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 Fourteen: Operation Mountain Strike~
~----~
The long line of black-painted trucks rolled over mountains, grassy valleys, and through forest. While the Black Hole convoy was quite the noticable little thing out there in the middle of nowhere, intelligence reports had brought them information that their route was currently devoid of any enemy troops, so they had little to worry over. Of course, none of the Black Hole officers would have worried anyway, since the convoy was being escorted by a plethora of tanks and recon trucks.
But their intelligence, while mostly correct, had been slightly off. Towards the back of the convoy, nestled in the darkness of the very last truck, sat three Orange Star troopers, taking a ride along with the line of Black Hole vehicles. Fortunately, up until then, their presence had basically remained unnoticed, though there had certainly been one or two incidents where they'd been almost discovered. But, apparently, Black Hole did not enjoy bothering to check over all the trucks to see if they'd picked up any unwanted hitchhikers, so their mission to find out where these folks were headed had thus far been successful.
They could only hope their luck would last.
Steadily, the convoy continued onwards, until the pleasant-enough grass areas began to give way to much darker, forboding scenery. Not only did it look like it would begin storming any moment, but their was something else in the sky besides those dark clouds. The three troopers strained to peek out the back of their truck, and only too soon realized that the mysterious atmospheric change and odd smells that hinted at their noses were being caused by black smoke spewing from factory towers.
They had entered a base of some sort, probably their destination. From the looks of the place, it was unlike any Black Hole operations point they had seen or heard about thus far. The soldiers tried to take a glimpse at the horizon, but it was mostly consumed by smoke, although there were hints of mountain-sides back behind the black plumes of hideous toxin.
But there was one large mountain peak that stood out among the smoke and factories. It was instantly recognizable to the three troopers, since this particular mountain had always been a vacation spot loved by Macro-Orange Star citizens, and people often looked at it as the number one location in the region to propose marriage to a loved one.
Fate's Point.
Suddenly, they felt the truck lurch forward, brakes being pressured in the driver's seat. The troopers gripped anything they could grab at in the back of the truck so they wouldn't go falling over and make a big old scene. That would end their mission real quick.
The truck had stopped, and they could no longer wait. With the stealth that only Orange Star troopers showed, the three recon soldiers carefully, cautiously slid their way out of the back of the vehicle, peeking around its large corners before they went and did anything dumb. For all they knew, a legion of Black Hole's best troops would walk right around the truck and be on them in seconds.
Foresighting the area around them, the troopers attentively made their way into a random alley between two of the base's larger buildings. Rounding a corner, they found themselves alone, in no real danger of being spotted here. One of them took out a radio, a necessary and very vital piece of equipment all of them carried at this time.
"Reagan Base, do you copy? This is Eagle team," the soldier asked into the radio solidly, successfully maintaining his voice's composure, despite the situation they were in. "Reagan Base, repeat, do you copy?"
It was took seconds to get a response. The radio scratched and faded slightly, but then, the recognizable voice of an Orange Star communications operator sounded out. "This is Reagan Base, go ahead, Eagle team."
"We've located the attackers' base of of operations. It appears to be based at the foot of Fate's Point and the neighboring mountain region." The soldier glanced around him. They were completely surrounding by the towering factories. "I can tell you right now, this is the largest military base I've ever seen, in personal experience."
"Give us an approximate number on enemy units, Eagle," the operator responded.
"I have no idea right now, I'll have to get a better look at things. But this place is packed with all sorts of militaristic craft." Squinting, the trooper even noticed a squadron of Black Hole fighters taking off into the sky, though he really couldn't hear their powerful motors from where he was. "They even have aircraft stationed here. This place is insane."
"Good work, Eagle team. Find a way out of there at once."
"Copy that, Reagan." The soldier switched the radio off and slipped it back into his belt, smiling to himself slightly. The mission had been successful. Unfortunately, now they needed to find a way out of the base, but if they waited until nightfall, they could probably slip out without being noticed.
The lead trooper motioned for his comrades to come and follow him, but before he had even started to move again, his eyes came into contact with something off in the distance, something very appalling and confusing. It was obviously miles away, but it was a much larger, ferocious structure than anything else in the vicinity. While he didn't have an entire view of it, obviously, there appeared to be an enormous black turret off in the horizon. While he wasn't positive that that was what it was, it sent chills down his spine just looking at it.
"Hey," he muttered, turning around to face his colleagues, "what do you suppose-"
More than thirty Black Hole soldiers stood there, their gun-arms pointed at he and his now-surrendering comrades.
"-that is?" he finished, very slowly.
---
The door to the base's main headquarters office flew open, and the captured Orange Star troops were unnecessarily thrown in harshly, followed by a squad of Black Hole troopers. Without warning, the Black Hole troops shoved their captured prey down into a set of chairs, quickly tying powerful rope at their hands behind each of their backs. The Orange Star recon soldiers could only sit there and obey whatever these miserable creatures told - or forced them to do while they awaited their fate.
"You worthless Orange Star scum just thought you'd wander around our base and do whatever you please, eh? Let's see how much you enjoy our fearless commander's company, then." A leering grin came to the snarling creature's disgusting face. "You ARE our guests, after all."
None of the troops felt it necessary to respond, at least at first.
"If we're your guests," one of them said, frowning at the Black Hole soldiers, "why are we all tied up? Forgive me for my honesty, but you're a lousy host, even for an intestinal parasite like yourself, nor do you smell particularly freshening even with all that armor on."
This angered the Black Hole soldier who had first spoken to no ends. Prisoners of war weren't supposed to talk back to their captors! And the Orange Star trooper's smart-aleckiness certainly didn't help things. The soldier stood there, its normal hand clenching tightly into a fist as its anger built up inside dramatically. "You conceited, wretched human! I should drag you outside like the miserable, mangy hound that you are and kill you as you lie there in the dirt! Perhaps I should-"
"Enough."
Lash's calm but bold voice quieted the room instantly. The troopers whirled around, staring at her as she stepped in through the door with the quickest of strides. She stepped around them and stared at the three prisoners there, tied up in their seats as though they were all about to fry in the electric chair. "So you're the ones were were sneaking around the base."
The troopers did not respond to her less-than-lukewarm greeting.
"Apparently," the bizarre Black Hole commander continued, "you did not realize that this particular base does not take kindly to intruders. Of course, you're the first to have the gall to even attempt to look at this base, so we'll have to figure out something special for you."
"Hang them from the cannon turret by their throats!" one of the Black Hole soldiers gurgled in a laugh.
"Run them over like jelly with the tanks!" another stated, anger in its voice.
Lash didn't respond to them. She only continued to eye the three captured troopers sitting there. "I would imagine you haven't been here for too long, since we would have found you long ago if that were true. You probably went ahead and informed your own base of our location as well. And while you obviously got a peek at our special little project, you couldn't get enough visual information on it to let your base know what exactly it was. My, what an exciting little adventure you all have had."
The troopers sat there, a little stunned. Lash hadn't even asked them any questions and she had already figured out what they had been doing prior to being captured. Would they ever get out of this base alive?
"What are we going to do with them, my lady?" one of the soldiers asked. "May we slit their throats now?"
"No!" another soldier barked excitedly. "Let's set them into the wild and hunt them down like animals!"
"Splendid idea!" the first soldier laughed, and they continued talking as though killing these three innocent troopers mercilessly was as wonderful a hobby as fishing or tennis.
Suddenly, Lash chuckled lightly. It was that ferociously disturbing chuckle of hers, the one she usually conveyed whenever she was tickled pink or had the most bizarre of ideas - Probably the latter, in this case. It ended up being so. "I have a better solution."
The Black Hole soldiers turned and gazed at their leader, similarly- disturbing chuckles gurgling from their hideous throats. In what atrocious, malicious way would Lash ruthlessly do away with these pathetic, orange-clad worms? They could only stand there frenziedly and wait for her to lay her demented plan out to them, one of them hopping from one foot to the other excitedly.
"Strip them of their clothing and let them loose at the nearest town."
Everyone in the room stared at her.
"What!?" one of the black-armored troopers yelled, even if to his commander.
"Do not make me repeat myself." And Lash walked away to a nearby table to tend to whatever business of hers needed tending to, leaving everyone to stand or sit there in shock.
Finally, one of the Black Hole soldiers turned towards another. "Alright, you strip them and I'll take them to the nearest town."
"No," the other soldier growled, "YOU'LL strip them and I'LL take them to the nearest town."
"Fine, I'll take them to the nearest town and you'll strip them."
"That sounds acceptable . . . Wait."
One of the Black Hole soldiers had walked away from the partially-bickering group of captors and captives to join Lash in whatever she was doing. It stood there next to her as she examined maps, documents, and the like, apparently attempting to formulate some sort of plan that the base would have to carry out sooner or later. It was normal, since missions were carried out quite often, but she had taken quite a lot more maps, documents, etcetera. Apparently, she was planning something big, or perhaps preparing. "My lady."
Lash did not look up from what she was doing. "Speak."
The trooper cleared its throat uncomfortably. "You do realize that with our location now known to the enemy that an attack upon us is inevitable. They won't wait long, either, since they feel they must end this war as soon as possible for them."
"Do not take me as a fool," Lash countered, "I realize they know where we are."
"But, my lady," the trooper said, its circular red eyes showing its worried demeanor, "they are coming."
Lash turned around. That wry, vexatious smile of hers was still plastered right on her face, and it no doubt wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. Her eyes moved to the window and outside, towards the tall, towering turret of the Black Cannon off in the distance. It loomed above all other buildings of the Fate's Point base like some giant, biblical structure.
And there was Kailaff Boldigh, his arms crossed tightly, staring toward the sky at nothing in particular as numerous Black Hole officers rearranged their paths to walk around him.
"Let them come."
---
Glenn Gordon was walking along in a random hallway of the Reagan base, but if he tried hard enough, he thought he could still smell gunsmoke in the air, hanging around like some freeloading, disgusting roommate. The attack on their current home had been two days earlier, but they were all still trying to recover, especially Glenn.
The hole that had been put in his gut still hurt like the dickens, and at times, he didn't even feel like getting up and out of bed. Still, he didn't want to turn into a marshmallow, and lying around doing nothing all day made him feel as though he'd grow as stiff as a twig if he did it long enough, so he often went around, simply walking. It was the steady approach to recovery, but he still had a long way to walk.
But while the gunshot wound he had taken obviously gave him pain, nothing was worse than the terrible ache of knowing that Thunderbolt Squadron itself had been wounded, severely. Cassie LaGall was dead, and in the gun battle, Tristan Royal had taken hits to his right arm, successfully deactivating him from duty for the time being. The kid was certainly brave about it, but still, it only meant the squadron was short another pilot. And old Bubba had been wounded as well, though his injuries weren't as severe as Tristan's. He could still fly, but there was no telling how well he'd do so. And while Glenn wanted up in the air as soon as possible to ease his natural flying bug, it didn't look as though that'd be happening soon.
He stopped a moment amidst the pain in his gut and sighed as he leaned softly against a partially blood-stained, unoccupied desk. He flexed the muscles in his stomach to try and get rid of the slight case of nausea he had, but that certainly didn't help much. Being shot did things to a man - Things Glenn was finding out now. It was an utterly miserable feeling, even though he was no longer in danger of dying. But for all the way he felt, he may as well just go ahead and jump off the nearest cliff.
"Glenn, are you alright?" It was Tristan's voice. Glenn turned around on the desk slightly and gazed at the kid as he sat there like a bum with liver cancer, gripping his stomach tightly. Tristan's right arm was currently completely patched up and on a sling, and Glenn couldn't help but feel a little bad for the guy.
"I'll be fine," the flight leader responded. "Do you need anything?"
Tristan shrugged his unwounded arm. "Commander Beauregard has called all pilots to the briefing room."
Glenn sighed again slightly. Beauregard still hadn't learned to use the base's loudspeakers correctly, so he usually just sent out a messenger. It annoyed Glenn, but there was nothing he could do about it. It wasn't that big of a deal anyway.
"What for?" Glenn wanted to know.
Again, the kid pilot raised his shoulder. "I don't know. If you could go and find that wild wingmate of yours, it'd help me out considerably. I've still got to tell more than a dozen-"
"Alright, alright," Glenn interrupted, wanting the young pilot to get moving already. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone anyway, not wanting to offend Tristan greatly by telling him so. "I'll go find Tux, just get going."
"Yes, sir." Tristan saluted Glenn swiftly and headed off, mumbling to himself, apparently trying to figure out who he needed to talk to next. The lead Thunderbolt just shook his head grimly in sympathy for the kid.
He raised himself from his uncomfortable seat and headed to the pilot's wing. Tux was probably in their room - He hadn't gone out much since the attack on Reagan had occured, but that was acceptable to Glenn. Crazy old "Tornado Tux" settling down was a welcome event to everyone stationed at the entire base.
Glenn decided knocking wouldn't get much of a response, so he simply opened their room's door without hesitation once he arrived at it. Tuxedo Ral was lying on his bed with his annoying little portable television on his stomach, watching Spongebob Squarepants or some such nonsensical program a guy like him would enjoy. Glenn ignored the television and stepped over to the bed.
"They've called us to the briefing room, bud." Glenn stood there a moment, waiting for Tux's normally bizarre reaction, but he may as well just not have asked. Tux hardly budged. In fact, now that Glenn looked carefully, his crazy wingmate wasn't even concentrating on the television. The Thunderbolt leader looked carefully at the other, unusually calm pilot. "Tux."
Tux's pupils suddenly moved up to Glenn's. "I hardly knew her, Glenn."
"What?" The Thunderbolt leader instantly asked, blinking his eyes repeatedly in confusion. Tux had hardly known who?
"Cass' was a little special to me." Tux looked at the television. His words obviously showed that while he was trying to be strong about the loss of their companion by acting as though it weren't a big deal, it was obviously hurting the normally carefree pilot.
Glenn sighed and sat down on the bed next to his wingmate. "She was special to me too, Tux."
The other pilot eyed his squadron leader as though he didn't quite believe what Glenn was saying. "Y'sure didn't act like it sometimes. All you two ever did was bicker like a couple of stubborn mules."
"Well," Glenn mumbled, not really wanting to admit such a thing but knowing he had to, "everyone in this squadron is special to me. Each and every one."
"Really?" Now it was Tux who was blinking in confusion as Glenn nodded in response.
"Yeah. Before I re-enlisted in the air force, I was all alone. All of my friends were either dead or not worth being with anymore. And I was in a teaching job, but it wasn't going so well. I don't think any of my students liked me, and I really didn't care much for any of them at the same time, nor my colleagues. I just wasn't really going anywhere." Glenn picked at his fingernails, perhaps out of embarrassment for telling his boring old stories to someone like Tux. "And then I came home one day and something just told me I should get back into the air. So I did, and met the best friends I've ever had in the process. You, Bubba, Rainey, and those jets outside."
Tux had by now shut off the television to listen to what Glenn had been saying. "I guess I never looked at this whole thing I've gotten myself into like that. I never really thought about it enough, but I'm pretty glad I am where I am too."
Glenn just smiled in response. Then he hoisted himself off the bed.
"So, are you gonna get yourself off your butt or do I have to carry you to the briefing room like the lazy sack of flak that you are?" Glenn grinned to let his friend know the jibe was good-natured, although he was really only half-kidding.
"Wel-l-l-l-l," Tux groaned as he spent the next few dozen seconds swinging his body around off the messy bed, "I reckon so. At least I wasn't asleep like old Bubba, or you'd never get me up off this blamed thing. What're we going to the briefing room for, anyhow?"
The Thunderbolt leader shook his head. "Beats the beans outta me. Maybe we're moving to a new base or something, who knows?"
"Well, dang, that'd suck," Tux grumbled noisily. "Look what happened last time we moved. Almost got our butts shot down like a couple of birds when we arrived. That wasn't the most appreciated welcoming gift, if I recall correctly."
"We're not gonna get the most appreciated welcoming gift either if we don't hurry up and get to that doggone briefing room. Come on!" Glenn finally just went and grabbed his slow-mo roommate by the arm, dragging him out the door, accompanied by whatever noisy verbal abuse this may have spouted from the wild Thunderbolt. There ended up being quite alot of it. Glenn couldn't help but wonder if Tux would feel more at home in the middle of a jungle at times, and right now was no exception.
The briefing room was filled with as many pilots as Glenn had ever seen at any base he'd been at previously in his military career. Apparently, every single pilot stationed at Reagan was already there, sitting, waiting for George Beauregard to begin his usual briefing statements to them. Gordon pondered to himself for a moment, wondering what in blue blazes was so big that every pilot needed to be present to hear about it.
Now that Glenn looked, he noticed a familiar face - and familiar body bulk standing near Beauregard at the front of the room. Strangely enough, the giant man had a larger body size than even Bubba Boggs, and his blue hair and inhumanly-sized muscles made his identity unmistakable.
I'll be dogged if that's not Commanding Officer Max! Glenn instantly thought.
He had never had the oppurtunity to meet Commanding Officer Max in person, but from what Glenn had heard, the mountain of a man was quite possibly Orange Star's most valuable combat overseer. Somehow, with him leading, military forces always seemed to perform better in combat, as though Max's leadership gave them internal strength, the desire to see their missions to the end. Just looking at the big man standing up there near Commander Beauregard gave Glenn that bizarre yet strength-fed feeling, but at the same time, there was the undeniable realization that if Max were involved somehow with whatever Beauregard was going to brief them on, he was about to be put through quite the great deal of work up there in the air.
Glenn and his obnoxious wingmate sat down in a pair of empty chairs and similarly waited, generally looking mentally lost among themselves. Glenn disliked having to be surrounded by so many people, but it couldn't be helped. His natural desire for privacy would just have to deal with it.
Beauregard stepped up to the podium at the front of the room, clearing his throat. The light chatter in the room ceased to exist, and the briefing began.
"Good afternoon, my friends," the Commander began timidly. "I'm glad I have your attention, because you'll want to listen to every word I'm about to say. Hours ago, we recieved word from intelligence units of a Black Hole military headquarters in place near the Fate's Point mountain range. Apparently, the base is one of Black Hole's largest on this entire continent. Considering Fate's Point geographical position, the Fate's Point base is versatile enough to be Orange Star's greatest threat at this moment, and something obviously needs to be done about it. This is where Operation Mountain Strike comes in.
"This will be a joint operation. We're going in with as much power as we can muster, so squadrons will be sent from Reagan, Lincoln, Taft, and many other air force bases in the near vicinity. At the same time, however, we'll be moving in with as many ground forces as we can gather. It is imperative that the Fate's Point Black Hole base is taken out of commission, even if the operation takes days." Beauregard nodded to the muscle man behind him. "Commanding Officer Max with more details."
Max stepped up to the podium, cracking his knuckles as though he were about to take control of a tank or plane himself. "Alright, everyone. Your main objective should be pretty obvious - Find the main command center and blow it to smithereens. You'll also probably have to engage any enemy fighters that oppose you, since we also recieved word of air units at the base."
Then he looked hard at all the pilots. "I'm only here to give you support. I won't lie to you - This operation could change the outcome of this war by itself. But even if things are really looking bad in the middle of it, don't give up. If you give up, we lose. And that just can't happen. You've got to fight, and fight, and fight, until you can't even think anymore. They may have the greater numbers, but we've got the will, people. And no matter what anyone tells you, will counts. It does."
Glenn couldn't help but nod slightly during those final words.
"Alright," Max then stated, finishing up, "you'll get more in-depth details when you take off. You launch into the air tomorrow at four in the morning, so someone will be come by your rooms to wake you up an hour earlier, at three. It should go without saying that you need to go to bed early tonight. DON'T stay up late."
And as this last part finished, Max's eyes moved right to Tux. Everyone in the room noticed. Glenn couldn't help but stifle a laugh as poor Tuxedo Ral shifted uncomfortably in his seat under the eyes of the elite Commanding Officer and all the other pilots. Somewhere along the way, Max had obviously somehow heard of Tux and his demented, sleepless ways at times, but this wasn't something Glenn was terribly shocked about. Tux's exploits were the stuff legends were made of.
"You're dismissed until then," Beauregard said, stepping up next to Max, "call family, write a will, smoke a cigarette, whatever you feel needs to be done. Just get to bed early, like Max said.'
Tux groaned quietly when he saw Beauregard's eyes shift toward him as well.
Glenn finally just laughed to himself and slapped his wingmate on the back as they stood up to shuffle out of the room with all the other pilots. "Don't worry about it, Tux. All air force bases have their legends. Krazy Kel Logan, Hungry Joe, Toonces, Pablo the Pig Pilot - Wasn't he the one who weighed more than his plane?"
"Thanks," Tux grumbled, "I feel oh so much better."
--------
Author Notes:
FINALLY. This chapter is completed. I don't have any good excuses other than pre-G.E.D. testing and boredom with this particular chapter since it seemed utterly bland to write, so I'm sorry it took so darn long to get up. I hope the next chapter doesn't take so long to get up, since it's the fanfic's climax. I apologize for the lengthy wait. Hopefully, it won't occur AGAIN, since that would make it the umpteenth time or so. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I also hope you R+R. Thanks for reading.
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The Fighters - Part II
By RustyD
______________
~----~
~Mission Fourteen: Operation Mountain Strike~
~----~
The long line of black-painted trucks rolled over mountains, grassy valleys, and through forest. While the Black Hole convoy was quite the noticable little thing out there in the middle of nowhere, intelligence reports had brought them information that their route was currently devoid of any enemy troops, so they had little to worry over. Of course, none of the Black Hole officers would have worried anyway, since the convoy was being escorted by a plethora of tanks and recon trucks.
But their intelligence, while mostly correct, had been slightly off. Towards the back of the convoy, nestled in the darkness of the very last truck, sat three Orange Star troopers, taking a ride along with the line of Black Hole vehicles. Fortunately, up until then, their presence had basically remained unnoticed, though there had certainly been one or two incidents where they'd been almost discovered. But, apparently, Black Hole did not enjoy bothering to check over all the trucks to see if they'd picked up any unwanted hitchhikers, so their mission to find out where these folks were headed had thus far been successful.
They could only hope their luck would last.
Steadily, the convoy continued onwards, until the pleasant-enough grass areas began to give way to much darker, forboding scenery. Not only did it look like it would begin storming any moment, but their was something else in the sky besides those dark clouds. The three troopers strained to peek out the back of their truck, and only too soon realized that the mysterious atmospheric change and odd smells that hinted at their noses were being caused by black smoke spewing from factory towers.
They had entered a base of some sort, probably their destination. From the looks of the place, it was unlike any Black Hole operations point they had seen or heard about thus far. The soldiers tried to take a glimpse at the horizon, but it was mostly consumed by smoke, although there were hints of mountain-sides back behind the black plumes of hideous toxin.
But there was one large mountain peak that stood out among the smoke and factories. It was instantly recognizable to the three troopers, since this particular mountain had always been a vacation spot loved by Macro-Orange Star citizens, and people often looked at it as the number one location in the region to propose marriage to a loved one.
Fate's Point.
Suddenly, they felt the truck lurch forward, brakes being pressured in the driver's seat. The troopers gripped anything they could grab at in the back of the truck so they wouldn't go falling over and make a big old scene. That would end their mission real quick.
The truck had stopped, and they could no longer wait. With the stealth that only Orange Star troopers showed, the three recon soldiers carefully, cautiously slid their way out of the back of the vehicle, peeking around its large corners before they went and did anything dumb. For all they knew, a legion of Black Hole's best troops would walk right around the truck and be on them in seconds.
Foresighting the area around them, the troopers attentively made their way into a random alley between two of the base's larger buildings. Rounding a corner, they found themselves alone, in no real danger of being spotted here. One of them took out a radio, a necessary and very vital piece of equipment all of them carried at this time.
"Reagan Base, do you copy? This is Eagle team," the soldier asked into the radio solidly, successfully maintaining his voice's composure, despite the situation they were in. "Reagan Base, repeat, do you copy?"
It was took seconds to get a response. The radio scratched and faded slightly, but then, the recognizable voice of an Orange Star communications operator sounded out. "This is Reagan Base, go ahead, Eagle team."
"We've located the attackers' base of of operations. It appears to be based at the foot of Fate's Point and the neighboring mountain region." The soldier glanced around him. They were completely surrounding by the towering factories. "I can tell you right now, this is the largest military base I've ever seen, in personal experience."
"Give us an approximate number on enemy units, Eagle," the operator responded.
"I have no idea right now, I'll have to get a better look at things. But this place is packed with all sorts of militaristic craft." Squinting, the trooper even noticed a squadron of Black Hole fighters taking off into the sky, though he really couldn't hear their powerful motors from where he was. "They even have aircraft stationed here. This place is insane."
"Good work, Eagle team. Find a way out of there at once."
"Copy that, Reagan." The soldier switched the radio off and slipped it back into his belt, smiling to himself slightly. The mission had been successful. Unfortunately, now they needed to find a way out of the base, but if they waited until nightfall, they could probably slip out without being noticed.
The lead trooper motioned for his comrades to come and follow him, but before he had even started to move again, his eyes came into contact with something off in the distance, something very appalling and confusing. It was obviously miles away, but it was a much larger, ferocious structure than anything else in the vicinity. While he didn't have an entire view of it, obviously, there appeared to be an enormous black turret off in the horizon. While he wasn't positive that that was what it was, it sent chills down his spine just looking at it.
"Hey," he muttered, turning around to face his colleagues, "what do you suppose-"
More than thirty Black Hole soldiers stood there, their gun-arms pointed at he and his now-surrendering comrades.
"-that is?" he finished, very slowly.
---
The door to the base's main headquarters office flew open, and the captured Orange Star troops were unnecessarily thrown in harshly, followed by a squad of Black Hole troopers. Without warning, the Black Hole troops shoved their captured prey down into a set of chairs, quickly tying powerful rope at their hands behind each of their backs. The Orange Star recon soldiers could only sit there and obey whatever these miserable creatures told - or forced them to do while they awaited their fate.
"You worthless Orange Star scum just thought you'd wander around our base and do whatever you please, eh? Let's see how much you enjoy our fearless commander's company, then." A leering grin came to the snarling creature's disgusting face. "You ARE our guests, after all."
None of the troops felt it necessary to respond, at least at first.
"If we're your guests," one of them said, frowning at the Black Hole soldiers, "why are we all tied up? Forgive me for my honesty, but you're a lousy host, even for an intestinal parasite like yourself, nor do you smell particularly freshening even with all that armor on."
This angered the Black Hole soldier who had first spoken to no ends. Prisoners of war weren't supposed to talk back to their captors! And the Orange Star trooper's smart-aleckiness certainly didn't help things. The soldier stood there, its normal hand clenching tightly into a fist as its anger built up inside dramatically. "You conceited, wretched human! I should drag you outside like the miserable, mangy hound that you are and kill you as you lie there in the dirt! Perhaps I should-"
"Enough."
Lash's calm but bold voice quieted the room instantly. The troopers whirled around, staring at her as she stepped in through the door with the quickest of strides. She stepped around them and stared at the three prisoners there, tied up in their seats as though they were all about to fry in the electric chair. "So you're the ones were were sneaking around the base."
The troopers did not respond to her less-than-lukewarm greeting.
"Apparently," the bizarre Black Hole commander continued, "you did not realize that this particular base does not take kindly to intruders. Of course, you're the first to have the gall to even attempt to look at this base, so we'll have to figure out something special for you."
"Hang them from the cannon turret by their throats!" one of the Black Hole soldiers gurgled in a laugh.
"Run them over like jelly with the tanks!" another stated, anger in its voice.
Lash didn't respond to them. She only continued to eye the three captured troopers sitting there. "I would imagine you haven't been here for too long, since we would have found you long ago if that were true. You probably went ahead and informed your own base of our location as well. And while you obviously got a peek at our special little project, you couldn't get enough visual information on it to let your base know what exactly it was. My, what an exciting little adventure you all have had."
The troopers sat there, a little stunned. Lash hadn't even asked them any questions and she had already figured out what they had been doing prior to being captured. Would they ever get out of this base alive?
"What are we going to do with them, my lady?" one of the soldiers asked. "May we slit their throats now?"
"No!" another soldier barked excitedly. "Let's set them into the wild and hunt them down like animals!"
"Splendid idea!" the first soldier laughed, and they continued talking as though killing these three innocent troopers mercilessly was as wonderful a hobby as fishing or tennis.
Suddenly, Lash chuckled lightly. It was that ferociously disturbing chuckle of hers, the one she usually conveyed whenever she was tickled pink or had the most bizarre of ideas - Probably the latter, in this case. It ended up being so. "I have a better solution."
The Black Hole soldiers turned and gazed at their leader, similarly- disturbing chuckles gurgling from their hideous throats. In what atrocious, malicious way would Lash ruthlessly do away with these pathetic, orange-clad worms? They could only stand there frenziedly and wait for her to lay her demented plan out to them, one of them hopping from one foot to the other excitedly.
"Strip them of their clothing and let them loose at the nearest town."
Everyone in the room stared at her.
"What!?" one of the black-armored troopers yelled, even if to his commander.
"Do not make me repeat myself." And Lash walked away to a nearby table to tend to whatever business of hers needed tending to, leaving everyone to stand or sit there in shock.
Finally, one of the Black Hole soldiers turned towards another. "Alright, you strip them and I'll take them to the nearest town."
"No," the other soldier growled, "YOU'LL strip them and I'LL take them to the nearest town."
"Fine, I'll take them to the nearest town and you'll strip them."
"That sounds acceptable . . . Wait."
One of the Black Hole soldiers had walked away from the partially-bickering group of captors and captives to join Lash in whatever she was doing. It stood there next to her as she examined maps, documents, and the like, apparently attempting to formulate some sort of plan that the base would have to carry out sooner or later. It was normal, since missions were carried out quite often, but she had taken quite a lot more maps, documents, etcetera. Apparently, she was planning something big, or perhaps preparing. "My lady."
Lash did not look up from what she was doing. "Speak."
The trooper cleared its throat uncomfortably. "You do realize that with our location now known to the enemy that an attack upon us is inevitable. They won't wait long, either, since they feel they must end this war as soon as possible for them."
"Do not take me as a fool," Lash countered, "I realize they know where we are."
"But, my lady," the trooper said, its circular red eyes showing its worried demeanor, "they are coming."
Lash turned around. That wry, vexatious smile of hers was still plastered right on her face, and it no doubt wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. Her eyes moved to the window and outside, towards the tall, towering turret of the Black Cannon off in the distance. It loomed above all other buildings of the Fate's Point base like some giant, biblical structure.
And there was Kailaff Boldigh, his arms crossed tightly, staring toward the sky at nothing in particular as numerous Black Hole officers rearranged their paths to walk around him.
"Let them come."
---
Glenn Gordon was walking along in a random hallway of the Reagan base, but if he tried hard enough, he thought he could still smell gunsmoke in the air, hanging around like some freeloading, disgusting roommate. The attack on their current home had been two days earlier, but they were all still trying to recover, especially Glenn.
The hole that had been put in his gut still hurt like the dickens, and at times, he didn't even feel like getting up and out of bed. Still, he didn't want to turn into a marshmallow, and lying around doing nothing all day made him feel as though he'd grow as stiff as a twig if he did it long enough, so he often went around, simply walking. It was the steady approach to recovery, but he still had a long way to walk.
But while the gunshot wound he had taken obviously gave him pain, nothing was worse than the terrible ache of knowing that Thunderbolt Squadron itself had been wounded, severely. Cassie LaGall was dead, and in the gun battle, Tristan Royal had taken hits to his right arm, successfully deactivating him from duty for the time being. The kid was certainly brave about it, but still, it only meant the squadron was short another pilot. And old Bubba had been wounded as well, though his injuries weren't as severe as Tristan's. He could still fly, but there was no telling how well he'd do so. And while Glenn wanted up in the air as soon as possible to ease his natural flying bug, it didn't look as though that'd be happening soon.
He stopped a moment amidst the pain in his gut and sighed as he leaned softly against a partially blood-stained, unoccupied desk. He flexed the muscles in his stomach to try and get rid of the slight case of nausea he had, but that certainly didn't help much. Being shot did things to a man - Things Glenn was finding out now. It was an utterly miserable feeling, even though he was no longer in danger of dying. But for all the way he felt, he may as well just go ahead and jump off the nearest cliff.
"Glenn, are you alright?" It was Tristan's voice. Glenn turned around on the desk slightly and gazed at the kid as he sat there like a bum with liver cancer, gripping his stomach tightly. Tristan's right arm was currently completely patched up and on a sling, and Glenn couldn't help but feel a little bad for the guy.
"I'll be fine," the flight leader responded. "Do you need anything?"
Tristan shrugged his unwounded arm. "Commander Beauregard has called all pilots to the briefing room."
Glenn sighed again slightly. Beauregard still hadn't learned to use the base's loudspeakers correctly, so he usually just sent out a messenger. It annoyed Glenn, but there was nothing he could do about it. It wasn't that big of a deal anyway.
"What for?" Glenn wanted to know.
Again, the kid pilot raised his shoulder. "I don't know. If you could go and find that wild wingmate of yours, it'd help me out considerably. I've still got to tell more than a dozen-"
"Alright, alright," Glenn interrupted, wanting the young pilot to get moving already. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone anyway, not wanting to offend Tristan greatly by telling him so. "I'll go find Tux, just get going."
"Yes, sir." Tristan saluted Glenn swiftly and headed off, mumbling to himself, apparently trying to figure out who he needed to talk to next. The lead Thunderbolt just shook his head grimly in sympathy for the kid.
He raised himself from his uncomfortable seat and headed to the pilot's wing. Tux was probably in their room - He hadn't gone out much since the attack on Reagan had occured, but that was acceptable to Glenn. Crazy old "Tornado Tux" settling down was a welcome event to everyone stationed at the entire base.
Glenn decided knocking wouldn't get much of a response, so he simply opened their room's door without hesitation once he arrived at it. Tuxedo Ral was lying on his bed with his annoying little portable television on his stomach, watching Spongebob Squarepants or some such nonsensical program a guy like him would enjoy. Glenn ignored the television and stepped over to the bed.
"They've called us to the briefing room, bud." Glenn stood there a moment, waiting for Tux's normally bizarre reaction, but he may as well just not have asked. Tux hardly budged. In fact, now that Glenn looked carefully, his crazy wingmate wasn't even concentrating on the television. The Thunderbolt leader looked carefully at the other, unusually calm pilot. "Tux."
Tux's pupils suddenly moved up to Glenn's. "I hardly knew her, Glenn."
"What?" The Thunderbolt leader instantly asked, blinking his eyes repeatedly in confusion. Tux had hardly known who?
"Cass' was a little special to me." Tux looked at the television. His words obviously showed that while he was trying to be strong about the loss of their companion by acting as though it weren't a big deal, it was obviously hurting the normally carefree pilot.
Glenn sighed and sat down on the bed next to his wingmate. "She was special to me too, Tux."
The other pilot eyed his squadron leader as though he didn't quite believe what Glenn was saying. "Y'sure didn't act like it sometimes. All you two ever did was bicker like a couple of stubborn mules."
"Well," Glenn mumbled, not really wanting to admit such a thing but knowing he had to, "everyone in this squadron is special to me. Each and every one."
"Really?" Now it was Tux who was blinking in confusion as Glenn nodded in response.
"Yeah. Before I re-enlisted in the air force, I was all alone. All of my friends were either dead or not worth being with anymore. And I was in a teaching job, but it wasn't going so well. I don't think any of my students liked me, and I really didn't care much for any of them at the same time, nor my colleagues. I just wasn't really going anywhere." Glenn picked at his fingernails, perhaps out of embarrassment for telling his boring old stories to someone like Tux. "And then I came home one day and something just told me I should get back into the air. So I did, and met the best friends I've ever had in the process. You, Bubba, Rainey, and those jets outside."
Tux had by now shut off the television to listen to what Glenn had been saying. "I guess I never looked at this whole thing I've gotten myself into like that. I never really thought about it enough, but I'm pretty glad I am where I am too."
Glenn just smiled in response. Then he hoisted himself off the bed.
"So, are you gonna get yourself off your butt or do I have to carry you to the briefing room like the lazy sack of flak that you are?" Glenn grinned to let his friend know the jibe was good-natured, although he was really only half-kidding.
"Wel-l-l-l-l," Tux groaned as he spent the next few dozen seconds swinging his body around off the messy bed, "I reckon so. At least I wasn't asleep like old Bubba, or you'd never get me up off this blamed thing. What're we going to the briefing room for, anyhow?"
The Thunderbolt leader shook his head. "Beats the beans outta me. Maybe we're moving to a new base or something, who knows?"
"Well, dang, that'd suck," Tux grumbled noisily. "Look what happened last time we moved. Almost got our butts shot down like a couple of birds when we arrived. That wasn't the most appreciated welcoming gift, if I recall correctly."
"We're not gonna get the most appreciated welcoming gift either if we don't hurry up and get to that doggone briefing room. Come on!" Glenn finally just went and grabbed his slow-mo roommate by the arm, dragging him out the door, accompanied by whatever noisy verbal abuse this may have spouted from the wild Thunderbolt. There ended up being quite alot of it. Glenn couldn't help but wonder if Tux would feel more at home in the middle of a jungle at times, and right now was no exception.
The briefing room was filled with as many pilots as Glenn had ever seen at any base he'd been at previously in his military career. Apparently, every single pilot stationed at Reagan was already there, sitting, waiting for George Beauregard to begin his usual briefing statements to them. Gordon pondered to himself for a moment, wondering what in blue blazes was so big that every pilot needed to be present to hear about it.
Now that Glenn looked, he noticed a familiar face - and familiar body bulk standing near Beauregard at the front of the room. Strangely enough, the giant man had a larger body size than even Bubba Boggs, and his blue hair and inhumanly-sized muscles made his identity unmistakable.
I'll be dogged if that's not Commanding Officer Max! Glenn instantly thought.
He had never had the oppurtunity to meet Commanding Officer Max in person, but from what Glenn had heard, the mountain of a man was quite possibly Orange Star's most valuable combat overseer. Somehow, with him leading, military forces always seemed to perform better in combat, as though Max's leadership gave them internal strength, the desire to see their missions to the end. Just looking at the big man standing up there near Commander Beauregard gave Glenn that bizarre yet strength-fed feeling, but at the same time, there was the undeniable realization that if Max were involved somehow with whatever Beauregard was going to brief them on, he was about to be put through quite the great deal of work up there in the air.
Glenn and his obnoxious wingmate sat down in a pair of empty chairs and similarly waited, generally looking mentally lost among themselves. Glenn disliked having to be surrounded by so many people, but it couldn't be helped. His natural desire for privacy would just have to deal with it.
Beauregard stepped up to the podium at the front of the room, clearing his throat. The light chatter in the room ceased to exist, and the briefing began.
"Good afternoon, my friends," the Commander began timidly. "I'm glad I have your attention, because you'll want to listen to every word I'm about to say. Hours ago, we recieved word from intelligence units of a Black Hole military headquarters in place near the Fate's Point mountain range. Apparently, the base is one of Black Hole's largest on this entire continent. Considering Fate's Point geographical position, the Fate's Point base is versatile enough to be Orange Star's greatest threat at this moment, and something obviously needs to be done about it. This is where Operation Mountain Strike comes in.
"This will be a joint operation. We're going in with as much power as we can muster, so squadrons will be sent from Reagan, Lincoln, Taft, and many other air force bases in the near vicinity. At the same time, however, we'll be moving in with as many ground forces as we can gather. It is imperative that the Fate's Point Black Hole base is taken out of commission, even if the operation takes days." Beauregard nodded to the muscle man behind him. "Commanding Officer Max with more details."
Max stepped up to the podium, cracking his knuckles as though he were about to take control of a tank or plane himself. "Alright, everyone. Your main objective should be pretty obvious - Find the main command center and blow it to smithereens. You'll also probably have to engage any enemy fighters that oppose you, since we also recieved word of air units at the base."
Then he looked hard at all the pilots. "I'm only here to give you support. I won't lie to you - This operation could change the outcome of this war by itself. But even if things are really looking bad in the middle of it, don't give up. If you give up, we lose. And that just can't happen. You've got to fight, and fight, and fight, until you can't even think anymore. They may have the greater numbers, but we've got the will, people. And no matter what anyone tells you, will counts. It does."
Glenn couldn't help but nod slightly during those final words.
"Alright," Max then stated, finishing up, "you'll get more in-depth details when you take off. You launch into the air tomorrow at four in the morning, so someone will be come by your rooms to wake you up an hour earlier, at three. It should go without saying that you need to go to bed early tonight. DON'T stay up late."
And as this last part finished, Max's eyes moved right to Tux. Everyone in the room noticed. Glenn couldn't help but stifle a laugh as poor Tuxedo Ral shifted uncomfortably in his seat under the eyes of the elite Commanding Officer and all the other pilots. Somewhere along the way, Max had obviously somehow heard of Tux and his demented, sleepless ways at times, but this wasn't something Glenn was terribly shocked about. Tux's exploits were the stuff legends were made of.
"You're dismissed until then," Beauregard said, stepping up next to Max, "call family, write a will, smoke a cigarette, whatever you feel needs to be done. Just get to bed early, like Max said.'
Tux groaned quietly when he saw Beauregard's eyes shift toward him as well.
Glenn finally just laughed to himself and slapped his wingmate on the back as they stood up to shuffle out of the room with all the other pilots. "Don't worry about it, Tux. All air force bases have their legends. Krazy Kel Logan, Hungry Joe, Toonces, Pablo the Pig Pilot - Wasn't he the one who weighed more than his plane?"
"Thanks," Tux grumbled, "I feel oh so much better."
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Author Notes:
FINALLY. This chapter is completed. I don't have any good excuses other than pre-G.E.D. testing and boredom with this particular chapter since it seemed utterly bland to write, so I'm sorry it took so darn long to get up. I hope the next chapter doesn't take so long to get up, since it's the fanfic's climax. I apologize for the lengthy wait. Hopefully, it won't occur AGAIN, since that would make it the umpteenth time or so. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I also hope you R+R. Thanks for reading.