Operation: High Card
July 1, 2019, 08:17.
The fake runway was burning, guards and ground crew were running around, trying to get the other prisoners in their planes and in line.
Trigger looked at the chaos with a raised eyebrow and a judging stare. Then when back to applying duct tape to secure Brownie's radio to the side of his seat. They were already in line, he was just waiting for orders.
Prez finally spoke up. "The hell is this! We're under attack assholes! Get a move on!" She shook her fist at the nearest plane. The SU-33 from before, with the tophat painted on the tail. The pilot had finally sat down and closed his canopy.
Trigger's helmet radio crackled to life. He double checked the volume and waited.
"Follow orders Trigger! Taxi to the runway now."
He frowned, The ATC was gruff and rude as hell. But what could he expect? A change in the norm? Maybe, maybe not. He just got the X-02 moving forward, usually this would be in sync with other squad members….But, this was a penal unit. No one was in sync. He went to check the altimeter as just ordered.
"Altimeters checked, all showing seventy-five feet of elevation and altitude indicator holding stable." Prez replied.
Trigger turned and looked behind him.
She turned and tapped at a few other instruments. "Compass, check." She nods to Trigger. "Airspeed indicator…slightly fluctuating. But we're moving already because we have to follow orders." She glared at the Control tower. Then looked back to Trigger. "We're all set."
He gave a thumbs up, then turned back. Switching the radio so they were on the squad frequency.
"Control, would you kindly send me up first." The squad radio marked the speaker as Count, Spare 2. He sounded tired and bored.
Trigger guessed it was because he'd done this many times before. He turned onto the runway and kept in line. He frowned when he saw that chaos had returned. Then his head snapped left. "SHIT!" He changed direction fast.
Prez squawked in surprise behind him.
Champ had muscled his way onto the runway, completely out of line, almost hitting a squad member's plane.
"Spare Eight! Champ! This is the control tower." The ATC sounded slightly annoyed.
Trigger glared at the control tower. If this was a normal airfield ATC would have verbally bitten off Champ's head.
"You are not cleared for take off! Obey orders!"
Champ finally replied. "Go to hell!"
Trigger raised an eyebrow at that. Where did Champ get off telling the ATC to go to hell. You tell that to any sensible ATC and they'll make your life a nightmare.
"All Aircraft preparing for take off, watch for Spare Eight! He's forcing a takeoff!"
Prez just huffed. "Oh now you tell us! Could have mentioned that earlier!"
"I'll take up command. Any objections?" Count spoke up once more.
Trigger just looked hopelessly at the blue camo SU-33. There wasn't a chain of command.
Which meant no actual flight lead.
Trigger frowned slightly.
No formation.
Trigger paused, then looked back at Prez.
No one to tell him what to do.
Prez tilted her head at him. "Whats up Trigger? Did I miss something?" She started looking around the cockpit, checking instruments once more.
Then the radio crackled to life once more, Spare 11, Tabloid. "That'll get decided in the skies."
Count let out an amused huff. "Touché."
Trigger settled back in his seat, made a few adjustments to the instruments, and let a wicked smile slowly grow on his face. The Scrap Queen was right, this plane was a beauty. In the past, he had done some research on the X-02. So he was very interested to see if stories were true.
"Trigger, your call sign is Spare Fifteen. Consider it your prisoner number for the air."
He raised an eyebrow as he turned onto the runway, just behind Count. Who was just taking off now.
"Trigger, Spare fifteen, copy."
"Prez, Spare fifteen, copy." She gave Trigger a thumbs up as he glance back at her. "Lets kick ass!"
Trigger nodded back.
"Sorry what?" There was the sound of shuffling as the ATC tried to figure out what was going on.
"Hey, Trigger needed a WSO, what do you expect?"
There was a pause, "Alright…commencing deception and interception. Runway's free, you have permission to take off." The ATC closed the channel.
Trigger grinned and thumbed the throttle, giving it a test, he could see enemy fighters coming in, they could take him out on take off if he wasn't careful.
"Umm…Trigger we have a problem. Master Arm is on, but our FCS is locked." She gave the console a light smack. "Shit we're fucked if we don't get this fixed…"
He turned back. "They won't give weapons to prisoners. Remember?"
Prez looked at him in shock. "So we're going into that mess with no weapons! Are they out of their god damned minds! We'll all be shot down!"
Trigger paused, then tilted his head. "You flew with aces?"
She glared at him. "Yes! I did! But that still doesn't change how fucked we are!"
He shook his head. "It will." He turned back and settled in, pushing his legs together. "I'm going to need you to brace."
Prez's eyes widened. "Okay…" She did as he asked. "I'll focus ECM, like you said before then."
He smiled, gave another thumbs up.
"Take off now Spare fifteen!" Now the ATC was upset.
"Copy." Trigger gunned it. Maxing out the engine. He watched as the speed climbed. He looked to his right, watching for enemy fighters as he gently pulled back on the stick, watching his speed. He hit 850, then activated the variable wing mechanism. The wings folded in, the tail folded down. Once it was locked, he yanked back on the stick sending the X-02 into a straight climb.
"Oh…OH…no no no no no no!" Prez yelped as she heard the lock alert come on. "SHIT! TRIGGGGGGGGERRRRRR!" She then looked down, they were climbing so fast, the lock was broken almost instantly. She kept herself braced. "I'm going to smack you when we get back you ass!"
Eh, could be a worse price for pure freedom, he smiled as he felt the slight G-forces push him back into his seat. Oh how he missed this. He hadn't been able to pull moves like this since flight school. It made it all the better that this beast could hit over three thousand KPH. He laughed, oh he could get used to this, this was his plane now.
"HOLY FUCKING HELL TRIGGER!" Prez was pissed beyond belief, and glad she didn't eat yet. She felt like her guts were left on the ground. "You could have warned me!" She stayed braced and started up her work, marking targets on their radar, activating IR jammers, and reading her ECM Suite. It was all second nature, and this plane had one hell of a WSO position.
"I told you brace!" Trigger just laughed more. He smiled as he reached ten thousand on his altimeter. "You just keep bracing, alright?" He brought them level quickly as he overlooked the battle. Bombers coming in, heading southeast.
"So…no missiles again, FCS is locked." Count spoke up again, sounding bored.
The other squad members just sounded slightly upset.
"Prisoners use nothing without supervision, not even a pencil." A new voice joined the squad coms. Gruff and authoritative.
Trigger raised an eyebrow at this.
"Ah, here comes Harling's murderer." Spare 7, High Roller spoke up.
Trigger felt his blood run cold as he looked back at Prez.
She had paused in her work and was looking at him, her eyes squinted slightly at him.
"He put two missiles right between old Harling's eyes!" Spare 6, Full band replied on the coms.
Trigger just frowned slightly, but Prez nodded, Her stare softened, and she went back to focusing. "Missile! Jink it Trigger!"
Missile alarm ringing in his ear. He turned back and did just that, rolling as he smashed the throttle to full, angling left, then shifted right. As a missile roared past them, Prez yelped again. Trigger used their speed to break away from the Erusean fighter.
"Always in the know, aren't you Full band?" Count came back to the coms.
"In this war, Intel is a life or death matter."
"Settle down. Excited to have another murder with you." The gruff voice from before interrupted the conversation.
The squad coms filled with a few cheers.
"What the fuck…." Prez laughed awkwardly, "What is this squadron?"
Hell if he knew, Trigger just sighed as he banked left into a turn. Getting a full look of the battlefield once more, He was still pretty high up. Most of the Erusean's hadn't noticed him. It seemed they were to busy with the rest of Spare Squadron.
"This is Bandog. Spare 15, I'll be handling surveillance." The handshake protocols went through, identifying Bandog as their AWAC's. "The bombers that attacked the runway are coming back for another round. I know it's just a dummy runway. You guys just need to make a lot of noise, just make them think there are fighters at the base." He chuckled. "If any of you die, think of it as you atoning for your crimes."
Prez laughed and replied. "Much appreciated Bandog, anything else of note?"
"Any craft leaving the operation area will be shot down. You hear me?"
Prez paled at that and went silent.
"Righto." Count replied, no one else said anything.
"Good, Spare Fifteen, work off your crimes." Bandog closed the channel.
Prez huffed in response. "What crimes, this is bull."
What crimes indeed, Trigger nodded. He pushed the X-02 into a slight dive. Watching as an escort fighter tried to engage Spare 11. He was glad to see he could still lock onto enemies, so he slammed the throttle again to get into a better position.
Spare 11 was trying to break off. "I could use a hand here." Tabloid was breathing hard, stressing under pressure.
"Ah shove off you'll be fine."
"I'm busy"
"I'll help if you trade a smoke for it."
"Spare Eleven just stop dogfighting." Bandog even wouldn't help.
Tabloid just sounded defeated. "Oh come on!"
"Spare Eleven….Tabloid, we're coming up on the bogey, break left on my mark." Prez sent out the message as Trigger came up on the enemy fighter, an Su-33. Trigger got on them fast with a roll, and let the lock on do the talking.
Prez nodded, "Three, two, one. MARK!"
Tabloid banked left, dodging a missile at the same time, the Su-33 followed, and Trigger followed a few seconds later, keeping the lock steady. The Su-33 kept on Tabloid and fired off a few rounds of 30mm. Tabloid rolled and dived. The Su-33 let him go, as Trigger was hard on his tail.
Prez whooped in delight. "Yeah! Thats how we do it! Stay on em Trigger." She started messing with some instruments. "Annnnd he's jammed! Keep that lock on him."
The Su-33 started trying to get away, banking right and climbing. Trigger was right on their tail though, climbing right behind, staying on their tail. Trigger hoped that their radar lock warning was going off constantly.
"We've got incoming, let him go Trigger." Erusean reinforcements came in from the north quickly, two Mig-29's, Trigger followed Prez's advice, breaking off and letting the Su-33 go.
Trigger opened up coms. "Spare Eleven, status."
"Uhhh, good! Good!" Tabloid laughed a little. "Thanks."
Trigger just tapped the mic as a response and went back in, at least he was getting good dogfighting practice. Speaking of which…his radar lock warning was going off. Then the missile alert. He waited for the missile to get close, then rolled into a quick dive, evening out and banking right. The missile flew by them, the lock broken. He let his lock settle on the Erusean that had spiked him, another SU-33, which proceeded to bug out and dived. Trigger just smiled.
"The enemy seems to think that our airforce is concentrated on this base!" Tabloid spoke up again on the coms. He seemed much more cheerful now.
Prez chuckled. "It really does seem that way…"
"Everything on the ground is fake. Can't the enemy see that?" Full Band cut in again, he just sounded annoyed.
Tabloid laughed. "Means they're that convincing!"
Trigger and Prez both got a chuckle out of that, to be fair, Tabloid was right. All of this was going exactly as the top brass wanted, so, as long as they weren't shot down, they'd be fine.
Trigger then eyed some bombers on his right…that were continuing towards the actual runway.
"Uh oh…we may have a problem." Prez spoke into the coms. "Bandog we've got bogeys over the runway."
The coms opened again. "Spare Fifteen shut up…thats the whole point."
Then the bombs dropped, one hitting right next to the control tower.
"Eat my ass Bandog! I mean the actual goddamn runway!"
"Shit Enemy just hit the Control tower!"
"Hey! Whats with all the shaking?!"
The coms filled with shouts and screams of surprise. Commader McKinsey however, just sounded annoyed.
"Do not let the enemy get closer! Are you trying to kill me?" Trigger heard the commander put down his com and hang up.
Bandog came back onto coms. "Shall I order them to shoot down all?"
No response.
"Commander, Commander McKinsey?…Damn it."
Trigger heard Bandog over the coms, typing something at his station.
"Spare Squadron, listen up, shoot down everything carrying bombs."
The FCS unlocked, Prez gasped in excitement.
"Weapons free. You're cleared to engage, show no mercy."
"Copy that Bandog! Spare fifteen, Engaging, lets rack up the kills Trigger!" Prez pumped a fist in excitement. "What do you want control over?"
"Take the aam's, leave guns and standard missiles to me." He chuckles. "Don't worry I'll set you up nicely." he pulled back on the stick and they started to climb again.
"Alright, I'm assuming command. All aircraft, support me." Count finally spoke up again, still trying to be the top dog.
"Who's gonna dance to your lyin' tune?" Champ cut in, probably also gunning for the top spot.
Count just laughed. "I'll show you all how it's done."
Trigger chuckled as he turned on Brownie's radio and listened in.
"-firmed hit, Noli Squadron, status?"
"Noli one, Bay is still at half capacity. Three and Four report the same."
"Copy, make another pass on the main runway, if you still have bombs, hit the secondary runway again."
"Roger that. Noli Squadron, engaging."
Trigger grinned, he made note of the location of Noli Squadron on his radar, then pulled back on the stick hard, they climbed at highspeed for a minute. "Prez! I've got a prime target for you, three bombers. We're going to dive them."
Prez's eyes lit up. "Oh! Oh hell yes!" She flicked the master arm back on as she prepared.
He pushed the stick forward, having them level out. The variable wing mechanism automatically activated and extended. Giving them more lift, meaning more time to set up the shot.
High Roller butt in over the coms. "Gunna have to rethink the odds, anyone want to bet who will get the first kill?" Trigger now understood the Tac name.
A few of the other pilots threw in some bets. Some for Tabloid, others for Count, even one for Trigger.
Count spoke up. "I say it'll be myself."
Prez grinned. "Bet you some instant coffee that It'll be Trigger and I."
High Roller gave a surprised grunt. "What makes you say that?"
"Because we've already got them in our sights. Hit it Trigger! I'm not loosing!" Prez kicked the seat in front of her.
"Yes ma'am." He laughed, punched the stick forward, brought them into the dive, and set up the shot. Their wings folded back in as the speed picked up.
"Come on….Come on…a little bit closer. Keep it up Trigger, they haven't noticed us yet." Prez had her finger on the trigger as they closed in.
He picked up the speed a little bit, bracing as he did. He missed this kinda flying, hadn't been able to do it since training, his flight instructor told them to come up with their own styles and try it out.
Prez was hyper focused, but impressed. Trigger had brought them at the perfect angle, so they were on top of and behind the bombers. She smirked, then the aams locked on. "Spare Fifteen, Fox Two." She pulled the trigger, three missiles dropped out of the bay doors, then ignited. Speeding towards the bombers in a group like angry wasps, then split. Gutting all three bombers right through center. Each one detonated into a ball of fire.
She let out a whoop. "HELL YEAH! Three bombers down! Suck on that!"
Brownie's radio crackled to life once more. "We just lost Noli Two through Four! The hell happened?"
"Escorts, stay close to the bombers of Noli Squadron, they need to finish their runs if this mission will be successful. We can deal another crippling blow to their airforce here!"
Bandog chimed in, "Can confirm, three hostile bombers down, good work Spare fifteen!"
High Roller laughed as a few squad members groaned.
Prez just chuckled. "I better be seeing a big payout from this High Roller!"
Trigger banked left into a roll, getting on the tail of an Mig-29. He gave a few taps of the machine gun, followed by two standard missiles. The Mig rolled to avoid the shots, but didn't notice the missiles until it was too late, the first sheered off it's right wing. The second went right into its engines, ripping the rear fuselage apart, sending the plane spiraling down. He saw the pilot eject.
Prez noticed too, "Bandog, confirm another bogey down, pilot ejected, might want to send someone out to get him once this is all cleaned up. I know we have plenty of open cells."
A few squadron members chuckled at that.
"Confirmed, Spare Fifteen, bandit splashed."
Trigger smiled as they searched for more bombers. They could finally fight back, that was a blessing for sure.
"Trigger, keep an eye on your head count, we can compare later." Count's smug voice came over the radio again.
Tabloid chuckled and cut in, "Yeah. I'm betting that report will get dressed up real pretty. Especially since they are self reported!"
Prez just huffed. "If I could do that in my corps I would've been fucking rich." She pointed over to their left. "Hey Tabloid, Spare Eleven, how you holding up?"
Trigger noticed Tabloid at a higher altitude on their left, and climbed up to fly in formation with him for a moment.
Tabloid looked over quickly, then nodded and gave an okay motion with his free hand. "Could be worse, at least we can actually defend ourselves."
Prez nodded, then paused. "So…whats up with the lines on everyone's tails?"
The coms crackled as Full Band cut in. "Allow me to educate you." He cleared his throat. "In this unit, you get your tail marked with scratches." He pauses, letting his statement sink in. "So, the more scratches, the more heinous the crime. They're called sin lines."
Prez just scoffed. "What kinda sin did I commit? I'm just a mercenary."
"Well…you two have three scratches right? Well…Trigger is Harling's murderer."
Trigger just glared at the sky and huffed in response.
Prez looked at Trigger in worry, she could tell what that meant, Trigger was pissed.
"A bomber's at high altitude. Stop watching your own asses and look up."
Prez looked around for a bit. "Not….really…seeing one?" She checked the radar, and raised an eyebrow. It was far off, probably in the clouds. "You got an altitude check on that Bandog."
"Just go shoot it down Spare Fifteen."
Prez just frowned. "Jeez, fine." She closed the coms and looked over to Trigger. "Hey, you alright?"
He held up a hand, tilting it back and forth.
"Ah…so so. I getcha." Prez nodded slowly. "How about we blow off some steam up here?"
He paused, then chuckled. "Bomber up high, right?"
"Yeeeeeep." She chuckles. "Some escorts too."
Trigger pulled back on the stick as he smiled more. They climbed as he increased their speed.
"We're getting closer…" Prez armed the aam's once more. "Looks like three escorts in total. I'd say four though, just to be sure. Could be one hiding in the clouds."
"Copy, thank you." Trigger's smile held. He made a good pick to bring Prez along. His luck was looking a little better with her around. Just as his thoughts wandered, targets showed up on his HUD. Two Mig-29's, one SU-33, and a Tu-160. They were in a standard formation, escorts up front, bomber in the rear.
Trigger maxed out the throttle. Smiling as he did. "First volley is all yours Prez."
Prez chuckled. "You sure? I may steal all your kills, I've got three right now, compared to your one."
"We'll see about that." Trigger got the standard missiles ready. Waiting for his moment to strike.
The moment they came into range, Prez pulled the trigger. Four aam's dropped out of the bay, then rushed for their targets.
The escorts all popped chaff and flares, sending all four missiles wide off their targets. They spread out to try and surround the X-02. But Trigger just flew right past them.
"Hang on!" He yelled back to Prez.
"What?"
Trigger smiled, He hadn't be able to do this for a while, but this plane could take it. He opened the flaps to full, reducing their speed quickly. Then he pulled back on the stick. The sudden drop in speed caused the variable wings to extend, then they stalled out for second, just a bit behind the bomber. Trigger laughed as he finished the post stall maneuver by punching the throttle, pulling back on the stick more. They flipped back and Trigger opened fire with the machine gun. Ripping the bomber to pieces. "That's two." He watched as the bomber went down, Brownie's radio crackled into life again.
"This is Noli One, we're going down…bailing out." There was a pause with labored breathing. "Wait….a Wyvern…with…Three…lines?"
Trigger increased their speed and got on the tail of one of the Mig-29 escorts as the variable wings folded back in. Firing two missiles at close range, then rolling into a climb.
"Spare fifteen splashed a bandit." Bandog cut into the coms.
Trigger held up his hand with three fingers showing to Prez. "Tied."
Prez laughed. "Ohhhh I see how it is!" She readied herself for the next chance.
He pushed on the stick and pulled them into a dive, the remaining escorts were confused and shaken. The X-02, was right on top of them.
Prez fired first, tapping twice, two aam's dropped out of the weapons bay, right for the last two escorts. The Mig-29 went up in flames as the aam struck its thrusters. The Su-33 popped chaff and flares, and banked left.
Trigger was right on them, using superior mobility and speed to get right on the tail of the Su-33. One missile away, and a burst of machine gun fire, the Erusean jet was in flames, plummeting towards the ground.
He held up his hand again, four fingers splayed out. "Still tied."
"At least he's decent at what he's known for." Champ cut in on the radio.
"I wouldn't go that far, targets that slow aren't a challenge. Don't let it go to your head murderer." Count replied, smug as ever.
Prez just groaned. "Oh my god…Count the moment we are back on the ground I'm going to kick your ass so hard you'll be tasting dirt for the next week!"
"Woah woah! Didn't mean it that way, jeez."
"Oh! Really what way was it meant to be?"
Coms were silent.
"Thats what I thought Count." Prez closed the coms and huffed. "Stuck up ass. Most of these fuckers grind my gears."
"Multiple bandits inbound. They got bombers and support." Bandog marked the bombers on their radar. Trigger saw they were broken into four groups. He noted the location of the most northern group, with two bombers. Banked, and started climbing to match altitude.
"All aircraft, follow me! That means you too murderer." Count took on a more, demanding tone now.
"Jeez, now he thinks he's squadron leader!" Tabloid jeered at Count's attempt to take control.
"Shove it Count! We'll do our own thing here thank you." Prez stuck out her tongue in Count's general direction, even if he was a klick west of them.
Trigger gave a chuckle. "Four to Four, still tied." He checked on his weapons, he still had plenty of missiles and ammo. "One away from Ace."
"Hmm, That'll change after this next group. I'm catching onto your tricks Trigger." She huffed. "You could have told me you know how to post stall you know?" She froze for a second then groaned. "Right…silent type. Let me guess, you're not one to brag."
A slow nod was his only response.
"Oh of course. I'm just going to have to figure out things on my own." She huffed, arming aam's again. "We're coming up on that next group."
The Squad radio crackled again, "Trigger don't get shot down now! I got good money riding on your survival." High Roller laughed. "Some guys have got big money on you going down, so watch your back."
"Spare Seven, Shut up."
Trigger froze for a second, this was news to him! The other inmates were betting on what?
Prez paled slightly. "I'm sorry WHAT?!" She pushed her mic closer to her mask. "EXCUSE ME!? You're betting on our survival! What the fuck!?"
High Roller just kept on laughing. "Oh! Don't be so harsh about it Prez! You too Trigger." He makes an annoyed grunt. "Hang on…This guy is on my tail. Look, it's tradition around here, even Bandog is in on it!"
"Spare Seven I believe I told you to Shut. Up." Bandog almost growled out the words.
"Yeah, Yeah, whatever." High Roller cut off his coms again.
Trigger just shook his head, readying himself and getting back in focus, he then realized that he had past under the bombers, he groaned and flipped the X-02 around, then rolled to right themselves again. "Motherfucker…" He punched the throttle, quickly catching up with the enemy bomber group.
"This is a pretty nice ride. It's been serviced pretty good." Tabloid sounded actually impressed, even whistling a bit.
"I mean I gotta say, even I'm impressed. I'm used to some pretty top of the line planes too." Prez cut in as she armed aam's and fired, two missiles rushed towards their targets. A bomber and an escort. Both burst into flames. "Hell yeah! Two more! Looks like I made ace today!"
"Can't believe these things used to be scrap. Just what kind of magic does she have up her sleeves anyway?"
Trigger cut into the coms this time. "These planes we're all flying were scrap?"
"Mhmmm, barely held together frames. Shells of their former selves, but our resident mechanic got them all up and running." Tabloid's voice was full of impressed pride.
"I don't know what her problem is, acting like she's royalty or something." High Roller sounded honestly confused.
Trigger got into range and fired two missiles at the remaining bomber. The first struck near the bomb bay, ripping it open.
"Ha ha! Thats because she's the Scrap Queen!" Count cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Trigger's second missile blew off one of the bomber's wings from the already weakened fuselage, it started spinning as it plummeted to the ground.
Prez smiled as she saw her chance to pick off the remaining escorts.
"Queen! More like a bad tempered tomboy! Like Prez!"
"Hey! I'm right here you ass! I've kicked your ass before, and I'll do it again Champ!" Prez angrily yelled into her mic. Distracted for a moment.
Trigger used that moment to get behind the left most escort, then rip it to shreds with the machine gun.
"I'd like to see you try tomboy!" Champ was livid.
"As I said, already did asshole! How about another bruise on your dumb face!" Prez laughed.
Trigger rolled the X-02, getting behind another escort, the Su-33 broke right, Trigger followed, waiting for a lock, hitting a high G turn.
"Ahhhhhhhh Trigger! What the hell!" Prez braced herself, not at all prepared for the high G turn.
Trigger got his lock, and released two missiles. He was right on the Su-33's tail, so they had no chance to evade. The Erusean fighter burst into flames, plummeting to the ground.
"Tied again." His voice dripping with confidence. "Now we've both made ace status today."
Prez sat there, a little shocked. "Have you always been this smug?"
"Only in the air." He chuckles. "Also you're fun to talk to."
Prez just sighed. "Okay okay, I get it. You're showing off to me aren't you?"
"No."
"Really? All the spins, loops, and the post stall weren't showing off."
"No." He paused as he checked his radar. The other members of Spare Squadron were swarming the other bombers. However, One enemy group had slipped by and was already dropping their payload. "It's just how I fly." He brought the X-02 into a low dive, dropping in altitude to get below the clouds and find the bombers.
"Two bombers remaining, the targets are still active, keep up the attack!" Bandog gruffly yelled over the coms. Bombs landed near the actual base again.
"What the hell are you doing? Are you tryi-" The base commander's coms were cut suddenly.
Trigger squinted to see if the base was actually hit.
"Wilco. Commander McKinsey, Please maintain silence for the moment." Bandog suddenly cut off the coms.
Prez laughed. "Where the hell does an AWAC's get off telling a base commander to shut up! Oh this is hilarious!"
Trigger was just shocked. He wondered what kind of power Bandog had to be able to do that, that or everything was a mess in the chain of command here.
"Trigger got most of them." Tabloid chuckled.
"That was dumb luck Tabloid!" Count cut in angrily as Tabloid laughed.
"Spare 15 don't take all the fun away from your comrades!" Bandog cut into the coms once more, causing Tabloid to start laughing even harder. He quickly turned off his coms. "Last two bombers are still active Spare Squadron, engage. You take them out and the escorts have no reason to be here."
"First come, First served!" Count yelled out, Trigger saw count bank and start heading for the two bombers that slipped by.
Trigger hit the throttle to max as they headed for the last group.
"Why in the world would someone make a squadron of convicts? Gotta be some kind of reason?" Tabloid popped up again on the coms still giggling a little, "Anyone got any ideas?"
"Cheap, expendable pilots maybe? Just need to worry about planes, and even then with the amount of scrap here anything can be fixed easily." Prez surprised many of the cons with her answer, even if it was a little dark. "Don't really know how well it will work in the long run though."
"The paper-mâché strategy at the base seems to be doing the trick." Tabloid cut in with his own counter.
"Eh…possibly, but it'll only last so long. There will come a point when Erusea will figure out the base is a trick and not actually that important. Either that or they will come to a point where they feel they've done enough damage."
"You make a good point Prez. Guess every man and his dog has an idea about how to win the war." He chuckles. "I'd love to discuss this more, but…I feel Bandog is going to come after us."
"Probably best, Trigger and I are almost on those last two bombers."
"What the hell! Come on!" Count sounded frustrated. Determined to prove himself as the top dog still.
Trigger just grinned, the two bombers only had one escort, it banked right to intercept them. But the X-02 was already on the bombers.
The rear bomber's tail gun opened fire, tracers flew by Trigger's head. He rolled right, then left, and as the missile lock rang in his ear, fired a missile.
"Oh no you don't!" Prez grinned. Slamming the trigger. An aam went flying for the other bomber.
Trigger chuckled as both bombers were gutted, their bomb bays detonating. He noticed that the escort had gotten behind them, an Su-33 by the looks of it. The missile alert went off, and Trigger rolled, then banked left, hard.
"Ahhhhhh Damn it!" Prez was working hard, using the ECM suite in the X-02 to it's fullest, she jammed the missile and the Erusean pilot's radar making it harder for the Su-33 to target them. "We gotta get behind him!"
Trigger nodded, but this Su-33 was good. Trigger rolled into a dive, dodging another missile. With the Erusean fighter still on their tail.
"Ah! Damn it!" The missile alert wined in Prez's ears. She popped flares. "Trigger they're right on us!"
Trigger nodded, then pulled back on the stick, turning the dive into a climb, maxing out the throttle. "Still on us?"
Machine gun tracers flew over their canopy. "YES! FUCK!" Prez popped flares again. "Falling behind because we have the better speed though!"
"Good."
"What do you mean good!"
Trigger simply chuckled. "Ready?"
"What?! NO! NOOOO! Trigger! You better fucking not be doing what I think!"
He just laughed. "Probably am." Then, he cut the engines, the X-02 stalled, Trigger slammed the stick left, turning them down into a roll, sending them plummeting at the Su-33. He kicked the throttle in, G forces hitting hard.
Prez screeched in frustration. "YOU ASS!"
As they tore towards the Su-33, he took a deep breath. Waiting to launch a missile. A simple midair joust, the Su-33 climbing to reach them, and their X-02 diving down.
His targeting HUD beeped, confirming a lock on, he pulled the trigger. "Missile away."
Prez gasped, firing an aam. "Oh no you don't! He's mine!"
Trigger's missile kept the lead for a bit, but Prez's aam caught up quickly. The two missile sped towards their target, side by side, Prez's missile almost getting just a bit ahead by every millisecond.
The Su-33 opened fire with it's machine guns, tracers went flying by the X-02. Trigger rolled the plane and fired back, his own shots going wide.
Prez's aam finally got ahead, but Trigger's missile picked up in speed the closer it got.
"Come on, come on!" Prez grit her teeth, this was going to be close.
Trigger squeezed off another burst of machine gun fire, then rolled again, angling the nose left. Just as he did. Both missiles connected. Each missile went into one of the Su-33's two intakes. ripping the fuselage apart. The Su-33 froze in midair for just a second. Then flipped, falling towards the ground. Trigger pulled back on the stick, so they evened out right at three thousand on the altimeter.
"All Targets confirmed eliminated." Bandog took over the coms once more.
"Hell yeah! Still alive Harling's murderer? Then dinner's on me tonight!" High Roller just sounded pleased.
Trigger sighed, wondering how much money had been bet on him. He assumed it was a lot…who wouldn't?
"Cut the chatter Spare Squadron, mission complete. RTB."
Prez scoffed. "Return to base my ass." She chuckles as her voice takes on a deeper sarcastic tone. "Oh look! We're already here!"
Trigger laughed as well.
"Trigger's still with us, must have the devil in his corner." Trigger frowned at that, if everyone stopped calling him murderer and saying he was the devil, it would do wonders for his mental state. "Spare 7? What happens if the one you've bet on dies while landing?"
"Eh?" Trigger squinted his eyes in confusion, just staring forward
"Then you win. So what? You're not done?" High Roller sounded a little worried.
"Just checking." Bandog closed the coms.
"What the fuck!" Prez growled and punched the side of her seat. "Dies while landing! What kinda bullshit is that?!"
Looking back at her, Trigger just shrugged, he lifted one hand up, flashing five fingers, closing to a fist, then two.
"Yeah…same." She chuckled. "Looks like it's a tie today Trigger. I'll get you next time, you hear?"
He nodded in response, happy to have someone who felt the same way as he did here. At least he didn't have to get all the questions of, 'what are you in for' But, then again, the base commander outed him pretty damn fast. He sighed sightly, and just took time to fly around, they were calling the squadron to the runway by squad callsign, so he and Prez were going be last.
Taking a deep breath, he forced the adrenaline coursing through him to calm. It had been a while since he had done a joust like that. His instructor loved doing that. Told them that when a dogfight got to that point, it was always a meaningful battle. He could see a few parachutes on the ground. He knew there was no way the Eruseans would be getting away though, between the guard dogs, the guards, and the fact that the base was surrounded by mountains on one side, and the sea on the other. They would have to hide out in the dummy runway, or just wait for the guards to come pick them up. Trigger found it kinda funny, but sad. Any Erusean who was shot down would have learned today that this entire place was a trick.
Though…wasn't he in the same place? He was trapped here as the results of a trick, a foul play. He knew his missile didn't hit Mother Goose One. He didn't shoot down Harling. Then again. Where could have the missile come from. The only one close to him was…Clown? Right? Wait..wasn't there an F-
"Spare Fifteen? Do you read?"
Trigger jolted. How much time had passed? "Copy."
"Spare Fifteen, this is the control tower. Make your landing check."
"Roger that."
"We don't want a wreck blocking the runway."
Trigger glared at the tower, now regretting his worry from earlier. The ATC was a jerk.
"Spare Fifteen, you have permission to land. Wind conditions are calm."
He really wished he could give the ATC a piece of his mind. But, he was a prisoner here. Probably wouldn't be the best idea.
As he lined up with the runway and brought down their speed, and he deployed the landing gear. The ATC kept butting in on the coms, telling him to do this, do that. He knew what he was doing though, if he crashed, then oh well, too bad. But, instead, he brought the plane in for a nice, comfortable landing.
"Right, standby for your next sortie." The ATC finally closed the channel with an annoyed huff.
Only for Bandog to cut in. "I lost a lot of money for that Trigger! Don't forget."
Trigger just rolled his eyes. Wondering why Bandog was blaming him for making a bad bet.
Prez let out a sigh of relief. "Okay…that was fun. But Damn Trigger, where the hell did you learn to fly like that?"
"IUN Flight Combat School. Run by an old Merc."
"Really?" Prez's eyes lit up as she took off her helmet. "Well then, that explains a lot."
"Mhmm." Trigger brought them back to the hangers and started bringing the X-02 into a shutdown status, making sure to turn off Brownie's old radio too. It was in a place no one would find it. So he wasn't to worried. Plus, if he got some time and supplies, he could do some painting. Had to get his icon on the tail anyways. It wouldn't be his plane if it didn't have his orange wolf with the revolver. When they came to a stop High Roller was exchanging and handing over items and money with the other prisoners.
Prez opened the canopy and hopped out onto the tarmac with practiced ease. "Hey! Where's my stuff High Roller!"
Trigger just watched for a bit as Prez pushed her way through the crowd.
"Stuff! What stuff?"
"My winnings you ass! I bet Trigger and I would get the first kill. Bet some instant coffee." She unzipped one of her pouches on the shoulder of her flight suit and pulled out two packets of instant coffee. "I believe I have some earnings to collect."
High Roller paled. "Oh…Right…well you see. Coffee doesn't really have an exact value…"
Prez's smile turned into a wicked glare.
Trigger just chuckled, causing everyone to turn and look at him. "Are you sure?"
Prez got a twinkle in her eye. "Yeah…are you sure about that High Roller? I think any asshat on this base knows the value of a good, warm, refreshing cup of coffee. And this ain't the cheap stuff. This is high quality coffee, almost as good as a french press. This stuff, is priceless."
The tarmac went dead silent. The fact that Prez had instant coffee was already a big enough bet for the other inmates, but for that amount of quality? Well, Prez might as well have bet a sold gold bar.
"Well, you might as well give her what she earned bud." Tabloid was the one who broke the silence.
High Roller just groaned. "Alright, Alright." He reached into his breast pocket. And pulled out a bundle of twenty dollar bills. "Here. It's yours fair and square."
Prez's eyes lit up and she quickly snatched the money, then ran off, back to the X-02. Trigger was walking around it, checking for any damages. He noticed one of the wings got a little nicked by a machine gun round, but that was it honestly.
"Trigger! I got us some cash!" She took two of the twenties and stuffed them into his breast pocket on his flight suit. "Here, your cut of the loot." She smiled and punched him in the arm. "If this keeps up I'll be making bank. I'm glad you picked me."
He smiled back, and held up a fist, nodding to it.
She nodded and gave him the fistbump he wanted. "So…now what?"
Answering with a shrug, he sighed. They'd probably take them back to their cells, but right now, everyone was too busy chatting, exchanging stories, bet winnings, and a few smokes. Until, the door to the inside of the base slammed open.
The Base commander strode onto the tarmac with a look of superiority. "Did I say you could take down the enemy? Throw anyone who disobeyed into solitary. That should give you time to think about listening to orders next time!"
Everyone froze.
And slowly turned towards the base commander.
He motioned for the Guards to get to work, turned, and left.
Trigger sighed and facepalmed, dragging his hand down his face.
"What the FUCK?!" Prez yelled out.
That…was the best way to put it as everything out on the tarmac devolved into chaos.