DISCLAIMER - I do not own Advance Wars or anything copyrightedly relating
to within, which is copyrighted and owned by Nintendo, although I do happen
to like this piece of work I've written and if I ever discover some random
lamer forging it in their name I will be substantially cheesed off, and
nasty letters from me will commence bombardment on said lamer. So don't
even bother stealing it. However, you MAY place this on your website
without my consent should it have an Advance Wars fanfiction section. If
that happened and I discovered such a thing has occured, I'd actually be
quite flattered. Thank you, and enjoy.
______________
The Fighters - Part II
By RustyD
______________
~----~
~Mission Seven: Macro Arrival~
~----~
"Are you alright?"
Rainey's question snapped Glenn back into focus of the area around him. He realized he'd been daydreaming, mostly about his days in the Green Earth air force. The faces of Dario Yossarian, Clay Shamrock, and all those other fellows. . . They'd consumed his mind for who knew how long. Glenn was quickly thankful to be back within reality. Dwelling on the past wasn't one of his many habits as of late, nor did he particularly enjoy doing so, but sometimes it couldn't be helped.
He looked at her and smiled as best he could, not being terribly successful. "Yeah, for the most part. How about you?"
"I'm fine," she uttered, though Glenn could clearly tell she was still a little shaken from the attack that had come from the Black Hole battle copters maybe two hours earlier. Glenn had to admit - He was still a little roughed up mentally from it himself, although he'd been in worse situations. Perhaps it was just because he'd never fought Black Hole before.
Scratching the back of his ear for no other reason than to attract attention from her, his gaze on her tightened. "You don't seem fine."
Rainey sighed. "It's just that we haven't been in combat for a time. I fear I may be losing whatever composure and competence I may have had."
"I see. Try not to worry about it." Glenn didn't look away from her, trying to let her understand that she was safe now.
It seemed to work. She returned the smile he gave her, but then looked curious. "How is it you can be so cool during something like that?"
Glenn personally felt he hadn't stayed very cool at all when he'd gone and manned the twin-guns on the back of the transport plane they flew in, but he sensed a hint of envy in her voice. He quickly thought up a reason to give her, and one that wasn't totally untrue.
"I've been in battle alot as of late," he mumbled, looking off in the direction of Tuxedo, who sat blabbing to old Bubba about random nonsensical things Glenn would never understand in a blue million years. Not that he'd want to. "Why did you join the air force, anyway?"
She blinked repeatedly, apparently not understanding whether the question was supposed to be positive or negative. Some of her warmth left her voice. "Does it make a difference?"
Glenn's expression drained, and he suddenly felt rather idiotic. "I didn't mean it that way, I was just wondering."
The blonde pilot smiled again. She was obviously toying with Glenn, and he felt strangely relieved as her eyes met his again. "I know."
She then looked away from him, gazing mostly at the crudely-carpeted floor now as she clicked her heels together out of boredom, or perhaps slight nervousness. Her brown eyes narrowed slightly.
"I hope we come back from this."
What she said caught Glenn a little off-guard. He hesitated, his eyes moving back to hers, but he couldn't think of much to say. He'd never had much luck with girls, as he'd always been too busy for dating or some such nonsense, and he found talking to members of the opposite sex a little unnerving at times, even if he were conversing with someone as open and pleasant as Rainey. He wondered to himself why he was getting a little flustered all of a sudden.
He finally opened his mouth. "Me too."
For what must have been the fourth time during the flight, Rainey put her hand on his.
They felt the transport plane swivel ever so slightly as it began an approach towards their destination. Glenn reluctantly let his eyes leave Rainey's and looked out the small window they sat next to. The ground was completely black, and the same could be said for the sky. He felt as though he were flying through a black hole -- which wouldn't have been as bad as flying through Black Hole-controlled territory.
But then, he could see the long line of flashing lights on each side of a airport's runway. They flashed vividly in the night, which Glenn found rather uncomforting. Great, he thought, show Black Hole right where you are, why don't you? "Looks like we're here."
Rainey looked past him and recieved the same view. "Finally."
The transport plane lurched forward slightly, then backwards as it neared the runway. With a screech of the landing tires as they made contact with the pavement, they felt themselves hit ground instantly. Glenn found himself again feeling relieved. He was glad to finally be able to get out of the transporter - He didn't particularly enjoy being in a plane he wasn't in control of.
Soon enough, all the pilots who had been stationed at Washington stood on official Macro land. Glenn examined the airport. The base was completely surrounded by the blackness of night, and only a few large tower-lights lit up where they could go at the moment. It looked as though much of the base were closed off, for the time being.
They'll probably be needing to get our planes here before we can go exploring, Glenn thought. That made enough sense for the moment. They'd have to be brought to Macro on naval carriers, since none of them had enough fuel to make it from one continent to the other.
George Beauregard stepped off the transport plane, and placing his hands on his hips, eyed the lot of them.
"Welcome to Reagan Air Force Base. I'll show you to the pilot's wing. Your names are labeled on the outside of your rooms, so it should be easy to find them. You'll have the same roommates that you had at Washington, so don't worry about making new friends." He waved towards the base's large command center. "Let's go, before we waste any more time standing around here like morons. I'd imagine you all are pretty tired."
All of them, except for Bubba, seemed in general agreement. They proceeded to plod along behind Beauregard off the runway and towards the base's large, swinging doors.
Along the way, Beauregard informed them of the current situation. "I'd rather show you a map of the area so you can get your bearings easier, but there's no time for that right now. You all have to get up early, after all."
I'm so looking forward to that, Glenn silently mouthed.
"I suppose the closest city is Krasst, maybe thirty miles from here." Beauregard sighed. "We'd be closer to it, since it's an excellent resource, but. . . It's been occupied by Black Hole, completely."
Some of the pilots' expressions went more than a little shocked. Krasst was probably the fifth largest city in the Orange Star's Macro region. How could it be so easily taken? Was Black Hole really this large and tactical a force?
"Right now," the Commander continued, "our troops in this region of Macro are mobilizing to re-take Krasst."
Glenn and the pilots didn't need to hear what Beauregard said next to realize it. "Some of you are probably going to become a part of the Krasst operation. It's imperative that we re-take the city. If we can drive Black Hole from it, then we'll gain huge momentum in this war, not only in resources but in troop spirit as well."
Glenn didn't believe him about the spirit part. Black Hole wouldn't give up so easily. He was sure of it, even though he'd personally never been in combat against them. He knew that Black Hole troops were tireless and relentless, and their Commanding Officers were stubborn and brutal. On the flight to the Reagan air base, Beauregard had informed the passengers that the enemy Commanding Officer attempting to claim the Orange Star region was known simply as Flak. They had no information of the man yet, but if he were as combat-worthy as his troops, then the Orange Star forces - and Glenn - had alot of work ahead of them.
They entered the base and made down one of the many large hallways. "Alright, we're here. Find your designated quarters and get some rest."
The pilots reluctantly began to sort themselves out, but just before releasing them, Beauregard turned to one in particular, angrily snapping at him. "Ral!"
Tuxedo's shoulders hunched up and his expression dropped sadly. "Sir?"
"Try to refrain from staying up into the wee hours like you always do." An almost evil smile crept into the corners of Beauregard's mouth. "You've got quite alot of work tomorrow, and when I say you, I mean you."
Then he walked away. Tux sighed and crossed his arms. "Ah, ma-a-a-an. He's probably gonna make me clean the commodes here or something. Why do I always get the short end of the stick?"
Glenn slapped his wing-mate on his back as they began to walk towards their quarters. "Don't worry - I'll petition for you to clean up garbage outside, that's all."
"Gee," Tux grumbled, "thanks."
---
Morning came too soon for Glenn. He'd been awake since four, having not been able to sleep as much as he'd have liked. Tux layed in the bed opposite his, snoring like a car engine, but that hadn't been why Glenn couldn't get much sleep.
Too much had been on his mind. Black Hole, his home, himself, and his future. But then it had started to center on Rainey. The same situation had come unto him during many of the previous nights as well. He tried to force himself to block her and his problems out of his mind, but he couldn't help but dwell on all sorts of things at once - Mostly Rainey.
He'd gotten to know her better than he had originally wanted to. And it didn't help that everytime he was seen with her, Tux and Bubba would coo him as though he were some ignorant little boy with a crush on the local school hottie, and at times it drove Glenn up the wall. Willfully turning his admiration for her into affection would only bring more of their ridiculous, undesired banter. Besides, like he himself had told them, romance between two military folk was against regulations - possibly the law. Glenn held no higher value than justice, and he was an avid follower of the law. Justice came before everything.
But he couldn't deny the truth. He was starting to become better friends with Rainey, and it was doing something to him. He wouldn't have admitted it even to himself, though.
An absolutely earth-shattering noise suddenly encased the entire base. A positively hideous-sounding siren.
Tux nearly flew to the ceiling with a terrified yell. "WHAT THE HELL!?"
Glenn was already covering his ears, one eye tightly shut as he angrily glared towards the large, red device in the top corner of their quarters. Even with his ears closed and with the terribly loud siren, he could hear the same noise emanating from other rooms.
Suddenly, as soon as it had began, the annoying siren cut off. Already, Glenn could hear Beauregard outside in the hall. And if he weren't mistaken, from the sound of the older man's voice, he was using a loudspeaker. "Alright, everyone, wake up! Get moving! We've got alot of work to do this morning alone!"
Tux, now nearly looking drugged, leaned over the side of his bed tiredly. "Ohhh, crap."
Glenn sighed. That hadn't exactly been the wake-up call that was the trumpet sounding at six in the morning when they'd been at Washington. He nearly followed suit with his roommate. "Ahhh, crap."
"Ral!" Tux fell right out of the bed when Beauregard yelled his name directly at their door over the loudspeaker. "Get your slow, lazy butt moving! I don't have to see you to know you're lying around like a bum on a park bench!"
Gordon ignored his roommate and jumped out of the bed towards the locker situated by a wall. Throwing his respective one open, he grabbed at the orange-hued camoflauge uniform all pilots had to wear when on-and-off base, along with the similarly-colored army cap and black military boots. In thirty seconds - mostly because Beauregard was barking at the pilots to get moving - he was fully dressed in the uniform.
The same couldn't be said for Tuxedo, who was too busy whining about how tired he was. He also hadn't yet budged from his new and very uncomfortable-looking position on the floor, in a heap with his bed sheets all around him.
Glenn glared at him. "Come on, man! Don't tick off the Commander on the first day here. He WILL make you clean the commodes if you keep slackin' around like that."
Tux beat Glenn's dressing time by fifteen seconds.
Soon, all of the squadron pilots, including the Thunderbolts, stood outside in the hallway, in what was not necessarily the most straight line Beauregard had ever seen. He glared at them. "Listen up. The naval ships carrying the fighters should be arriving sometime tonight at the port south of here, so until then, we'll have to make-do with most of you flying in the simulations for today. I have a little mission in-store from a few of you, however."
Glenn glanced at Tux. Toilet fun-time.
"Ral, I need you to take a bi-plane and scan out the area from here to Krasst."
Tux nearly swallowed his lungs. "What -- sir?"
"Did I stutter?" Beauregard's glare intensified.
The co-flight leader of the Thunderbolts nearly stammered his sentences. "You want me to take a crappy old plane from the days when movies were on paper and fly it into what is probably enemy territory, all the while risking being shot down by BLACK HOLE forces!?"
Beauregard nodded. "Mm-hmm."
Tux threw his arms in the air. "What're ya gonna do after they kill me!?"
"Don't worry, the plane can't really go more than a thousand feet in the air, so you'll probably survive the fall." The Commander looked at the rest of them while Tux proceed to suffer uncontrollable muscle spasms. "It's safe to say that Krasst is going to be the center of your first assignment, squadrons. We'll have plans for the operation by tonight, provided Mr. Ral doesn't come back in a wagon full of ash, so until then, make-do with simulations. The sim room is down the hall and to the right. You may choose whatever scenario you wish. Dismissed."
He gestured to Tux, who didn't seem to be taking his orders very well. "Ral, follow me."
Glenn stood there a moment by a window to watch the scene unfold. Beauregard led Tux out a doorway near the hall and headed directly out to a small runway used for small, personal planes. Positioned there was a beat- up old crop duster that looked as though it could fall apart any moment even just sitting there inanimate.
Tux stared at it. Glenn could clearly hear the loudmouth even when one was inside and the other was outside. "Sir, no offense, but you've got to be Bee-Essing me here."
Beauregard handed the pilot a ragged leather flight cap and a pair of goggles. "Relax. If you fly over any enemy troops, you can dose them with water or something. And don't scratch the paintjob, because we had to buy it from a local farmer and if you crash it, it'll come out of your pay."
Glenn decided it was best to stop watching the scene when Tux began to thrash uncontrollably as the Commander walked away from him. The Thunderbolt flight leader began to walk down the hall towards where Beauregard had told them the sim room was, but he was stopped by Bubba Boggs and Tristan Royal. "Hey, Glenn."
The more experienced pilot nodded to the both of them. "Good morning. Are you two lost or something? We need to go to the sim room."
It was clear that they wanted to bug him over something, and Glenn suspected he knew of what. Bubba made this presumption into a fact. "Tristan says he saw you holdin' hands with Rainey on the plane last night. Four times, he counted."
A mumble came from Tristan, who turned his face once Glenn glared at him. The kid probably wished Bubba hadn't have said anything, but Bubba Boggs' mouth rivaled Tux's for being the one someone could fit a house in.
"So what? Is it any of either of your businesses, anyway?" Gordon's angry look softened slightly. "She and I are just good friends, that's all, I swear."
Glenn's voice no doubt gave away that he wasn't totally confident of the words coming out of his mouth. Tristan paused and crossed his arms, seeming genuinely concerned for a moment. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Bubba commented, "you talked with her alot on the plane. You and her were really the only ones talking, although that bigmouth out yonder trying to crank-start that old plane there was doing some loud talking himself. I couldn't really hear alot of what you were saying, but you even asked her why she got into the air force."
That really got Glenn going. "What gives you the right to listen to our conversation? Who the hell died and made you the king of gossip?"
"Err-" Bubba stammered, but couldn't very well take back what he'd said.
"Why are you so interested in it, anyway? Don't you have a girlfriend back in Cosmo? Aren't there girls you're just friends with? What in blue blazes is so damn interesting about Rainey and I? What?"
Bubba finally broke. "Well, it's just that everyone in the squadron thinks that you and her make a cute couple."
Glenn stood there, unable to believe his own ears. He gave Bubba the sourest expression he could muster. "What? EVERYONE in the squadron!? You mean you and that idiot Tux have been blabbing to every known soul around here about me 'n' Rainey!?"
The other pilot coughed and realized he needed to shut up before he dug himself a deeper grave. "Never mind."
The squadron flight leader, exasperated, threw his arms in the air and stormed away from Boggs and Royal, both of whom began to argue with each other about Bubba's big mouth.
Along the way to the sim room, Glenn couldn't help but think about what the fatmouth had said. Everyone in the squadron thought he and Rainey made a cute couple. Glenn couldn't decide whether to be pleased or irate. He was most certainly embarrassed, being the central icon of the squadron now over such a ridiculous topic. He didn't even like Rainey in that way.
Or did he? No, damn it, he didn't! It wasn't right! And it was against regulations, at that. It would never be like that - He wouldn't let it.
But Glenn couldn't quite convince himself of that yet for some reason.
---
Tux had gotten back early in the afternoon, and was none worse for the wear, except in the attitude department. Beauregard had greeted the very annoyed pilot as soon as he had returned from the undesirable mission, but had gotten quite the surprise.
"Why is there water dripping from the dusting tank? Why is the tank empty?" the Commander had asked when he'd noticed a little bit of the excess clear fluid dripping from the bottom of the plane onto the runway pavement. It was clear the dusting tank was indeed devoid of most of the liquid, which currently seemed to be a very old brown color.
"Why the hell do you think it's empty?" an agitated Tuxedo had replied, even if to his Commander. "I used it, that's why. Those Black Hole troops sure were ticked. Well, they may have been Black Hole. I think they were, anyway. I don't think that water was totally clean, either. Makes me wonder how long it's been since that farmer that practically robbed us of whatever you paid for it used this thing."
Beauregard eventually got enough information out of the obnoxious loudmouth that he knew the long area from the Reagan base to the city of Krasst was mostly devoid of Black Hole troops, at the moment, besides the supposed ones drowning in whatever Tux had dumped on them. The Commander had immediately set out towards the conference room to apparently discuss plans for the operation with commanders from the nearby army bases.
Finally, late that evening, a voice came over the loudspeakers, emanating all around the base for those who needed to hear it. "All squadron pilots, please come to the briefing room immediately. Briefing will begin at twenty-hundred hours."
Glenn made for the briefing room immediately - After he found it. He ended up being nearly late to whatever it was Beauregard was going to brief them about, but got there eventually after he'd stumbled into what he thought were the Reagan base's restrooms.
He sat down in a seat next to the Thunderbolts and members from other squadrons just in time to see Beauregard step up to a podium at the front of the large room. "Let's get this started. Listen up, people."
The Commander motioned for an aide to darken the lights, then switched on a picture projector. A large map of the city of Krasst appeared. "The plans for your first mission are ready. To keep things short - We have a few objectives.
"The first is to assist ground forces in retaking the city, by force if necessary, which is undoubtedly the most likely assumption. This means you'll have to assist in taking out any enemy forces you can get at with your missiles or guns. You'll probably have to mostly deal with ground forces, but don't rule out enemy aircraft. There's a base near Krasst, and if the enemy has taken it too, then a counter-attack from them is very likely.
"The second is to destroy Krasst's city hall. Naturally, the enemy has taken it over and formed a command center." Beauregard pointed to the middle of Krasst's enormous downtown area on the map, then at a small, poorly-constructed model on the table in front of him. "It's right here, and we have a model of it there for visual comprehension. Take it out by any means necessary. You don't have to worry about killing any civilians in there, since from what we've seen, Black Hole forces under Flak prefer to refrain from taking prisoners."
"What about governmental officials or workers? Black Hole may be forcing them to do their dirty work." Cassie LaGall crossed her arms worriedly at just the thought of an enemy like Black Hole. Achmed Yahasatitapen, sitting next to her, didn't seem to be understanding a word anyone said, but was still able to keep up on what they were supposed to do very easily thanks to Beauregard's physical gestures towards the map and the purposeful hand signals he made specifically for the odd fellow to understand.
"Again, from what we've seen, Black Hole takes no prisoners. They wiped out an entire governmental building in Holzer, so don't worry about taking innocent lives - only tainted ones."
Glenn was perfectly fine with that.
Beauregard pointed towards the bottom-center of the map. "Ring Squadron has a different assignment from the others. I want this squadron to stay outside the city and keep an eye on approaching Orange Star forces from the air. We don't need our boys on the ground getting hammered by enemy air forces because OUR air forces were too busy inside the city."
The members of Ring Squadron seemed disappointed at their 'special' assignment. Glenn just smirked. He didn't need anyone other than the members of his own squadron getting in the way of whatever he and his wing- mates would be trying to do, so it didn't matter to him.
"As for Heartbreak Squadron and Thunderbolt Squadron," the Commander continued, pointing at the bottom-left portion of the Krasst map, "you'll be approaching from the south-west. The ground battle will probably have started by then, so if any enemy air units are going to be incoming, it's going to be from the north-west. I want you to keep one eye out for these forces if they come along while you move towards Krasst's city hall.
"These are the basic priorities of the mission that I want you all to remember. Don't forget what you're supposed to do. You should all go to bed now - You won't be taking off for Krasst tonight, it'll have to wait until tomorrow, but at four in the morning. We'll go over more details before you all take-off. Dismissed."
The pilots exited. Glenn had drowsily began to walk out the door himself, but before he could fully get out, he heard Beauregard talking to an official back in the room.
"You didn't give them all the details, Commander," he heard the official say.
"I know," Beauregard's voice uttered, "but I don't need any of them tossing and turning. A nightmare about Black Hole is really the last thing any of them need right now, and I personally agree fully with that logic."
Glenn hesitated, sighed, and, silently closing the door behind him, began to walk down the hall towards the pilot's wing.
--------
Author Notes:
I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks to current and future review(er)s, your feedback is much appreciated. The next chapter might take a bit to get up, but it'll be worth it. Thanks again.
______________
The Fighters - Part II
By RustyD
______________
~----~
~Mission Seven: Macro Arrival~
~----~
"Are you alright?"
Rainey's question snapped Glenn back into focus of the area around him. He realized he'd been daydreaming, mostly about his days in the Green Earth air force. The faces of Dario Yossarian, Clay Shamrock, and all those other fellows. . . They'd consumed his mind for who knew how long. Glenn was quickly thankful to be back within reality. Dwelling on the past wasn't one of his many habits as of late, nor did he particularly enjoy doing so, but sometimes it couldn't be helped.
He looked at her and smiled as best he could, not being terribly successful. "Yeah, for the most part. How about you?"
"I'm fine," she uttered, though Glenn could clearly tell she was still a little shaken from the attack that had come from the Black Hole battle copters maybe two hours earlier. Glenn had to admit - He was still a little roughed up mentally from it himself, although he'd been in worse situations. Perhaps it was just because he'd never fought Black Hole before.
Scratching the back of his ear for no other reason than to attract attention from her, his gaze on her tightened. "You don't seem fine."
Rainey sighed. "It's just that we haven't been in combat for a time. I fear I may be losing whatever composure and competence I may have had."
"I see. Try not to worry about it." Glenn didn't look away from her, trying to let her understand that she was safe now.
It seemed to work. She returned the smile he gave her, but then looked curious. "How is it you can be so cool during something like that?"
Glenn personally felt he hadn't stayed very cool at all when he'd gone and manned the twin-guns on the back of the transport plane they flew in, but he sensed a hint of envy in her voice. He quickly thought up a reason to give her, and one that wasn't totally untrue.
"I've been in battle alot as of late," he mumbled, looking off in the direction of Tuxedo, who sat blabbing to old Bubba about random nonsensical things Glenn would never understand in a blue million years. Not that he'd want to. "Why did you join the air force, anyway?"
She blinked repeatedly, apparently not understanding whether the question was supposed to be positive or negative. Some of her warmth left her voice. "Does it make a difference?"
Glenn's expression drained, and he suddenly felt rather idiotic. "I didn't mean it that way, I was just wondering."
The blonde pilot smiled again. She was obviously toying with Glenn, and he felt strangely relieved as her eyes met his again. "I know."
She then looked away from him, gazing mostly at the crudely-carpeted floor now as she clicked her heels together out of boredom, or perhaps slight nervousness. Her brown eyes narrowed slightly.
"I hope we come back from this."
What she said caught Glenn a little off-guard. He hesitated, his eyes moving back to hers, but he couldn't think of much to say. He'd never had much luck with girls, as he'd always been too busy for dating or some such nonsense, and he found talking to members of the opposite sex a little unnerving at times, even if he were conversing with someone as open and pleasant as Rainey. He wondered to himself why he was getting a little flustered all of a sudden.
He finally opened his mouth. "Me too."
For what must have been the fourth time during the flight, Rainey put her hand on his.
They felt the transport plane swivel ever so slightly as it began an approach towards their destination. Glenn reluctantly let his eyes leave Rainey's and looked out the small window they sat next to. The ground was completely black, and the same could be said for the sky. He felt as though he were flying through a black hole -- which wouldn't have been as bad as flying through Black Hole-controlled territory.
But then, he could see the long line of flashing lights on each side of a airport's runway. They flashed vividly in the night, which Glenn found rather uncomforting. Great, he thought, show Black Hole right where you are, why don't you? "Looks like we're here."
Rainey looked past him and recieved the same view. "Finally."
The transport plane lurched forward slightly, then backwards as it neared the runway. With a screech of the landing tires as they made contact with the pavement, they felt themselves hit ground instantly. Glenn found himself again feeling relieved. He was glad to finally be able to get out of the transporter - He didn't particularly enjoy being in a plane he wasn't in control of.
Soon enough, all the pilots who had been stationed at Washington stood on official Macro land. Glenn examined the airport. The base was completely surrounded by the blackness of night, and only a few large tower-lights lit up where they could go at the moment. It looked as though much of the base were closed off, for the time being.
They'll probably be needing to get our planes here before we can go exploring, Glenn thought. That made enough sense for the moment. They'd have to be brought to Macro on naval carriers, since none of them had enough fuel to make it from one continent to the other.
George Beauregard stepped off the transport plane, and placing his hands on his hips, eyed the lot of them.
"Welcome to Reagan Air Force Base. I'll show you to the pilot's wing. Your names are labeled on the outside of your rooms, so it should be easy to find them. You'll have the same roommates that you had at Washington, so don't worry about making new friends." He waved towards the base's large command center. "Let's go, before we waste any more time standing around here like morons. I'd imagine you all are pretty tired."
All of them, except for Bubba, seemed in general agreement. They proceeded to plod along behind Beauregard off the runway and towards the base's large, swinging doors.
Along the way, Beauregard informed them of the current situation. "I'd rather show you a map of the area so you can get your bearings easier, but there's no time for that right now. You all have to get up early, after all."
I'm so looking forward to that, Glenn silently mouthed.
"I suppose the closest city is Krasst, maybe thirty miles from here." Beauregard sighed. "We'd be closer to it, since it's an excellent resource, but. . . It's been occupied by Black Hole, completely."
Some of the pilots' expressions went more than a little shocked. Krasst was probably the fifth largest city in the Orange Star's Macro region. How could it be so easily taken? Was Black Hole really this large and tactical a force?
"Right now," the Commander continued, "our troops in this region of Macro are mobilizing to re-take Krasst."
Glenn and the pilots didn't need to hear what Beauregard said next to realize it. "Some of you are probably going to become a part of the Krasst operation. It's imperative that we re-take the city. If we can drive Black Hole from it, then we'll gain huge momentum in this war, not only in resources but in troop spirit as well."
Glenn didn't believe him about the spirit part. Black Hole wouldn't give up so easily. He was sure of it, even though he'd personally never been in combat against them. He knew that Black Hole troops were tireless and relentless, and their Commanding Officers were stubborn and brutal. On the flight to the Reagan air base, Beauregard had informed the passengers that the enemy Commanding Officer attempting to claim the Orange Star region was known simply as Flak. They had no information of the man yet, but if he were as combat-worthy as his troops, then the Orange Star forces - and Glenn - had alot of work ahead of them.
They entered the base and made down one of the many large hallways. "Alright, we're here. Find your designated quarters and get some rest."
The pilots reluctantly began to sort themselves out, but just before releasing them, Beauregard turned to one in particular, angrily snapping at him. "Ral!"
Tuxedo's shoulders hunched up and his expression dropped sadly. "Sir?"
"Try to refrain from staying up into the wee hours like you always do." An almost evil smile crept into the corners of Beauregard's mouth. "You've got quite alot of work tomorrow, and when I say you, I mean you."
Then he walked away. Tux sighed and crossed his arms. "Ah, ma-a-a-an. He's probably gonna make me clean the commodes here or something. Why do I always get the short end of the stick?"
Glenn slapped his wing-mate on his back as they began to walk towards their quarters. "Don't worry - I'll petition for you to clean up garbage outside, that's all."
"Gee," Tux grumbled, "thanks."
---
Morning came too soon for Glenn. He'd been awake since four, having not been able to sleep as much as he'd have liked. Tux layed in the bed opposite his, snoring like a car engine, but that hadn't been why Glenn couldn't get much sleep.
Too much had been on his mind. Black Hole, his home, himself, and his future. But then it had started to center on Rainey. The same situation had come unto him during many of the previous nights as well. He tried to force himself to block her and his problems out of his mind, but he couldn't help but dwell on all sorts of things at once - Mostly Rainey.
He'd gotten to know her better than he had originally wanted to. And it didn't help that everytime he was seen with her, Tux and Bubba would coo him as though he were some ignorant little boy with a crush on the local school hottie, and at times it drove Glenn up the wall. Willfully turning his admiration for her into affection would only bring more of their ridiculous, undesired banter. Besides, like he himself had told them, romance between two military folk was against regulations - possibly the law. Glenn held no higher value than justice, and he was an avid follower of the law. Justice came before everything.
But he couldn't deny the truth. He was starting to become better friends with Rainey, and it was doing something to him. He wouldn't have admitted it even to himself, though.
An absolutely earth-shattering noise suddenly encased the entire base. A positively hideous-sounding siren.
Tux nearly flew to the ceiling with a terrified yell. "WHAT THE HELL!?"
Glenn was already covering his ears, one eye tightly shut as he angrily glared towards the large, red device in the top corner of their quarters. Even with his ears closed and with the terribly loud siren, he could hear the same noise emanating from other rooms.
Suddenly, as soon as it had began, the annoying siren cut off. Already, Glenn could hear Beauregard outside in the hall. And if he weren't mistaken, from the sound of the older man's voice, he was using a loudspeaker. "Alright, everyone, wake up! Get moving! We've got alot of work to do this morning alone!"
Tux, now nearly looking drugged, leaned over the side of his bed tiredly. "Ohhh, crap."
Glenn sighed. That hadn't exactly been the wake-up call that was the trumpet sounding at six in the morning when they'd been at Washington. He nearly followed suit with his roommate. "Ahhh, crap."
"Ral!" Tux fell right out of the bed when Beauregard yelled his name directly at their door over the loudspeaker. "Get your slow, lazy butt moving! I don't have to see you to know you're lying around like a bum on a park bench!"
Gordon ignored his roommate and jumped out of the bed towards the locker situated by a wall. Throwing his respective one open, he grabbed at the orange-hued camoflauge uniform all pilots had to wear when on-and-off base, along with the similarly-colored army cap and black military boots. In thirty seconds - mostly because Beauregard was barking at the pilots to get moving - he was fully dressed in the uniform.
The same couldn't be said for Tuxedo, who was too busy whining about how tired he was. He also hadn't yet budged from his new and very uncomfortable-looking position on the floor, in a heap with his bed sheets all around him.
Glenn glared at him. "Come on, man! Don't tick off the Commander on the first day here. He WILL make you clean the commodes if you keep slackin' around like that."
Tux beat Glenn's dressing time by fifteen seconds.
Soon, all of the squadron pilots, including the Thunderbolts, stood outside in the hallway, in what was not necessarily the most straight line Beauregard had ever seen. He glared at them. "Listen up. The naval ships carrying the fighters should be arriving sometime tonight at the port south of here, so until then, we'll have to make-do with most of you flying in the simulations for today. I have a little mission in-store from a few of you, however."
Glenn glanced at Tux. Toilet fun-time.
"Ral, I need you to take a bi-plane and scan out the area from here to Krasst."
Tux nearly swallowed his lungs. "What -- sir?"
"Did I stutter?" Beauregard's glare intensified.
The co-flight leader of the Thunderbolts nearly stammered his sentences. "You want me to take a crappy old plane from the days when movies were on paper and fly it into what is probably enemy territory, all the while risking being shot down by BLACK HOLE forces!?"
Beauregard nodded. "Mm-hmm."
Tux threw his arms in the air. "What're ya gonna do after they kill me!?"
"Don't worry, the plane can't really go more than a thousand feet in the air, so you'll probably survive the fall." The Commander looked at the rest of them while Tux proceed to suffer uncontrollable muscle spasms. "It's safe to say that Krasst is going to be the center of your first assignment, squadrons. We'll have plans for the operation by tonight, provided Mr. Ral doesn't come back in a wagon full of ash, so until then, make-do with simulations. The sim room is down the hall and to the right. You may choose whatever scenario you wish. Dismissed."
He gestured to Tux, who didn't seem to be taking his orders very well. "Ral, follow me."
Glenn stood there a moment by a window to watch the scene unfold. Beauregard led Tux out a doorway near the hall and headed directly out to a small runway used for small, personal planes. Positioned there was a beat- up old crop duster that looked as though it could fall apart any moment even just sitting there inanimate.
Tux stared at it. Glenn could clearly hear the loudmouth even when one was inside and the other was outside. "Sir, no offense, but you've got to be Bee-Essing me here."
Beauregard handed the pilot a ragged leather flight cap and a pair of goggles. "Relax. If you fly over any enemy troops, you can dose them with water or something. And don't scratch the paintjob, because we had to buy it from a local farmer and if you crash it, it'll come out of your pay."
Glenn decided it was best to stop watching the scene when Tux began to thrash uncontrollably as the Commander walked away from him. The Thunderbolt flight leader began to walk down the hall towards where Beauregard had told them the sim room was, but he was stopped by Bubba Boggs and Tristan Royal. "Hey, Glenn."
The more experienced pilot nodded to the both of them. "Good morning. Are you two lost or something? We need to go to the sim room."
It was clear that they wanted to bug him over something, and Glenn suspected he knew of what. Bubba made this presumption into a fact. "Tristan says he saw you holdin' hands with Rainey on the plane last night. Four times, he counted."
A mumble came from Tristan, who turned his face once Glenn glared at him. The kid probably wished Bubba hadn't have said anything, but Bubba Boggs' mouth rivaled Tux's for being the one someone could fit a house in.
"So what? Is it any of either of your businesses, anyway?" Gordon's angry look softened slightly. "She and I are just good friends, that's all, I swear."
Glenn's voice no doubt gave away that he wasn't totally confident of the words coming out of his mouth. Tristan paused and crossed his arms, seeming genuinely concerned for a moment. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Bubba commented, "you talked with her alot on the plane. You and her were really the only ones talking, although that bigmouth out yonder trying to crank-start that old plane there was doing some loud talking himself. I couldn't really hear alot of what you were saying, but you even asked her why she got into the air force."
That really got Glenn going. "What gives you the right to listen to our conversation? Who the hell died and made you the king of gossip?"
"Err-" Bubba stammered, but couldn't very well take back what he'd said.
"Why are you so interested in it, anyway? Don't you have a girlfriend back in Cosmo? Aren't there girls you're just friends with? What in blue blazes is so damn interesting about Rainey and I? What?"
Bubba finally broke. "Well, it's just that everyone in the squadron thinks that you and her make a cute couple."
Glenn stood there, unable to believe his own ears. He gave Bubba the sourest expression he could muster. "What? EVERYONE in the squadron!? You mean you and that idiot Tux have been blabbing to every known soul around here about me 'n' Rainey!?"
The other pilot coughed and realized he needed to shut up before he dug himself a deeper grave. "Never mind."
The squadron flight leader, exasperated, threw his arms in the air and stormed away from Boggs and Royal, both of whom began to argue with each other about Bubba's big mouth.
Along the way to the sim room, Glenn couldn't help but think about what the fatmouth had said. Everyone in the squadron thought he and Rainey made a cute couple. Glenn couldn't decide whether to be pleased or irate. He was most certainly embarrassed, being the central icon of the squadron now over such a ridiculous topic. He didn't even like Rainey in that way.
Or did he? No, damn it, he didn't! It wasn't right! And it was against regulations, at that. It would never be like that - He wouldn't let it.
But Glenn couldn't quite convince himself of that yet for some reason.
---
Tux had gotten back early in the afternoon, and was none worse for the wear, except in the attitude department. Beauregard had greeted the very annoyed pilot as soon as he had returned from the undesirable mission, but had gotten quite the surprise.
"Why is there water dripping from the dusting tank? Why is the tank empty?" the Commander had asked when he'd noticed a little bit of the excess clear fluid dripping from the bottom of the plane onto the runway pavement. It was clear the dusting tank was indeed devoid of most of the liquid, which currently seemed to be a very old brown color.
"Why the hell do you think it's empty?" an agitated Tuxedo had replied, even if to his Commander. "I used it, that's why. Those Black Hole troops sure were ticked. Well, they may have been Black Hole. I think they were, anyway. I don't think that water was totally clean, either. Makes me wonder how long it's been since that farmer that practically robbed us of whatever you paid for it used this thing."
Beauregard eventually got enough information out of the obnoxious loudmouth that he knew the long area from the Reagan base to the city of Krasst was mostly devoid of Black Hole troops, at the moment, besides the supposed ones drowning in whatever Tux had dumped on them. The Commander had immediately set out towards the conference room to apparently discuss plans for the operation with commanders from the nearby army bases.
Finally, late that evening, a voice came over the loudspeakers, emanating all around the base for those who needed to hear it. "All squadron pilots, please come to the briefing room immediately. Briefing will begin at twenty-hundred hours."
Glenn made for the briefing room immediately - After he found it. He ended up being nearly late to whatever it was Beauregard was going to brief them about, but got there eventually after he'd stumbled into what he thought were the Reagan base's restrooms.
He sat down in a seat next to the Thunderbolts and members from other squadrons just in time to see Beauregard step up to a podium at the front of the large room. "Let's get this started. Listen up, people."
The Commander motioned for an aide to darken the lights, then switched on a picture projector. A large map of the city of Krasst appeared. "The plans for your first mission are ready. To keep things short - We have a few objectives.
"The first is to assist ground forces in retaking the city, by force if necessary, which is undoubtedly the most likely assumption. This means you'll have to assist in taking out any enemy forces you can get at with your missiles or guns. You'll probably have to mostly deal with ground forces, but don't rule out enemy aircraft. There's a base near Krasst, and if the enemy has taken it too, then a counter-attack from them is very likely.
"The second is to destroy Krasst's city hall. Naturally, the enemy has taken it over and formed a command center." Beauregard pointed to the middle of Krasst's enormous downtown area on the map, then at a small, poorly-constructed model on the table in front of him. "It's right here, and we have a model of it there for visual comprehension. Take it out by any means necessary. You don't have to worry about killing any civilians in there, since from what we've seen, Black Hole forces under Flak prefer to refrain from taking prisoners."
"What about governmental officials or workers? Black Hole may be forcing them to do their dirty work." Cassie LaGall crossed her arms worriedly at just the thought of an enemy like Black Hole. Achmed Yahasatitapen, sitting next to her, didn't seem to be understanding a word anyone said, but was still able to keep up on what they were supposed to do very easily thanks to Beauregard's physical gestures towards the map and the purposeful hand signals he made specifically for the odd fellow to understand.
"Again, from what we've seen, Black Hole takes no prisoners. They wiped out an entire governmental building in Holzer, so don't worry about taking innocent lives - only tainted ones."
Glenn was perfectly fine with that.
Beauregard pointed towards the bottom-center of the map. "Ring Squadron has a different assignment from the others. I want this squadron to stay outside the city and keep an eye on approaching Orange Star forces from the air. We don't need our boys on the ground getting hammered by enemy air forces because OUR air forces were too busy inside the city."
The members of Ring Squadron seemed disappointed at their 'special' assignment. Glenn just smirked. He didn't need anyone other than the members of his own squadron getting in the way of whatever he and his wing- mates would be trying to do, so it didn't matter to him.
"As for Heartbreak Squadron and Thunderbolt Squadron," the Commander continued, pointing at the bottom-left portion of the Krasst map, "you'll be approaching from the south-west. The ground battle will probably have started by then, so if any enemy air units are going to be incoming, it's going to be from the north-west. I want you to keep one eye out for these forces if they come along while you move towards Krasst's city hall.
"These are the basic priorities of the mission that I want you all to remember. Don't forget what you're supposed to do. You should all go to bed now - You won't be taking off for Krasst tonight, it'll have to wait until tomorrow, but at four in the morning. We'll go over more details before you all take-off. Dismissed."
The pilots exited. Glenn had drowsily began to walk out the door himself, but before he could fully get out, he heard Beauregard talking to an official back in the room.
"You didn't give them all the details, Commander," he heard the official say.
"I know," Beauregard's voice uttered, "but I don't need any of them tossing and turning. A nightmare about Black Hole is really the last thing any of them need right now, and I personally agree fully with that logic."
Glenn hesitated, sighed, and, silently closing the door behind him, began to walk down the hall towards the pilot's wing.
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Author Notes:
I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks to current and future review(er)s, your feedback is much appreciated. The next chapter might take a bit to get up, but it'll be worth it. Thanks again.