January 28th, 2019
The Red Hall, Cinigrad, Yuktobania
House of the Yuktobanian government
'Sir, it is the unanimous agreement of this cabinet that the attack on Pastella was indeed orchestrated by the Sunset Coalition.' Around a large wooden table some distance underneath the building where the entirety of the Union of Yuktobanian Republics was run from, the chief director of the Internal Security Bureau was explaining the findings of his team. Prime Minister Mikhal Jovhavas had both hands covering his mouth and nose with his elbows on the table. He had been informed nine hours ago that there had been a terrorist attack on one of his country's cities.
'You're sure?' Mikhal confirmed with the director.
'We're sure.' Admiral Jonathan Orbol, the Defense Minister and highest-ranking military person in the Yuktobanian armed forces, confirmed. 'The type of attack and location fits their memo of attack, and we don't know of any other group that would have a reason to launch an assault on Pastella.'
'Well you don't need to ask me. We know where the headquarters for their godforsaken coalition is. What would the consequences be of sending a bomber to wipe the place off the map?' Mikhal asked his cabinet. The Sunset Coalition had been present for some time, launching constant attacks against Yuktobanian citizens in a very specific area, because they historically owned that area or some shit, Mikhal hadn't really paid attention to their motive, they were the same as any other depraved lunatics to him.
'It's not that easy, sir.' Orbol stated.
'The Gaulle Special Economic Zone has its own government, albeit under control of the Verusans. Problem is, the Verusan stance on the Sunset Coalition is that the Gaulleans can deal with it. The Gualleans aren't doing anything about it, and both governments are refusing external assistance. We've asked to intervene in the past.' Foreign Minister Maxim Karshanka spoke on the topic. Mikhal groaned loudly. He wiped his face with a napkin.
'Karshanka, go upstairs and get me a line with the foreign minister in Verusa when this meeting is done.' Mikhal ordered. His bald head turned towards Orbol and the two officers, the chief of Air Force and Navy respectively. 'Orbol, do we have the option of launching long-range missiles against their headquarters?'
Orbol shook his head. 'That'd really piss the Verusans off, and more than likely they'd intercept our warheads with their THAADS and Patriot batteries along the border. A direct precision attack would be more feasible, but with a high chance of losing aircraft on the approach and kickstarting a war between us and Verusa.'
'We could send a 707th team into the area, kick in their front door. Border control between us and the Gaulle province are lax, which is how they get into Yuktobania.' Chief of Navy, Vice Admiral Marcus Marlimius added onto Orbol's statement. Mikhal weighed in all of those options. None of them were brilliant, but they would work. Only problem would be the risk of starting a war, and Mikhal knew he didn't need one on his hands at the start of his first term as Yuktobania's head of state.
'Karshanka, get me that line with the Verusan foreign minister.' Mikhal ordered his own foreign minister. Karshanka stood up and left the bunker. 'Orbol, gather your cabinet and get me a list of military options on my desk by 6PM tonight. Yarrick, enforce martial law across the border areas where we know Sunset are active, and deploy regional guard units. If they attempt another attack, I want to be ready for it.'
'Understood.' The collective cabinet agreed with these orders.
'Board adjourned. Get to it.' Mikhal ordered. Everybody stood up and made their way towards the elevator that led to the surface. The next week was going to be tense, Mikhal suspected, and if things went south it wasn't going to be pretty.
Earlier the previous day
King's Point Naval Base, Verusa
Homeport of the Pacific Fleet
Ben and Kirra rolled into one of the checkpoints that surrounded King's Point Naval Base. There was a significant tailend leading into the base. Evidently the mustering message had been sent to a lot of off-duty navy personnel. Despite that, if Ben sat up in the driver's seat he could see the open ocean, only obstructed by the silhouette of an aircraft carrier. The pair waited for a couple of minutes while the traffic was filtered through. Base security guards waved Ben in. He pulled out his wallet, which had his military ID in it. Ben stopped in the checkpoint.
'Here you go.' Ben said to the closest armed guard, passing over his ID. 'Lieutenant Rios and Lieutenant Liwell.'
'Too easy. Go on through.' The guard quickly glanced at the ID, handed it back and let the two pilots through.
'There's the boss's bike.' Kirra commented, pointing towards a green motorcycle in one of the base's parking spaces. Ben saw it.
'Commander's probably on the carrier at the moment.' Ben thought out loud. He parked his truck in a free space, turned off the engine and got out. Kirra followed, going for her bergen in the flatbed. With their kit assembled, both pilots started to walk the kilometre or so out to the pier side. There were plenty of other sailors, soldiers and airmen moving to their station. Jesus, there must be something developing on the other side of the border, Ben thought.
'Vamps, Chimera!' Somebody called out from behind the pair, followed by the sounds of running on concrete. Ben turned to see another pilot in practically the same uniform as himself and Kirra. 'You two got called in as well?'
'Yup.' Kirra answered the question. Lieutenant James Angus caught up with them. James was a big guy coming in at just over six-foot-four. He was a good dude, a great drinking buddy.
'Fucking A, the entire damn garrison is coming in. Think it's in relation to that terror attack earlier today?' Angus asked. Ben shrugged and said nothing. Combined the trio proceeded towards their section of the base. They walked for a few minutes before approaching a building complex just north of the runway. As uniformed flight personnel they were quickly let through the checkpoint without question. Ben opened the door to get into the guts of the complex, where two other pilots were waiting.
'Took yous long enough.' The most senior of the two said. A bearded man. Commander Sebastian Reid was chewing on what Ben assumed was either gum or tobacco.
'You see the pileup trying to get past the entrance, sir?' Angus shot back. Sebastian shrugged and leant back against the wall that was behind them.
'What's the situation?' Kirra asked a more relevant question. Sebastian looked around. There were other pilots, aircraft crew and enlisted personnel flooding the long hallway. Sebastian turned to his right and gestured for his people to follow.
'Can't talk about it here.' He said gruffly. Kirra raised her eyebrows in amusement and followed, as did Ben, Angus and the third pilot.
'So Mel, how are the kids?' Ben asked the third, a tall brown-haired woman. The latter clicked her fingers and gave Ben a thumbsup.
'All things considered, pretty good.' Lieutenant-Commander Alice Melody Raines replied happily. Melody, or Mel as literally everybody else called her, was the oldest of the group and somehow the most joyful, happily married with two young ones.
'Heh, nice.' Ben smiled. Up ahead, Sebastian turned to an office door, opened it and let his people through before closing the door behind. They were in a crew ready room. Angus moved through the crowd of five, chucking his kitbag on the floor and taking a seat. Ben, Kirra and Mel all found seats shortly after. Sebastian remained standing at the front of the room.
'Right.' The commander took a deep breath. 'Navy Intelligence thinks that the Yuktobanians are gonna strike at Saint Vickersburg.'
There were some glances in the room.
'Pardon my ignorance, but why exactly has half the damn navy been called in because of this?' Ben asked. Sebastian pointed an arrow hand at the lieutenant.
'That area has its own government, but it Gaulle is still our territory, or at least that's how the highers that be deem it. The Yukes cross the border, it's considered an act of war.' Sebastian briefly explained. Ben rolled his head back over the back of the seat and sighed loudly, earning a nod of approval from Angus.
'I have two questions.' Mel said.
'Send it.' Sebastian was listening. He took a camp chair from the side of the room and brought it closer to his pilots.
'One, where's Park?' Mel shot her first question.
'At home. Broke his arm in a cycling accident.' Sebastian had to remind himself not to facepalm after mentioning that fact.
'Go figure.' Kirra commented.
'Two, are we going out to sea?' Mel asked her second question.
'Not for the next couple of days. Carrier is still undergoing repairs.' Sebastian answered the second question with much less embarrassment. 'Base command wants us squids on a constant alert rotation. Two on Alert 5, the rest of us at Alert 30. Any of you fucks want to volunteer?'
'Yeah I'll do it.' Ben was the first to raise his hand.
'Alright.' Angus was next.
'When does the rotation start?' Ben asked.
'Now. Grab your shit, report to Hangar Twelve.' Sebastian was blunt.
The present day
King's Point Naval Base, Verusa
January 28th, 2019, 0230 Hours Local Time
Sitting on a couch that some big-brain enlisted guy had dragged out, Ben got to watch an E-2 Hawkeye AWACS lift off from one of the runways and up into the dark, clouded skies. He sighed, utterly bored out of his mind. After the Alert 5s had been called, absolutely nothing had happened. No border incursions, no freedom of navigation exercises, from what he had been hearing from other squadrons there hadn't been any significant troop movements in Yuktobania either.
'Yo Mel, still awake?' Ben called out to his Alert 5 buddy. The sound of a ball being thrown against a metal wall confirmed that Mel was indeed awake. 'Take that as a yes.'
'God I hate being the first response chick.' Mel openly admitted her hatred of being on Alert 5.
'Join the queue.' Ben sat up and brushed off the wrapper of the Mars bar he had consumed sometime in the past hour. Ben looked at his watch. 'Only… four hours until we're relieved, jesus christ.'
'Shut up, Vamps.' Mel said, not wanting to be reminded of how long they had. Ben chuckled and stood up. They were in a wide hangar, easily big enough to house the six Rafale M fighters of their squadron. Ben had been about to go annoy a nearby crew chief when the impossible happened.
'ALERT 5 FIGHERS DEPLOY. ALERT 5 FIGHTERS DEPLOY. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ALERT 5 FIGHTERS DEPLOY.' A voice loudly popped in through the hangar's intercom system as a mechanical alarm started ringing. By the time the number five had been mentioned Ben and Mel were already sprinting for their aircraft. Mercifully already fuelled and armed, Ben jumped up the ladder and into the cockpit where his helmet was waiting. Ben slipped it on over his little head, strapped in and started the powerup process. Within a minute both dark grey Rafales were on the tarmac.
'Tower, Werewolf 4 and Werewolf 2 are taxiing to Runway 06 Left.' Ben reported to the air traffic controller, the ATC.
'Werewolf 4, Tower, roger. We're patching you in with an AWACS, callsign Lightning Keep.' Tower reported back. Ben flipped down his HMD as he rolled onto Runway 6. Once he was lined up there was no delay, Ben kicked his engines into afterburner and he rapidly started to pick up speed down the runway. Mel was right behind him. With nothing but their indicator lights and afterburners lighting up the night sky, the two Werewolves departed King's Point Naval Air Station and headed out to sea.
'Lightning Keep, this is Werewolf 2, bogey dope over.' Mel, the senior of the two pilots, linked in with the on-station AWACS.
'Melody, Vampire, a Yuktobanian carrier group out to sea just launched six fighters at high speed on a bearing towards King's Point. They're still sixty kilometres out, but their speed indicates they aren't here for a friendly chat and some tea.' The AWACS up above, a Hawkeye reporting by Lightning Keep, informed the fighters of their impending situation.
'Roger. Werewolf Squadron is burner to intercept. Come on Vamps, let's push it.'