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.
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The Fighters - Part II
By RustyD
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~----~
~Mission Eight: The Battle of Krasst~
~----~
Dawn.
The sun had not yet made its presence known to Macro's southern Orange Star reason even at five in the morning. Nor had the horrendous wake-up siren sounded out yet to alert any still-slumbering personel at the Reagan air base. Instead, the thunderous rumbles of twenty-four Orange Star fighter jets had broken the silent morning air, some waiting, some flying.
Thunderbolt Squadron left first. Ring Squadron took off second, and Heartbreak Squadron brought up the rear in third. The squadrons were seperated by maybe two minutes, but that was a long time when it came to battle time.
Flying in a rogue formation that consisted of no one really flying near another for the moment, the 207th soared over the black darkness of ground for perhaps twenty minutes. To Glenn, that seemed like an eternity, especially since they knew they were heading into combat as soon as they reached the city of Krasst. While he loved flying these fighters, sometimes, sitting in them waiting to reach a destination gave him too much to think about at one time or another.
His hand moved unconciously to the Cross necklace he wore. Hopefully, he thought to himself, we'll all stay safe in this. As long as we don't get any interference from enemy buzzards up here, this mission will go fine.
At least, he hoped so. There was no way to be sure. One never had the luxury of being sure about things in a time such as war. If only it were that easy, Glenn wished.
His helmeted head looked towards the left side of the canopy, out into the darkness where he could see Tuxedo's plane against the dark blue horizon. Tux's similarly-helmeted head was visible thanks to the green hue his fighter's controls and icons gave off during nighttime. Glenn personally wondered what the expression on Tux's face usually was when the guy was flying. If it were normally that self-assured smirk that was plastered on his mug every day in and out, it couldn't have been doing well at the moment, if he felt like anything that Glenn felt. "Proceed with radar comprehension, Tux. You're in the lead right now, after all."
"Well, everything's hokey-dorey right now, Cap'n," the other pilot bragged over the radio. "I think at the sight of us, anyone on the ground wearing black high-tailed it out of here 'cause they've heard of us, and knew we were just too dang good for 'em. Hopefully whoever's in the middle of Krasst will get the same idea."
I wish, Glenn thought. "Speaking of which, we should be nearing Krasst soon. All wings, form up."
The rest of the 207th steadily began to close together as sunlight began to break over the far mountains. Krasst was just around the corner from that set of jagged peaks, and it would take around five more minutes to enter the city limits.
Glenn knew what Krasst looked like. Most of the city consisted of one giant downtown area, the governmental buildings mostly being in the center of town. Many of the buildings were over fifty stories tall, and he and the Thunderbolts would have to take care to avoid them. Glenn had never expected to encounter such enviromental hazards as buildings and towers when he'd become a pilot, but now he knew they would be many of the things he'd have to watch out for.
"There's the infantry." Rainey's voice over the radio informed them of exactly how close they were to battle. Glenn looked off towards the near side of the mountains and saw the Orange Star ground forces who were to enter the city. From so far up in the sky, he and the 207th had no way to tell if they were engaged in combat already. "Orders, Glenn?"
"Keep on course for now. Let's step it up, they could already be fighting down there." Glenn ratcheted the throttle of his aircraft up, further increasing his already blistering speed. After a few moments, the eight Orange Star fighters shot over the ground forces and began a wide turn, beginning to route past the mountains. It didn't appear as though the infantry were engaged in any fighting as of yet, but Glenn knew that would change all too soon, if Black Hole played its cards.
"Watch for enemy fire," Glenn warned them over the radio. "We could be entering open range at any moment."
Tux gazed down at the ground from the cockpit of his fighter. "Want us to engage if we come under fire, Glenn?"
The pilot sounded reasonably concerned, and that caused Glenn to smile. "No, stay your course. These things are too fast for anyone to keep up with down on the ground, even Black Hole."
Or so he presumed. Glenn didn't find taking unnecessary risks terribly desirable, but they had to destroy the enemy command center as soon as possible. They'd rush back and blow up whatever they had to afterwards, when it was hopefully safer since the enemy would be in confusion with no incoming transmissions from city hall.
The Thunderbolts flew out of the shadows produced by the mountains, and Glenn took a long gaze towards the horizon. He felt his stomach flip-flop as soon as the enormous orange-hued buildings of Krasst itself came into view. Immediately he realized there could have been ten million places for enemy troops to hide in the entire southern part of the city alone. For all he knew, there could have been space to fit anti-air units in some of the buildings. It wouldn't help them any to have those and a plum thousand other enemy units situated on rooftops as well. He couldn't help but wonder for a bare second if this were a suicide mission.
He flicked a switch on his control panel, activating the weapons system. "Maintain visual scanning!"
Here we go, he thought as he raised the control stick slightly out of slight claustrophobia when the buildings drew near. He then moved it to starboard a tad, easily sending his fighter past one of the taller buildings.
And right into open range.
"Tux, break off!" Trusting his wing-mate to comply, Glenn again shoved the throttle up as far as it would go as soon as enemy ground units caught the corners of his vision. Enemy infantry. He didn't have an especially good view of them from all the way up in the sky, but he could clearly tell they were firing at him and every other Thunderbolt who quickly blew over them at six hundred miles an hour.
Anti-air came next. There were always some of them lying around, just waiting to shoot down something they found ugly. And at the moment, they found Glenn Gordon hideous. "I have enemy anti-air units shooting peas at me here! Be careful, 'Bolts!"
He corkscrewed the fighter, making himself more wirey of a target as he shot over the Black Hole platoon of anti-air, and proceeded onward towards the center of the city. While he'd gotten past, he wished he could say the same for the rest of his squadron.
"Takin' heavy fire," he heard Bubba grumble. He'd be okay. Bubba had a knack for annoying enemy forces by being so difficult to hit at times. He seemed to know every trick in the book for slipping past a missile or duking out of the way just in time to watch bullets go soaring past.
Glenn would have allowed himself to smile once he uncomfortably looked back and saw Bubba easily evade the fire of the Black Hole units, but the flight leader immediately became the target of bullseye practice himself. He shoved the yoke hard to port, sending the fighter into a violent spin as he raced past whatever was shooting at him. "Crap!"
They were positioned on rooftops now, as he'd earlier guessed. "Someone take care of these buggers!"
An explosion rocked the building the enemy units had been sitting on. Whatever was left of them went flying off in a thousand different directions thanks to a rocket from Cassie LaGall's fighter. "Thanks, Cass'."
Cassie didn't respond, besides with a mumble that sounded something of a nag. Although they would save each other's rear ends if they had to, she and Glenn still mostly loathed each other.
"Keep it moving, Thunderbolts. We've got to hit the command center before things get too rough." The fighters began to encounter the taller buildings of Krasst as they plowed deeper into what were undoubtedly the more dangerous portions of the city. "We should be getting close."
"We've got more of these anti-air morons over here to your niner, Glenn." Tux's plane visibly began to attempt to form up with Glenn's as they raced over and past towers. "If we're not careful, they may get us on the way back."
Glenn sighed, and slowly began to wonder why Beauregard had ever placed him in command of the squadron. Being a leader definitely wasn't the easiest job in the world, that enough was certain. "We've got a better chance of taking them out on the way back than if we were to go after them right now. It's imperative that we hit city hall."
He glanced off towards a random area of the city to look for any more enemy units, but his bare moment of unattention nearly sent Glenn plowing directly into one of the larger buildings. He recovered immediately, shoving the fighter hard to the right and narrowly shooting past it. "Damn! Keep an eye on where you're headed, 'Bolts, you don't want to accidentally redecorate someone's office!"
Then he sighed to himself, really hoping the radios wouldn't give out in the middle of this whole thing. That was really the last thing any of them needed right now. He didn't know why the thought struck him, but it did, and it gave him one more possible scenario to die over.
Marcus was the first to see them. The clouds over the northern portion of the city puffed and gave way slightly as a flock of black dots exited them, moving steadily over the buildings far north of where the Thunderbolts blazed on. The pilot almost unconciously yelled into his radio. "Enemy fighters coming in from the north! I have visual confirmation on ten, repeat, one-oh enemy fighters heading towards our position from the north! Estimated time of arrival is ten seconds!"
A large bead of sweat ran down Glenn's face under the full-faced helmet. "Engage at will! And keep your heads steady!"
The attack began. The sides became one, and the sky molded into a vile mixture of black and orange.
So these are Black Hole fighters, Glenn thought. Let's see exactly how they do when toe-to-toe with the best aircraft the civilized world has. The pilot sent his fighter into a random pattern of zig-and-zag motions, trying his best simply to keep up with the very sudden dogfight occuring right over the middle of Krasst. There really wasn't much he could do until things sorted themselves out for him - Then he could go to town with strategy, and all that.
The dogfight's combatants were positioned so close together that it was difficult even staying one's course. And Glenn couldn't really risk going too far away from the fight, because then he'd be leaving his companions for too long, and someone would come around and get a shot on him anyway. He'd have to wait it out until someone fluked up.
The desired fluke didn't come yet. These guys are good, Glenn realized. Nor did it help that their numbers were larger than theirs. Ten against eight - It would seem that Black Hole enjoyed the luxury of outnumbering their opponents. Now that was just cheating. Glenn and his squadron would just have to show them that cheaters never prospered.
Eventually, the eighteen fighter jets began to cleanly though jaggedly open up from each other, allowing Glenn to finally be able to get to work. Almost as soon as the range between most of them had increased, a small patch of Black Hole fighters in a crude line-formation came before the Thunderbolt flight leader as he swung around on them. "Form up, Tux."
He nudged the control stick ever so slightly so that he could try to set his sights on the far-right enemy plane as Tuxedo's jet cautiously came up by Glenn's port wing. "Switch to guns and open fire on the far-left one, now!"
"Ten-four, boss-boy." Tux skillfully edged his plane over to get the farthest black-hued fighter on the left within his gun sights, and before the enemy plane could shoot out of the way, the Orange Star pilot unleashed bullet-fury on his opponent. With a hideous boom, the Black Hole craft began to plummet, whatever was left of it consumed in a blaze. "Hah! That's one!"
"Don't celebrate yet, Tux," Glenn muttered grimly, "I have the feeling that one was just a warm-up."
The lead enemy Black Hole fighter came within Glenn's narrow sights. Carefully and skillfully, the lead Thunderbolt pilot began to close on his black-painted prey, arming the lock-on-missiles.
The Black Hole fighter juked to Glenn's right, and then shot back in the other direction as it soared upwards, trying to avoid the Orange Star pilot chasing it, but Glenn Gordon would not be so easily lost. Bringing his own aircraft upwards and to port, he continued to remain locked on the enemy fighter's back.
But before he could even think about firing a missile, the Black Hole jet corkscrewed downwards, narrowly racing over a building rooftop. It began to shoot down a long, wide street as though it were a canyon trench.
Damn, these guys WERE good! Glenn would have hesitated to attempt such a risky maneuver as following the Black Hole fighter - But then he came back into reality and allowed himself to grin ever so slightly for the barest of moments before blazing down into the 'trench' himself.
The Black Hole fighter shot past windows, shattering them instantly with the sonic boom that shattered the other sounds of battle all around the city now. For a moment, Glenn couldn't believe he was in the middle of this. Shooting down a busy road just high enough to avoid taking out a thousand streetlights while moving at what felt like the speed of light? Was this some sort of action movie? Immediately he broke into a heavy, cold sweat, but stayed his course anyway. He hadn't rejoined the air force to play paddycake with these people.
The enemy fighter, realizing it still hadn't outrun its pursuer, suddenly twisted upwards out of the canyon-like road area and raced past one of the taller buildings. Glenn, for perhaps a split second, wondered why it so quickly dogged out of the trench, but upon noticing a very large building ended the road just ahead of him, realized exactly why. "G'ah!"
He shoved the stick towards himself with all his might. The Orange Star fighter raced upwards over the brick building and red filled the corners of Glenn's vision as the g-forces threatened to knock any conciousness he currently had ahld of out of his head. Quickly shaking off the very dizzy and stomach-twisting feeling, he took a half-second to glance off in the direction of the rest of his squadron. Everyone seemed to be having as much trouble as him at the moment.
It had been just over a minute since the dogfight began. By now, the sky over Krasst was covered with the bright yellow of bullets being fired every which way, the occasional black entrails of missiles, and the hideous sound of jets being strained to meet the priorities their pilots made. Down on the ground, it wasn't much better. The Orange Star ground forces had begun their attack and were quickly making their way into the city, despite constant fire from enemy troops.
Tux wasn't faring any better than any of his companions. He was busy with a random Black Hole buzzard trying to cling to him, but Tux wasn't making it easy for the enemy pilot. His zig-zagging movements were some of the best among the air at that moment, and everyone knew it - even the enemy pilots.
In the heat of the moment, the second-in-command of the Thunderbolts sent his fighter into a twist that successfully dogged up whatever the Black Hole fighter behind him was trying to do, and within a moment, Tux was able to goad his opponent into soaring past him.
But in that instant, Tux's eyes caught something on the side of the enemy aircraft. Presumably, it was the enemy pilot's last name, and Tux immediately could recall hearing the name from somewhere before, but he didn't center on when or where. But the name just rang out to him like a bell. He definitely knew the name had crossed his ears - or vision - before.
Gallow.
"Glenn," Tristan's frantic voice yelled, "there's one comin' around on you!"
Glenn cursed out loud - not realizing it went into everyone else's ears - and slowed his fighter down immensely as he shoved the plane hard into an extremely tight left turn. The Black Hole fighter that he had been chasing was now clinging to Glenn and his every move, and the tight turn the lead Thunderbolt made didn't help the situation any.
He forced his aircraft into another series of random-and-very-wild movements, all at over mach one. He even sent the fighter into a large patch of the taller buildings and flew around them as though he were in the middle of some huge, dangerous maze, but whatever Glenn did, the enemy fighter hung with him, and quite easily.
An enormous sense of urgency overcame him. He had to get this guy off his back, or they could kiss the operation - and possibly the war - goodbye. As long as he led the flight campaign over Krasst, things were steady, but with the loss of leadership for the Thunderbolts, it would be up to Heartbreak Squadron to get things done. From what Glenn had seen of them at the Washington base, Heartbreak was nothing but a flock of green kids who all had trouble just trying to keep in formation with one another. They couldn't be counted on for something like blowing the enemy command center without getting themselves killed in the process. Nor could he rely on allied ground forces, since for all he knew Black Hole had a million soldiers on their way to Krasst already. Glenn knew he had to stay alive.
His determination rising, the Thunderbolt flight leader ventured in closer to where the main dogfight raged. While that would give him a larger ratio for error, it would possibly throw a cork in the pursuing craft's chase.
The lead Thunderbolt fighter flew directly into the beehive and was immediately swarmed by the fifteen other aircraft all busy trying to shoot opposing sides down. On more than one occasion Glenn felt the blood move from one side of his head to the other when some of the movements he sent his plane into ended up being more erratic than he'd hoped they'd have to be.
He realized he was going to pass out any moment if this kept up. Perhaps coming right back into the fire hadn't been the best of ideas. But before he could decide on whether or not he was upset with himself, an annoyingly loud beeping sound filled his cockpit, being somehow louder than the terribly loud plane engines themselves.
There was no way he was going to let himself fall into unconciousness now. The Black Hole fighter had a missile lock on him.
"BREAK LEFT, GLENN!" The flight leader didn't notice an anonymous Thunderbolt shout out the warning. He was already doing so just as the missile soared from the enemy Black Hole jet.
Glenn was barely ahead of it. The black missile skewed past his rolling fighter by mere feet. "Damn, that was close!"
He nearly felt like vomiting at what he saw next. The rogue missile, having lost its target, began to waver back and forth, upward and downwards as it clumsily headed off towards nowhere in particular. Out of the blue, one of Glenn's companions flew directly into its path, and Gordon instantly knew one Thunderbolt - one of his friends - was now dead. The explosion sent shards of firey orange metal in every possible direction.
His face turning red, Glenn ferociously threw the yoke hard to the right, hoping to come around on the Thunderbolt's killer, who was now just hovering to his starboard side. He craned his neck to try and see where exactly the guy was heading and how he could successfully come around on the enemy pilot, but before he got a chance to figure all that out, his eyes came in contact with something that confused him greatly.
Painted on the upper-and-undersides of both of the Black Hole fighter's wings were hawks, colored in a very dark black and outlined in white.
"What the--?" a most solidly startled Glenn uttered out loud.
"What's the matter, Glenn?" Tux asked over the radio, sounding more concerned and urgent than Gordon could ever remember in the duration of the time he'd known the man.
"I've seen those hawk emblems before," the Thunderbolt leader responded, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "But where?"
"Forget it, Glenn," Bubba growled, "we've gotta hit city hall before this thing gets beyond our control!"
Bubba was right. City hall - the command center - had to be destroyed. Where the hell were those idiots in Heartbreak Squadron when he needed them? "Bubba, Tristan, break off from the fight and find the command center! Blow it to hell!"
"You got it, Gordo'."
Glenn didn't bother looking for the two orange aircraft to race off from the dogfight. He was too busy trying to stay with the Black Hole fighter with the strange hawk emblems painted on it. Carefully moving the control stick to match the other pilot's jagged movements, Glenn eventually came within closing distance of the other craft. "I'm on the leader. . ."
The Thunderbolt pilot prepared a missile, but as soon as he did, the mysterious Black Hole craft he was pursuing began a wild set of wiley and unpredictable movements. Glenn found it enormously difficult to even keep track of where the other aircraft was headed.
Look at this damn guy, he thought. He's flying like a wasted hummingbird.
The chase continued, but not without an extreme amount of work from Glenn. The other pilot's erratic movements told Glenn he or she was good. Very good.
But Glenn felt he was better. Activating the lock-on sequence, the noisy, constant "beep-beep" sound overcame the sounds of his cockpit as he attempted to get a lock on the enemy fighter as the two aircraft twisted and swiveled past buildings and other planes who only got in the way of the current duel occuring between Glenn and the enemy pilot.
Finally, when Glenn felt he had enough of a chance to risk it, his index finger grasped the small red button on the fighter's control stick and pressured it, sending an orange-colored missile out into the reaches of the sky with the enemy Black Hole fighter as the intended target. As long as the pilot wasn't a supernatural being, Glenn felt the shot would never miss.
It did.
The enemy pilot duked right out of the way in the most absurdly impossible of manners just as the missile came within meters of making contact. Glenn nearly screamed, but held his breath as he realized the enormous mistake he made. The missile, having lost its target, plowed directly into one of Krasst's towers. The side of the building erupted in an explosion and became an inferno.
Glenn's gloved hand slammed furiously down into the seat under him as he cursed again since hitting anything else would have triggered a device within the craft. Who knew how many innocent lives were inside that building? Damn it all! What the hell was wrong with him?
Immediately he told himself he wasn't to blame, since the enemy fighter had slipped right out of the way, but still, he knew he had a responsibility to be careful, even when dogfighting up here in the air. Feeling as terrible as he'd ever felt since first climbing into the seat of any airplane he'd ever been in, Glenn reluctantly twisted the control stick to the right, hoping to again catch the skilled enemy fighter pilot.
He looked upwards towards the top of the canopy, allowing himself to view the city from a side angle. The enemy fighter was circling him as Glenn, it. This went on for around thirty seconds until another explosion pierced the skies, causing the lead Thunderbolt's gaze to leave his opponent to see what had been hit.
It was another Black Hole fighter, toppling towards the ground, completely destroyed. The odds were getting better.
"The command center has been destroyed!" Bubba's voice sounded less troubled than earlier now, but it wasn't over yet. "Repeat, the command center has been destroyed! Our ground forces are moving in!"
While the ground battle was gaining favor towards Orange Star, the chaos in the air didn't slow one bit, even as Bubba and Tristan returned as soon as they could to the conflict. The skies still hung with black entrails from missiles and gunfire, along with dead black smoke from the current casualties.
Gordon couldn't very well break off the duel he was locked in with the apparent leader of the Black Hole fighters since doing so would allow his opponent to easily come around on him, but when Tux swung around behind the enemy pilot circling him, Glenn was relieved to see the black-painted plane shoot off from its course, allowing Gordon some breathing room. "Phew."
Almost immediately, as he leveled out, another Black Hole fighter was lined up within his sights. Glenn blew it apart without as much trouble as he predicted he would have, and as he shot past parts of the disintegrating craft, gazed towards the other members of his squadron. "The odds are even now, folks, let's keep it up!"
The battle raged on with no casualties from either side as its intensity went up a notch further. With both sides' numbers even, things were looking more bright for the Orange Stars than when the combat had first started. The two squadrons, locked in a deadly battle with each other, refused to let either side gain the upper hand. The random, sporadic fire of missiles and bullets went on for nearly five minutes, seriously testing the Thunderbolts' patience and endurance levels.
It didn't help any that they all had to be extremely careful as to not shoot down any enemy fighters over their allied ground companions. The last thing THEY needed was to have an already-destroyed enemy jet plow into the lot of them.
It wasn't until Achmed lined up a Black Hole fighter in his sights that the battle finally turned towards Orange Star's favor. With a pull of the red trigger on his control stick, Achmed fired the one lone missile he had left, hoping to finally claim his first kill of the day.
The enemy fighter apparently didn't realize it was about to be demolished. The missile easily made impact with the craft's black outer hull, the pilot not being able to make even the most basic of evasion maneuvers, successfully giving the chaotic fireworks show one more big bang to look at. Whatever was left of the enemy craft plunged into the ground - right on top of Black Hole infantry.
"Woohoo!" Achmed shouted over the radio, pumping a fist in his plane. From his own seat, Glenn allowed himself a smile for half a second.
That was the final click of a trigger in the fighting. As soon as the Black Hole fighter destroyed by Achmed hit the ground, the remaining enemy fighters's courses all shifted northward, away from the Orange Stars. Shouting and whooping immediately overcame the Thunderbolts' radio.
Glenn Gordon could not remember ever feeling so exhausted and relieved. His head felt as though a hammer had been taken to it thanks to the gravity forces, his stomach was still trying to sort itself out, and there was also the pain of knowing at least one of the Thunderbolts was dead. Immediately, as he kept one eye on the escaping Black Hole air units, Glenn set out to find out who was here and who wasn't.
"All wings, report in," he muttered as his hand unconciously moved towards the necklace he wore for no other reason other than to hang his very weak fist from it.
"Boggs, standing by." Good, Bubba was here. He figured he'd make it. What about the others?
"Ral, standing by." Phew. Glenn was particularly glad Tux was still around. After all, the guy was his wing-mate, roommate, and the best friend he had in the entire squadron.
"Royal, standing by." Hey, the kid made it. This would certainly be one for the memory book.
"Banker, standing by." Thank God. Rainey was alright. Glenn sighed again out of thanks for fate or the heavens.
"LaGall, standing by." Yeah, okay, next.
Glenn hesitated. And hesitated. Finally, he grew worried enough to speak again. "Achmed?"
"Si."
The Thunderbolt leader smirked, happy to see the especially odd member of the 207th made it as well. But there was one more flight member who was currently unaccounted for. "Marcus, do you copy?"
There was no response over the radio from Marcus Madison. Glenn wouldn't have to try again. All seven remaining flight members of Thunderbolt Squadron were present, including Gordon himself.
Under his breath, he sighed again. "Damn it."
The battle down on the ground had stopped almost as quickly as the chaos in the air. Orange Star infantry had completely taken half of the city, and since most of the enemy forces had mobilized to the south to try and repel the invaders, they wouldn't have to worry about much more resistance now. "They have everything under control, 'Bolts. Let's head home."
Slowly, all of the Thunderbolt fighters, their pilots more experienced now than they'd ever been, began to take a direct flight back to the southern portion of the city and towards the mountains, where the Reagan base sat just on the other side.
On the flight back, Glenn couldn't help but begin thinking again as he slowly regained his composure and normal heart rate. He'd had the most kills today, but they'd come after a horrid amount of work. That told him Black Hole was no Blue Moon. These guys meant business - serious business.
And that aircraft, the very mysterious one with the hawk emblems painted on it, as though its pilot were special in some sort of way.
Wait. Black Hole was no Blue Moon.
Black Hole was no Blue Moon. . .
He suddenly realized just what was going on here. He'd seen the hawk emblems on an enemy fighter during the dogfight at the Blue Moon rocket base three months earlier, when Knives had been killed. It took nearly a full minute to let this sudden realization fully sink in and get to his heart - and brain.
Glenn finally let it take effect. "The son of a bitch defected."
In the cockpit of his own fighter, Tux blinked rapidly, startled by the very sudden comment from his flight leader. "What, Glenn?"
"I'll explain when we get back to Reagan."
Glenn's expression turned downwards as the squadron slowly left Krasst's city limits. To his surprise and sad understanding, he saw the sun was still hardly visible. Morning hadn't even officially begun yet, and he'd had the worst fight of his life while having lost a friend in the middle of it.
Glenn prayed the day wouldn't be as bad as the morning that grasped it.
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Author Notes:
Phew. That was fun to write. So, now you see what Kailaff Boldigh's elite Blue Moon squadron has gone and done. Glenn certainly won't be very happy when he gets back, I'd wager. In any case, thanks for reading, and any R+R's are very much appreciated. Thanks again, and I'll see you soon.
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The Fighters - Part II
By RustyD
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~----~
~Mission Eight: The Battle of Krasst~
~----~
Dawn.
The sun had not yet made its presence known to Macro's southern Orange Star reason even at five in the morning. Nor had the horrendous wake-up siren sounded out yet to alert any still-slumbering personel at the Reagan air base. Instead, the thunderous rumbles of twenty-four Orange Star fighter jets had broken the silent morning air, some waiting, some flying.
Thunderbolt Squadron left first. Ring Squadron took off second, and Heartbreak Squadron brought up the rear in third. The squadrons were seperated by maybe two minutes, but that was a long time when it came to battle time.
Flying in a rogue formation that consisted of no one really flying near another for the moment, the 207th soared over the black darkness of ground for perhaps twenty minutes. To Glenn, that seemed like an eternity, especially since they knew they were heading into combat as soon as they reached the city of Krasst. While he loved flying these fighters, sometimes, sitting in them waiting to reach a destination gave him too much to think about at one time or another.
His hand moved unconciously to the Cross necklace he wore. Hopefully, he thought to himself, we'll all stay safe in this. As long as we don't get any interference from enemy buzzards up here, this mission will go fine.
At least, he hoped so. There was no way to be sure. One never had the luxury of being sure about things in a time such as war. If only it were that easy, Glenn wished.
His helmeted head looked towards the left side of the canopy, out into the darkness where he could see Tuxedo's plane against the dark blue horizon. Tux's similarly-helmeted head was visible thanks to the green hue his fighter's controls and icons gave off during nighttime. Glenn personally wondered what the expression on Tux's face usually was when the guy was flying. If it were normally that self-assured smirk that was plastered on his mug every day in and out, it couldn't have been doing well at the moment, if he felt like anything that Glenn felt. "Proceed with radar comprehension, Tux. You're in the lead right now, after all."
"Well, everything's hokey-dorey right now, Cap'n," the other pilot bragged over the radio. "I think at the sight of us, anyone on the ground wearing black high-tailed it out of here 'cause they've heard of us, and knew we were just too dang good for 'em. Hopefully whoever's in the middle of Krasst will get the same idea."
I wish, Glenn thought. "Speaking of which, we should be nearing Krasst soon. All wings, form up."
The rest of the 207th steadily began to close together as sunlight began to break over the far mountains. Krasst was just around the corner from that set of jagged peaks, and it would take around five more minutes to enter the city limits.
Glenn knew what Krasst looked like. Most of the city consisted of one giant downtown area, the governmental buildings mostly being in the center of town. Many of the buildings were over fifty stories tall, and he and the Thunderbolts would have to take care to avoid them. Glenn had never expected to encounter such enviromental hazards as buildings and towers when he'd become a pilot, but now he knew they would be many of the things he'd have to watch out for.
"There's the infantry." Rainey's voice over the radio informed them of exactly how close they were to battle. Glenn looked off towards the near side of the mountains and saw the Orange Star ground forces who were to enter the city. From so far up in the sky, he and the 207th had no way to tell if they were engaged in combat already. "Orders, Glenn?"
"Keep on course for now. Let's step it up, they could already be fighting down there." Glenn ratcheted the throttle of his aircraft up, further increasing his already blistering speed. After a few moments, the eight Orange Star fighters shot over the ground forces and began a wide turn, beginning to route past the mountains. It didn't appear as though the infantry were engaged in any fighting as of yet, but Glenn knew that would change all too soon, if Black Hole played its cards.
"Watch for enemy fire," Glenn warned them over the radio. "We could be entering open range at any moment."
Tux gazed down at the ground from the cockpit of his fighter. "Want us to engage if we come under fire, Glenn?"
The pilot sounded reasonably concerned, and that caused Glenn to smile. "No, stay your course. These things are too fast for anyone to keep up with down on the ground, even Black Hole."
Or so he presumed. Glenn didn't find taking unnecessary risks terribly desirable, but they had to destroy the enemy command center as soon as possible. They'd rush back and blow up whatever they had to afterwards, when it was hopefully safer since the enemy would be in confusion with no incoming transmissions from city hall.
The Thunderbolts flew out of the shadows produced by the mountains, and Glenn took a long gaze towards the horizon. He felt his stomach flip-flop as soon as the enormous orange-hued buildings of Krasst itself came into view. Immediately he realized there could have been ten million places for enemy troops to hide in the entire southern part of the city alone. For all he knew, there could have been space to fit anti-air units in some of the buildings. It wouldn't help them any to have those and a plum thousand other enemy units situated on rooftops as well. He couldn't help but wonder for a bare second if this were a suicide mission.
He flicked a switch on his control panel, activating the weapons system. "Maintain visual scanning!"
Here we go, he thought as he raised the control stick slightly out of slight claustrophobia when the buildings drew near. He then moved it to starboard a tad, easily sending his fighter past one of the taller buildings.
And right into open range.
"Tux, break off!" Trusting his wing-mate to comply, Glenn again shoved the throttle up as far as it would go as soon as enemy ground units caught the corners of his vision. Enemy infantry. He didn't have an especially good view of them from all the way up in the sky, but he could clearly tell they were firing at him and every other Thunderbolt who quickly blew over them at six hundred miles an hour.
Anti-air came next. There were always some of them lying around, just waiting to shoot down something they found ugly. And at the moment, they found Glenn Gordon hideous. "I have enemy anti-air units shooting peas at me here! Be careful, 'Bolts!"
He corkscrewed the fighter, making himself more wirey of a target as he shot over the Black Hole platoon of anti-air, and proceeded onward towards the center of the city. While he'd gotten past, he wished he could say the same for the rest of his squadron.
"Takin' heavy fire," he heard Bubba grumble. He'd be okay. Bubba had a knack for annoying enemy forces by being so difficult to hit at times. He seemed to know every trick in the book for slipping past a missile or duking out of the way just in time to watch bullets go soaring past.
Glenn would have allowed himself to smile once he uncomfortably looked back and saw Bubba easily evade the fire of the Black Hole units, but the flight leader immediately became the target of bullseye practice himself. He shoved the yoke hard to port, sending the fighter into a violent spin as he raced past whatever was shooting at him. "Crap!"
They were positioned on rooftops now, as he'd earlier guessed. "Someone take care of these buggers!"
An explosion rocked the building the enemy units had been sitting on. Whatever was left of them went flying off in a thousand different directions thanks to a rocket from Cassie LaGall's fighter. "Thanks, Cass'."
Cassie didn't respond, besides with a mumble that sounded something of a nag. Although they would save each other's rear ends if they had to, she and Glenn still mostly loathed each other.
"Keep it moving, Thunderbolts. We've got to hit the command center before things get too rough." The fighters began to encounter the taller buildings of Krasst as they plowed deeper into what were undoubtedly the more dangerous portions of the city. "We should be getting close."
"We've got more of these anti-air morons over here to your niner, Glenn." Tux's plane visibly began to attempt to form up with Glenn's as they raced over and past towers. "If we're not careful, they may get us on the way back."
Glenn sighed, and slowly began to wonder why Beauregard had ever placed him in command of the squadron. Being a leader definitely wasn't the easiest job in the world, that enough was certain. "We've got a better chance of taking them out on the way back than if we were to go after them right now. It's imperative that we hit city hall."
He glanced off towards a random area of the city to look for any more enemy units, but his bare moment of unattention nearly sent Glenn plowing directly into one of the larger buildings. He recovered immediately, shoving the fighter hard to the right and narrowly shooting past it. "Damn! Keep an eye on where you're headed, 'Bolts, you don't want to accidentally redecorate someone's office!"
Then he sighed to himself, really hoping the radios wouldn't give out in the middle of this whole thing. That was really the last thing any of them needed right now. He didn't know why the thought struck him, but it did, and it gave him one more possible scenario to die over.
Marcus was the first to see them. The clouds over the northern portion of the city puffed and gave way slightly as a flock of black dots exited them, moving steadily over the buildings far north of where the Thunderbolts blazed on. The pilot almost unconciously yelled into his radio. "Enemy fighters coming in from the north! I have visual confirmation on ten, repeat, one-oh enemy fighters heading towards our position from the north! Estimated time of arrival is ten seconds!"
A large bead of sweat ran down Glenn's face under the full-faced helmet. "Engage at will! And keep your heads steady!"
The attack began. The sides became one, and the sky molded into a vile mixture of black and orange.
So these are Black Hole fighters, Glenn thought. Let's see exactly how they do when toe-to-toe with the best aircraft the civilized world has. The pilot sent his fighter into a random pattern of zig-and-zag motions, trying his best simply to keep up with the very sudden dogfight occuring right over the middle of Krasst. There really wasn't much he could do until things sorted themselves out for him - Then he could go to town with strategy, and all that.
The dogfight's combatants were positioned so close together that it was difficult even staying one's course. And Glenn couldn't really risk going too far away from the fight, because then he'd be leaving his companions for too long, and someone would come around and get a shot on him anyway. He'd have to wait it out until someone fluked up.
The desired fluke didn't come yet. These guys are good, Glenn realized. Nor did it help that their numbers were larger than theirs. Ten against eight - It would seem that Black Hole enjoyed the luxury of outnumbering their opponents. Now that was just cheating. Glenn and his squadron would just have to show them that cheaters never prospered.
Eventually, the eighteen fighter jets began to cleanly though jaggedly open up from each other, allowing Glenn to finally be able to get to work. Almost as soon as the range between most of them had increased, a small patch of Black Hole fighters in a crude line-formation came before the Thunderbolt flight leader as he swung around on them. "Form up, Tux."
He nudged the control stick ever so slightly so that he could try to set his sights on the far-right enemy plane as Tuxedo's jet cautiously came up by Glenn's port wing. "Switch to guns and open fire on the far-left one, now!"
"Ten-four, boss-boy." Tux skillfully edged his plane over to get the farthest black-hued fighter on the left within his gun sights, and before the enemy plane could shoot out of the way, the Orange Star pilot unleashed bullet-fury on his opponent. With a hideous boom, the Black Hole craft began to plummet, whatever was left of it consumed in a blaze. "Hah! That's one!"
"Don't celebrate yet, Tux," Glenn muttered grimly, "I have the feeling that one was just a warm-up."
The lead enemy Black Hole fighter came within Glenn's narrow sights. Carefully and skillfully, the lead Thunderbolt pilot began to close on his black-painted prey, arming the lock-on-missiles.
The Black Hole fighter juked to Glenn's right, and then shot back in the other direction as it soared upwards, trying to avoid the Orange Star pilot chasing it, but Glenn Gordon would not be so easily lost. Bringing his own aircraft upwards and to port, he continued to remain locked on the enemy fighter's back.
But before he could even think about firing a missile, the Black Hole jet corkscrewed downwards, narrowly racing over a building rooftop. It began to shoot down a long, wide street as though it were a canyon trench.
Damn, these guys WERE good! Glenn would have hesitated to attempt such a risky maneuver as following the Black Hole fighter - But then he came back into reality and allowed himself to grin ever so slightly for the barest of moments before blazing down into the 'trench' himself.
The Black Hole fighter shot past windows, shattering them instantly with the sonic boom that shattered the other sounds of battle all around the city now. For a moment, Glenn couldn't believe he was in the middle of this. Shooting down a busy road just high enough to avoid taking out a thousand streetlights while moving at what felt like the speed of light? Was this some sort of action movie? Immediately he broke into a heavy, cold sweat, but stayed his course anyway. He hadn't rejoined the air force to play paddycake with these people.
The enemy fighter, realizing it still hadn't outrun its pursuer, suddenly twisted upwards out of the canyon-like road area and raced past one of the taller buildings. Glenn, for perhaps a split second, wondered why it so quickly dogged out of the trench, but upon noticing a very large building ended the road just ahead of him, realized exactly why. "G'ah!"
He shoved the stick towards himself with all his might. The Orange Star fighter raced upwards over the brick building and red filled the corners of Glenn's vision as the g-forces threatened to knock any conciousness he currently had ahld of out of his head. Quickly shaking off the very dizzy and stomach-twisting feeling, he took a half-second to glance off in the direction of the rest of his squadron. Everyone seemed to be having as much trouble as him at the moment.
It had been just over a minute since the dogfight began. By now, the sky over Krasst was covered with the bright yellow of bullets being fired every which way, the occasional black entrails of missiles, and the hideous sound of jets being strained to meet the priorities their pilots made. Down on the ground, it wasn't much better. The Orange Star ground forces had begun their attack and were quickly making their way into the city, despite constant fire from enemy troops.
Tux wasn't faring any better than any of his companions. He was busy with a random Black Hole buzzard trying to cling to him, but Tux wasn't making it easy for the enemy pilot. His zig-zagging movements were some of the best among the air at that moment, and everyone knew it - even the enemy pilots.
In the heat of the moment, the second-in-command of the Thunderbolts sent his fighter into a twist that successfully dogged up whatever the Black Hole fighter behind him was trying to do, and within a moment, Tux was able to goad his opponent into soaring past him.
But in that instant, Tux's eyes caught something on the side of the enemy aircraft. Presumably, it was the enemy pilot's last name, and Tux immediately could recall hearing the name from somewhere before, but he didn't center on when or where. But the name just rang out to him like a bell. He definitely knew the name had crossed his ears - or vision - before.
Gallow.
"Glenn," Tristan's frantic voice yelled, "there's one comin' around on you!"
Glenn cursed out loud - not realizing it went into everyone else's ears - and slowed his fighter down immensely as he shoved the plane hard into an extremely tight left turn. The Black Hole fighter that he had been chasing was now clinging to Glenn and his every move, and the tight turn the lead Thunderbolt made didn't help the situation any.
He forced his aircraft into another series of random-and-very-wild movements, all at over mach one. He even sent the fighter into a large patch of the taller buildings and flew around them as though he were in the middle of some huge, dangerous maze, but whatever Glenn did, the enemy fighter hung with him, and quite easily.
An enormous sense of urgency overcame him. He had to get this guy off his back, or they could kiss the operation - and possibly the war - goodbye. As long as he led the flight campaign over Krasst, things were steady, but with the loss of leadership for the Thunderbolts, it would be up to Heartbreak Squadron to get things done. From what Glenn had seen of them at the Washington base, Heartbreak was nothing but a flock of green kids who all had trouble just trying to keep in formation with one another. They couldn't be counted on for something like blowing the enemy command center without getting themselves killed in the process. Nor could he rely on allied ground forces, since for all he knew Black Hole had a million soldiers on their way to Krasst already. Glenn knew he had to stay alive.
His determination rising, the Thunderbolt flight leader ventured in closer to where the main dogfight raged. While that would give him a larger ratio for error, it would possibly throw a cork in the pursuing craft's chase.
The lead Thunderbolt fighter flew directly into the beehive and was immediately swarmed by the fifteen other aircraft all busy trying to shoot opposing sides down. On more than one occasion Glenn felt the blood move from one side of his head to the other when some of the movements he sent his plane into ended up being more erratic than he'd hoped they'd have to be.
He realized he was going to pass out any moment if this kept up. Perhaps coming right back into the fire hadn't been the best of ideas. But before he could decide on whether or not he was upset with himself, an annoyingly loud beeping sound filled his cockpit, being somehow louder than the terribly loud plane engines themselves.
There was no way he was going to let himself fall into unconciousness now. The Black Hole fighter had a missile lock on him.
"BREAK LEFT, GLENN!" The flight leader didn't notice an anonymous Thunderbolt shout out the warning. He was already doing so just as the missile soared from the enemy Black Hole jet.
Glenn was barely ahead of it. The black missile skewed past his rolling fighter by mere feet. "Damn, that was close!"
He nearly felt like vomiting at what he saw next. The rogue missile, having lost its target, began to waver back and forth, upward and downwards as it clumsily headed off towards nowhere in particular. Out of the blue, one of Glenn's companions flew directly into its path, and Gordon instantly knew one Thunderbolt - one of his friends - was now dead. The explosion sent shards of firey orange metal in every possible direction.
His face turning red, Glenn ferociously threw the yoke hard to the right, hoping to come around on the Thunderbolt's killer, who was now just hovering to his starboard side. He craned his neck to try and see where exactly the guy was heading and how he could successfully come around on the enemy pilot, but before he got a chance to figure all that out, his eyes came in contact with something that confused him greatly.
Painted on the upper-and-undersides of both of the Black Hole fighter's wings were hawks, colored in a very dark black and outlined in white.
"What the--?" a most solidly startled Glenn uttered out loud.
"What's the matter, Glenn?" Tux asked over the radio, sounding more concerned and urgent than Gordon could ever remember in the duration of the time he'd known the man.
"I've seen those hawk emblems before," the Thunderbolt leader responded, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "But where?"
"Forget it, Glenn," Bubba growled, "we've gotta hit city hall before this thing gets beyond our control!"
Bubba was right. City hall - the command center - had to be destroyed. Where the hell were those idiots in Heartbreak Squadron when he needed them? "Bubba, Tristan, break off from the fight and find the command center! Blow it to hell!"
"You got it, Gordo'."
Glenn didn't bother looking for the two orange aircraft to race off from the dogfight. He was too busy trying to stay with the Black Hole fighter with the strange hawk emblems painted on it. Carefully moving the control stick to match the other pilot's jagged movements, Glenn eventually came within closing distance of the other craft. "I'm on the leader. . ."
The Thunderbolt pilot prepared a missile, but as soon as he did, the mysterious Black Hole craft he was pursuing began a wild set of wiley and unpredictable movements. Glenn found it enormously difficult to even keep track of where the other aircraft was headed.
Look at this damn guy, he thought. He's flying like a wasted hummingbird.
The chase continued, but not without an extreme amount of work from Glenn. The other pilot's erratic movements told Glenn he or she was good. Very good.
But Glenn felt he was better. Activating the lock-on sequence, the noisy, constant "beep-beep" sound overcame the sounds of his cockpit as he attempted to get a lock on the enemy fighter as the two aircraft twisted and swiveled past buildings and other planes who only got in the way of the current duel occuring between Glenn and the enemy pilot.
Finally, when Glenn felt he had enough of a chance to risk it, his index finger grasped the small red button on the fighter's control stick and pressured it, sending an orange-colored missile out into the reaches of the sky with the enemy Black Hole fighter as the intended target. As long as the pilot wasn't a supernatural being, Glenn felt the shot would never miss.
It did.
The enemy pilot duked right out of the way in the most absurdly impossible of manners just as the missile came within meters of making contact. Glenn nearly screamed, but held his breath as he realized the enormous mistake he made. The missile, having lost its target, plowed directly into one of Krasst's towers. The side of the building erupted in an explosion and became an inferno.
Glenn's gloved hand slammed furiously down into the seat under him as he cursed again since hitting anything else would have triggered a device within the craft. Who knew how many innocent lives were inside that building? Damn it all! What the hell was wrong with him?
Immediately he told himself he wasn't to blame, since the enemy fighter had slipped right out of the way, but still, he knew he had a responsibility to be careful, even when dogfighting up here in the air. Feeling as terrible as he'd ever felt since first climbing into the seat of any airplane he'd ever been in, Glenn reluctantly twisted the control stick to the right, hoping to again catch the skilled enemy fighter pilot.
He looked upwards towards the top of the canopy, allowing himself to view the city from a side angle. The enemy fighter was circling him as Glenn, it. This went on for around thirty seconds until another explosion pierced the skies, causing the lead Thunderbolt's gaze to leave his opponent to see what had been hit.
It was another Black Hole fighter, toppling towards the ground, completely destroyed. The odds were getting better.
"The command center has been destroyed!" Bubba's voice sounded less troubled than earlier now, but it wasn't over yet. "Repeat, the command center has been destroyed! Our ground forces are moving in!"
While the ground battle was gaining favor towards Orange Star, the chaos in the air didn't slow one bit, even as Bubba and Tristan returned as soon as they could to the conflict. The skies still hung with black entrails from missiles and gunfire, along with dead black smoke from the current casualties.
Gordon couldn't very well break off the duel he was locked in with the apparent leader of the Black Hole fighters since doing so would allow his opponent to easily come around on him, but when Tux swung around behind the enemy pilot circling him, Glenn was relieved to see the black-painted plane shoot off from its course, allowing Gordon some breathing room. "Phew."
Almost immediately, as he leveled out, another Black Hole fighter was lined up within his sights. Glenn blew it apart without as much trouble as he predicted he would have, and as he shot past parts of the disintegrating craft, gazed towards the other members of his squadron. "The odds are even now, folks, let's keep it up!"
The battle raged on with no casualties from either side as its intensity went up a notch further. With both sides' numbers even, things were looking more bright for the Orange Stars than when the combat had first started. The two squadrons, locked in a deadly battle with each other, refused to let either side gain the upper hand. The random, sporadic fire of missiles and bullets went on for nearly five minutes, seriously testing the Thunderbolts' patience and endurance levels.
It didn't help any that they all had to be extremely careful as to not shoot down any enemy fighters over their allied ground companions. The last thing THEY needed was to have an already-destroyed enemy jet plow into the lot of them.
It wasn't until Achmed lined up a Black Hole fighter in his sights that the battle finally turned towards Orange Star's favor. With a pull of the red trigger on his control stick, Achmed fired the one lone missile he had left, hoping to finally claim his first kill of the day.
The enemy fighter apparently didn't realize it was about to be demolished. The missile easily made impact with the craft's black outer hull, the pilot not being able to make even the most basic of evasion maneuvers, successfully giving the chaotic fireworks show one more big bang to look at. Whatever was left of the enemy craft plunged into the ground - right on top of Black Hole infantry.
"Woohoo!" Achmed shouted over the radio, pumping a fist in his plane. From his own seat, Glenn allowed himself a smile for half a second.
That was the final click of a trigger in the fighting. As soon as the Black Hole fighter destroyed by Achmed hit the ground, the remaining enemy fighters's courses all shifted northward, away from the Orange Stars. Shouting and whooping immediately overcame the Thunderbolts' radio.
Glenn Gordon could not remember ever feeling so exhausted and relieved. His head felt as though a hammer had been taken to it thanks to the gravity forces, his stomach was still trying to sort itself out, and there was also the pain of knowing at least one of the Thunderbolts was dead. Immediately, as he kept one eye on the escaping Black Hole air units, Glenn set out to find out who was here and who wasn't.
"All wings, report in," he muttered as his hand unconciously moved towards the necklace he wore for no other reason other than to hang his very weak fist from it.
"Boggs, standing by." Good, Bubba was here. He figured he'd make it. What about the others?
"Ral, standing by." Phew. Glenn was particularly glad Tux was still around. After all, the guy was his wing-mate, roommate, and the best friend he had in the entire squadron.
"Royal, standing by." Hey, the kid made it. This would certainly be one for the memory book.
"Banker, standing by." Thank God. Rainey was alright. Glenn sighed again out of thanks for fate or the heavens.
"LaGall, standing by." Yeah, okay, next.
Glenn hesitated. And hesitated. Finally, he grew worried enough to speak again. "Achmed?"
"Si."
The Thunderbolt leader smirked, happy to see the especially odd member of the 207th made it as well. But there was one more flight member who was currently unaccounted for. "Marcus, do you copy?"
There was no response over the radio from Marcus Madison. Glenn wouldn't have to try again. All seven remaining flight members of Thunderbolt Squadron were present, including Gordon himself.
Under his breath, he sighed again. "Damn it."
The battle down on the ground had stopped almost as quickly as the chaos in the air. Orange Star infantry had completely taken half of the city, and since most of the enemy forces had mobilized to the south to try and repel the invaders, they wouldn't have to worry about much more resistance now. "They have everything under control, 'Bolts. Let's head home."
Slowly, all of the Thunderbolt fighters, their pilots more experienced now than they'd ever been, began to take a direct flight back to the southern portion of the city and towards the mountains, where the Reagan base sat just on the other side.
On the flight back, Glenn couldn't help but begin thinking again as he slowly regained his composure and normal heart rate. He'd had the most kills today, but they'd come after a horrid amount of work. That told him Black Hole was no Blue Moon. These guys meant business - serious business.
And that aircraft, the very mysterious one with the hawk emblems painted on it, as though its pilot were special in some sort of way.
Wait. Black Hole was no Blue Moon.
Black Hole was no Blue Moon. . .
He suddenly realized just what was going on here. He'd seen the hawk emblems on an enemy fighter during the dogfight at the Blue Moon rocket base three months earlier, when Knives had been killed. It took nearly a full minute to let this sudden realization fully sink in and get to his heart - and brain.
Glenn finally let it take effect. "The son of a bitch defected."
In the cockpit of his own fighter, Tux blinked rapidly, startled by the very sudden comment from his flight leader. "What, Glenn?"
"I'll explain when we get back to Reagan."
Glenn's expression turned downwards as the squadron slowly left Krasst's city limits. To his surprise and sad understanding, he saw the sun was still hardly visible. Morning hadn't even officially begun yet, and he'd had the worst fight of his life while having lost a friend in the middle of it.
Glenn prayed the day wouldn't be as bad as the morning that grasped it.
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Author Notes:
Phew. That was fun to write. So, now you see what Kailaff Boldigh's elite Blue Moon squadron has gone and done. Glenn certainly won't be very happy when he gets back, I'd wager. In any case, thanks for reading, and any R+R's are very much appreciated. Thanks again, and I'll see you soon.