The song for Chapter Three will be "Messenger in Flames", by Cepheid. It's both the song for the eventual action and the one that Alex found prior to sortie.

"Test of a person's true value? Death. Facing it. Staring it down. You still got a chance to be somebody."

- Johnny Silverhand, Cyberpunk 2077

/LOGGING IN.../

/CREDENTIALS VERIFIED.../

/LOADING DATA.../

/OPERATION LEAP OF FAITH LOADED/

/BEGIN BRIEFING?/

Four days had passed since Rigley had been knocked out and we pushed the countdown back a little further so we could take in a full breath of air for the first time since San Salvacion had fallen to the Erusian Army and we got put on the back foot in this war. It was a given that we wouldn't be moving from North Point back to the mainland just yet. We still needed to get our forces back to refit and rearm, and get them out from underneath the Erusean fist that was ready to come down on all of them.

The unit that had scurried out under cover of night to hit Rigley hadn't been attempting to repair it for us, they had been rushing in to try and knock out whoever was in the base, take all of their shit, and send some of their wounded out on one of the Erusean transport birds that had been in the hangars. No other quick way to get the bombs and armament that the bombers would have needed, after all.

The runway had been repaired as best they could get it, then they'd shuttled out their wounded and taken the rest of their demo kits to blow the hell out of it and scatter the pieces after the transport birds were in the sky. Then they had refueled, rearmed, and disappeared just as quick as they'd come to haul ass north.

I lay sprawled out in bed now, staring at the ceiling above. Early morning sunlight was filtering into the room from the window that was facing out towards the flight line and the sea beyond, and I could smell the salty air from the sea. It was a new smell for me, or at least one that wasn't familiar given how I'd been to the beach… maybe once? It was relaxing though, despite everything that was going on in our lives.

Comfortable though I was, I'd need to get up eventually, wake Alex up, get dressed, get ready for the day's sortie. I didn't know too much about it, but I knew it was gonna be another long one. All of them would be until we got back to the mainland, to a base closer to the front line and not stuck way out in the ocean on an island too small for me to even stretch my arms out comfortably.

Careful not to bump my head on the ceiling, I sat up and swung my legs off the bed, sliding forward and dropping with a muted thump as my bare feet slapped the smooth floor. I grunted as I took the fall easily enough, turning to look back at Alex, still lying down. I didn't expect those blue eyes to already be locked on to me. She had been awake from some time from the looks of it.

"Sleep well?" I asked.

"Something like that." There was none of that 'just woke up' sound to her voice, so my suspicion was confirmed.

"How long have you been awake?"

"A while." Bullseye.

"How long is a while?"

"Probably an hour or so. Couldn't go back to sleep, didn't really want to."

"Excited about the sortie?"

"No, but I am looking forward to bleeding the Eruseans a little more whenever I can." She moved to sit up, scratching at her cheek. "You?"

I shrugged, not really giving an answer either way. "Gotta earn that paycheck, huh?" I was trying to make a joke, but I saw her eyes narrow slightly. I frowned. "Probably not the best way to say that, huh?"

Her lips turned up into a smile, one that made it seem as if I had walked into a trap. "I dunno, you tell me."

I stifled a groan, sitting down next to her on the bed. "Don't act like you don't already know the answer to that."

Ever since Bruce had compared me to Cipher, it had been on my mind, and Alex's as well. We had spoken of it a little bit over the past few days, with no flights planned for patrol after knocking out the bombing force and Rigley in order to conserve what little resources we had.

It was both relieving and stressful in equal measure. Stressful because I was still worried I was just getting one offs or flukes and that the next flight would be the last, stranding me in enemy territory, leaving me to be a prisoner, possibly killed, and Alex alongside me. All it took was one shot of overconfidence, taking a fight I shouldn't have, overextending, or just plain bad luck. Expectations from everybody else from the newest airman on base to the top brass felt like a hundred bricks on my shoulders.

But at the same time, that relief was born in the form of people not just being sullen and waiting for the end to come, fighting until it was all over regardless. Now, people were excited, they were talking, looking forward to the next sortie if I was in the lead. Given the way things had gone, I was going on every flight.

Rumor had spread across the base like wildfire. At first, the Bear shootdown had been something. A turkey shoot. Something to be happy with because we hadn't been carpet bombed to hell and back. Operation Harvester had taken that little bit of hope and run with it like a sprinter in a relay race. I hadn't just shot down several aircraft, but I'd been able to save another pilot from what might have been a loss had I not been there. Talon Three had made it home in the end, and when he saw me on base now, he smiled every time, and I returned it.

More than all of that, word had made it to the brass that Bruce had called me Cipher, or compared me to him. Had I been his age, people might have been making that connection and thinking I actually was Cipher, given there was no truly concrete information on his gender or age, no defining features, nothing. Larry Foulke, Galm Two, had a service record from prior service with the Belkan Air Force, but once he'd turned mercenary and later traitor, his records from the start of the war onward had been sealed or lost when Valais Air Base had been bombed. That was probably what had happened to Cipher's records, lost in the devastation. At this point, everyone just assumed Cipher was a man, since Larry had disappeared at the end of the war and Cipher as well. Everyone else was dead or hadn't fully interacted with Cipher outside of the cockpit.

There were even rumors that he didn't exist at all, based around the Demon Lord moniker. People had argued in forums online since the day he disappeared that he wasn't even Human. The pictures existed of his jet. It had been there. But he had vanished off the face of the planet after. Not even the mercenary boards still had him enrolled. Maybe he truly was a demon, come forth to… who knew?

I sure as hell didn't.

I was ripped from my thoughts as I heard a snapping sound, my gaze focusing on Alex again. "Hey, you good?"

I frowned, nodding. "I'm good. Just thinking."

"You're never just thinking. What's on your mind?"

There was no hiding it from her. She would find out eventually. May as well tell her now.

"Cipher."

She was silent for a time, seemingly letting her own thoughts filter through her mind. She didn't take long to come back, though, and I saw her eyes refocus on me. "Good or bad?"

"I don't know."

She scooted closer to me, until our hips were almost touching, and leaned against my shoulder. "What part of it bothers you the most?"

I pursed my lips, biting the inside of my cheek. "Expectations."

"Expectations?"

"If they think I'm as good as he is, they'll send us out and expect similar results. I could say that we're just one bird, two people. That we couldn't turn the tide of a war alone. Problem is…"

She finished for me. "He was just one bird and one person."

"Yeah…"

Her hand moved out to latch onto mine, her thumb rubbing across my knuckles. "Well, think of it this way. If he could do it, so can we, right? Two minds are better than one?"

Despite myself, I couldn't help but smile. "Damn optimists. You can't let me wallow for a bit?"

She scoffed. "You'll wallow either way. Maybe if you weren't such a pessimist, I wouldn't have to. Maybe I wanna be pessimistic sometimes? I know if I was, though, you'd never make it."

I rolled my eyes. "Something something opposites attract or whatever."

That got her to laugh. "Yeah, whatever you say." She kept a smile for a few moments longer, her face slowly relaxing back to its neutral position. "But really, I think it might be better to let yourself feel accomplished or like it's true or whatever."

"Ego gets you killed on the battlefield."

"I know, but a lack of confidence can too. Whether you think you're a god or if you're afraid of every little thing, it doesn't matter. Both can lead to slip ups. I'm just saying that you need to find that middle ground, that sweet spot."

"Maybe…"

"Don't maybe me, Emma. You know I'm right."

She probably was. Most likely she was, actually. I stopped to think for a moment, and understood that she usually had an eye for these things. Before she'd joined the air force, she had gotten her degree at the University of Cinigrad, focusing on a psychology field. It had been almost expected, given her father was a therapist for the university, and her mother was a psychiatrist in the private sector. She'd learned within a year of graduating that following in her family's footsteps hadn't been a great idea, so she'd become a pilot instead, training as a WSO, leading her here.

Just because she wasn't actively working in the field didn't mean her degree was completely useless, though. Unlike a normal therapist, I didn't have an hour time limit with Alex. It wore on me sometimes, being picked apart by that side of her, but I knew she had good intentions, and more than once, it had helped us both make important decisions.

Like now, for instance.

"Alright then, big brain, what if I embrace it, and we end up at the forefront of this war with a big red sign on our backs saying 'shoot me'?"

She gave me a confident smile. "Then we just don't get shot."

I raised an eyebrow. "...Yeah, just don't get shot. Great advice, doc."

It got a laugh out of her. "See? You're catching on." She gave my hand a squeeze. "Seriously, I think we'll be fine. You'd never believe what a reputation can do."

"You saying that if we develop a reputation with the Erusians, that we'll scare them away?"

"Yeah, that's why Cipher was so important. He wasn't just good, but he terrified them. Belkans would be fine against no name pilots, but when they heard Cipher, and Galm Team in general, was on the field? They'd slip up, make mistakes, try to do anything but get in his way. It was a domino effect. His nicknames that he was given played a similar role. Swordbreaker, in reference to Tauberg's Sword, or Demon Lord of The Round Table, that paints a vivid picture in someone's mind." She stopped to think. "I don't know what we'd be named if you actually do end up that infamous, but I have no doubt whatever it is will stick."

It was food for thought, if nothing else. I knew that she wasn't wrong, at least. Reputations, good or bad, spelled out what to expect from someone, and you didn't get a nickname spread around without it being for a good reason, at least in this line of work.

I glanced down at my watch, humming softly. "Let's table this, come back to it later. We need to get up and get going, get food, and head for the briefing hall. We both need showers and we'll be running out of time with taking two of them.

I felt her hand squeeze mine, and when I looked over, she had a specific kind of look, one that gave me the impression of mischief. "So the solution sounds like we just don't take two showers."

As the thought came to mind, I couldn't help but grin. "Something tells me we'll be even more late, but…" I trailed off, standing and shifting my hand to hold onto hers in time.

Hopefully the shower was big enough.

We were, unsurprisingly, two of the last people into the briefing room, and while nobody said anything, General Holloway's stare was almost withering. He had always been a punctual man, from what I'd heard. Now, more than ever, we were dangerously low on time when the wheels needed to start turning.

Taking our seats, the same as last time, we got our kneeboards and got ready to take notes. Holloway cleared his throat. "Now that we're all here, we'll begin the briefing for Operation Leap of Faith." On the screen, several images showed up, none of them looking particularly similar. "Intel has reported several things in the time since our attack on Rigley. First, and most importantly, satellite imagery from the day after the strike showed that a massive force has been at anchor in Comberth Harbor. Erusea has moored the Aegir Fleet at Comberth to get within optimal striking distance of North Point. They've gone from probing attacks to a full fledged naval invasion strategy."

He paused, his eyes passing over all of us, taking in the change in the atmosphere that such an announcement would create. They stopped on me in particular, and I hadn't realized it until I met his eyes that my face felt drawn and tight. With my reputation growing, everybody knew that the Fortress Keepers squadron from Joint Base Comberth Harbor would be chomping at the bit to recover our nest. It had based several squadrons prior to its loss, including one of the few F-22 squadrons ISAF employed, several multirole squadrons that were part of the FCU's 8th Carrier Battle Group under the FCUS Camilla, one of the few supercarriers active on the Usean Continent. Lastly, we had been there. Hellfire had been based out of JBCH for the last few years, and I'd grown to love the area off base. New Comberth had become home to me.

Holloway went on as I forced my face to relax. "They didn't moor there for no reason. Intelligence assets in deep at Comberth and satellite imagery show that they've been attempting a resupply operation. Of course, this is no small feat, especially not for Erusea's largest naval force. Aegir needs a great many things to become active, and projected estimates are a week, tops, before it ships out and comes kicking down our door. Every day we wait is a higher chance that they go in early, or our estimates are wrong. The sooner we deal with their support, the better. That being said, this will be a multi-pronged operation."

The pictures spread out on the screen in a grid pattern, the first picture showing a handful of ships docked in Comberth Harbor, including a modernized Bana Class Battleship and an older carrier. All of them had marked names, including Geofon, Tanager, Raven, and more. The briefing images went on, as the Aegir Fleet wasn't our target. Instead, the pictures that came next showed several unconnected – at a glance – things, including four C-5M Galaxy transports, an E-767, and multiple potential escort craft on the tarmac at some base. A radar station on top of a snow peaked mountain was another. Then finally, a massive oil refinery complex and a just-as-large offshore oil rig facility composed of nearly thirty drilling rigs connected by bridges. Something I noticed about these rigs were that they were bristling with SAM launchers, AAA assets, and even armed helicopters sitting on most of the landing pads that were attached. I had no doubt the refinery complex was even more heavily armed than the rigs. Surface to air weaponry was scattered across the complex and satellite photos were even showing a full battery of SA-10s, reporting name 'Grumble'. If we got spotted and tracked by those, we'd be meeting the long arm of Erusea's SAM defense. I shuddered at the thought.

Holloway's words were a little more positive this time. "Now, we're spreading our forces dangerously thin with this. That's not a problem, though. At least I'd hope not. New assets came in since Rigley," he said, pausing to point at a new group of pilots 16 strong. "VFA-291, the Timekeepers, will be joining us with their two seater Super Hornets and a trio of EA-18G Growlers. Luckily for us, they have one for each mission."

I knew of the Timekeepers. I'd met several of them when they were given leave when the Camilla was in port or they were between deployments at Comberth. I only saw a few of them that I knew though. Their two seater variants would make things easier for us, and added to our multirole capability, not to mention the force multiplier that jamming capability brought to our force.

I listened as we stepped into the next stage of the briefing. "First op, Mt. Shenza's radar stations are active and watching for us to try something. We'll be sending the Murder Hornets to deal with it, since they can escort themselves and it's likely to be the least defended. Second op, large air transport group will be taking off from the east side of Erusea's pre-war borders and delivering supplies there that are mission critical. Replacement parts, sub-munitions, and smaller weaponry that would be used by the carrier Geofon's embarked air wing. Confirmed jamming will be present on this operation. As a purely air-to-air mission with a potentially large window of launch, the 388th will sortie and engage when the time is right, so they're grounded until further notice and will remain ready to intercept."

He stopped for a moment, looking almost directly at me, and went on after a breath. "Third op. The corporate owned Brianne Petrochemical Complex was captured by advancing Eruseans, and is the sole fuel source in the theater capable of refueling and servicing the Aegir Fleet in any half-decent amount of time. This mission is the most critical, as the fleet has weapons and parts onboard and can conduct operations at reduced efficiency, and have their own radar assets, but if they have no fuel, they're all but useless. As such, remaining assets will be deployed here. Fortress Keepers, Arbalesters, and Timekeepers will sortie to attack the oil refinery and derricks. Each one of the Growlers from the Timekeepers will deploy separately, one with each prong of attack. The radar and transport missions will be keeping their squadron command intact and be localized to their operations. The petrochemical complex strike will be conducted under AWACS Kingmaker."

We all took our notes down, and I had to cross check with Alex on a few things. We'd finally be flying with all of our birds again this time. No more rushes for us to get up or get left behind, no more damage preventing a plane from going up. It would be nice flying at full strength.

Holloway carried on. "Additionally, non-mission critical information. The 8th Carrier Battle Group has been in transit for a few days now, having been consolidating in the North Sea. They'll be bringing the merged assets of the 6th Carrier Battle Group as well, who remain understrength after a rapidly closed rearm and refit cycle. They'll need to finish here, but it'll be slow going. If nothing else, it provides us a naval arm and the remainder of the embarked air wing that stayed behind to protect the 8th CBG. The 6th does not have embarked fighters, and their carrier is combat ineffective due to canceled repairs. ETA is four days."

That was a breath of fresh air. We'd have a dog in the naval fight after that, as well as an additional two or three squadrons based on the Camilla. Her E-2D Hawkeyes would take some of the burden off of Kingmaker if we were stretched like this in the future, and act as backups if needed.

The briefing was coming to a close, Alex scribbling furiously as I kept paying attention to the spoken words. "Alright, that's all I have for all of you. Mission boards have been typed out and you'll pick them up after this briefing is over. All coordinates, comms channels, and more will be noted to prevent crew error given how little of a margin we have between success and failure here. No mistakes." His eyes passed over all of us, as if to reinforce it. "Walk and sortie times will be noted. Time on target will be important here to maintain a simultaneous surprise strike on the oil complex. Expect launch within the next three to five hours. Dismissed."

And just like that, it was over, and everybody was getting up and leaving to go about their business. The four crews of Hellfire banded together almost immediately, stepping out into the lights of the command building and making our way outside.

It was so stuffy and still in the briefing room, despite the climate control, that the cool breeze blowing in from the sea felt amazing, more than usual. I was the first out, and the rest filed out behind me. We'd be picking our cards up after the rest had filtered out. While they were grabbing kneeboard copies, I knew we had plenty of time to finish whatever we needed to do here. I turned to the others, looking them over.

Crossing my arms, I settled into a stance that I had kept I was young, one hip cocked, leaning most of my weight on that side, arms crossed, the other leg out in front or to the side a bit. "You've all tended to your birds, right? No problems?" A chorus of affirmatives answered me, and I put my eyes on Carl, Hellfire Three. "What about you?" The ground crews would check the aircraft, I had no doubt they knew more about the birds than we did, but after an emergency landing, it was mandatory to be checked as soon as possible by a base doctor.

Karl and Mirah looked at each other, shaking their heads, before looking back at me without stopping. Karl, being the pilot, answered. "Nothing wrong with us." I cocked an eyebrow, expecting more. "Nothing wrong physically or mentally."

"Mirah?" I asked her next, not letting them get off with just one answering for both.

"All good, ma'am."

I looked satisfied, but I'd be keeping an eye on them when we went out. Getting shot at in general was a shocker to most, much less taking a nasty hit in your propulsion area. If shit hit the fan out there again and either of them froze up, I'd either have to ground them indefinitely on the return to base, or I'd have to bury them, and I didn't want to do either. "Understood." It was simple, but I had no doubt they saw through that one word answer, knowing I wasn't fully confident, that I'd be babysitting them to some extent.

More to the point, the mission at hand was something we hadn't really prepped for. We were used to long range sorties, or medium to low level strikes against lightly defended targets. We'd manage, but this wasn't exactly our forte. I looked to the oldest of our little group.

"Bruce, thoughts on the strike?"

He was the oldest, and the highest ranked, but he had chosen to hand command to a pilot, and me being number two at the time, I'd taken it. It allowed him to act as a local area command using our situational awareness pages and datalinks. It had done well for us so far. He was also the only person we knew that had engaged in a ground strike this large. It had been the night that Hoffnung had burned.

He pursed his lips, his dark black hair graying at the temples and his face marred by stress lines that had only been exacerbated by his expression. Hazel colored eyes looked down at the ground for a moment as he thought, a habit of his, before he looked back up. "Lotta guns down there that don't want us being above them. SA-10s will be the biggest problem, but if we can slip in under its engagement altitude, we can get in close and wipe it. Rest of them? Not sure. Probably short and mid range. Guaranteed all of it is part of an IADS system from the SA-10s all the way down to stuff like some of those Goalkeeper systems that came online last year and maybe even MANPADS. I wouldn't put it past them to keep a couple bastards up on the roof smoking a cigarette and waiting for us to try something. They know we're able to hit back now."

So basically expect anything. Not really helpful in terms of what to do, but it reinforced the thought that we need to be careful. We couldn't go in, balls out and swinging, and hope that would be enough.

"Well, if nothing else, at least we'll have a decent amount of backup if the shit hits the fan." I shrugged, the others looked at each other and back to me.

Pocketing her notes, Alex frowned. "A lot of area to cover. Response time could be over a minute if we need help, unless we split up, Hornets taking the refinery complex with their higher numbers and us smacking the derricks."

"That's not a bad idea," I reply, immediately considering it the best plan we have short of anything else. "I'll bring it up on the way out. We share datalink comms with the Hornets?"

She shook her head. "Don't think so. We can ask, though."

I pursed my lips. There wasn't much we could do on our own except brainstorm and hope that they hadn't changed anything up in the time since the last intel satellite passed over the complex. Not very likely, but… who knew? "No point in speculating endlessly with another squadron to integrate. Go and sort out whatever you need to do, meet me in the DFAC in two and a half hours. We'll have a meal together and then wait for the call. Anybody else got anything?" Again, they all shared glances, before shaking their heads. I nodded in return. "Good. See you guys in a bit."

With that, they all fanned out in their respective crew pairs, likely making their own conversations on the mission that was looming. With only Alex left behind now, I hummed, watching Bruce's back as he walked away with Four's pilot.

"Something bothering you?" Alex was looking at me again, and I hesitated a bit. She latched onto it immediately. "Spill it."

"It's not so much bothering me, so much as it's just a big mission. We manage to destroy even a quarter of the facility, central targets that process it all and the storage tanks, half of the derricks, that place is out of commission long enough for us to move on the fleet."

"Worried that we might fail?"

Locking eyes with my wife, I gave the true response this time. "Worried one of us might be too slow in the op."

It was a somber note to end on, and she didn't ask any further.

The sky was a deep orange, the sun setting over the horizon in the west, off to our three o' clock as we traveled south. We were halfway through the flight to the mission area, all of us sitting at the airspeed that would get us over the target at around the same time Mt. Shezna started getting dropped on. Though, the Shezna strike would be leaving two or three hours after we did to make the time table. Two birds with one stone, even if the transport intercept was a failure.

The Eagle was sitting on autopilot and autothrottle, making for a perfect flight. After some work, the others had slotted into their positions as well before going mostly hands off, using their sticks to make light corrections without disengaging the autopilot. Off to our right, I saw the large flight of Super Hornets arrayed in two diamond flights, with the Growler slotted in between us and them. A little further behind, the Arbalesters were cruising along with us easily, wings spread wide at the transit speed.

We'd gone over the plan several times. With the SA-10 assets in play, we'd be going in low and fast, and the Tomcats were no longer loaded with their Phoenix loadout, instead switching them out for more Long Shot missiles. More modern and maneuverable, but much less range. The Phoenix would be useless up close, and a waste. Half of the Super Hornets would engage the SA-10 battery by saturating it with anti-radiation missiles, while the rest of them, and us, went after our assigned targets. After that, everything would be too chaotic for a plan to work and we'd stick to our areas unless we were needed elsewhere.

The Tomcats were purely air to air, more than capable in a dogfight and a BVR engagement alike. The Strike Eagles and Super Hornets were loaded down with a half-and-half load of air and ground, mostly Standard missiles and racks of 1000 pound GPS guided bombs, as much as we could fit. Whatever wasn't used would just be dumped after so we'd have to use all of them or it'd be a waste.

After the complex was slapped hard enough, we would turn and flow cold at speed to get as much distance between us and them, head home and hopefully celebrate another mission complete.

It would still be another two hours or so before we got there, and I could hear quiet music playing over the intercomm that Alex and I shared. It was barely audible, but it kept me from falling prey to boredom on long flights like this. We all struggled when the flight was over a couple hours.

Keying the intercomm on my end, I called back to her. "New song?"

She hummed in return. "Yeah, stumbled upon it before we left. Ya like it?"

I didn't answer right away, listening more closely to it. Some kind of incredibly hard guitar in the beginning, followed by a piano, before they had meshed together with a woman singing. The lyrics followed a line of thinking that made me relate it with the first image that came to mind.

An ending foretold long ago. Almost like it was fate, or destiny.

While I'd need to listen to it on my own time to properly formulate my thoughts, it sounded good enough, and I nodded, though she couldn't see it all that well. "Sounds good to me. Kinda… dramatic, ain't it?"

"Maybe, but it sounds good so that's all I need."

"Can't argue with that."

She looked up, and I saw her eyes in the mirror. The crinkles around her eyes let me know she was smiling. I smiled back, and we both went back to our duties. I'd learned long ago of the comfortable silence I could have with her. There had been days in the past that we had gone through without a word to the other, despite being in the same room the entire time. Sometimes we'd look at the other, our attention drifting from a book or a television show, a game or a report. We'd be reminded of the other through simple things that were felt more than heard. Always that sensation of eyes on you when you can't see those eyes.

The music increased in volume a little after a few moments, Alex deciding our short conversation was over. The playlist she had loaded on whatever she used to play the music went through more songs the rest of the flight in.

We were still two hundred miles out from our strike point, and I heard the Eagle chirp at me. Both of us looked at our respective MFDs, and it appeared on my HUD as well. BB was written in that green stencil pilots were so used to. I keyed the datalink comms. "Lead, contact with a Big Bird, the Grumble knows we're coming." Almost as I finished the transmission, the BB winked off. They had lost us for the moment, but there was no doubt in my mind the crews were working to find us again.

They copied my transmission and I moved back to intercomm. "Alex, got anything else?"

Scanning her RWR readout and our situational awareness page, populated with the contacts from all friendly forces, she didn't answer right away, and her first word was drawn out. "Nnnnegative. Haven't been pinged by the Big Bird again, and far as I know, not much else short of a dedicated EWR setup is gonna outrange it. All temporary shit emplaced recently, so the Big Bird is the best they have that can work with the Grumble."

I hummed in acknowledgment. She was thinking the same things I was. "Copy, call out to Bruce, see what he thinks." It was a shame we were relegated to datalink only in the name of keeping our comms hidden. I'd like to know what the C.O. of the Timekeepers thought. Passing our second to last inbound waypoint, we shifted course, the Strike Eagles breaking apart from the formation and dropping altitude. The Timekeepers would do likewise in the opposite direction soon, and Sagittarius would be the last, going straight down. We all knew we had to be on time, otherwise some of us would be in hot water while the others wasted time and fuel trying to catch up, so any time we had an actual time on target deadline, it was usually a bit of a rush, even if we had some leeway.

I went into a slow left roll, letting the Eagle drop its nose with gravity and its newly inverted form before completing it and pulling off to the right, towards our next waypoint. The other three members of Hellfire did likewise, following perfectly in my path as if there was an invisible line showing them where I'd gotten my bird to fly.

"Fence in, offensive spread, keep it close," I ordered over the datalink, already checking over my systems and shutting off lights as if the words were a reflexive trigger. They actually were, given how much we'd trained and the protocol had been hammered into our heads over the years, all but Four's pilot.

Two and Three came back quickly with their states, and their formation and navigation lights winked out in turn. Four was slow on the upkeep, and while he knew it all, he was still a little slow given his accelerated training with the war's start. I knew that Bruce would keep him in check, though, and sure enough, the pilot responded before it took too long. A few seconds didn't matter to most people, but it mattered to us, and if you let things slip once or twice, it would snowball.

With all four Eagles moving from navigation duties to combat, we'd unsheathed those sharp talons their namesakes were known for, ready to tear into Aegir's gut and bleed it dry.

The mountain in front of us disappeared right as the mission clock ran over to our strike's start. All four of us pitched up and immediately rolled over onto our backs to ramp over the mountain top and go screaming down the other side.

We had the Big Bird pinging us, and several smaller search and track radars were following its lead. By now, all of the strike flight was bathed in radar waves, Erusean gunners and radar operators sounding the alarm to each other.

I finally flicked back over to full radio channels, already on the proper set up for the strike. "All planes, radio silence suspended. Kingmaker, strike force is engaged offensive. How copy?"

Kingmaker had been waiting hours for this, just watching his scopes and going between the different operators in the E-3. "Kingmaker copies all, Hellfire. Carry on, we'll provide support as much as we can. Additional: squall inbound from the east, ETA 10."

"Copy all, Kingmaker." I looked left and right to see the other members of Hellfire split off in their own directions, leaving the offensive spread formation and attacking their targets, assigned or otherwise. Off to the east, I could see dark stormclouds coming in, and frowned before looking back to the target area. The sooner we finished this, the better.

In the distance, I saw several tracers flood the sky before there was a large explosion, an inky plume following shortly after. At the same time, the Big Bird signal and several others disappeared from our RWR. "Chronos flight, all Magnums expended, prosecuting other targets."

Magnum was the brevity code given to an anti-radiation missile. Given their usual short range and short lived rocket motor, I hadn't seen any smoke from the missiles going out, and the Timekeepers C.O. had kept his voice down until radio silence had broke. I had eyes on my own group and the first half of Chronos, the other half and the jamming plane had started a circular orbit not far out from us, its emitters throwing out all kinds of electronic interference. It would work for most long range air or surface missiles, but if someone got an eye on our ass with a heater, we'd have to work our way out of it alone.

Alex was silent for this part of the mission, the opening salvos. Her concentration had all gone to managing her targeting pod, arming weapons, and deciding their best employment method, where it all got fed to me in the front to give her a shot.

We had a smattering of air to air missiles for defense in case we got jumped with no support, as well as a dozen 1000lb JDAMs. We skipped the hassle of maintaining a laser lock on targets, given none of our targets were moving. It was a simple designate, drop, and move on.

The green diamond of the targeting pod's focus point appeared on my HUD, and I adjusted myself to follow it off to the side even while I angled us towards it. Eventually, it stopped, and I headed straight for it when the countdown to release showed up.

As soon as it switched to a shoot cue, the aircraft lurched to one side. "Pickle!" Alex shouted it from the back and I yanked on the stick, even while she started the countermeasures program, tossing out chaff and flares as we went to dodge anything that might have gained a lock on our pass. Fortunately, nothing came up at us as we dodged and weaved back up to a proper altitude to survey the area from on high.

She didn't miss a beat though. "Next target tracking, designated, at our 11."

I shifted my heading to the left again and, just as before, I saw that same diamond and went for it, repeating the same process that had led to one target being smashed, now resulting in a second target turning to nothing but scrap and flame.

"Strike, Kingmaker. Be advised, several aircraft have sortied to your northwest, too close to determine strength. Sagittarius, move to engage."

Sagittarius' leader grunted his response, and I knew he was already turning to intercept. "Sagittarius copies, turning hot."

Overhead, I saw the two F-14's pass by, their wings rapidly sweeping back as they rode the columns of flame their engines produced, and I even had a chance to see them pass through the sound barrier before they disappeared over the mountains. It never got old, honestly. Though looking up at them, I saw the clouds were closer, and while the raindrops that had started coming down weren't a factor yet, they would be if I got too slow.

Turning my mind back to the mission, I quickly surveyed the area, spotting several more smoke plumes on the refinery complex and just as many over the oil derricks. One of the big rigs was struck by another bomb while I had my eyes out there, and I watched as it lost its structural integrity, collapsing down into the ocean below while leaving a massive plume of fire belching from the drilling pipe that had still had oil coming through it, and the sky around it filled with dark clouds thicker than the rest combined.

I pursed my lips as I had to imagine how many civilians might have still been there, forced to work by the Eruseans. It panged me a little bit, but I knew this was war, it had to be done. The gods only knew that we probably would have done the same had the tides been turned.

I shook my head, and got back into the fight, but before I could go far, I heard the slow ping of the RWR switch to a steady pinging that indicated we were being tracked by something. Alex was ahead of me in naming it. "Triple-A! 7 o'clock!"

I hauled the stick to the left, rolling over and dropping altitude quickly to outrun the turret's traverse rates. I saw the hail of tracers passing by in my mirrors, and glancing out to the left side of the canopy, I saw a Shilka orienting on us, just endlessly busting rounds off trying to catch us. The altimeter beeped as we continued the dive, our sink rate surpassing our altitude. Dropping further and further, it kept beeping faster and faster until the computer started screaming at us.

Pull up! Pull up!

That was all I needed, and I yanked the stick back into my stomach, the HUD showing a nine next to the G indicator. The edges of my vision faded, and I heard Alex grunt into her mic as I released the stick on a level heading that gave us time to get blood back into our brains, just out of range of the Shilka.

Despite the life or death matter of taking ground fire, it was sort of exciting. It got my blood pumping, and it brought a smile to my face with the thrill it brought. The adrenaline rush was almost addictive. Every time, I remembered one of the reasons I had chosen to be a fighter pilot.

I didn't let it distract me though, or at least, not too much. I adjusted heading again, directly away from the Shilka that had our number. Over the mountain, while I waited for Alex to find another target, I saw a flaming object shoot over the top, and realized it was a Mig-29, its wings missing and trailing flame from leaking fuel. The canopy was shattered, and the fuselage had been peppered. Through the open canopy, I saw a figure still sitting inside, thrown around with every move. Poor bastard hadn't made it out.

"Two is winchester on ground munitions. Moving to top cover." Two's voice came through the line, and I saw one of the Strike Eagles pull vertical, moving to an altitude to better allow interceptions of anything that Sagittarius missed.

"Copy, Two."

Speaking of Sagittarius, the two Tomcats came back over the mountains, moving at a more leisurely pace compared to their turn to intercept. "Kingmaker, Sagittarius. Three bogeys splashed."

"Copy, Sagittarius, good work. Return to station holding and stand by."

By now, half of our targets were up in flames. We'd completed our primary objective, and we could head home now if we wanted to. I wasn't sure though. "Kingmaker, Hellfire One. Status on the mission?"

"Stand by, Hellfire." The comm went dead for a few seconds before I heard him again. "Mission parameters accomplished. Transmitting information back to base for analysis. All forces, RTB and try to stay awake on the flight back."

"Hellfire."

"Chronos."

"Sagittarius."

All of our leads were still up, and as far as I knew, we hadn't lost anybody to enemy fire. Switching to my datalink, I kept speaking. "Hellfire, you heard 'im. Turn cold and let's go home, rendevous at IP."

They all responded and I glanced down at my SA page to see where we all were. Two was over the oil derricks, Three was on the far side of the mountain range we had flown over on our way in, and Four was on the far side of the complex opposite from Three.

I had just turned back towards IP when I heard Kingmaker again. "All forces, be advised. Single contact inbound from the southwest! BRAA, 200 for 20, angels three, hot! Hellfire Four, go evasive!"

That spiked my adrenaline again. Whoever was inbound, it was just one person, and they had gotten far too close for comfort, right underneath Four's nose. There was no fucking way they'd gotten past Bruce's sensors easily.

"Hellfire One, turning to cover! Two and Three, support!" I called it out as I hauled on the stick and hit another high G turn to head southwest, where the only sign of Hellfire Four was the stream of flares and chaff Bruce was throwing out.

The pilot's voice over the comm was filled with what could only be abject terror, his RWR beeping wildly in the background. "It's him! He's here! I'm not-"

"Shut up!" Bruce immediately drowned him out, taking over the comm. "Lead, it's-"

Bruce didn't finish his sentence, and something small screamed across the sky on a dim light before winking out, coming from behind the mountains. Time slowed down, and I watched as the missile detonated behind Hellfire Four in a flash of light, shredding the rear fuselage and leaving dark smoke to trail from the stricken bird. It was still airborne, though, and it struggled not to smash into the ground, barely pulling up at the last second, but it was struggling hard. I don't know if even I would have been able to keep that bird up.

"Four! Four head north east! Two and Three will grab you!" I called out, pushing the throttle to max. Alex, in the back, flicked a set of switches, putting us in air-to-air mode and handing off control of short range missiles to me so I could boresight them with my HMD and splash whatever had just shot one of my birds.

I passed over the mountains, and I couldn't see shit with it being more or less night and a squall pissing rain on us. With our lights off, all we had was the flare of engines in afterburner or radar contact. We'd have to identify with the targeting pod. I pulled my throttle back, extinguishing the flames with my heart struggling to beat out of my chest as I searched for a radar contact, an RWR signals, anything to find whoever was out here in the dark.

A feminine sounding voice came across the open channel that we would all hear. "It's been a long time since anyone tried to joust with me," the stranger said, sounding almost as if they were amused. My blood turned to ice in that moment. Nobody was that cocky unless they could back it up, and given the things that had just happened, I had no doubt they could, and I pulled on the stick to roll onto one of the wing tips.

Kingmaker started to speak, but his words fell on deaf ears as the world lit up with a strike of lighting, and I realized that whoever was out here was toying with me, with every chance to kill me, because they were right outside, mere feet separating their canopy from mine, balanced on a wing, and they were staring at me, as if it was a fucking game to them. I could see it clearly now, in that instant frozen in time where everything changed. An Eagle with blue wings, blue tails, an old hound painted on the tail with 032. I had just stepped right into Hell.

"Merged!"