Nicole shrugged, flight helmet in her hand as she turned to face Burn as they walked towards the ready room. "Oh, c'mon," a confident smirk streaking across her face. "You know the definition of insanity, right?"

"Ugh." Scott grit his teeth. "You wouldn't win without that damn AoA module-"

"Bet?" She raised an eyebrow. "How much. How much are you willing to put up?"

"No more coffee for me. And I don't rat you out, Fed."

"Deal." She winked, a broad, mischievous smile as she thought about Scott-free mornings, with more coffee for her. "I think I'll like that very much."

Jackal stood at the doorway, gesturing with a thumb towards the hall. "Briefing room. We got sortie orders."

"Spook, the rest of the aggressor fights for today are cancelled." The Major hit the lights in the back of the briefing room. "You're off the hook for now. Kinda."

"Gotcha, ma'am. DACT was starting to get repetitive." Nicole took her seat, drumming her kneeboard with a pencil.

"Well," Lieutenant Colonel Camarda took the podium. "You're going from repetitive to boring, Lieutenant."

Lovely. She sighed.

"Alright, Polaris Squadron, this is a pretty simple assignment, so we're sending you up alone." He clicked the button on the briefing computer's remote, and the MacAllan Information Software logo flashed onto the screen projected behind him, the overwhelmingly blue user interface of TacScape v.1.3.1 booting up in the background. "Our offensives against the Federation further down in the mainland have been having a serious effect, as we've come to find out in the last few days." Camarda gave the pilots a confident smile. "This is not the losing war we thought it was."

The squad had a certain sense of… lightness, to them, the tactical overlay of the war on the screen validating the misery they had faced. There was a point to it, after all.

"A group of Federation transports has been picked up on our base's early warning radar, vectoring hot on us. They're probably headed to link up with Magadanian fighters on CAP, because it looks like their escorts either broke off, got picked off, or didn't exist. Easy-peasy. I'm putting their flight path up on the map," The self-assured base commander pointed to the projected screen, and the rest of the squadron groaned.

"Seriously?" The Major glared at the screen. "Oh, c'mon!" Jackal sighed.

The Lieutenant Colonel raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter, don't like easy targets?"

"No," The Major said, nodding her head towards the briefing screen, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, son of a…" JC dropped the remote control. "You've gotta be kidding me."

DRM LOCKOUT- the screen said. TACSCAPE™ LICENSE REVOKED.

"Anyone got any idea how to fix this?" Camarda raised an eyebrow.

"I'm looking it up, sir," Dagger said, looking down at her phone. "Uhhh… sir, news says the Feds made them revoke all our licenses. Said we're a 'terrorist organization.'"

JC let out a defeated sigh. "Whatever," he said. "We don't need that piece of junk anyways!" He forced a smile. "We don't need that. We don't need briefing software!"

"Well, hey. It's just a simple transport intercept. Flight of… about twenty-five C/T-17s. Hit 'em before they get to their guys. They're trying to use the storm that's going on over the Strait for cover. Probably loaded to the brim with fleeing Fed troops, getting ready to regroup and hit us hard later." He shrugged. "Whatever's on 'em doesn't matter. Command said to engage any outbound Federation transports. So… this is a pretty simple mission. Good hunting, Polaris."

IRIS climbed the ladder of her F/E-18. Looks like I just can't get outta the skies today, huh? The fuel crews had topped it up, and the wing racks were loaded for bear, twelve MLAA missiles hanging from the wing stations. Well, let's get you out there. Her radio crackled as she called to the tower. "Tower, Polaris 6. Requesting permission to taxi."

"Rog, Polaris 6. Taxi to runway 320A. Good hunting."

As the squadron went airborne, there wasn't much idle talk, for once. Bluejay did what he could to try and change that, but it seemed like everyone was in too good a mood.

"So my folks, right, they were real huntin' nuts, right? Taught me how to hunt, back when I was a kid." The crinkle of an unwrapping granola bar came in strong over Bluejay's radio. "Fuck, got some granola crumbs in my ECM console. Almost fried your radars for a second there." He continued his story. "Well anyway, my parents were real tight with the Vice President, right, back when I was ten. And he was a big-game hunter, and my parents were big-name donors."

"Uh-huh. Lovely, Bluejay." BASH nodded dismissively, the team's bored mother listening to her talkative, annoying child. "Lovely."

"So he took us on one of his hunting trips, right?"

The squadron rolled their eyes. Lovely. Another storytime.

"...So I was standing there, and the Secret Service guys tackled me, a fuckin' ten-year-old, because I accidentally shot the VP in the fuckin' face. And he lived! Then he sued the shit outta us. What a dick."

"...Bluejay, what? No you didn't. I don't think you've ever told us a true story." Jackal groaned over the radio. "Just… you don't have to run your mouth constantly, you know."

"No, no, I'm not kiddin', man, Scout's honor!" Bluejay snapped off a sloppy, mock salute.

"Bluejay," IRIS raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you tell me a story last week about getting kicked out of Scouts?"

"Uh… yes. I never said it was a particularly good Scout's honor." He shrugged. "Look, you can look it up. It was all over the news. But not right now, because, y'know… no texting and flying."

"Wait, Bluejay, you say that like we brought our phones." Dagger seemed thoroughly confused.

"You don't?" The distinctive sound of a mobile match-3 puzzle game filled Bluejay's mic.

"Wait, are you seriously playing Sugar Swipe Adventures in a fucking AWACS? And isn't that game's target audience like… my grandma?" Zip sighed.

"Well, all your burning questions and more will be answered once y'all do your jobs," the AWACS operator's tone suddenly switched to become more professional. "We're here. Weapons hot, Polaris. Good hunting."

IRIS sighed, thumbing the selector switch to MLAAs and flipping the Master Arm switch. Well, this is gonna be boring.