First Sortie

Airspace above Cape Aubrey

27th September 2020

1400hrs

Speed. It is life, they say. Certain someones might even tell you they feel a need for speed.

They are not wrong.

If you could summarize my life in one word, it would be 'speed'. First to the finish line, fastest to the punch, whatever the cost. Yeah, that cost has occasionally been heavy, but what the hey, I've made it this far in life.

I am Lieutenant Marisa 'Mako' Paez, newest member of the Aurelian Air Force 6th Air Wing, 207th Fighter Squadron 'Gryphus', and this is my story.

It was a hot and gusty day. The six of us raced across the Aurelian pampas at four hundred knots indicated airspeed, just hundreds of feet above the ground. Thrilling, and yet one wrong move would instantly turn us and our fifty million Osean zollar fighter planes into tortillas.

The inoffensive voice of our radio operator brought me back from my reverie.

"Crux to Gryphus Squadron, do you have a visual on the enemy bombers?"

I trained my eyes skyward, hunting for the telltale sign of aircraft presence: contrails.

My squadron leader called it just before I did.

"Gryphus One to Crux, tally on two pop up groups, directly to our twelve at angels five. Looks like B-52s and their escorts."

Stratofortresses. They were certainly bent on bombing our base into the stone age, yet something felt off.

Not ten days ago, my country- the Federal Republic of Aurelia, came under attack from the Democratic Republic of Leasath, our northeastern neighbor. In spite of their overwhelming numbers, we held our ground, and even shot down a massive airborne cruiser called the Gandr. Yet, a mysterious weapon utterly obliterated our defense force, practically allowing the invaders to stroll into our capital and capturing 90% of our sovereign territory in just ten days. Rumor had it this new weapon was able to turn invisible at will, but that's what they were, just rumors. Whatever it was, it almost certainly wasn't being carried by conventional bombers like these.

The thought hung heavy on my mind as we closed on the enemy formation low and from the rear. To aid in our ambush, we hugged the mountains encircling our base, our fire control radars turned off in order to avoid passive radar detection, while continuing to receive target information via our own ground radars. Datalink populated my threat analysis display with red triangles- triangles that needed to die and to die quickly, or they would turn what remained of our military strength into a trash fire.

"Waypoint Charlie reached. All planes, zoom climb to angels six and wait for my cue to fire."

Cheered on by the rest of the squadron whooping in my ear, I pulled my flight stick back and pushed up on the throttle. My F/A-24 Apalis rocketed upwards with all the gusto of a thoroughbred, its twin engines propelling me to transonic speeds. Within seconds, we had reached the target altitude, thirty miles behind them.

"They still haven't detected us?" Gryphus Five queried suspiciously.

"Must have been expecting us to intercept them from the front so they're all scanning ahead." Gryphus Four replied. "We're coming up on them just like we planned."

"You can let the escorts go. Just focus on taking out all bombers." Crux added.

"We'll show 'em what we got! We're Aurelian pilots after all, isn't that right, Captain?"

"Excuse me, Gryphus Two, please use proper callsigns during the mission."

Ignoring Gryphus Two- 'Rick's' grumbling about the new radio operator being bookish, I armed the master arm, selecting the six AMRAAMs hanging from my plane's belly and wings. These would be slaved to my radar guidance, meaning they would continue to receive targeting data from my radar until the very last stage of interception. At that point, they would switch to their own radar to make the kill- we fighter jocks call this 'pitbull'.

Distance to target, twenty three miles and closing.

Our quarry remained blissfully unaware of their imminent doom. Once we painted them with our radars, there would be no escape.

Twenty miles.

We activated our fire control radars in near perfect synchronization. The poor bastards had indeed been expecting a full frontal assault, and now they were going to pay for it.

"Gryphus Six, Fox three on the lead bomber."

"Gryphus Two, Fox three, left escort."

"Gryphus One, Fox three on the trailing bomber."

Our missiles peeled away, and we watched in morbid ecstasy as the Leasathian bomber force duck and dove, dumping panic flares and chaff. All in vain. All six missiles in our salvo hit home, and gravity finished the job. Not a single parachute was to be seen.

"Yahoo! Score one for Cowboy Roy! Got any kills yet, Two? Six?"

"You moron!" I laughed, "Your missile hit the bomber I killed."

Gryphus Three's cussing was golden.

"Gentlemen, stay frosty. Looks like they know we're here." Gryphus One interrupted, deadpan as ever.

Up ahead, the remaining four escorts peel off from their charges, initiating the counterattack. F-20 Tigersharks, I noted. The backbone of Leasathian air power, their long ferry range and surprisingly nasty dogfighting ability made up somewhat for their limited payload.

I lit up the rightmost escort and turned another AMRAAM loose, about the same moment he turned his own radar on me. Instinctively, I dove away, hoping to drag any missiles down into the denser air where they would have problems chasing me.

"Gryphus Six watch it, that bandit's got a missile out on you!"

I sucked my stomach in, willing my Apalis to quickly place the missile at my nine o' clock- we lived and we died by the notch. Fortunately, my own AMRAAM was giving the bandit problems. In an effort to notch my missile, he too had gone completely on the defensive, losing his lock on me. Both our missiles went stupid.

"Thanks for the callout, Four. Six is pressing."

I closed in on the now completely hapless Tigershark driver. Time to switch things up a little.

"Gryphus Six, Fox Two."

An AIM-9X Block II, the most advanced heat-seeking missile this side of the Equator, lurched off my rightmost wingtip. The deliciously exposed rear of the Tigershark was way too easy a target.

"Gryphus Six, splash a second one. I'm moving on to the bombers, someone cover me."

"I've got you, Six. All other planes, keep those escorts off us."

The measured yet reassuring command of my flight lead was music to my ears.

No sooner had he said that when something exploded in the distance, from the port city of Cape Aubrey that lay twenty miles from our base.

"H-hold on a second," Rick grimaced "The city is being bombed!"

"Unbelievable…there are no military facilities in that city!" Crux added.

"Cowards!" I hissed, as we slung the rest of our missiles at the fleeing bombers. Whether they were doing it just to get away or to spite us, I swore at that moment to tear them limb from limb until they ran home. In a deep recess of my mind, I silently prayed for my family's safety, and those that were down there. So much for being agnostic.

"Yahoo!" Gryphus Three whooped. "That's all of them! Didn't even break a sweat."

"Roy," I said. "They bombed the city."

"Oh. Well, shit."

For several moments, nobody dared utter another word. Or perhaps we were spending it in silence for the victims of the impromptu carpet bombing.

"Gryphus One to Crux, all bombers are down. Confirm picture is clean?"

"Crux to Gryphus One, no more hostiles on radar. You're cleared to return home."

"Heh, sounds like they got scared and ran away." Rick snickered "Gryphus One, what say we head to the capital and take it back right now?"

"Wait, I've got a new reading on radar."

Crux's interjection sent a sudden chill up my spine.

"Bearing and distance?"

"170 from the reference point, forty miles and closing fast…it's a missile!"

Just one missile? That was not good.

"What? Where is it? Answer me now! Eugene!"

"The Puna Plains! The missile is coming from the Puna Plains! The Gleipnir?!"

"That better not be what I think it is…" Roy mused.

"Distance twenty miles! Energy readings are spiking…it's an SWBM! Get out of there now!

Shit.

I craned my neck skyward, and what I saw next turned my teeth to ice. A single smoke plume roughly fifty thousand feet up, and descending rapidly.

"Gryphus Squadron! Jink right! Now!"

"It's no use, we're too late!"

What happened next will be seared into the back of my mind for as long as I live.

Blue and white flashed across my visor, blinding me for several moments.

The shockwave threw me into my own dashboard.

I squeaked as I thought I felt something crack underneath me.

Klaxons of all kinds went off in the cockpit.

"Left engine integrity compromised. Left rudder compromised. Hull integrity, sixty per cent. Initiating self-repair procedures."

In my panic, I ignored the words of Bitching Betty.

"Nngh…this is Gryphus Six. Does anyone read me?!"

Static.

"I repeat; this is Gryphus Six, does anyone read me!"

More static. Tears welled up behind my eyes.

"This is Gryphus Six, mayday, mayday, mayday! I need a runway STAT, does anyone copy!"

Movement.

I lifted my helmet visor, blinked my tears away and glanced over to my two o' clock.

Grinning back at me like some kind of fucked up guardian angel was a condor holding the southern cross constellation in its beak. All of our planes had that condor visage, but only one bore the sign of the cross.

"Gryphus One! Sir!" I yelped.

Still no response.

Sensing my troubles, he pulled his aircraft level and directly alongside me, making all sorts of shapes with his hands and wagging his wings.

I took several deep breaths, and reassessed my situation. Still alive, of course, but my ribs hurt pretty bad. Turning my attention to my craft, I found my plane veering off course. Due to the offset position of my engines, the now stronger right engine was pushing me left.

Then there were the radio problems.

Oh. I guess I had knocked the setting for the radio to 'Transmit only'.

"Gryphus One, help!

"I'm here, Six. Your left stabilizer and left engine are pretty banged up, do you know what to do?"

Yes. Yes I did know. I can do this.

Setting my aircraft level, I trimmed up my remaining rudder, and slowly reduced the power to my right engine while applying gradual pressure to the right yaw pedal. That seemed to do the trick, mostly.

"You got it, keep it steady now. Gryphus One to tower, requesting emergency landing for two fighters, we've got one aircraft stricken, how copy?"

"This is Crux! Thank heavens you're both alive! Granted, you're cleared to land on runway one five."

"Thanks, Crux. Gryphus Six, you land first, I'll hold the pattern."

"Sir, thank you, but… but your fuel?"

"Just land first, and watch your glide slope. Is your gear working?"

A single button press answered my silent prayers.

"That's great, Gryphus Six. Let's go home."