A Bald Eagle for the Princess (Part I)
Big things have small beginnings. One's casual decision will shake millions' fortune in the future. Born to a family running a Shinto shrine for generations, it's natural for her to become a shrine maiden (miko), and to enjoy a civilian life in such way. An airbase is constructed dozens kilometers away, military aircraft including fighters, attackers, bombers, transports…gleam in the dark blue far above her with contrails and sound like distant thunders. Military aviation is just an abstract idea, nothing more than shows on printed materials, TV and internet, as a little girl, she just views it as some vague events occur remotely…until that fateful day.
A deafening roar, an F-15C Eagle passes through the airspace of the shrine in a very low altitude, even can clearly see the pilot in the canopy. Perhaps by such reason, the pilot retracts his visor and impishly gives the little girl a "two-finger-salute", resulting her to drop the broom she uses for cleaning the yard, plus to cover the mouth in awe by both hands, and to blush heavily. She cannot tear her gaze away from the speeding accipiter made by machine and alloy, and is frozen like a stature even after it vanishes from the limit of vision.
"I just briefly glanced at you for once, among the countless people, then your face would never be forgotten." They will meet each other again, in person, under completely different circumstances. And when they do, countless people's fates, including theirs, will change.
444th Airbase, Zapland, Southeast Usean Continent
June 28th 2019, 16:00
From the exterior, it's just a plain facility affiliated to Osean Air Defense Force built on an elongated island artificially created by land reclamation, surrounded by a layer of titanium net and safeguarded by a dozen of surveillance UAV, also connects the mainland via an umbilical road. But from the internal, you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy, for it's the base of operation of the infamous 444th Fighter Squadron, a.k.a. "Spare Squadron", a unique penal unit and the only one of its kind. There are a few penal units active in the military system of Osean Federation, only assigned to secondary duties such as logistic supports, save for this one, comprised by experienced even elite pilots who are serving their sentences for the severe violation of military regulations, tasked to combat operations in frontlines, even deep in enemy territories. You may wonder where OADF gets the confidence of allowing criminals who knows how to pilot combat aircraft to access planes capable of launching missiles and dropping bombs. Fear not, firstly none of these convicts are permitted to possess any objects deemed unsafe by the authority; secondly all equipment used by them are integrated with security protocols can be remotely activated to disable, even override all the controls, weaponry included, if necessary; not to mention each detainee has a bracelet-shaped electronic manacle cuffed to the wrist, not only a location tracker, also a failsafe to paralyze the wearer by remote-triggered electrification.
Several convicts…pilots are chatting outside a hangar, beside the auxiliary runway which runs parallel to the main runway. They just came back from a local aerial patrol assignment, replacement patrollers had taken off and transports with fresh supplies onboard had touched down to unload cargoes to ground services, ready to be assorted and stuffed into storages.
"How many?" Asks one of them, his callsign is Champ.
"Two hundred thousand, give or take." A pilot with callsign "Count", answers.
"Please tell me you're not inflating your kill-count." The third one, callsign "High Roller" cuts in with sarcasm and a chuckle.
"Accuse all you want, Bandog has the records precise to two digits after radix point."
"That's exactly why you're dumped into this birdcage, cheating by count-forging." Champ also chuckles with sarcasm: "Yeah, partially pun intended."
"Ouch, that's a low blow, my feeling is hurt." They all laugh, sarcasm is a recurring element in conversations among males, it rarely deteriorates into a scuffle, even it does, males develop friendships via scuffling.
"Say, when airborne, I can't help but to feel grateful to Scrap Queen. She really knows her stuff." The fourth one, callsign "Tabloid", finds a new topic.
Champ: "Queen? More like a bad-tempered tomboy. I even further suspect she's actually a trans."
Count talks to the fifth convict…pilot who has "Full Band" as his callsign: "It's up to you to dig out that part, intel vendor."
"She was born female, according to what I've found, her majesty is the granddaughter of a lieutenant general in OADF, but didn't join military service, instead became a hermit near a scrap yard of decommissioned planes to dismantle parts for assembling her own." Full Band explains: "Apparently she didn't do her homework of Civil Aviation Law, entering restricted altitude during her DIY F-104C's maiden flight without applying a permit in advance…"
"Color me impressed." Count whistles: "Both to her and to you."
"Shame, she's kinda cute, but insulates herself from anyone by such a difficult attitude." Tabloid sighs.
"Cute? You've got a bizzare taste of girls, I must admit." High Roller chuckles: "That, is what I call 'cute'." He hints others to look to the direction of a certain transport.
A young, petite-figured girl, or a bishoujo (びしょうじょ/美少女) if you will, in OADF uniform, carrying a bag and dragging a suitcase, is being escorted by four MP to the base's office building, to report to Colonel D. McKinsey, commanding officer of 444th Airbase. Apart from being small, she also comes with raven-colored long hair flows straightly to her crotch, plus tsavorite-resembling irises.
"Damn, she IS cute." Count whistles: "Tiny too. Just when we begin to recruit junior high students into military?" He turns to Full Band: "I take back what I just said, as an intel vendor, you failed to dig out this piece of essential info, about we have a new arrival and the arriving item turns out to be such a cutie."
"Hey! Don't question my capability!" Full Band protests: "Even I sometimes get blocked by encryption! You think I can just patch in a terminal, infiltrate firewalls and leave with the data? It takes a lot of efforts to get the works done! Not a walk in the park!"
"We've already got a Scrap Queen, now a Kuroyuki Hime, I can go with it." Says Tabloid.
Count: "Princess Snowblack? She surely has black hair, but skin is quite white."
"People like us are not 'white', if you know what I mean."
"…yeah…I get it." Count lets out a sigh: "So what did she do to be tossed here? Probably by getting too close to a wealthy and powerful male in the ranks."
"Nice one, Count." Once again everyone chuckles.
…
Colonel McKinsey's Office
"Welcome to 444th Airbase, Ms.…" The colonel who sits behind the desk is checking dossier: "…Ms. Homura Hakuchou, callsign 'Trigger'." He picks up his tablet and presses a certain point of the touchscreen.
A male OADF officer of mid-twenties, with a tall, thin and pale exterior (image a much younger version of the Lance Bishop in James Cameron's Aliens), enters and salutes. McKinsey: "XO Major Bandog will take you to your cell and explain the details, follow him and his instructions." Trigger salutes and leaves with the major, who closes the door behind her.
"Hard to believe it's her who killed Harling." Seconds later, McKinsey sighs: "One wrong move and her life is ruined, ending up in this dump of crooks, gamblers, anarchists, insubordinates and leakers, accumulation of lowlifes. She'll be eaten alive in…three days by the most optimistic estimation."
Penitentiary Building
"…here is simple, you behave and you'll be fine." Bandog is leading the newly-arrived convict — whose callsign is Trigger, accused of (accidentally) killing Vincent Harling, the revered former president of Osean Federation and the head of ISEV Project, in the operation of rescuing him — to walk along corridors: "First off, all regulations of Osean military are also implemented at here, which means following orders; keeping classified information from leaking and keeping yourself away from restricted areas; respecting your own gender and opposite gender; maintaining a tidy and clean self-image; also the prohibition of alcohol, tobacco and drugs. Are we clear?"
Trigger: "Yes sir."
"Additionally, since you're now in a penal unit, you're not allowed to possess any weapons and communication devices, nor any other objects can be used as weapons or communication devices, plus anything else considered unsafe by base authority. Are we clear?"
"Yes sir."
"Good, so you behave…for now." Bandog stops in front of a door tagged "15": "This is your cell, No. 15, also your number in Spare Squadron." Inside the door there is a crude bedroom with minimum furniture: A table with a reading lamp, a chair, a bed and a shelf made of steel pipes; under the ceiling are fluorescent lights and a fan. Well, at least it comes with an independent bathroom, shower included, not too bad after all.
Bandog: "Dump your luggage here, I'll show you your planes." Trigger does what he says, she's always a good soldier, obedient and skillful, even after being reduced to among the correctional staff — being spiky won't do any good under authoritativeness of authorities, especially in a prison or anywhere akin to a prison.
"Mess hall and library open from 06:00 to 22:00, all buildings lock up and lights out at 23:00." On their way to hangars, Bandog continues his tutorial: "All daily necessities, food, water, medic, laundry, are free. But if you want more, you must exchange them by spending points. Fiat money is not good here, each convict have points assigned to himself or herself as local currency, and points are not interchangeable. You get points by doing rights, get big points by doing big rights; you lose points by doing wrongs, doing big wrongs, lose big points and get one day in solitary. I think you're smart enough to differentiate rights and wrongs, am I right?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Apart of mission sorties, you will be on duty rosters of aerial patrol, material transfer, structure maintenance and sanitation if staffs are short, also respond to any other calls during rest of the time." They enter a certain hangar as Bandog teaches Trigger how to make a living in 444th Airbase, a F-14D Super Tomcat, a F-15SE Silent Eagle and a F/A-18F Super Hornet are parked inside, and a giant robot — actually a human in a concealed heavy-duty exoskeleton power armored suit specialized in maintenance and repair works, just finished her jobs on these machines.
"How 'bout the status?" Bandog asks the mechanician. Helmet of mechanician retracts to reveal a tomboy's head: "They're in peak conditions, combat-ready at any time."
"Good. 10000 points." Bandog operates on his tablet: "Meet our chief machinist 'Scrap Queen', and meet our new gal 'Trigger', get along with each other."
The tomboy — callsign "Scrap Queen" — real name "Avail Mead", walks to a specialized "nest" embed into a wall, to take off her exoskeleton suit. She walks closer to inspect Trigger by her eyes, but doesn't shake hands with the newcomer. On the other hand, Trigger doesn't attempt to shake hands with Scrap Queen, for she's not here for making friends.
"New parts had been delivered to Warehouse 3, you may want to check them out." Says Bandog.
"Sir." Avail Mead leaves.
"As for you, you may want to familiarize with your babes." As the machinist departs, Bandog turns back to Trigger. Being the come-first-on-the-list superpower on Planet Strangereal, Osean Federation possesses the strongest capabilities of manufactures, logistics and national mobilization, especially during emergencies like wartimes, so there are more planes than pilots, resulting in everyone having multiple choices according to battle scenario requirements and personal preferences. The only reason of the absence of fifth-generation fighters here, is the nature of this 444th Fighter Squadron being a penal unit.
Trigger walks up to have a better look to her options of fighters, and notices on each aircraft's tails, her emblem — a dog's head with a glorified S&W M29 in its mouth, is overlapped with three paralleled scratches of thick and white. "Sin lines." Knowing her question, Bandog elaborates: "An intuitionistic visualization of severity of your…mistakes. There're three given you killed Vincent Harling — sorry to bring it on but you're famous — or infamous for it."
"That's fine, already gotten accustomed." Trigger expresses her comprehension.
"Good. So when enough points are accumulated, let's say one million, you can remove one line. When all of them are gone, you can either return to your previous unit, or choose to be a civilian; of course you can also continue to stay here, although I personally don't recommend that option." Bandog leaves: "It's almost dinner time, and I suggest you to present in mess hall, for familiarizing yourself with others."
Trigger puts a tray of packaged food and beverages on the table of her choice, located away from the crowd. Osea spent much time and other resources to study maximizing the fulfillments of both nutrition and tastes of military-grade foodstuff, end result is quite successful: Semi-liquefied beef, fruit jam, corn paste, creamy mushroom soup, potato mash mixed with flakes of carrot and onion, salad made of tuna and vegetables…all concealed in square-shaped plastic containers; plus juices in tins and breads/biscuits in bags, nothing to complain.
"Looks like the new gal is too good to eat with the rest of us grunts." Away from her position, where convicts flock together, someone is murmuring.
"The Woman in the High Castle." Another murmuring voice: "I thought a Scrap Queen and a guard dog are already enough."
"More like Rapunzel, waiting for a prince to climb into tower of solitary. Any volunteers?"
"Why don't you volunteer yourself?"
"Damn right! I'm self-volunteering!" The "volunteer", High Roller, comes up to Trigger's table: "Excuse me, Trigger, right?"
Trigger: "Yes. What can I do for you?"
"Ms. Trigger, since you're new to here, I'd like to show you around the campus…well not really a campus…what do you think?" Nervously, the brave pioneer tries to find proper, convincing vocabularies throughout his not-so-vast reserve.
"Sorry, I don't date anymore." Trigger immediately rejects.
High Roller is shocked for a few seconds before retreating dejectedly like a cock lost a battle, while other convicts laugh uncontrollably. Even Avail Mead and Bandog, both sit alone and remotely in separated places respectively, can't help chuckling. "That wasn't funny!" The defeated fowl announces: "I hereby to declare a bounty: He who ever asks her out gets all my money!"
"Nice try, but fiat money is not good here, genius." Someone points out an objective truth.
"It's good outside. Don't have confidence of getting off here someday?" High Roller retorts.
"Alright, the bet is on."
…
Chatter in the background doesn't concern Trigger to the least, for she knows well what she comes here for. Then something else draws everyone's attention — the screen-wall — the one installed in the front of everyone in the mess hall for broadcasting TV programme. Now it's showing the routine speech of Rosa Cossette D'Elise, the princess of Kingdom of Erusea, lying about how Osean Federation exploits Erusea, even entire Usean Continent via ISEV Project, after the OBC headline "Kingdom of Nordennavic, Republic of Emmeria and Federal Republic of Estovakia agree to shut down all economic and political relations with Kingdom of Erusea, and to seize all Erusean assets deposited inside their borders, also to renounce Erusean currency's legal status, marking the last major nations to join the worldwide general sanction against the very country who started the Lighthouse War".
As the Erusean royal slut continues to spew craps from her pie hole, convicts begin to boo, loudly. Avail Mead and Bandog, as well as other people in mess hall, are indifferent, for they think it's not worthy to let the tasty dinner being tainted by the lowlife on TV. As for Trigger, she simply stares at the screen-wall, eyes widen, but no apparent expressions.
You may think why Osean official lets enemy propaganda slipping through their wartime censorship, even allows it getting into a military base? Well, just keep watching.
Suddenly Rosa Cossette D'Elise's speech is cut short, replaced by a documentary about her life since being delivered from her mom's womb, highlighting all mistakes she made during the years, for example lying to parents and teachers, failing exams, etc., especially wrongs she committed in privacy. Now it's clear this so-called "enemy propaganda" is actually a "friendly propaganda" released from Publicity Department of Osean Federation and The United Front Work Department of Osean Federation, for degenerating credibility of the princess of Kingdom of Erusea. They even make it into a mini-series and spread it for free, in forms including but not limited to TV programme, online videos, downloadable contents, radio programme and printed materials, and keep updating. Don't be so surprised, Osea is the country of origin and the largest manufacture nation of computers, computer networks and the majority of associated hardware and software; all primary root-servers responsible of keeping internet up and running are also geographically located within Osean territories and are strictly controlled by its central government, therefore Osea is both theoretically and practically capable of peeking into anyone's privacies at will, just like how that dimwitted Erusean princess is treated.
Boos are replaced by laughter, whistles and applauses. "Should've killed that bitch when we had the chance." Someone speaks in background. Trigger just continues to stare, until screen-wall broadcasts the next programme: Mexican animation "Los Fruittis".
During the following two days, nothing is out of ordinary. Trigger follows rules and does her assigned duties accordingly, when unoccupied, she just sits down and reads the three books her brings along: Victor Hugo's "Les Misérables", Alexandre Dumas' "Le Comte de Monte-Cristo", and Mao Zedong's "On the Protracted War".
Combat sortie comes on the fourth day. At 06:00 of July 1st, all convicts…pilots are summoned to the briefing room.
"Listen up! We have a situation in our hands!" McKinsey activates the battle control system to display necessary info: "Our previous operations successfully and sufficiently enraged Erusea, they're launching an all-out UCAV offensive against all our bases in and near frontlines simultaneously, this base will be hit as well, so everyone and everything is scrambled. First UCAV swarm is estimated to enter our base's airspace in two hours, you are to take off and intercept them." Osean Federation could end this Lighthouse War in an instant by blowing Kingdom of Erusea to the outer limit of Solar System with one thousand V1-Class Thermonuclear Warheads, but no, that would be too merciful to those backstabbing, ungrateful bastards. So instead of a nice and easy nuclear holocaust, the superpower chose to implement "Unrestricted Warfare" — utilizing everything in its disposal to enemies' disadvantage, ranging from military, economy, diplomacy, culture…to slowly and painfully torture Erusea to death. The aforementioned propaganda is just a tip of the iceberg. Currently Osea had already isolated the entire Usean Continent physically from the rest of the world by its sheer strength of navy and air force, in the form of blockade of carrier battle groups, submarine packs and fighter squadrons, stopping all shipping to Erusea, also dispatching raiding parties consisted by subs and aircraft to search and destroy anyone who attempts to smuggle goods into enemy territories. Meanwhile Osea itself had long since ceased trading anything with Erusea, especially computer software and hardware, foodstuff and agricultural materials, medicine and medical instruments, industrial machinery and components, even minerals (including but not limited to petroleum, natural gas, coal, iron, titanium, copper and rare-earth elements); and had expelled Erusean currency from domestic market; also had confiscated all Erusean assets in its territories as well as rounded everyone who holds Erusean passport into concentration camps; now it's persuading, even forcing other sovereignties to do the same via diplomatic maneuvers.
Moreover, OADF focuses on guerilla-style operations of decimating agricultural, industrial, medical productivities and logistics of Erusea all the time, bombing mines, factories, transportation lines and storage facilities, even dropping incendiary ordnance on hospitals and farmland. Many special agents are also sent into Erusea-controlled regions to disguise as black-market dealers of food and medicine, selling goods of inferior qualities for high prices, in order to further squeeze the ever-shirking Erusean treasury reserves dry. All these efforts are for a sole purpose: Starving Kingdom of Erusea's self-sustainability to a runaway total collapse.
According to Osean intelligent services, to late June, each Erusean citizen only can receive less than 30 grams of carbohydrates per day averagely, insufficiencies of medical supplies and equipment had reached critical levels of 90% and 95%, severe malnutrition and diseases triggered by malnutrition kept roaming through the lands under Erusean control, not to mention the rates of miscarriage and stillbirth were climbing without stopping for breath. Driven by desperation, Erusea initiates "Operation: The Big Push" on July 1st, launching all UCAV can be mobilized, in an attempt to break the blockage. Osea is aware and prepared to such stunt, and will ensure it ends up like Battle of the Bulge. After that, when Erusea is at its weakest, Osea will execute its own The Big Push, kicking over this notorious country once and for all.
Post-war statistics show Erusean population was more than 78 million when Lighthouse War broke out, but only less than 10 million remaining after its conclusion, the majority of victims perished for famine and illness. But that doesn't matter anymore because pressurized by Osea, the Assembly of Nations decides to terminate the existence of Erusea as a standalone entity, dissolving it into sixteen self-governing dominions by ethnic composition.
Non-combatants and non-fighter aircraft are being relocated to underground shelters, stationary and mobile anti-air defenses are hot and have assumed optical pre-arranged positions, pointing muzzles of gun barrels and missile launchers to the projected directions of invasion. Entire 444th Airbase is rapidly and orderly responding to the upcoming battle.
Spare Squadron is taxing on the main runway and is taking off, Trigger's F-14D is the last one to enter the sky, or more precisely, return to the sky. The raven-haired beauty sighs in relief in the cockpit — it had been quite a while since her last sortie, being grounded felt like being confined in a cage with remiges clipped. Even now she's in another cage, albeit larger, but at least allowed to stretch her wings again.
"I'll assume command, any objections?" Spare 2, Count, announces he's the squadron leader.
"Who's gonna dance to your lyin' tune?" Spare 8, Champ, promptly objects.
"Because I'm a model citizen now, and I have a way better kill-count than you."
"We'll see."
"Excuse me, may I ask where Spare 1 is?" Trigger, being silent from beginning, asks through radio, subsequently triggering a disturbance among others.
"Am I getting this wrong? Princess finally speaks up! Who gonna kindly answer her question?" One convict exclaims.
"Princess? Haven't heard it for a very long time." Back to home, Trigger's loving husband used to call her "hime-chan (little princess)" when they were alone, as a demonstration of deep affection and admiration. Thinking about her husband, Trigger feels her heart pains so badly as if being gouged out by a sharp knife, and her eyes moisture by their own. Cannot let vision gets blurred in action, she immediately retracts her visor to wipe off tears and forces herself to stop thinking anything but the current mission.
【Note: Translating Japanese vocabulary "hime/ひめ/姫" into "princess" is a misconception. In popular culture, hime is used as synonym of princess, which is not completely accurate. To rightfully address the daughter of a king or an emperor, the appropriate terms are "おうじょ (王女/oujyo, literally king's daughter)" or "こうじょ (皇女/koujyo, literally emperor's daughter)" or "ひめのみこと (姫命/himenomikoto, literally daughter of destiny or reverend daughter)". However "hime" is merely a generic term which can be used to address a daughter with bloodline of royal family, also can be used to address a daughter without royal bloodline but still has special positions in political or economic or religious aspects. For example a general's daughter or a Shinto bishop's daughter both can be referred as "hime", but they are not necessarily related to a royal family】
"We went to a mission one week before your arrival." Says Count: "Carrying white phosphorus incendiary ordnance to burn a major farming node of Erusea. The brave idiot known as 'Spare 1' sustained heavy damage, on the way back, for the avoidance of slowing us down to pursuing enemies, he slammed his plane into a juicy water purification plant. So there is no Spare 1 now and you got me as the first number."
"…I'm sorry."
"Sorry nothing." Tabloid chimes: "He went out in a bang. As you can see little girl, we are sinners to seek our redemptions here, but even among us there're heroes."
"I understand."
Bandog: "Free chat is over. Now listen carefully: Large contingents of MQ-99 detected, covering from 270 to 15 by the base's reference point."
【Background Music: Stage 1: Reincarnated Soul】
【Extracted from Video Game "Castlevania: Bloodlines"】
"Launching long-range SAM and firing lasers." Missiles are launched from 444th Airbase's stationary and mobile defenses, bypassing Spare Squadron, to incoming UCAV, mixed with high-power laser beams. XLAA are also released from the fighters at the same time. Osean military had deployed an effective countermeasure against the swarming Erusean unmanned aircraft, and it turned out to be too simple: Fighting the sheer number with an even greater number. Armaments and ammunition are always cheaper and faster to be manufactured than vehicles, so during the allocated time for Erusea to assemble a UCAV, Osea pops out one thousand bullets, one hundred missiles, and ten laser batteries, also quickly delivers them to battlefields for active services. Just like cavalry formations charging against defensive grids consisted by Vulcans, the result is too obvious.
Supported by friendly ESM (Electronic Support Measure) and data-links among friendly units, first wave of MQ-99 is decimated by ground-based and aircraft-based long-range missiles as well as defensive laser weaponry, in no time. Being considered as equivalents of Vulture-Class Droid Starfighters in Erusean military's rank, this model of UCAV has impressive speed and acceleration, but not as maneuverable as their counterpart in Star Wars. According to intelligence and battlefield analysis, MQ-99 are designed to be "smart" Stand-Off Dispensers capable of attacking both air and ground, hence they're not for complicated dogfight and are only limited to carry short-range armaments, must take the fights up-close and personal, where their vulnerability of inadequate maneuverability can be better exploited. So in summary, these unmanned aircraft may surprise green pilots during early encounters, but will quickly downgrade to the likes of turkeys, especially to veterans.
"Second wave, same vectors." Bandog is broadcasting from control tower of 444th Airbase: "Stay in ESM ranges and stay close to friendlies, swat them out by long-range ordnance." Invading UCAV clash against the impregnable defensive hierarchy, get pulverized like a tide hitting a solid dam, then another, bigger tide arrives, and the result is unchanged. "What's the point of this? Just a waste of good money and time." Count is pretending a yawn: "I could fall asleep if it goes on any longer." Trigger also feels like falling asleep, a mission this easy is definitely not for demonstrating the true face of her prowess as a top gun.
Champ: "Such an insult. But you know what's more insulting? Throwing metals into grinders, while hiding behind like cowards. Damn Erusean morons! Even meaningless, they still should launch banzai charges by some human pilots as a showcase of national self-esteem."
"As they say in my house, there is a thin line between cowardice and smartness." Count says: "Eruseans definitely not belong to the latter."
Tabloid sighs: "I know Eruseans aren't the sharpest tools in the shed, but I never image them to be this stupid. Why do they start this war and how will they win with a GDP merely equals to one twenty-fourth of ours?"
"Simple: Because they're morons." Full Band cuts in: "Take a look the dumb face of that Rosa Cossette D'Elise. Remember what the documentaries said? She was snatched from her mom's womb by pliers…"
Count: "Obstetric forceps."
"No differences." Full Band continues: "What brain-capability you can expect from an already-defected brain?"
"I bet on payment of one month's quantity of snacks, she will end up like Benito Amilcare Andrea Mussolini: Executed by communist partisans, corpse dumped on a square to be kicked and spat upon, then hung upside-down for public display, disfigured by angry mobs." High Roller says.
"Then we should refer that slut as Lady Mussolini from now on" Count follows up, sarcastically.
Champ: "You're not supposed to downgrade Presidente del Consiglio Mussolini to her level, at least he made trains arriving on time." Everyone, except Trigger and Bandog, chuckles.
"You don't need to yap to pull trigger." Bandog announces: "Third wave, same vectors, additional model confirmed as MQ-90 Quox." MQ-90 Quox is a bat-shaped UCAV comes with tailless W-wing configuration, capable of doing some agile maneuvers, at the cost of maximum speed, it can also be tuned to be a fighter or a light-duty bomber according to requirements of combat scenarios, and the latter adjustment is chosen for The Big Push. In short, it's the Erusean equivalent of Belbullab-24 Strike Bomber.
"Yeah, yeah, thank you for bringing an abrupt conclusion to this topic, Mr. Guard Dog." Says another pilot affiliated to Spare Squadron, someone Trigger yet to memorize his name and callsign.
Bandog: "Don't make me to slash your points by 'Offensive Languages'."
"Ouch, Mr. Guard Dog is fuming, anyone bets his hairs are standing during the same process?" High Roller triggers laughter among convicts…pilots, they know Bandog has a bigger heart than deducting their points for such a small reason. To say the least, he can just terminate their existences by activating security protocols to make them crash or collide. You become unnaturally tolerant when possessing the power to decide when and how others die. "A man stole something, he's brought in before the emperor, he throws himself down on the ground, he begs for mercy, he knows he's going to die. And the emperor pardons him. This worthless man, he lets him go. That's power, Amon. That is power." Oskar Schindler is very specific about it.
Count muses: "Unmanned bombers mixed in formations? How can they send bombers in when hostile fighters are still a factor?"
Tabloid: "Eruseans really go desperate now. Banzai charge."
No matter what Erusea throws into the frying pan of war, little difference it produces. Hundreds of missiles are launched, dozens of laser beams are shot, to the UCAV, blasting them into oblivion, in mere minutes. Just another day in the offices of Oseans operating in Usean Continent.
【Background Music Stops】
A debriefing that goes plainly. The first part is reviewing the process of successfully defending the base, then the statistics of casualties sustained by both sides which turns out to be minimum against maximum, plus ammunition spend during inflicting such casualties. Following the first part is the second part, that is, the rank of points earned by each pilot of Spare Squadron during the battle, generated by killing enemies: Count is the MVP with a tally of 23120; Tabloid is the runner-up, scoring 21920 points; Trigger, although only fought with a fraction of her ace-grade prowess, still ranked as the third for getting 18660 points. They receive 30000, 20000 and 10000 extra points as "rank bonuses", respectively. Last but not the least, victorious reports across the continent — so-called "Operation: The Big Push" to breach Osean blockade has failed predominately, the only thing yielded for Erusea is the severe weakened strength of UCAV fleets, and Osea will definitely exploit this opportunity to kick Erusea in the butt, ferociously.
After being debriefed, every convict…pilot is dismissed to their own affairs. Majority of them immediately goes to the mess hall to replenish themselves physically, while minority self-relocates to the library for some mental recharges. As for McKinsey and Bandog, they just retreat to their own offices respectively to address follow-up affairs regarding the previous battle — never ever say being in a commanding post is easy, you do enjoy privilege of dictating subordinates and better paychecks — with the cost of extensive working hours after them finishing their jobs and getting R&R.
Trigger is sighted in a small chapel, constructed in a corner of penitentiary building. Although not a Christian, but non-Christians are never banned from entering a Christian site and she maybe the first visitor of this place for…well, for a couple of years.
"…I miss you so much. I…" Trigger kneels in front of the altar and is praying: "I promised to bring you back, but I failed. I'm sorry, for being not strong enough to protect you, and I can't redeem my sin by following you because I still have obligations to honor…" She tries her best to refrain herself from being too emotional, which is obviously not very effective: "You're the most loving partner a female can ever have, I will defend your glory, and take back your charity for the world, by any means necessary. You have my word, so please don't think any less of me."
Meanwhile Bandog, in his own office, is writing a detailed report of Trigger's combat performance, by the direct order from Secretary of Defense, who goes by the name Kei Nagase. After thoroughly encrypting the file and sending it to Department of Defense via a secured line, he logs off system, stands up and rubs his tired eyes, then goes to McKinsey's office.
"Sir, did you consider my suggestion about Spare 15?" After the official exchange of salutes, the major asks directly.
"You're right, it's definitely a bad idea to mix her with the likes of other Spares." The colonel clicks on his computer: "Effective tomorrow, reassign her to a regular suite."
"Yes sir." Bandog leaves after saluting. McKinsey stands up and turns to window, looking into the brightly-lit blue sky: "It's been a long day today, and it will be another long day tomorrow."
Oured, Osean Federation, Osean Continent
This megapolis is gradually reverting to normal, as population is moving back, also important departments and institutions are returning to work, for enemy UCAV are no longer a threat and the damage caused by them had been repaired.
Osean Department of Defense, an imperatorial, colossal, white-marble, Romanesque building situated beside one of the main lane of traffics. Kei Nagase, Secretary of Defense of Osean Federation, is reviewing the latest update of intelligence regarding the Lighthouse War, including a report about a new episode of dystrophy outbreak in Farbanti and Erusean official is unable to address it due to severe insufficient of resources, as well as the general failure of Erusea's "Operation: The Big Push" and Trigger's combat performance to protect the 444th Airbase.
"Your Excellency, Joint Chiefs of Staff is expecting you, the president is also on the line." Someone is notifying from a hidden speaker.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes, thank you." Nagase packs up and turns off everything in her office, then moves to a dressing mirror to tidy her uniform.
"Eruseans have no idea what a terrifying nightmare they had unleashed, by themselves and upon themselves."
【Ending Theme: Cantina Band/Mad About Me】
【Extracted from Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope】