Some room of the Bienenstock Air Base, Hoffnung, Belka, 11/06/1995, 15:00, Weather: medium cloud coverage
In a bed of crisp white sheets, she was laying, monitored, and fed through IV. Like Iskanda, they had to undergo some dialysis in order to remove a bit of the poison still lingering in her body, and she had now some dressing all over her wrists. She could also count a great number of dressings here and there, where the Hexen had put those tiny electrodes through her skin.
And right now, as she was waking up from the chemically induced coma that they had to put her in as forced rest, she was met with the face of the very person she didn't know if she needed to congratulate or condemn.
"I'll never forgive you for what you did to my leader. You rendered him tetraplegic!" The Sapin pilot preferred to begin with the bad news.
"Look, I'm sorry about that. Really." Iskanda apologized, trying to put a bit of compassion in her gaze as she looked down toward the hospital bed. She tried to put some honesty too but did not know if she succeeded.
She saw Vasquez roll her eyes next, meaning that either she did not believe her sincerity, or that she was not expecting such person to try to excuse herself, and thus was struck by the unexpected. Still, she did not dive into the condemnation much further, and thus jumped to the congrats:
"But I'm glad to be alive. So, gracias Schwarze Luchs." The Sapin used her new nickname, which surprised a bit the Erusean. Even if she would very likely get used to it. Galm 1 was dead above Tauberg.
"Well, everyone's always happy to be alive." Iskanda added, being happy to have survived this terrible night too.
"It wasn't your first time?" Vasquez asked out of sheer curiosity, even if with her little knowledge of Iskanda's bloody past she could have guessed with great confidence.
"Usually, when people ask about first times, it's to speak about their first affair with a man, woman or more according to their taste." Iskanda chuckled, holding on the horizontal bar in front of the bed, leaning slightly toward Vasquez.
" Har har. Very funny. You know what I mean." Vasquez chuckled in return, but on a mocking tone.
"Well, do I include the time I should have killed my biologic breeder in the list or not? I mean, I didn't kill anyone that night." She said, after having raised one hand and holding her chin with it, in a reflective manner.
"You would have liked." Vasquez asserted, knowing the reason for her almost-matricide.
"Correct." Iskanda agreed that nothing would have brought her more joy. Or maybe as much as killing all the Hexen did.
"I was speaking about your first murder. Not the first "kill" onboard a plane." Vasquez specified, guessing she had already her hands soaked with blood before even stepping in her training jet.
"Well, it was to take the place of someone to get into the Erusean Air Force." She made the short response. She did not know if Vasquez wanted the long one.
"Is there a murder required to get into this Air Force?" Vasquez rolled her eyes once more at the ceiling, not understanding why she could not simply join the Air Force without a bloodbath.
"Nope. Besides, no one had ever caught me, so legally speaking I'm clean." Iskanda imitated her interlocutor, rolling her eyes at the ceiling as if speaking of murder was as natural to her as speaking of the weather for a normally constituted mind.
"Still, why?" Vasquez wanted to understand a bit more of this mysterious woman she had falsely thought to have understood her after the operation at Futuro.
"That's a very simple and very complicated story." Iskanda began, as she was slowly remembering that fateful day, during which she tossed away her chances for a peaceful life because she just didn't want to wait for another year to try the concours for the Erusean Air Force, a pretty hard one.
Farbanti, Erusea, 05/07/1991, 20:30, Weather: heavy cumulonimbus, risks of thunder
For once she did not go back straight to the convent after the classes. Her ZBM was now idle in front of the bar in which she had chosen to go to drunk herself, so she could forget her failure at the exams for the air force.
The bar was only one of the few hundreds there was in the big city of Farbanti, precisely located in the district called New Farbanti, that had been won over the sea using gigantic dikes and wave-breakers, which had the benefit to provide enough energy for half of Farbanti's inhabitants. After all, Farbanti was built between the sea and a small chain of mountains, and it was a bit easier to gain land on the sea that flatten the mountains.
The interior was a bit old fashioned, with old wooden bar stools surrounding the bar itself were the bartender was standing. Some over bar stools were spread in the room, around small high tables, while lunging the walls and the bays were small corners made of lower tables with small leather-covered seats surrounding the tables. Almost six persons could have sat there.
The lights of the bar fostered the old-fashion feeling, being old wooden candelabras, that once housed petrol lamp. Now the flame had been long replaced by electricity, but they kept the protective glasses.
One of the questions she had to answer was her age. She did not look that old, thus she had to show her ID to the bartender, who was standing behind the big piece of furniture made of oak with golden painted bar surrounding it.
The second, she responded with her demand, some highly alcoholized Belkan beer. The bartender just asked her one more time, since this was one with more than ten degree, and he was not used to young student asking for such beverage.
"Soyez prudent avec votre bécane après (be wary with your bike then)." The bartender advised her, having deduced she was the owner of the ZBM parked nearby, since she had put her helmet on the counter while reaching for one of her biker jacket inner pocket to get the money.
She had chosen not to have any purse. Even if her bike had some compartment to put that kind of stuff, those compartment were already filled with scholar stuff, and above all, purses were just annoying to her, since people would always film them with useless stuff and then take ten minutes looking for their money.
"Ouaip, mais j'srais pas Sam ce soir. J'ai un échec à oublier (Yeah, but I won't be teetotaler tonight. I've a failure to forget)." She replied with a bit of disdain, having already drunk half her bock.
"Ah. Amour ou études (love or study) " He curiously asked, having a bit of time since the bar was almost empty at this hour. Most customers arrived around nine or later.
"Études. Une autre! (studies. Another!)" She ordered, and was served a few seconds later, expressing her desire to forget this stupid failure as she brought the empty bock with strength on the counter. Still, the glass was far too strong to even crack it.
That was the beginning of that fateful evening. She was anticipating some hangover, but certainly not what would follow. Besides, not only her little peaceful world would be shattered tonight, but the one of all Eruseans as well.
Still, for about one hour, she surely drank more than one liter, enough to feel a bit unphased. She was not fully drunk, nor near ethylic comatose, but it was enough to make her quit the high bar stool in which she feared for her balance. Now, she was eating some snack to help cope with the amount of alcohol she had ingurgitated, sat in one of those corners.
They had put the TV on some bidding channel, showing car or horses races, interrupted from times to times by hazard games and such. She never played such, having never been met with luck in her life. Sure, she had benefited from circumstances a few times in her life, but now that she had failed, and was met with the sad perspective of having to retry that concours of the Air Force.
But around 21:45, she remembered the time because she just heard some church ringing their bells once to mark the quarter, one bike race she was actually enjoying seeing was brutally interrupted as the victory lap was beginning. A few unhappy bidders swore as the race was replaced with an emergency broadcast, showing a shaky cam. In one corner, they were indicating where it had been taken from, some container-carrier in the middle of the sea part between the Usean and Osean continent, not that far from Erusea's Zone of Economic Interest. But where it had been taken from, or through which means did not matter, regarding to what it was now displaying: four small fireballs, and a dislocated ablaze A-320 set in a collision course with the ocean. With such kinetic energy, there was few hopes for survivors among its crew or passengers. The last thing they saw was another black dot high in the sky, which seemed to be fleeing from the area.
"Notre royaume est endeuillé aujourd'hui. L'avion de liaison de Philippe V le conquérant a explosé en pleine mer. (Our Kingdom has been plunged into mourning today. The liaison plane of Philippe V the conqueror exploded over the sea) " A broadcaster described the scene, that would impact the geopolitics of the continent for the decades to come.
"Bon débarras (good riddance)." Someone said at the counter. He was expressing joy when they should theoretically be mourning. But there was reason for this : Philippe V, named the warmonger king, had put Erusea and its neighbors in a state of constant war since the beginning of his so-called "oversight of neighbors" in 1985, as Shilage, Voslage and Belarus were encountering order issues, that the Erusean had created to take control of those lands while having a somewhat good role. Of course, most of the thugs they had hired to do their dirty deeds were either hidden for the more useful ones, and the other ones, the arrogant that try to step out of their leash and bite the hand that had fed them were executed.
"Enfin la paix (Peace at last)." Another added, before he added in a cheerful tone "J'offre la tournée. Pour la paix ! (I am offering the next round. For Peace)".
The first years, they had welcomed this gain in territory. They might have accepted the war if it had only last less time than it did. The first conquest of the cities was simple once their overseers had almost disarmed the local forces and replaced them. Furthermore, they were small dukedom and kingdom having recently turned into republics for Voslage and Shilage, Belarus had resisted since they had suffered a terrible winter that destroy most of their agriculture. The Amberan mountains, a region that had been at war and without real government but ruled by old families of warlord, had been way harder to conquer. Those narrow valleys did not let any opening for the Erusean ground forces. So, they bombed everything, and only let a few fortresses here and there, those were the ones that had signed treaty to keep a bit of power with Erusea ruling the other territories.
Then, Erusea tried to go against the much more potent opponent than the FCU and their allies were. They were met with fierce resistance, and also with Osean threats. Osea had accepted that they could annex a few minor countries they had no commercials ties with, but not the FCU. And Osea began to furnish a bit of ammo to some pro-Osean rebels amongst the occupied states, including the republican Erusean, which had caused numerous terror acts, which make the whole Osean operation a failure, since they hoped to cause a massive rebellion by winning the heart of the occupied peoples, then intervened, and put a more Osean-friendly regime in place which would allow them to exploit the resources of the Usean continent. Yet, a similar strategy would be applied to some southern Usean states that were not fully in the FCU.
"Le roi est mort, Vive le roi ! (the king is dead, long live the king)" Another celebrated the oncoming change of power. After all, the grandson of the king, which had refused to be any part of his grandfather's sick rhetoric's, was known to be like his father, a more pacifist kind of man. His father, the son of Philippe V had tried to rebel but was caught and later executed. Officially, the death penalty was not used any more in Erusea, or only for the case of treason amongst its armies. And with the Dauphin being one of Erusea's general, his father used this reason to reuse the old guillotines and cut the head of these rebs.
"Vive la république plutôt (Rather long live the republic !" One counter-argued, and for sometimes, people would argue about what would be the best.
"What Philippe VI "Le Sage" (the wise) decide to implement was maybe the best." Vasquez intervened in Iskanda's recalling.
"Yeah, I admit that creating a republic, but with the king as some high counsellor with some veto rights to some extent and some saying about external affairs and military was a good compromise for moderate monarchist and republicans alike. Besides, allowing the occupied countries to have a bit of autonomy is a good step toward their independence." Iskanda agreed that this modern king that had taken inspiration from the Emmerian and Nordennavikian almost constitutional monarchy was a good thing. However, not everybody was happy in that bar that night, especially herself back then. Politics will not change the fact that she had failed her entrance examination. Even if, to be honest, she did not utterly fail, she was just passed over by some guy that she did not like, for a few reasons.
First, he kind 'a bragged about his success a bit too much sooner that day, and it took all the countenance of Iskanda not to draw her blade out of her jacket and -maybe not use it- but at least threaten him very seriously. Second, she had quite great suspicion that he might have cheated, or used some hole in the loop to get better grades, because what he get wasn't what his grades he had all year long let suppose he would get. Of course, she had no proof that he did it. But she suspected him not to be white as snow. No one was, and she was not in any way, but she was sure he was not just a simple student. She was not either, her past was already filled with dread. What could be filling his?
She would discover it as she ranted about the fact that he said, "I've one more letter, and a rank higher." She thought she was only speaking mentally about that, but apparently, she was not, but she might have not noticed it due to the alcohol she had absorbed. Furthermore, no one had made her any notices about that, but the dramatic news was enough to keep people occupied, as more broadcast were displayed. They tried to see the attacker, but they only saw a blurred spot in the air, followed by the trails of his wing. The Erusean Air Force failed to track him down. No one had claimed the slaughter of most of the royal family and the high-ranking officers.
But another girl, a bit older than her, maybe in her late twenties sat in front of her. She wore black jeans and a sweatshirt of the same color with a hoodie that did not let her hairs visible. Only her ebony face could be seen, as she opened the conversation with the slightly inebriated Iskanda.
"I heard you talking about some Iskander. Is it that man?" She asked while handing her a picture. Picture that had been taken without the person knowing it, because he was deliberately looking outside of the cam.
Even if Iskanda was submitted to alcohol, she recognized the face immediately, and nodded right away.
"That man is not just a cheater. But the son of the leader of some of these thugs that Erusea used as a means to their ends." She mumbled to the drunk Iskanda, which seemed to be less drunk after hearing this news.
"I knew there was something odd about him. The sins of the father will be the son's curse." Iskanda rejoiced herself. It was not much, but maybe she could try to do some gamble with this intel.
However, gamble was not what this other girl had in mind. She wanted a more severe punishment, since he was not just the son of some criminal, he was a criminal himself. This man and his father's thugs had abducted several women, including her sister. Which was found defenestrated the following day, with defensive wounds, while the other were found dead after having been raped at the flat were her sister had jumped from. Or maybe she was pushed by her abductors. The local police could not do crap. And the Erusean overseers just executed a few of the henchmen, to bring some false order and a false justice while the true masterminds were now safe in some Erusean villa gifted by the state for their "services" during the conquest of Delarus.
"You want him to be removed of the list so you can take his place, right? How about we removed him… definitely?" She did not used three thousand ways to express her mind, and the sentence he deserved.
"That would end my worries." Iskanda did not explicitly say no to this proposition. As such, it was almost agreeing with the idea of murdering this man.
"But she wanted to be sure of my will. So, she asked for me to do a blood pact." She explained to Vasquez, while showing a small scar on the back of her left wrist. She still remembered drawing her blade and making her own blood flow on some sheet of paper.
Obviously, it wasn't that big of a deal, it was less blood than when the time she had given her own for medical purposes, but it was a bit more painful, as her shaking hands didn't use her harpoon that well at this moment.
"I guess this list removal went as well as my rescue." Vasquez gauged on ground of the width of the wide smile on Iskanda's face.
"The results were quite similar to me. And the aftermath was almost the same for my obstacles." Iskanda kindly replied, even if her actions had been nothing but kind that day. She did not consider these men she slayed that day to be worthy enemies nor adversaries. Just obstacles that needed to be removed with unrestricted violence.
Outskirt of Farbanti, Erusea, 07/07/1991, 22:30, Weather: low cumulonimbus, heavy risk of thunder.
This woman that had refused to disclose her name had helped her some gear better meant for assassination than her standard clothes. Even if it was only some black poncho with a hoodie, she would wear above her leather body suit made for biking, as well as some scarf to hide the lower half of her face.
They had now arrived at the location of what the other woman would describe at their targets, and Iskanda as her obstacles. Such men, that had committed such atrocities did not deserve to be called men. Maybe future dead men were usable, but that was only a description of their crude fate.
As they were standing near the great mansion, hidden being some high if trees and high fences. At least no neighbor would hear or see them. They fought they were safe, but they were just entrenched in their own trap. What they could see from the street was a big two-stories house of white stone.
Iskanda rang the electronic bell, and a voice answered:
"State your business." It said. It was not the voice of that Iskander, and the other girl had not recognized the voice of his father either. It must be the voice of some guard they hired, or some other thugs that followed their leaders here.
"I have some intel about an assassination attempt against your master." Iskanda replied, and from what the guard could see from a cam placed near the entrance, she was indeed accompanied by a girl with her wrist bound by some cuffs.
"Interesting. You can enter. If that's true, there'll be something for you." The guard was almost relieved to hear that one such attempt had been avoided. But he could not see much of this girl that was speaking with a pretty loud voice. He would have expected a more high-pitched voice, but maybe this one had a distorted voice due to smoking or other health issues. He activated a switch, and a small door was opened in the massive metallic fence, which if wide open might have let pass a tank or a large truck. The two women stepped in, thus disappearing of the field of view of the first cam and being outside of the field of view of the second, that right now showed only the white marbles stair that led to the house.
He was followed by the other guard, and the son of the house. He wanted to see if this would-be killer was related to their past, or maybe sent by some victims they caused in their past. But to be honest, his father and him had caused quite a huge amount of victims and dread during the conquest of the "VSD" - the name of the alliance they tried to create to resist Erusea, Voslage Shilage Delarus, but which didn't last that long-.
So, the three men stepped down the nice marble stairs, ending in the alley that linked to the entrance, and that was not covered by the field of view of the cams. None of them recognized any of the two women that were in front of them.
The masked one pushed the cuffed one, saying rudely:
"She was barging about wanting to kill you half-drunk in some bar." Which was not far from the truth, in all honesty. Even if it was the other way around, but who cares. She was not trying to get an alibi, just convince a few fools.
"Interesting. Why didn't you kill her there?" The young boy asked, with Iskanda having recognized him, even if the night was quite dark, but there were a few lights near the house and in the nearby street that allowed them to see quite well. And even if she had not seen him, his despicable voice would have been enough for her to recognize him.
"Too many witnesses there. While here I don't think you'll have any." She justified her action, keeping her fake almost-masculine voice.
"You did well. Let us handle that matter, I need to look at this killer, alone." He said, while protruding a flashlight he used to illuminate the idle face of the unnamed lady.
"So, I can go, or I need to stay?" She let them a false choice. She knew they would find all of this suspicious, and not let her go, especially if they try to suppress this threat. And she doubted greatly that they would call the police. There was no justice, only revenge, and they would only enact their own justice through revenge tonight.
"Stay here. We might need to question you too." Iskander ordered, before whispering to one of the guards, or thugs, but the acute ears of Iskanda still caught the end of the line:" wary of this one."
The guards tell her to wait by the door, with the two of them watching every single of her movement closely. They were more wary of her than the Donner squad she would meet 4 years letter, even if the latter had better reasons not to trust her. Still, they did not make any notice when she protruded a cigarette holder, and carefully put the cigarette into place.
She then asked for fire, pretending she had forgotten her lighter somewhere, and one of them tossed her a lighter. But the flame of the lighter was only to mask what she would really do with this cigarette holder. That was not a true cigarette holder, but a well camouflaged blowgun. And as they thought she was simply exhaling the fume, she breathed hard in the blowgun, causing the small dart inside of it to fly toward the throat of one of the guards.
Due to the dark night, and with the only light having been the flame of the lighter, they did not notice it at first. And the dart was so small that the guard believed it was an insect, because he had the same gesture than if he had been stung by some flies or mosquitoes. However, it had the same effect than the tsetse fly, but at a lightning fast speed, since the sleeping agent was quite concentrated in the small dart. Furthermore, when he had tried to make what he thought to be an insect go away, he only stuck the dart deeper in his skin, quickening its effects. So, a few seconds later, he collapsed. His colleague caught him before he hit the ground, but the next second, his concerns about this unknown masked lady revealed to be true.
Because his face was met by the flame of the lighter Iskanda had put out of whack, especially the quantity of essence that was supposed to be injected for one flame. Which caused him to wail in pain, before the closed fist of Iskanda sent him to the ground with his other friend. Of course, all of this noise had been heard by the son of the house, that was still looking at the unknown girl, and had not recognized her yet. Quickly, he pulled a knife from a pocket hanging at his belt.
"Stand down, girl!" He threatened Iskanda, facing the woman that had drawn her jade blade that was glowing a bit in the dark, but by doing so he turned his back to the supposed would-be killer. That quickly became a soon-to-be killer when she used the metallic link of her cuff to choke the boy from behind. He tried to get free of her grasp, but while he was distracted, the other girl had moved closer.
She kicked the weak arm that tried to block her strike out of her way, and struck with her blade right below the sternum, ensuring that this man who was already choked would never be able to catch his breath back. Then, as she pulled the blade and he fell under the pain, still choked by the other lady, the said lady whispered into his ears the last words he would hear of his life :"My sister is avenged. You got Lisa, but not me."
Then both women proceed to enter in the house, dragging the now dead body in order to lure a bit the father that might be a bit suspicious inside. Still, with no guard watching the cams now, they managed to drag the lifeless body up to the marble stairs, that were now covered with a bit of crimson, but nothing could be seen in this now darken place.
They made the body enter the house, with Iskanda holding it straight up after having stuck her blade in his nape, holding the dead body from behind it, to avoid raising suspicion. She called for the father, imitating the masculine voice she had heard quite a few times in class, and just a short while ago. Still, they could feel a bit of wariness in the voice of the father, as he asked if everything went well outside.
"Yes, it went perfectly. Just one obstacle that needed to be removed." Iskanda falsely exalted, but by doing so, she lost her focus a bit, and her voice was not as loud as before.
"Have you caught some cold? Your voice seemed a bit strange this evening." He said as he descended at the level they were with his lifeless son, having turn from the wooden staircase to look at his son he thought to be in good health, as he was unaware of the event that had transpired outside.
"Oh, there's no risk for me to either catch a cold." She added, continuing to use a loud voice. This response caught the father a bit off guard, and he was caught off guard even more as he saw his idle son standing beside two woman he did not recognize immediately. But he got a very fast reminding as one of her shoved his son toward him, while claiming:
"You can't catch a cold when you're dead."
At these words, the father stood there for some time before stumbling backward in the staircase, in utter shock. He tried to get back to his feet and run upstairs, but as he tried to push himself with his leg, he felt a sharp object going through his back. The next second, he was unable to move, the attacker having hit his spine, or some motor nerve.
"Now you'll die, bastard! Maybe now you'll remember!" The other girl had let Iskanda pulled the blade out of the wound, that had created a massive hemorrhage that was spreading blood everywhere on the wooden staircase, with the face of the man now distorted by pain.
"Mayana… We should have taken both of you…" He muttered with his last strength, as the coldness of death was gaining ground inside his body.
"You should've indeed." The one he did not know asserted, before laughing like a mad woman. Then she twirled her blade in her hand a bit, before suddenly lunging forward and plunging it into his throat. From the badly executed tracheotomy, he would die even quicker, as she had cut his jugular in the process, and now he was choked on his own blood pouring in his lungs. One minute later, and he would be as cold as the marble stairs.
"Now, we burned that house to the ground." Mayana suggested, seeing nothing of interest here. Her enemies were dead, and the obstacles for her new acquaintances' path had been removed with extreme violence.
"I have some idea about that, but we'll have to act quick once the whole thing is settled." Iskanda chuckled, as she went for the kitchen, and open all the gas valves, before getting some aluminum sheet from a nearby shelves and putting the whole roll inside the microwave oven. Then she switched it on at maximum power, before rushing outside of the room, in a hurry.
"I guess all will blow up soon." Mayana hoped to see all of this reduced to cinder. That should reduce the chance of them getting caught. Besides, if firefighters were to intervene, they would just find two burn bodies that the explosion would shatter beyond recognition.
"Yep. The magnetron of the microwave will soon blow, and that should be enough to ignite all of that gas." She replied fast, as they were now running in the alley toward the great fence. She had only taken the wallet of the son, looking for her ID, that she might need to usurp his place. Or to take what she only thought to be rightfully hers.
A few seconds later, a strange electronic noise, like some heavy buzzing occurred, followed by a violent explosion. Remains of an infamous past has been destroyed, setting a better future for both women. One would have the satisfaction of having gotten her revenge, while the other would have the opportunity to achieve her dream. Even if it would be on the false name of a now dead thugs.
Some room of the Bienenstock Air Base, Hoffnung, Belka, 11/06/1995, 15:20, Weather: medium cloud coverage
"So, killing and burning people seems to almost be some kind of habit for you" Vasquez stated, a bit shocked that such a young person had committed such acts. Sure, that kind of man did not deserve any pity, but dying in such conditions was quite horrible. Now, she understood where she had sought for the horror that she showed in her fight again the Hexens, from what this Erusean mercenary had recalled her. It was not a story she would like to hear again, anyway.
"That's right. Even if I evolved from using methane and lighters to static FAEBs." Iskanda agreed that her past was filled with a pretty big amount of blood, cinders, and dread. Blood that she had made flow and was surely enough to fill a nice swimming pool for vampire. Not as much cinder as the Oseans would create when they would finally destroy Hoffnung. And this dread that she had made her enemies share, for her pure bliss.
"But the army didn't notice anything when you presented herself as that Iskander?" Vasquez was a bit curious how a woman managed to appear as a man, especially in these years of late adolescence.
"Nope. They just pointed out that I had cut my hair a bit more than the necessary, and that I lost some weight and take some centimeters. I explained that by some late growth spurt." Iskanda explained, she still remembered how uncomfortable she had felt the first days, extremely wary at the idea of having her true identity disclosed.
"Besides, that Mayana girl had some friends that were good at faking IDs, and since there was a bit of administrative marasmus after the death of the warmonger king, it was quite easy to change everything, and kept my record clean." Iskanda insisted that she had indeed acted at the right time. Sometimes, life was giving rare opportunities, and she was happy to have taken it.
She was also met with an interesting opportunity today. She had also acted at the right time here and now, now pretty sure that if she hadn't been here the defenses of Hoffnung wouldn't have stood and instead of only a mere thousand death, the civilian losses could have equaled the death toll of the EMP disaster. She had thought of some plan to get those high-altitude attackers, but she would have to reveal her identity. And to be honest, she did not know how it could go. Sure, she was of great help this morning, but would they trust one of their arch-nemesis?
"What will you do next?" Vasquez asked, with a more inquisitive gaze than before, and a more posed voice. She had understood that she would not just stand down and watch the world burn. She was more of those people that would set the world ablaze, anyway.
"I'll fight. Take that chance to fight, and the next. On and on, until I obtain utter Victory, or the chances are spent." She answered with the most utter determination. Her determination was not a rock nor steel, but more like titanium, that could be bend in its initial form if deformed.
"Then good luck revealing your identity." Vasquez wished her, with honesty and a bit of gentleness in her voice. She would not become a friend of that woman any time soon, but she could not help but foster her to fight for all who cannot. After all, right now and here, she was amongst these persons, bedridden due to the effects of the poison that had greatly tired his body and mind.
"Thanks. Victory is at hands, I can feel it." Iskanda stopped leaning over the bed, getting straight up again, and tightening her fist like she was ready to strike at any Osean or North Belkans with her bare hands if needed.
She left the room with her idea of a half-plan. Half-plan that involved far too many contingencies to actually work in any ordinary circumstances. But current circumstances were much closer to extraordinary ones. However, she had been pretty lucky, the presence of the equipment she needed to fight the Hexen was a good proof of that. Or was someone fostering the convenience of its presence there in a god-forsaken place? Both could be right, and for once she would not refuse any help from anyone. Especially with the line between enemies and adversaries thinning more and more...
Blumenberg, Belka, 11/06/1995, 15:30, Weather, high altitude stratus.
The Schwarze squad was currently deployed over the old Belkan city of Blumenberg, that had gotten this name from the blue granite rocky outcrop on which the medieval castle that was hanging over the city, which had surrounded the old fortress. The city itself, which was cut in half by the Tau river, had its own fortress once, but the walls were removed at the end of the last century to build a big boulevard all around the city, and only a few towers remained for historical interest.
Instead, the true defense was a bit at the East of the city, where a massive fortress was located, built in the same style than the Bayes fortress in Fato. Even if such huge concrete geometrical fortress wouldn't resist to high penetration bombs Osean B-2s could carry, the fortress whose shape was one of a ten-pointed star housed an impressive array of short range and long range defensive armament, from SAMs and Triple As to flak guns and BAWS, but without any energy-based weaponry. Six BAWS were set at the center of the structure, flanked by rows of SAMs and SPK with very high rate of fire, while each point had at least six turrets of various caliber supported by SAMs, all able to inflict massive punishment to any allied aircraft.
This is why only two of them were above the fortress, helping in long-range support with their XLAAs, while six of them were currently deployed at the North-West of the city, which was the direction of Anfang, one of the last major North Belkan stronghold, with the other being Dinsmark, the Belkan capital. Right now, Gault was deployed on the way from Hoffnung to Blumenberg. There, the fights were a bit less intense, with the North Belkan trying to sneak through their defenses, either through stealth or through small ground units armed with shoulder-mounted SAMs, but these were spotted by the Merlin's and turned into piles of minced meat by the sub-munitions bombs carried on their Su-47, and their planes turned into flying fireballs by ERAAMs from the ADFX-01s.
But to be honest, defensive fight was not something they were used to. He never did, to be honest. From the Romneyan conflict to this new war, he was only the attacker, or the hunter. Now they needed to be the shield for a nascent nation that was being assaulted from all sides
"Netz squadron, Schwarze squadron, J-35Js Draken approaching at low altitude." One of the operators from the Fortress who had live intel from the satellites of the Pendragon Projekt calmly announced. Himself had not too much worry about, if the two squads showed the same effectiveness here than above B7R.
Volleys of XLAAs and SAAMs from the eight planes welcome the numerous North Belkan craft. They tried to retaliate, but their SAAMs ended up being shot for trash, as they had to pull evasives due to the defensive fire, or sometimes to avoid debris from their comrades getting shot down. Only one SAAM really threatened Schwarze 3, but he got rid of it by flying vertically as the missile was approaching, knowing that sudden changes of altitude were hard to follow for the targeting pod of the attacker.
Still, there was eight J-35J that managed to slip through their fire and get into missile range. They think they would have some mobility edge over the fast interceptors, and maybe some false numeric advantage over the two Flankers that could outmaneuver them easily. But the Schwarze team knew very well how to take advantage of their raw speed.
"Fünf und Sechs, bleib dort. Anderen, AB auf (5 and 7, stay there, the others, AB on)!" Zubov ordered, as he put his afterburners to their peaks, going supersonic with a simple push of the hand.
"Ver. Diesen Verrätern wird Tod treffen." Helger Collins, aka Schwarze five asserted, as he was locking his XLAAs. Now, both sides were considering the others to be traitors to Belka, but none of the members of Schwarze was feeling guilty. They had not felt any guilt when they had taken those younglings a few months prior. And they would never. They had enough guilt for their past actions.
The four black and red Foxhounds by-passed the Draken so quickly that the missiles they fired struck the double-delta wing fighters after they crossed their path. And even if they had not much time to lock them, these missiles had been fired at very high speed, and thus they were faster than the standard missiles when they hit the Draken. The few that survived this second onslaught were slaughtered by more long-range fire, that this time they had trouble dealing with, having to avoid the close-range fire of the MiG-31s.
"Schöne Manöver (Nice maneuver)." Netz 2 observed from far away. Sure, it was nothing as fancy as that Schwarze Luchs pilot had pulled out above B7R, but it was an efficient strategy.
"Your fire support was quite precise." Sergei Karkov, Schwarze number 2 commented, as none of the Draken were able to break away from their second volley of SAAMs. His tone, and the overall Schwarze teams was a bit nicer than when they killed these fugitives in MiG-21s or when their number 3, Harald Brehme, finished a runner from the Grabacr squad. After all, they were not supposed to destroy anything but their enemies here, and not just everything in the vicinity. For these reasons they had taken only air-to-air weaponry, and their standard would be enough to fight off light ground targets. Besides, the Fortress was equipped with some long-range howitzer that would turn any North Belkan ground forces into piles of metallic wreckage.
Coming back around, the defenders of Blumenberg readied themselves for the next attack. This one was showing a bit more of dangerousness, or just more will from the Belkan commanders to destroy the CSB. There were rumors of off the books talks between Osean and North Belkans to join forces if both had to engage CSB forces. Yet, what would come of such unholy alliance? Nothing good for the principality nor the allied forces. But the CSB was acting quite a lot too. Some of the small allied countries had seen their interest in keeping the wheels of war running decreasing, as well as the fighting will of their people, that had expected a swift victory after the liberation now more than a month ago.
This more serious attack was comprised of 12 Su-32s who harbored the trademark three-tone turquoise blue camo, six Tornadoes Gr4s with a two-tone brown camo and black radome, and eight Fulcrums in a three-tone grey geometric camo made of hard line rather than the usual camo pattern. This was quite a potent strike force, with the Su-32s filled to the brim with LAGMs and XAGMs, the MiG-29s acting as air cover and the Gr4s jamming the radar. It was not enough to jam the sensors of the Merlin Satellites that were still busy intercepting ASAT missiles fired from the North Belkan fleet, but it would be enough to hinder their lock-on at such range.
Still, it was enough to nullify the fire of the XLAAs from Schwarze. Not to hinder the SAAMs of Netz, since jammers are not made to counter laser tracking pods, thus letting them score a few kills on the MiG-29s. They were the primary targets, as they would be the most annoying ones once they would be in the jamming field of the Gr4s. Furthermore, they were at the front of the enemy formation, which had Su-32s on its flanks and core, and Gr4s as their rear guard
Thus, the pilots of Schwarze rushed forward, hoping to occupy the North Belkan long enough so the two Su-27s could pick them up from long range. At their peak speed they had quickly reached, they would outrun their missiles, creating a risk with they hit their own fire, so they went gun blazing only on their targets, splitting up in three groups of two that attacked respectively the Su-32 on the left and right flanks, and Schwarze 1 and 2 against the MiG-29s, which were only 5 by now.
"Verdammt. The Fallen Vulture." A Belkan Su-32 copilot swore as he recognized the crafts attacking them. And the next thirty seconds made him doubt greatly about the quality of their escort.
Because these thirty seconds show the fall of most of it, and of a certain number of craft they were actually supposed to protect. Right after Zubov promised their fall:
"I'm maybe a fallen but it's YOU who'll fail and fall." Was his harsh answer as he gunned down a Fulcrum head-on. He was so fast that his target exploded in his sixes, along with the craft downed by Karkov.
As the two MiG-31s kept their forward motion, they downed two Su-32s head-on, and only by that time the three last MiG-29s had settled on the pursuit of the far faster aircrafts. And even if theoretically the Fulcrum could outturn a Foxhound, the North Belkan pilots had some doubt in their own abilities as they break the escort formation, to go on the hunt for the usual hunters. Their SAAMs were avoided with ease by Schwarze 1 and 2 as they zoomed out of the formation, which forced the MiG-29s to pitch high and climb hard to follow them, but there the less powerful engines of the MiG-29s yet with vector thrust that could have given them some mobility edge in pure dogfight weren't giving them any edge on the MiG-31s.
On the flanks, the Belkan situation was far worse. There, some of the Su-32s had taken some XMAAs in the hope of fending off the CSB defenders. However, either they had studied how Iskanda had battled with the ADFX-01s with her downward curved flight pattern, or they just figured that this tactic was efficient against such missile that lack high mobility, because they were using it profusely. Thus, most of the weak defensive fire of the Strike Flankers was for nothing, flying above the unusually agile MiG-31s.
"Let's make hell rain on those Ralder." Schwarze 2 suggested to his leader, as they had now arrived right above a certain number of Strike Flankers.
"Gute Idee." He acknowledged, and with a swift motion on the yaw axis, fell from his climb in a perfectly mastered spin. Which he only made last a bit in order to fall faster on those Su-32s.
Even if they had no good lock on them, they fired their XLAAs vertically at them while keeping their motion on the yaw axis, almost crossing each-other's path in doing so. They only scored two hits, but these two hits were two kills as the long-range missile exploded on the dual cockpits of the Strike Flankers. Furthermore, their attacks were not about killing, but maximizing the fear and dread amongst their foes.
Which were already quite high, and for good reasons : as the number one and two of Schwarze were keeping the MiG-29s glued on their tails but far enough to render them pretty much useless, the four other Foxhounds had slaughtered the first line of Strike Flankers, and were now pressing on the second lines, which had scattered following the fire of their leader. The SAAMs of Netz 1 and 2 kept scoring a few kills, though they were running low on their supply of long-range missile. They had thought they would have ERAAMs on their craft if they joined the CSB, but the process of making an aircraft not intended to carry these compatibles with them was a bit long. If the attack on Hoffnung had been tomorrow or the next day, they might have been equipped with it, and they would have already - MiG-31s and Su-27s alike - laid waste on those North Belkans.
After their vertical fire on these Su-32s, the two MiG-31s climbed back again, only to be followed again by the Fulcrums. However, they had a different scheme in mind this time. This time, they really push their engines to their already augmented limits, ensuring them to have enough distance between them and their pursuers. Then they enacted perfectly coordinated vertical Himmelmans, which surprised a bit their pursuers, not thinking that they would be this reckless, as both were on the verge of entering uncontrolled spins as they enacted these maneuvers.
"Open fire" The Belkan leading the three-plane formation bellowed, but it was too late. Missiles had already left the pylons of Schwarze one and two and went straight for the Fulcrums. If they were flying horizontally these hits would not have been this deadly, but here they were enough to make them enter uncontrolled spins of death.
"Fulcrums neutralized." Schwarze 2 announced with a cold tone, as he was seeing the planes in a ramming motion toward the ground due to their loss of control. Maybe the pilots had lost consciousness due to the G-forces, he hoped. This way they would have less feeling when their craft would hit the ground and blow up.
"Only a few Strike Flankers and the jammers still flying." Schwarze 4 indicated, as he was chasing one of them. The Gr4 tried to expand his wings to gain in mobility at low speed were the MiG-31 was not excelling, but by doing so he got too slow to evade a pair of missiles and went down.
"Netz one, another Su-32 down." He almost congratulated himself, as he managed to shoot down a Flanker after being tangled for a few seconds in a scissoring maneuver, but the greatest inertia of the Striker allowed him to come on top of this engagement.
"Netz two, two more down." His wingman shared other good news. Two of the Belkan Su-32s were trying to outsmart him, with one doing the bait, and the other pursuing the CSB pilot. Still the higher mobility of the Su-27 made his time as evading the fire of the Strike Flanker easy, especially its gun who was oriented toward the ground and thus harder to aim at enemy aircrafts, while the bait was getting bitten slowly bits by bits by his gun. In a desperate attempt to reverse the situation the bait tried to pull out a Cobra.
However, as he tried to run out of this precarious situation, he ran straight into trouble, as the Su-27 of Netz 2 had done a micro dive in anticipation of the Cobra and fired at his engine nozzles. Thus, their plane become way more unstable than he should have and enable to steer their craft in the right direction they ended up crashing on the pursuer.
"Two bird with one stone. And what's more, with their own stone." Schwarze 3 laughed at the irony of the situation. Trying to evade and killing your wingmen in doing so. Maybe it was better that out of the four Belkan pilots and copilots, nobody survived. If even one of them did the guilt would have been quite hard to bear.
"Mach sie fertig (finish them)." Schwarze ordered, as he had finally leveled after this chase with the Fulcrums a bit too long for his taste. But right now, the Strike Flankers were down to a number that could have been counted on a severely amputated hand, and there was only two Gr4s.
Blumenberg, Belka, 11/06/1995, 15:45, Weather, high altitude stratus.
However, these Gr4s had not only the task of trying to cover the retreating craft, which was only suicidal given who they were against. Even if they were not their allied anymore, the Schwarze squad would keep honoring their MO of shooting down every retreating aircraft.
Their other mission that was now turning the previous attack in nothing but a big distraction, was to provide cover for the next wave of fighters. Other wave that was not equipped to attack the city itself, only its defenders. This other wave was of twelve Su-37s with a grey chainmail like camo, and black wingtips and rudder tips, the Reicherer squadron. They were a squadron whose commander was pretty close from the men of the Kaiserritter squadron that this Schwarze Luchs had almost defeated on her own, before having its survivors annihilated by these Netz traitors.
But right now, as the Netz and Schwarze squad were gunning the two last jammers, they fired. As such, their XLAAs became only visible as the two ECM pod were destroyed when the planes fell in flames to the ground.
"Verlassen die Formation (break the formation)!" Zubov shouted, as he zoomed out as fast as his engine could allow. The XLAAs targeting him grazed his engines outlets, but they had not enough g-tolerance to turn this sharply from their horizontal trajectory, and thus were shot for trash.
Still, not all men in his squadron were this lucky: the number four and six were a bit late to react, and thus were forced to eject. The two members of the Netz squad met the same fate, with their Su-27 climbing not fast enough either to escape the second volley of XLAAs. And as the four survivors had to evade while still climbing, this gave the opportunity for some planes of the Reicherer Schaft to climb below them. And soon, they might get at QAAMs range. Which some members of Schwarze were now doubting in their chances to evade these highly mobile missiles with redundant lock.
"Ich werde etwas versuchen (I'll try something)." Schwarze 3 announced, being one of the more doubtful in their chances at surviving orthodox dogfight with these guys. Furthermore, if he had evaded all XLAAs fired at him, he had taken some bullets sooner while downing a Strike Flanker from below. He had had to pitch quite low to get this shot, but with their gun intended for CAS, this was not that hard. Thus, Schwarze 3 could not set his afterburners at their peaks and would be caught up sooner than the others. And if the others had the chance to bail out safely, he was doubting that such Rald Partei supporters would let them survive if they had the possibility to shoot them down on their chutes.
"Was?" Schwarze 2 inquired, as he was evading a few XLAAs by doing an aileron roll vertically, maneuver a bit hard to realize with a plane not built for acrobatics.
"Du wirst sehen (you'll see)." He replied quickly and cut his engine for a short amount of time. Of course, these few seconds were enough to let gravity win other thrust, but he was trusting his aircraft enough to try this maneuver. And as the North Belkan respected the laws of dynamics - the south Belkan did too, but while removing the acceleration factor here -, they flew over him, not reacting quick enough to fire their QAAMs, which if they possessed these uncanny tracking capacity, required slightly more time than regular missiles to be lock in the first place.
"Did we hit that one?" One pilot of the Reicherer squad that saw him fell like a rock shared his hope of having gotten this first kill on the Schwarze from close range.
"Nein. Aber du wirst bald (No. But you'll be hit soon)." Schwarze 3 harshly replied, as he was again switching his damaged engine back on and firing his last four XLAAs and two missiles in the process. All needed a bit more time to reach their intended target since they had to overcome gravity too, but most of them reach their target, or at least created enough chaos to force the other Su-37s to cut the chase.
Which the other three Schwarze member did not lose any moment to capitalize on this opening, falling on the scattered Terminators like birds of prey. Thus, the Reicherer squad had a hard time as they leveled, but in the end, only three planes were down and two other damaged but still combat-capable.
Thus, they engaged each other in fierce dogfights, with the 4 MiG-31s having to rely heavily on their sheer thrust to get out of the lock of the far more agile Su-37s. For them, they could just use their mobility which was not limited to the supersonic range like the Foxhounds. And obviously, their Cobra were executed almost perfectly, unlike the one that Su-32 tried to pull out only to be gunned down in the process. Here, the terminators were having the edge, and bit by bit they got one hit here and there on their preys.
Sure, the Schwarze squad was not going to let them turn their planes into wreckages for the Vultures to feed on. That would have been a bit too much ironic. Yet, the only kill they obtained was a hard one to get, as Schwarze 1 killed Reicherer 7 at the limit of stalling.
Their number seven had let Zubov chased him, only to force him through a streak of sharp turns hard to pull out with an interceptor without vector thrust. But the way he was doing this, it was almost telegraphing "I wanna do a Cobra" to Schwarze 1. He had not the mobility of a F-15C to counter such maneuvers the same way he saw the Solo wing do. He slowed down a lot, with his aircraft vibrating heavily as he went far beyond subsonic. Still, he managed to set his gun on the Terminator. And as he fired on his engine nozzles, he was not able to recover from the precarious post-stall maneuver.
However, this let Zubov open on his flank, and as he rolled a bit his aircraft to turn toward this new enemy, he entered in a spin. The speed given by the spin allowed him to outrun his opponent for a few seconds, but Reicherer 1 was relentless. If they were still allied, he could have made some positive comment other such trait in his way of flying. But here, he was only this relentless because he was the blind and deaf puppet of some mad dictators filled with delusion.
This situation was a bit the same for all the Schwarze survivors, who were outnumbered, but by capable pilots, and not by Osean, the latter being almost weaker when in number, as they tend to grow overconfident in such battle settings. They would need something to change to the battle to ensure their survival, and fast. Or the blue granite of Blumenberg would be paint in red from the blood of the civilians these Rald-Regiment weren't afraid to shed all over the place, especially if said civilians were people of Hoffnung seeking refuge, and even more if the refugees were workers that had helped in the construction of the technological marvels of the Pendragon Projekt.
The first change could have been a distraction for both squadron: a squad of A-12 Avengers appeared coming from the North-West. That must mean that Anfang had either had its air defense fully neutralized, or that they let these Oseans flew through North Belkan airspace. And obviously, the latter was the lore likely, even if it meant that the off the books talks between the two enemies had come to fruition. That was almost saddening the CSB pilots to see that North Belkan were ready to give up their honor to destroy them. But from another point of view, it was making them appear stronger, since they were strong enough to force the allied and Belka to join their forces in their tries to destroy the nascent new Belkan state.
"Blue Monarch here. Strikers, go for the fortress. The others, concentrate all your fire on the Vulture." Their leader expressed his eagerness to take these deserters-hunters down. Not that he knew any of the Belkan that had tried to defect and would have been killed by the thirteenth night chase squadron, but he had some friends amongst the "Shadow group" that had sometimes been sent to cover those deserters, and had had even less mercy from the Schwarze squad.
Of course, they had seen them only recently on their long-range radar, as the flying wing possessed some reduced radar cross section compared to the usual main fighters of Osea, being the F-16Cs, Tomcats, Eagles and Hornets. They were obviously a bit stealthier than that Rafale Discret Erusea had disclosed in the airshow of July 1994, and even more than the F-117As. Even if to be honest, it was not their stealth that had allowed them to get in the AO undetected, but the fact that both squadrons had their hands full right now.
But this was not the last change to the battle settings there would be this afternoon. The last that was meaningful for the CSB craft came as the A-12 in hunter configuration were only five hundred meters from getting into XLAA range. A volley of long-range missile coming from the south-east, the direction of Tauberg flew below the two squadron still entangled in their dogfights, only to find their targets immediately on the opposite vector. Ten A-12 exploded from the powerful missiles.
"These were ERAAMs!" Schwarze 5 rejoiced of seeing their help finally arriving. And as the craft pursuing him was a bit baffled by the sudden change in the balance of power, he was able to get in his six and play some Schräge Musik on his afterburners after recovering quickly from a controlled spin that cause the distracted Reicherer pilot to overflew him.
"Schwarze Falke 3 und 4, weiter feuern. Meine Erben werden diese Dogfight beenden (Black Falcon 3 and 4, keep firing. My heirs will end this dogfight)." The commanding tone of Kupchenko set his assets to their destined place, and more A-12s were sentenced to death as the two DW-2s were firing another volley of their ERAAMs. The ADFX-01 fired theirs too but could not after they entered into the denied battlespace.
"Already two third of my squad is down. Try to do something, Belkans, you should be in range to attack these flying wings!" The Osean leader was now not the happiest person given the poor results of their unholy alliance and shouted all his anger at his allied of circumstance.
"I'm a bit busy with their reinforcement too, Osean Dummkopf" Reicherer 1 replied with the same hate he used against these CSB traitors. After all, only more hate could come of an alliance based solely on their share hatred of the CSB.
But the Osean commander was unable to reply, as the third volley of ERAAMs was released, and terminated his squadron, who had not had a single kill on these Belkans.
On their way to the battlespace, the two Erben saw something they should not be expecting from their allies: Schwarze 3 retreating toward them, which was supposedly a death sentence in their MO. But to be more exact, he was only directing two Su-37s toward them.
"I'll try that fancy thing the Galm team like to do." Cipher said to his wingwoman, as he heavily tilted his plane, and aimed for the twin rudders of the Foxhound.
"Do as you want, Erbe 2. It's always good to learn from your adversaries." Zveda replied, as she turned toward some other Su-37 tailing Schwarze 5. They were not as fast as Foxhounds, but she knew she would catch up with them before they realized it.
"Drei, nicht bewegen (three, don't move)." He ordered, as he kept flying tilted toward the red and black plane. Which had maybe understood his plan, as he flew a bit lower, to ease the trajectory of the ADFX-01 whose wings were wider than the X-29As of the second Galm 1.
"What is this Morgan doing?" One of the Su-37 pilot's asked, having not heard of this fancy maneuver since they had always been stationed at Dinsmark since the beginning of the war, and had put little interest on stories about crazy foreign mercenaries. Thus, they did not anticipated the two pair of XMAAs that went quickly for their air intakes - the Erben had exchanged their MPBMs for the ERAAMs and XMAAs, as well as something else they still had to show to these foes-.
Something that Zveda showed not on her first kills either, as she only had to fire a pair of XMAAs at medium range to damage their craft as they were turning and twisting to keep Schwarze 5 in their crosshairs, but as he was in almost continuous controlled spin, it was quite hard even for them to keep up. Thus, finishing their damaged craft that had bled their speed in doing so and had just recovered from the small stall they were submitted after suffering minor damage from her XMAAs was ludicrously easy.
And now there was only five Su-37s remaining, that were now outnumbered, and that knew very well that running was useless, due to the extensive range of the ERAAMs carried by the realization of the Pendragon Projekt. This number went down to four after Zveda separated one of the two Su-37s that had desperately tried to shoot Zubov down from the beginning of the engagement, and that had failed in doing so, apparently.
She only had to get the enemy plane in her crosshair, and all was over in a microsecond. To be scientifically correct, in a bunch of femtoseconds would be the correct description of the time it took for her Femtolaser to take down the Su-37 as she was turning hard to evade a standard missile from the Erbe that had been purposely fired to make her turn that way. If these ADFX-01 had still their gun the Belkan opponent might have gotten a chance to survive -to survive after a hefty punishment, but to survive nevertheless-. But here the TFLS never let any chances. The amount of energy received on the area covering the engines of the Terminator was too much for both the metallic plating and the engines themselves, with the first being sublimated partially and the others exploding in less time that it takes to write it down.
Their first use of these downsized TFLS was definitely a resounding success. They had had similar results as they had to engage Belkan F-5Es and Typhoons a bit sooner in the afternoon. Their fire was an almost guaranteed kill, even for planes as big as E6-B prowlers, which they shot down as they tried to cover some low-flying A-10As that did not last long either. Their only disadvantage was that they could not fire burst of laser, but one unique shot, and that there was a fifteen second recharge. But the firepower was more than enough to parry this time loss.
"No!" Reicherer 1 screamed in desperation, as he saw the plane exploding in a matter of Femtoseconds. It was the plane of his niece, that he had made join his squadron a bit faster than through the usual process thanks to his political links. So, he had only the more reasons to be angry for this loss at the hands of nobodies that this traitor of Kupchenko had entrusted sixth gen prototypes.
"Let them run to hell." Schwarze suggested, as he was finally able to make his pursuer overcome by grief overcame him and fired some bullets in his ailerons. They were defeated. Now he was understanding the pleasure of some species that let they prey still alive to pursue them another time and make them suffer even more.
"It the place you deserved to be!" Reicherer replied with hostility, fed with revenge he couldn't get at this very moment. Heartbroken, he and the third members flew with dishonor amongst his squadron. Squadron that was reduced to him alone when Zubov fired his last three XLAAs on the fleeing crafts.
"Them I'll turn Dinsmarkhaven into hell." Zubov claimed, knowing were the Reicherer squad was based, where they had a few spare pilots that would only be cannon fodders in a future CSB attack.
Why he was so certain of his future success? Because Kupchenko had promised them to upgrade their MiG-31s in MiG-31X/V that some mercenary had created by heavily tuning her Foxhound. He justified the little delays by the fact that he needed some data from this very mercenary. And this little delay was acceptable, given the fact that it would make them more agile than these Su-37 they battled against today.
"Schwarze Falke 4, activating VTOL turbines. We have sighted some of the downed airmen." The DW-2 commanding officer announced the final good news of this fight.
They did not suffer a single loss, in the end. Which they welcome with great relief, and with a bit of expectation from Kupchenko. This small but decisive part of his puzzle had been added to his greater scheme. And the bit of "controlled chaos" he had introduced in the great scheme of things for the new unholy alliance of Belka and Osea was the last thing he needed to achieve success, and soon victory.
He knew that Hoffnung would irremediably fall. This was the last step back he would take. But it was only to be in a good en garde position, from which any attacks would be parried before he would deal the final blow.
Bienenstock Air Base, Hoffnung, Belka, 11/06/1995, 16:00, Weather: medium cloud coverage
Iskanda had listened to Vasquez's advices. She had disclosed her true identity. After all, she would have had to, even without the bit of guilt she was now feeling due to the becoming of her leader that she seemed to care quite a lot, more than the friendly relationship Iskanda had with Pixy.
Obviously, she was expecting some people to be angry about her. They trusted her with their lives for a number of times this morning, and they entrusted her one of their planes. Which they were realizing now what she could have done with it if she had ill-minded intents toward the defenders of Hoffnung. Yet, she had taken part in the defense instead of helping her supposed allied.
"So, what, you got a change of heart and went rogue?" Donner eight asked, right after Donner three had screamed that he was right no to trust her in the first place, which she nodded. And when people trust the untrustworthy, it meant that they were in dire situation. That assertion was right, even if most of the evacuation of Hoffnung had been done with yet mitigated results but without too many losses in civilians or military hardware.
"It's a bit more complicated. Some Oseans framed me for the almost pyrrhic victory we got at Futuro and wanted me dead. I killed their killers, and then I had some encounters that led me to become this new pilot that flew alongside you today." She summarized the few weeks she had spent since her failure at destroying Excalibur, under the inquisitive gaze of Oswin Neugel and the pilots of Donner squad. Some of them were not even looking her straight in the eye, not wanting to talk with a turncoat.
"You have only created yourself more enemies, Galm 1." Neugel recognized that such move was foolish at best, and surely executed without any long-term strategy.
"I just created a more target-rich environment for my point of view." Iskanda corrected his statement. After all, having to fight both allied and North Belkans above B7R had ensured her quite a big killcount for this day alone. And if she had not gone on this path, she would have never had the joy of killing those new targets that the A-12 Avengers were.
"And what did you plan next? Betray us so you'll have even more targets?" Donner 3 asked, still having a hard time coping with the fact that this woman that he had come to trust after having seen her fly alongside them and ensuring the safety of civilians while being ready to risk her own.
"Nein Danke. I was shot down twice by Pendragon's achievements, and in all honesty, I don't want to try a third time." She cut short the traitorous thoughts that had once been growing inside her mind, but that she had to sway out when she rushed to the rescue of Vasquez -even if she didn't know back then that she would have to help this very person-. But had she known, she would have still acted. She was not someone who would let evil act. It did not matter that people would see her as evil, but she was surely the lesser of the two evils in many ways. Besides, she knew of the proverb "jamais deux sans trois" (third time's a charm), but what would happen to her if she tried a third one would not be a charm but more of a death curse.
"Denn was (then what)?" Neugel asked, being a bit more level-headed than the pilots under his command. After all, himself had to cope with the fact that quite a third of the losses caused by the Galm team were due to his best former student, Larry Foulke.
"I want to help. To fight for those who can't." She expressed her new reasons she had found while battling with the Hexen's for her and Vasquez's sake.
"And what do you plan to do against these high-altitude attackers? Even Excalibur and the Merlin's are less effective at such height, due to the air density decreasing and thus the conductivity decreases." Neugel pointed out the physical facts that explained why using high altitude planes put them less at risk than low flying stealth that Merlin would irremediably track and target. It could damage external systems or engines a bit, enough to slow those high-altitude attackers, but not enough to make them fall from high.
"I plan to go back to Valais and borrow the Nord 1500 Griffon. It was good to intercept the XB-70 Valkyries of your Ragnarök squad, so it should do the job against militarized X-15s, weaponized SR-71, and old high-altitude Yukte and Osean fighters." She exposed her simple idea. It was quite a risky one, but nothing was not risky for her. Otherwise, where would have been the fun in a plan without any risks.
"A bold move. But fortune seems to favor the bold nowadays." Oswin judged this move that had at least a bit more strategy behind it that simply fly in a tunnel in the pursuit of an armored train, and then destroy the following railroad bridge, and all of that with a solo winged plane.
"So, you'll let me go?" She asked, with a little lack of confidence in her voice. She had little confidence in her own plan, even if she did great this morning. She now understood how hard the job of a tactician, having to cope with all of these contingencies.
"It's not like we had better ways to remove this threat. You'll leave in the evening, so they'll have already left Valais Air Base when you'll arrive there." Oswin agreed that this might be their best shot. If new technologies with decades of advancements did not work, maybe old forgotten prototypes that almost flew more with her at the wheel than during its time as a prototype back in the 1960's could do the job.
Valais Air Base, Ustio, 11/06/1995, 18:00, Weather: small cloud coverage
Situated now far away from the frontline, the Valais Air Base that had lost since a few weeks its title of "little skiing station" was still busy, being located right outside of the effective range of the TFLS of the Belkan Wunderwaffe. Even if now the operators had another name for their base, "little hiking station". This increase of activity could only mean something: an allied attack was imminent. Would it be another fruitless engagement like the two last battles above B7R? Or would something actually change in the great scheme of things?
"Change is not made by the world itself, Pixy. Change is made by everyone in the world, if they are smart enough to look at themselves and make a change, rather than hoping for the others to change." He said to himself, stuck in a perplex stance, as he was looking at some Osean tankers that were landing here from the second story of the control tower. They were coming here in order for the Osean air force to have a refueling point, since they had planned to circumvent the defensive network of the CSB by going around it, and for this purpose they required this base, as well as some base of FATO to be fill with fuel and various ammo to rearm the allied airplanes if they had met some South Belkan resistance on the way there.
He had not had any official intel on this, but just listening to the talks in the control tower was enough to deduce it. Furthermore, since they had requisitioned Hervin to get any more intel they could get on the aerial defenses around Hoffnung, Blumenberg and Sudentor, the two first being cities having joined the CSB, while Sudentor seemed to want to gain independence. But Sudentor had far less industries, so it was considered to be a lesser threat. Herr Steller was quite busy too right now, having to deal with the logistics of all those new supplies. Pixy had met him once today, exiting the old hangar of the Griffon. He wondered what he was doing with the old jet, but never had the time to ask him properly, with the supplies arriving shortly after.
But his little time he spent hanging out with Henri and the others radio and radar went to an end when they had to transmit the order for every pilot to join the others for the briefing. Pixy would join them, but without much interest for the oncoming mission. He had only shown interest in the last two battles because he knew he could get revenge. But what was there to be won, he could not see it. Only a bit of destruction from a city that must been now abandoned and evacuated. But full of booby traps and other mines if the Osean tried to investigate the factories, he was sure of that.
Still, he was almost surprised to see the logo of Axe and Hammer and not some Osean industries, since all people doing the briefing were Oseans.
"The unit of aggressive reconnaissance have done their report" the Major Orson Perrault began the briefing, with a bit of disdain as he was talking of these units. Because he knew what these units were comprised off, low-life, cowards, and criminals that Osea had no use except for dirty jobs and cannon fodder.
"The Belkan forces are beginning to take flight. The industrial city of Hoffnung is crucial to the enemy's industrial strategy and the heart of its war productions. The Allied Forces have decided that all Belkan war production must be stopped to expedite the end of the war and has requested your participation in this operation. The operation will primarily involve the bombing of ground facilities by the Allied Forces' bombers using cruise missiles fired from Fatoan airspace to limit potential losses that Excalibur might cause. Your mission is to support those bombers and attack enemy facilities. We have achieved near total air supremacy over the target area, but do not let your guard down. There may still be sporadic resistance." He resumed the briefing, as the croissant-shaped valley was drawn on the display screen, with a few red targets all around the place, and some yellow targets for the factories that were supposedly without defense. Then it zoomed out as he spoke of the bombers, B-52s that would more or less be used as a distraction for the allied strike fighters to get close enough.
But the words that almost cause Pixy to burst of laugh were "near total" and "sporadic resistance". Because Pixy had very little doubts that there would be more than a sporadic resistance. Especially due to the call he received a bit early on from the OIA : they wouldn't have ranted on the casualties they had attributed to his former leader if they hadn't suffer massive casualties, which might meant they were walking right into a trap. But he let the Osean arrogance took over, sure that many of them would die tonight. And again, he would not care a single bit.
"Anything to add?" Perrault asked to everyone, as he was about to close the display software.
Again, Pixy stayed quiet. He had nothing to add, other than this fight might be the last pyrrhic victory the CSB would concede to the allies and North Belka. Because he saw no reasons to believe that their forces would have any more success against the Belkan Wunderwaffe. If he was still in the allied forces after this battle, of course. Otherwise he would not care about the becoming's of the allied forces, even if he currently cared very little, especially for those Oseans in this room.
And in the evening, a F-15C and a F-35X would take off. Both had been tasked with different missions, but in the end, they would be taking off with the same hopes: those of a better ending for this battle, and then, for this war. Yet, what does a better end mean?
Well, another last semi-filler chapter, since this is not all aerial dogfights.
Of course, Iskanda cannot be as badass as she is now four years ago, but she had perfected her skills since.
The final piece of this puzzle is in place. But what puzzle are we talking about? The only puzzle that is worth solving, Captain Pellaeon. The complete and utter destruction of this new heretic alliance. And NO SPACE WHALES WILL STOP ME!
I hope everybody is fine even with the whole covid-19 situation.
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Und bis nächst Mal, Lesern und Leserinnen.