way into the briefing room about a minute before the scheduled start and found an empty seat next to my WSO who was already present. I settled myself in just as our briefing officer breezed in and booted up the briefing software with its all too familiar triple beep chime.

Operation Lighthouse Keeper

1800 hours

Gunther Bay

"As proved by the failure of our previous strategy, the Arsenal Birds have bolstered the enemy's anti-air network. This'll be difficult to overcome. However, we still need to get swiftly to the space elevator no matter what it takes. Someone there is counting on us. The hero of the Circum-Pacific War and the man who spearheaded the construction of the space elevator. Osea's former president Mr. Harling. Mr. Harling was inspecting the elevator when the war broke out. He's been classified as missing since the elevator was taken over by the Erusean forces. However, according to the latest intel, a military officer accompanying Mr. Harling hid him inside the facility. Both are waiting for a chance to escape. Enemy anti-air radar network has been set up around the space elevator, it's likely a large squadron would be detected. We will send a single aircraft through the network, and send in a rescue team soon after. Our reconnaissance suggests their network is weakest along the southeastern coast of Selatapura, so we can elude the enemy's observation. There are a lot of rain clouds this time of year, and flying through the clouds will enable us to stay hidden from their radar. If you happen to be detected by radar, we will be forced to abort the mission."

"The lone crew who will head up this strategy are you, Trigger and Gizmo." At that point, everyone else in the briefing room had spared us sympathetic glances for what looked like a last roll of the dice to get to the elevator.

"After you bust through, secure the rescue craft's landing zone by taking out the anti-air weapons. Golem and others will arrive shortly to provide support. Provide escort for Mr. Harling's craft after rendezvous. Good luck out there, everyone."

Briefing over, now it was time to grab our flight equipment before heading out. There was a lot to contemplate in that walk down to the pilot lockers. Everyone already knew beforehand about Harling's disappearance, it was just that no one could figure exactly where the old man was. I guess now we had an answer: right at the catalyst of this whole war. Did I forget to mention how much this guy meant to a lot of Oseans? He was borderline worshipped by the folks back home, and anything less than operation success would be unacceptable.

Soon enough I was walking side by side with my WSO, both of us now fully kitted up in our harnesses, life preservers and flight helmets. We were about to enter the hangar where our plane was before a voice behind stopped us.

"Trigger, Gizmo, wait up!" We both turned to face the all friendly smile of our flight leader. Captain Brad Herrera, better known by everyone as Clown, was pretty much the flight leader I had always dreamt of having: cool, composed, and quite lenient in letting me and Gizmo off on missions without too much holdback. Right beside him with a more stern look was Captain Doug Williams, or Knocker. The leader of our partner squadron Golem and very unlike Clown, Knocker tended to be more by the book and stringent with his wingmen. I wondered how much that got on their nerves and Brownie-oh, right.

"You'll be great out there as always, you two," Clown gave in his cheery voice while clapping our shoulders. "It's a big mission, but I know you'll pull through."

"Just keep your mind focused," Knocker added in with his more stoic tone. "I'll give you pointers if you get through this in one piece."

"Thank you sir," me and Gizmo replied back simultaneously. With that, we exchanged quick salutes with Knocker before he headed off to join his squadron.

"You'll do us proud, kids," Clown said with a warm smile before giving us a final clap on the shoulders. "Now let's get going."

"Will do, boss," I replied with as much confidence I could muster. Satisfied, he left us to go tend to his F-16C. I exchanged a quick look with Gizmo before we stepped into the hangar storing our bird of war.

The F/A-18F Super Hornet. It struck a great balance between speed and maneuverability for a multirole, something I knew very well ever since our first sortie of the war, Operation Deer Hunter. Gizmo went ahead of me to get set up in her part of the cockpit, while I took the liberty of a walkaround to get a quick inspection of the craft before heading up. Today it was fully loaded for a mix of air and ground targets: AGM-88 HARM missiles for anti-aircraft installations, and AIM-120 AMRAAMs and AIM-9 Sidewinders for any airborne threats.

I rushed back to the tail section. It donned all the IUN markings, but also included the "FG" code for Fort Grays and our personal emblems on the tail. I was never the best with art design, but I suppose a fox with a gun in its mouth was a good start. Next to that was a multicolored shield, Sofia's family crest from her Belkan ancestry, overlapping a silver cog. How the OADF allowed the Belkan bit, don't ask me. Inspection complete, I had nothing else to do but clamber up the ladder into my seat in the cockpit.

"You ready Trigger?" My WSO called out from behind as I buckled myself into the seat.

"Affirmative," I replied back, "closing the canopy now." I pressed the switch and the hydraulics whirred to life as the canopy came down and locked in place. Then came the engines. The ground crew gave the hand signal to start and I obliged with audible humming from the rear. After that, it was just a matter of following the marshallers' directions and taxiing for takeoff. And soon we were off, off into the still rainy skies...to skies unknown.

Two and a half hours of rather mundane flying in cloudy skies was only broken by two things: the rendezvous for midair refueling, and the actual start of the operation. The latter was promptly started when we were about 1000 feet off the deck and just entering the AO. The other aircraft would be waiting just outside until we got through to the space elevator...assuming we made it undetected.

"You are about to enter the operations area. Imposing radio silence. If you're spotted, the mission is aborted," our familiar AWACS relayed to us. Sky Keeper, always a stickler to proper procedure. "One more thing, no weapon usage until you reach the elevator. The success of this mission depends on you. Good luck you two."

"Copy Sky Keeper, see you on the other side," I replied before switching to the private channel.

"Easy does it, right Trigger?" my WSO mused.

"I hope so, Gizmo."

"Just keep an eye on your radar and weave through the net."

"Yes, why thank you for your insight mom," I said sarcastically.

"Don't call me that," she shot back with a snappy tone. She definitely was not my mother, but it was one of the few things that got on her nerves.

"Just no backseat driver today, okay Gizmo?"

"Wilco that." The cutting sound on the radio indicated that Gizmo had in fact gone into total silence. I guess all I could do was talk to myself for the time being as I began our run in, diving for an even lower altitude of 500 feet above the ground. Thankfully, a handful of rain squalls were lumbering over where Selatapura was, so our plane was at least partially concealed in the visual sense. In the end, it all hinged on my flying ability to follow the designated waypoints provided on my radar display to avoid the enemy radar scans. We broke out of the clouds just as we arrived at the first waypoint, right over Selatapura airport. I gave a silent prayer that the guys in that control tower would assume we were just an Erusean patrol craft, and after making it over the waters of Gunther Bay, no interceptors were tailing us. We were in the clear, for now. I dived back into another rain squall, checking only my flight instruments and radar to ensure I was following the path.

We broke out of the clouds for the final time and, woah, what a sight. Directly in front of the canopy loomed the massive concrete structure of the space elevator, stretching straight up like a long line into the heavens. It was an amazing feat of engineering, yet I still felt a bit sad that this modern wonder of the world was the reason the war was started. I hoped it remained standing when the dust settled. The radio crackled to life as the comms all went online.

"...Radio silence is lifted. Mage 2, the first stage of the mission is clear," Sky Keeper spoke in with an audible sigh of relief. "Don't celebrate yet, the real fight's about to get started. The auxiliary craft will arrive shortly."

"Yeah!" I shouted out in glee, allowing some of the pent up anxiety to get out.

"Good to see you again Sky Keeper," Gizmo radioed in with her more civil tone.

"Destroy the anti-air around the space elevator," Sky Keeper directed us, "we're securing Sea Goblin's landing zone."

"Copy Sky Keeper. Gizmo, ordnance ready?" I asked back to my WSO.

"HARM's primed," she confirmed to me.

"Locking target," I said as I homed on a pair of AA guns, "Mage 2, magnum!" I pressed the weapon release and a AGM-88 dropped off the hardpoint before its motor ignited and propelled it to its target. The HARM hit right at home, sending bits of metal into the air.

"Shack on target!" Gizmo called back to me. I repeated the process two more times, knocking out another pair of AA guns and a SAM launcher. But sooner or later, the enemy would realize what was going on before retaliating with anti-air fire.

"Where's our support Sky Keeper?" Gizmo demanded sharing the same concern I was having.

"Gizmo, sorry about the wait. The cavalry's here!" Clown's voice broke through the comms. As if on cue, another group of HARM missiles came streaking in from the east slamming into their targets.

"Golem squadron, Mage 2 jumped through the fire," Knocker exclaimed with a bit of pride in his tone. "It's our turn now!" Now under the combined strength of Mage and Golem, the defenses were easily overwhelmed as AA guns and SAMs alike began falling one after another until there was nothing left to use.

"All SAM sites and AA guns destroyed!" Sky Keeper announced joyfully. "Landing zone is secure. Sea Goblin, you're cleared to land."

"Sea Goblin here, roger," a new voice spoke up on the radio. "Landing point in sight, arriving shortly to pick up the VIPs." The craft eventually came into sight, a single Chinook helicopter of the Osean Marine Corps. I knew a little bit about Sea Goblin when they rose to fame for their daring exploits and willingness to rescue any allies regardless of the danger. One prominent event was a rescue mission deep in Yuktobania to extract a so-called "Demon of Razgriz" from the Glubina region. Alongside the helicopter was a flight of four Super Tomcats of Gargoyle squadron performing escort. Gargoyle was one of the few squadrons the OADF had that still flew the old girl, but it proved again and again that it was perfectly capable in the modern era.

"Multiple bandits over Selatapura harbor! Container-launched UAVs!" Sky Keeper alerted us with urgency. "Golem, Mage, destroy all hostiles. Gargoyle will stand by near the space elevator." Without further urging, I gunned the throttle into afterburners while setting course for the harbor.

"It's been a long journey, but you're on the home stretch," Clown encouraged us in his chipper, but now weary voice.

"We'll make it Clown," Gizmo radioed back with gusto. I was too busy with the radar which was now tracking a pair of bandits ID'd as MQ-99 drones.

"This is Sea Goblin, heading to ex-prez's location now!"

"Trigger, tracking bandits on radar," Gizmo relayed to me. "AMRAAMs armed!"

"Mage 2 engaging!" I called out on the comms. "Mage 2, fox 3!" This time, a pair of AIM-120 missiles headed out and began homing on the enemy radar signatures. The MQ-99s were hit hard as both spiraled towards the water in flaming heaps.

"Splash two!" Gizmo confirmed the kills for me. "Radar's clear for now."

"Roger Gizmo," I copied back as I made the switch back to HARM missiles. "Mage 2, magnum!" Another pair of AGM-88s rocketed towards their targets, an AA gun and SAM site. Just as the two targets exploded a bunch of seemingly harmless shipping containers opened their tops, revealing more MQ-99s. The drones popped out at blinding speeds, completely ignoring my plane and making a beeline for the space elevator.

"UAVs are approaching the space elevator!" Sky Keeper cried in alert. "Stop them!" I turned around as quickly as possible to engage the new bandits, but I was only able to knock out one with an AMRAAM before they zoomed out of range. In the midst of all this I still had to run the gauntlet of AA fire coming out of Selatapura harbor.

"Golem squadron this is Mage 2, we've got our hands full at the harbor!" I radioed in to our partner squadron. "Can you intercept the UAVs heading for the elevator?"

"We'll try Mage 2!" Knocker copied back briskly. "Golem squadron, take them down!"

"Screw this AA!" I yelled in frustration as I dumped the rest of my HARM missiles at any anti-defenses that were still bracketing my Super Hornet. I wasn't really trying to aim accurately, I just needed a fast way to shed weight to actually fight those damn drones.

"Shit! Two of them got through!" A Golem pilot exclaimed to my horror, before the inevitable happened.

"INCOMING ROCKET-" the radio transmitted an explosion sound before abruptly cutting static.

"Sea Goblin! All survivors, respond! Is Mr. Harling alive?" Sky Keeper demanded in growing anxiety.

"UAV got the chopper and Sierra 2!" Great, so there was still a Sea Goblin team. But with no helicopter- "Shit! ROCKET!" Nevermind. Sea Goblin was toast now.

"Damn! Sorry Mage 2, couldn't get them all." The same Golem pilot from earlier said, but I just grimaced at our new dilemma.

"Without the chopper," I said realizing the president had no other way out, "that means-"

"This is Colonel Johnson, do you copy? I am with Mr. Harling," a new voice interjected on the comms. "Rescue unit is down, along with the soldier who had this radio. I'll get Mr. Harling out of here."

"Sir, we feel the same way. We'll figure something out," Sky Keeper told him back with some reassurance.

"We found an Erusean transport craft. We can use that to get Mr. Harling out."

"Can you fly it, Colonel Johnson?"

"Better than Mr. Harling."

"It'll do," Sky Keeper quipped. "All squadrons be advised. The callsign to look for is Mother Goose 1, I've sent the information to the data link."

"Hell of a name to choose," I muttered to myself. Usually that callsign was reserved for the current president of Osea, not the former. "You got that Gizmo?"

"Updating IFF, standby Trigger," she relayed back before pressing a few more buttons on her console. "Bingo! Positive ID on Mother Goose 1."

"Mother Goose 1? That's the best you can come up with?" The Colonel Johnson guy asked in a quizzical manner. Did this guy seriously not know the significance of callsign "MG1"?

"One more bandit Trigger, I'm locked on radar!" Gizmo told me as I also began receiving the tone for an IR missile.

"Mage 2, fox 2!" I called out as a Sidewinder launched off the rail and streaked towards the last drone still airborne. It too exploded in a brilliant fireball.

"All UAVs have been splashed!" Sky Keeper announced. "Mother Goose 1, report your status."

"Engines are on and Mr. Harling's on board. We're ready," the colonel relayed back to our AWACS.

"Mother Goose 1, take off!" With that a new helicopter, a V-22 Osprey, rose off the grounds of the space elevator. When did the helicopter get there? I didn't remember seeing when I made my initial passes to take out anti-air.

"Mother Goose 1 taking off," the colonel announced. "Oh, and Mr. Harling wants to extend his thanks to you beforehand."

"Let's wait till we're home safe," Sky Keeper scolded the guy. "All squadrons, Mother Goose 1 is heading south. Provide support."

"Mage 2, let's go!" Clown ordered us along.

"Copy Mage 1, forming up," I radioed back.

"Sky Keeper, bogies on my radar bearing 220!" Knocker abruptly called out and my radar confirmed it.

"Bogey ID confirmed as MQ-101s, forerunner for Arsenal Bird!" Sky Keeper informed us quickly.

"The big bird is coming, huh?" Clown mused grimly.

"Mage, Golem, protect Mother Goose 1! Intercept and shoot down any UAVs that get close!"

"Golem 1, wilco," Knocker complied immediately.

"Mage 1 copies all," Clown confirmed as well. "You got that Mage 2?"

"They aren't gonna lay a finger on Mr. Harling, Clown." Gizmo replied back with renewed confidence.

"Atta girl Gizmo, that's what I like to hear."

"Gargoyle squadron, stand by for my order," a voice of who I presumed was Gargoyle's leader spoke in.

"But without the lighthou-I mean the harbor, they won't be able to get home!"

"That ship isn't one of ours."

"Lighthouse? Harbor? Ship? What are they talking about?" I asked in a clearly confused state. What ship? There weren't any visible in the bay at the moment.

"Lighthouse and harbor, lighthouse and harbor," Gizmo started wondering too. "I've heard that before…"

"Gargoyle, change radio frequency."

"Mother Goose 1 here, we're about to leave the airspace," Colonel Johnson came back on. "Keep your fingers crossed."

"Attention Gargoyle squadron, babel, babel, babel!" At the utterance of those words, the four F-14Ds suddenly broke off from their defensive posture and lined up in staggered formation...right to the space elevator.

"Where are they going?" I asked aloud, even more confused than before. Suddenly, the distinct trails of missiles poured off their wings and made straight for the elevator. "What the-"

"Are they trying to destroy the space elevator!?" Gizmo shouted, now sounding more enraged than before. Before any more anger leaked out of her, a new swarm of MQ-101s had quickly swooped in. To my astonishment they dove in front of all the missiles and took the hits going down. They were literally sacrificing themselves to what I thought was protecting the elevator. One missile did get through but it did nothing more than chip a small chunk of concrete off the massive structure. It would take a whole lot more than a missile to knock the entire thing down.

"Sky Keeper, what the hell was that!?" Knocker demanded in a quizzical, angered manner.

"Gargoyle did their job."

"I figured, but why weren't we informed?"

"The IUN can't coordinate, as usual," Clown interjected with his own personal wisdom. We all knew the IUN's capabilities at fumbling operations, notably the previous one, but I don't think I ever heard someone openly critique them on the frequency.

"Watch your mouth, Mage 1," Sky Keeper chided Clown harshly.

"Well if their job was to destroy the elevator, they did a terrible job at it," I added in my two cents, not broadcasted on the channel. Unfortunately, I let myself get distracted too long as a stray MQ-101 launched a missile and struck right into the helicopter.

"Mother Goose 1 hit!" Clown exclaimed in panic. When the dust settled, the transport was miraculously still flying albeit smoke was pouring out from the sides.

"Mother Goose 1, Colonel Johnson. Respond!" Sky Keeper anxiously started hailing the unresponsive Osprey. "Mage squadron, assess the situation."

"Mage 1, wilco. Mage 2, close in and inspect the craft."

"Copy Mage 1, moving in," I replied as I eased my Super Hornet alongside the stricken transport. Even from 1000 feet away it was pretty obvious to the state of the craft with smoke billowing out from one of the engines...and the cockpit.

"Mage 2, report."

"I have Mother Goose 1 in sight," Gizmo relayed back, "the cabin looks fine, but the cockpit isn't in great shape."

"Colonel Johnson, are you okay?" Sky Keeper asked with growing anxiety.

"Don't worry about me...just send help this way…" the colonel weakly pleaded out. He must've been in terrible shape. "I'm sorry. Get Mr. Harling...please…"

"Mother Goose 1, respond. Mother Goose 1!"

"Mage 1, what's the plan?" I requested with rising panic in my voice.

"Continue providing support for Mother Goose 1, Mage 2."

"Okay Mage 1. Gizmo, what's our ammo state?"

"Trigger, we've got 1 AMRAAM, 1 Sidewinder, and guns," Gizmo relayed back to me. "That's it."

"Better than empty at least."

"Trigger, Mother Goose 1's turning!" She was right. Now it was performing a gentle bank to the right, but who was flying the damn thing?

"Where's it going?" I asked in bewilderment as it continued its easy turn.

"Mage squadron, Mother Goose 1 is turning. What's going on?" Sky Keeper asked, now he too was in perplexion.

"I don't know Sky Keeper!" I yelled back in frustration.

"This is Mage 2, I think Mother Goose 1 is heading…" Gizmo started to say until she had a gasp over some realization, "to the space elevator!?" Sure enough, the craft was now heading an straight course right back to where it had started.

"It's flying steady, who's at the controls?" Clown asked.

"It's not the colonel, Mr. Harling's the only one alive," Sky Keeper insisted as he kept trying to hail. "Mother Goose 1, RESPOND!"

"Why is it heading back?" I asked with maximum confusion achieved.

"Mr. Harling! Please respond!"

"Can't protect our objective if it sticks around here!" Clown pointed out incisively. Sooner or later one of the Arsenal Birds was going to be on station to get in our way. We didn't need more casualties than we already had.

"Now's not the time to freak out, fellas. We've still got a job to do, so let's do it!" Knocker pushed us on. "Keep your mind focused!"

"Mr. Harling, we are not giving up on you!" Sky Keeper kept frantically calling on the transport. "The UAVs are approaching Mother Goose 1!"

"Let's go Mage 2," Clown ordered.

"Take 'em down now Mage Squadron!"

"We're going, we're going Sky Keeper!" I yapped back as I prepared to fire my last AMRAAM missile. "Fox 3!" The missile hit its mark on an MQ-101 trailing behind the Osprey.

"Mother Goose 1, turn 180 degrees and exit combat airspace! Mother Goose 1! MR. HARLING! Are you piloting that craft?"

"They're obsessed with that transport," Clown said with a mix of confusion and awe.

"One missile left Trigger, make it count!" Gizmo called from the back. One AIM-9 missile, and one more drone that had just fallen behind Harling's craft. I knew what to do.

"Alright Gizmo," I lined up my HUD on the trailing MQ-101 before I called it. "Mage 2, fox 2!"

In hindsight, I should have kept my hand off the missile release. Or maybe I should have fired the missile a few seconds later. But that's just wishful thinking.

"MAGE 2!"

I could only gasp in horror as what looked like my missile plowed straight into the Osprey, sending it careening down towards the bay. Then it disintegrated, leaving zero trace of the iconic ex-president on board behind. A lone Super Hornet passed by my four o clock as if giving its own quiet salute to the man I had just killed. In cold blood.

"Oh no…" Gizmo started, also in a clear state of shock.

"No, no, no, no, no...no..." I was murmuring to myself. Anything to deny it really happened, but it did. It takes a strong man to deny what's in front of him, and I wasn't strong. Vincent Harling was gone.

It was only inevitable that everyone else caught on to what I had just done.

"Oh my god, Mother Goose 1 has been shot down!"

"Where'd the missile come from?!"

"Mage 2 fired that!"

"It was Osean. A friendly missile hit them."

"I didn't do that...I didn't…I-I didn't..." I tried to keep denying it. No good.

"Verifying the situation. Stop speculating."

"Friendly fire! I saw it."

"Mother Goose 1 exploded in air. No one could have survived."

"Looks like it tried to protect the elevator."

"Erusean bastards, they just killed a hero!"

All I could now was turn eastward and regroup with my flight lead who was formed alongside Golem squadron.

"Mage 1, was it Trigger and Gizmo?" Knocker inquired in a cold tone I wasn't used to hearing. "Mage 2 was the closest."

"UAVs were crawling all over our objective-" Clown had started to defend us like a father for his children, but Knocker was having none of it.

"I told you to keep a goddamn eye on the hatchlings!"

"It must have been a mistake."

"Arsenal Bird is entering! All aircraft, withdraw immediately!" Sky Keeper alerted everyone, jarring me out of my stupor. I couldn't say anything as I gunned the throttle on a natural fight or flee instinct. It was all I could do at the moment.

"Trigger, Gizmo. You can't fly for a while, you understand why," Knocker scolded us like ice in the throat. I was speechless. The only reason I hadn't broken down yet was on the basic fact I still had to fly to the plane back to base. Nothing I would say was going to save me or my WSO from the backlash that was soon to come.

"Trigger?" my WSO finally asked after a long silence of cruising. No, I definitely wasn't okay. I had just shot down Harling, a hero to many in Osea. She knew the dire consequences as well and was only trying to best to alleviate the grief I was in. But in the end, Gizmo would be going down with me as well since she was in the same plane as me.

"Let's head home," was all I could put out in a weak voice.

Our arrival back at Fort Grays only marked the beginning of the drama. Almost as soon as I parked and shut down the plane, six armed guards surrounded the plane to keep a keen eye on us. I just quietly stepped down the ladder and looked out amongst the small crowd that gathered to take a look at the newest criminals in Osea's military. Two of the guards swiftly flanked us from the sides to provide escort and a watchful eye. Some of the crowd gave us sympathetic looks, others not so much as they added in their two cents.

"President killers!"

"Stovie backstabber!"

"Belkan shit! It had to be her!"

"ENOUGH!" A new voice boomed across the tarmac, and everyone else fell silent. The crowd parted slightly to reveal our briefing officer walking towards us with a grim look. "Everyone, disperse now!" They all slowly obliged as the various ground crews, personnel, and airmen headed out in their ways. Some looked back with that same sympathy, others with expressions of pure disgust. The closer our briefing officer got, the more his grim expression softened into one of understanding. He cleared his throat and gave the debriefing right out in the open to us, as if deep down he was reluctant about wanting to do this.

"The operation to rescue former president Harling has failed. Sadly, there is no hope he survived. Trigger, Gizmo, you are suspected of assassinating the former president. There will be an inquiry. There will most probably be a court martial."

The guards allowed us 15 minutes to gather any belongings we might need into duffle packs. From there, it was just a matter of waiting outside for a transport plane to come and whisk us back home to the capital of Oured. I could only sit quietly alongside my WSO for so long before I finally lost it.

I never let anyone see tears from me. But after all the agony of the past week, losing Brownie and now an icon of Osea, I just couldn't hold it back. Gizmo did her best to comfort me as she cradled my head in her arms, but she understood just as well as me that the near future lay out an uncertain path for us. From here on out, we knew it was going to get worse. Just how much worse? We didn't know, we just had to brace ourselves.

Where to next?

AN: And there you go readers, the pilot chapter of my second ever story. As with the first one, any and all reviews would be greatly appreciated and taken into consideration for writing future chapters.

As I'm still working on "The Master's Ribbon" story, this pilot chapter is probably the most you'll see for a while until my other story is finished. I'll hopefully be able to get more consistent with publishing chapters since the source material is already present, rather than having to create it from scratch. Until then, here's the first character profiles for the story attached below.

OADF/OMDF Profiles

Name Tomas "Trigger" Ramius

Age 23

Height 6' 1"

Hair Color Light brown

Eye Color Green

Rank 1st Lieutenant

Name Sofia "Gizmo" Lange

Age 28

Height 5' 11"

Hair Color Honey blonde

Eye Color Blue

Rank 1st Lieutenant