The song for Chapter Two will be Track 74, "Red Radical Rage", from the Yakuza 0 OST, starting when Sagittarius flight fires the first missiles.

"I am born of a time before men when the world was raw.

The wisdom of rocks and fire and earth and blood is in my veins.

For now I live in a world of mists beyond the reach of mortal man

but the time shall come when I shall rise again."

- Unknown

/LOGGING IN…/

/CREDENTIALS VERIFIED.../

/LOADING DATA.../

/OPERATION HARVESTER LOADED./

/BEGIN BRIEFING?/

The flight line wasn't far enough away that I missed the massive E-3C Sentry rolling across the taxiway towards runway 21, preparing to head out to sea and into its orbit. Its rotodome was static, and with the aircraft sitting on its gear, the radar wouldn't be allowed to activate, otherwise they'd make sure none of the ground crews had kids whether they wanted to or not.

The HQ building was close, not because they wanted to be, but because Merrin was too damn compact for anything else. Dormitories, facilities, storage, all of it was surrounded by North Point City, with practice ranges to the north and north-east, but it took maybe fifteen minutes, tops, to travel across North Point before you found the sea again from tip to tip. It wasn't a very big country.

But it didn't need to be when the UTO had been more than happy to bring them into the fold. More trade was better. ISAF, on the other hand, had no need for trade, but it did have need for bases and supplies. As a member nation, North Point had been obligated by treaties and alliances to come to their aid. Even if they hadn't been, they knew that Erusea would absolutely steam roll them otherwise, and they didn't want that happening.

"Captain Miles?"

I looked away from the window right as Kingmaker started to turn onto the active runway. "Sir."

Brigadier General Kenneth Holloway had his dark eyes squarely on me, and behind him, the briefing had come online, showing satellite image feeds of our target. "The briefing is starting."

"Sir." I said it again, as if to acknowledge, turning away from the window completely and settling back in my chair. I felt a boot tap against my own, and waited until Holloway looked back to the briefing before I turned to look at Alex, on my right.

She didn't say anything, but the raised eyebrow said a question that she wasn't voicing herself. I shook my head in an unspoken answer. There was nothing wrong. I guess I was just distracted, wanting to go back up. I would probably get back up faster if I didn't daydream during briefings.

We needed to focus. Holloway was already starting, the map of the immediate vicinity opening up and showing the southwest side of North Point, where Merrin and North Point City were, the sea, and the eastern side of Usea. On it, I could see locations marked out around our target area, like Aquitaine in the north, and Oxford in the south. The real point of interest, however, was Rigley Air Base.

One of the last defensive garrisons we'd had, Rigley had been a base for fighters operating in the east of Usea, and had been lost a week and a half before Khentani. Built up a few miles east of the city of Jina, it had also been a training base, with the capability of operating up to two reserve squadrons at once. Nothing too impressive, but it was easy to guess why it had been put on this map as a target.

"After the intercept of Erusean bomber forces yesterday, we've put all hands on deck to ready aircraft that were unable to sortie for the intercept. Intel leads us to believe that the Bear flight was based out of Rigley, and we assume that they're going to try again with a much larger force of more modern bombers next time. HQ is of the mind that we won't be able to fight them off should there be a next time." He gestured at Rigley on the map, putting his finger against the screen that the projector was illuminating, right on top of the air base. "So, we're going to make sure there won't be a next time."

I studied the map, keen eyes taking in all the details. It didn't take a genius to put the puzzle pieces together. It was the closest base large enough to sustain strategic bombers, and a prime jump off point to come and carpet bomb us all back into the stone age.

Holloway went on. "Allied ground forces are still in the area, but the closest force is fifty miles out and hidden in the town of Kara, and if they try to move, they'll be interdicted. Without allied air power, they'll be destroyed by whatever fighters may have already set out for Rigley and rebased there in preparation for their next strike." Pressing a button on a small hand-held remote, the slide advanced to the next page in the briefing.

"Intel has several large bombers that were already on the way from Los Canas, a second part to their first assault. The Bear force was likely a softening blow, expendable, but if it worked, easy to take us out of action before they brought in the heavy hitters. Expected arrival time is today, between 1200 and 1300 hours, with an hour long traffic pattern to get the force of 15 and their escorts down."

Another slide came into view, showing the mission plan and the components taking place in it. A large swatch of thick arrows was drawn on, leading out of Merrin and towards Rigley at an offset. We would be heading further south than west, and then, heading directly west to Rigley on the final stretch. Next to me, I heard scribbling. Looking over, I saw Alex had a kneeboard out that we had checked out before the briefing, writing notes on it for reference in the air. Comms frequencies, brevity words, waypoint data, and altitude and speed levels were all detailed, and I started to take my own notes down. Time on target in a strike like this wasn't exactly important, given Rigley was still supposed to be only partially operational after we sabotaged it.

I jotted the waypoints down with names on them, making a note of one of the waypoints, directly on top of the power station to Rigley's east. Rigley had its own power generation systems, but they had been taken offline prior to our departure. It still had the ability to rely on civilian substations nearby, like our secondary target. We would be hitting that, but it would be putting a hurt on the civilians in the area.

That was, unfortunately, the cost of war. It was never just about soldiers or nations. Those who seemed to suffer the most when a war was on their doorstep were the people caught up in the middle.

Holloway waited until everybody was looking at him again fully before he went on to the next slide. "Finally, objectives. Primary objective, destroy the bomber force and any ground based defenses to allow nearby allied forces the chance to move in under cover of darkness tonight and take the base proper. Secondary objective, crater the runway, prevent any other forces from operating out of it until the engineer platoon arriving tonight can repair it and entrench. Tertiary, destroy the civilian power plant marked under waypoint six. After our mission, allied units should be able to complete the rest of it on their own. More importantly, we drop whatever bombers come in, and Erusia might think twice about trying again. It buys us breathing room for a few more days at the least." With that, he started to look around for anybody who had anything to say. "Questions?"

Nobody had anything. It was a simple enough mission to do ground strike, and it wasn't heavily defended, so it would be an easy run, probably.

"Alright then. Flight assignments will be provided on mission cards in your kneeboards, including loadouts and any important information deemed critical to operational success." Glancing down at his watch, he frowned. "I expect the first flights to be transitioning feet wet over the mainland by no later than 1115 hours. Maintain radio silence until five minutes out from Rigley. AWACS Kingmaker will be providing operational support and command and control functions. You're dismissed."

The lights started to come back up, and we all stood from our seats. Alex and I started to leave near the back of the pack, having been up against the far wall from the exit, but a voice stopped us. "Heartbreaker, Watcher, stay for a minute."

I frowned, but looked to another pilot. Karina "Mudrunner" Jennings caught my eye, and he gestured to her. "Advise the ground crew for our bird we might be a little late, but get her warmed up," I ordered.

Karina nodded and turned with her WSO and left. She was the pilot of Hellfire Two, and had been unable to get up in the air the day before as her Eagle had been missing an engine during the checking process, damage having it be taken out for repair.

"Sir?" I asked, stopping in front of Holloway. I was saying sir a lot.

He didn't waste any time. "Your bird will be lead on this, first over land, first to drop bombs. This war is a lot of firsts for the pair of you. Can you handle it?"

I was only a captain. Still fairly middle of the board. One of the WSOs was at least a major, with more time in service and in the air than I did. Apparently, given our role in the intercept, HQ had decided we would be the tip of the spear.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "We'll do whatever you need us to do."

Holloway's face tightened, his lips a thin line. "I don't need a yesman, captain. I need someone who can do the job confidently. Your skills are up to the task, but are you?"

I nodded. "I am."

He looked me over for a second, before he finally went on. "Good. Dismissed."

We didn't waste any more time under that gaze. Nobody ever wanted to be the subject of a general level officer's stare for too long, good or bad. That kind of attention wasn't something anybody with above room temperature IQ wanted.

Well, unless you were a brown noser.

The armory was the first stop. Grab our gear and confirm mission cards had been set right. The line of pilots that had left prior to us was almost finished by the time we got there.

I pushed our mission card through the locked gate to the armory and the airman inside looked it over before calling out the gear. It was passed through to us based on the numbers noted on the card to ensure proper fit and accountability. Our G suits came through first, and we pulled them on over our legs first, before pulling them on over our arms and chests. We checked each other over before we went on.

Next came the survival harness. It was a spiderweb of straps, cinches, buckles, and whatever material it was all made out of to keep it together. It was always a bitch to put on, but we got it on quickly enough. Practice makes perfect after all. Another check and we confirmed that our survival equipment was still attached to the harness, before we went on.

Helmets came next. Standard pilot helmets. Nothing special here. All they had in terms of design were our squadron insignia on the back and our callsigns. Otherwise, it was just a gray helmet with an oxygen mask hanging off of one of the clips on either side of the opening where our face would be. Testing them on, we both ensured a snug fit, ensured that the oxygen mask sealed to our faces, and then kept it on and let the masks hang to the side.

Our last piece of kit was our sidearms. A nine millimeter handgun, compact, with enough rounds to deal with pursuers or whatever wild life thought we might be a tasty snack in case of an ejection. They went into a thigh holster that was kept closed with a velcro strap.

Finally, we signed for it all, and we left just as we had come in, but now armed up and ready for anything. I checked over the mission card on our way out to the flight line, reading it all out loud to Alex, who was fiddling with her harness.

"We've got two double racks each for the pylons, armed with Standards, and last slot is taken up by the twin racks of Long Shots. Belly mounts have twelve of the five hundred pounders, laser guided JDAMs. Full load of gun. Full load of fuel, internal and conformal tanks, big external centerline. Should be enough to get there and back."

Alex looked back to me now, seemingly satisfied with her harness. "Tanker support?"

I looked over it, turning the card over in my hand, before shaking my head. "Negative. Not confirmed, at least. We'll just have to fly it all out. Bingo says… six point o. Plenty to get home on. We've got long legs, but not sure about whoever else is on the flight."

"You know you can check the package info, right?"

I turned my eyes at her, rolling them as I did. "You know you can just keep me informed of things in the cockpit, right?"

That serious look of hers came back, but I saw the twinkle in her eye. "You know you've got nothing better to do in the cockpit, right? I'm always busy with displays and keeping an eye on the situation, you're just in the front looking at whatever the computer tells you."

"Are you calling me a meathead?"

She tsked. "Always looking for a slight."

"Eagle eyes see everything, including your attempts at making me a meathead."

Her smile finally showed through as our back-and-forth came to its conclusion. "Uh huh, how about you use your eagle eyes to read your data card?"

I made a big deal out of it, sighing loudly. "Fiiiine… Not gonna like it though." She only shook her head this time. "Yeah, you want me," I finished, giving her a smirk.

It was moments like these that, even while on our way to our planes for a mission, I could relax a little. It was her presence that made it easier. We understood each other, knew each other's habits and tendencies, how we ticked. We had that chemistry that you can't really find in too many people. I was lucky that I had been able to marry her rather than just work with her."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, ace."

"Touche."

We'd heard the engines spooling up and howling even while we left the building we'd taken our briefing in. One couldn't really hide the sound of a dozen jets starting up in close proximity. It was like an invisible hurricane had touched down on the base and didn't do anything more than yell at us.

Hellfire One was sitting in her spot where we'd left her, the wheel chocks in place and the tubes on the outside uncovered. Her engines were already spooled and sitting at idle as the ground crew moved around the aircraft, getting it set up as if we were in the cockpit, where the crew chief himself was in the front seat, doing as much as he could to get her up and ready to move as soon as possible.

Climbing up the stairs to the cockpit, I noticed he was the actual crew chief for Hellfire One. Our ground crews had got in late last night, a few hours after we had come back from our intercept. I rapped against his shoulder, shouting to be heard over the engines and our ear protection. "I can take it from here!"

He looked up at me and nodded, getting up and stepping out before he kneeled down and waited. I slipped into the pilot's seat, and even while he was helping me strap in, he went on. "She's good to go! No problems we could detect!"

That was good. No problems was always good. I'd rather not have a critical system fail in flight. He told me where he'd left off in the pre-flight checklist and I segued into it easily. Behind me, Alex made sure the other crewman that had helped her was out of the way, and the canopy whirred as it dropped down to settle into place on the rail, hissing as it sealed shut and made the deafening noises outside little more than a whisper through our helmets.

The intercomm was already hot, and we both kept going from where the ground crew had left off, just as we had been trained to do. I clipped my oxygen mask into place before I ensured all switched were in the appropriate position. "Intercomm, check."

"Check," Alex responded from the back, already tuning to the proper frequencies. "One, in the pit."

Hellfire Two came through. "Loud and Clear, One. Two and Four are on net. Three is in the shop."

"Roger, Two." Our standard radio channels were working, and she switched over to the datalink based communications. It came through clearer when we transmitted on datalink, but it was limited in that we could only speak to each other over the interflight channel that way. "One, checking in, datalink."

"Loud and Clear, One." This time, it was Hellfire Four's pilot that responded. He was the youngest out of all of us. Two and Three both had veteran crews that had seen the war since its beginning, and a few years of service prior during peacetime. Hellfire Four was a green pilot we'd only just gotten two months ago. He wasn't up to snuff when it came to combat, his training having been rushed despite the desire to make sure he was ready for it. As a result, we'd put an older member of the squadron with him. Four's WSO was actually a higher rank than the rest of us, and a couple years older to boot, pushing into late thirties.

Our comms channels were good for interflight, and I listened as Alex checked in with Merrin Tower, and we were given taxi clearance. I slowly eased the throttle forward, feeling the airframe shake ever so slightly beneath my seat until the thrust was enough to get us moving and the shaking subsided. On the ground off to the right, I saw the ground crew member that was guiding us out of our makeshift hangars. They were little more than a hard plastic based awning, enough to protect the aircraft from the elements.

Other crews were guiding their charges out. The Strike Eagles of Hellfire flight were in varying states of movement, taking spaces when they could. A flight of four Super Hornets from VFA-310, the Murder Hornets, armed with air-to-ground ordinance were taxiing past in another lane and heading for the runway, likely the first group that would be taking off. Two Tomcats from VF-226, the Arbalesters, were moving through as well, the super-long-range Phoenix missiles hanging from their bellies. They'd be our first shooters, and the highest fliers. Lastly, a trio of standard Eagles from Merrin's own 388th Fighter Squadron were loaded up with an all air-to-air load, and they would be the ones moving in close with us and securing the skies with their long range and high performance in their roles.

It was like waiting in line to use the bathroom, a dozen jets trying to line up and take off from the same runway. It went quickly, owing to our training, but it was always sort of boring waiting to take off. The Hornets were first, then the Tomcats, then the Eagles, and finally, Hellfire took to the runway.

"Run 'em up," I called over our channel, already holding the brakes and slowly pushing the throttles forward until the airframe started shaking, like a beast attempting to break out of its cage.

"Two."

"Four."

"Brakes off." I let go of the brakes, immediately shoving the throttles forward and over the detent into the afterburner. Hellfire One picked up speed quickly, lifting off the ground halfway down the runway and into the sky, where I kept my speed steady and at a predictable climb rate to our transit altitude.

The other two closed in quickly, calling that they were in position. They both settled in on either side of me, and looking over my shoulders, I saw they were both perfectly in formation.

"Level off, angels twenty, speed four fifty until we get up to the Hornets. After that, match their speed and go plus one angels on them." Two mic clicks met me, and satisfied, I pushed the throttles further forward to close with the Hornets. It didn't take too long, and within a few minutes, we were flying below the Hornets by about a thousand feet, our speeds synced.

Alex was constantly in motion with her displays, programming our weapons, arming fuzes, punching in coordinates, and letting the targeting pod and bomb guidance systems warm up. Our datalink was active, and while we had to maintain radio silence, the datalink showed the locations of all friendly contacts in our strike package and allowed interflight communications for Hellfire without compromising us. A little stick built into my throttle let me slew a cursor around my screens, and I could put the cursor on different contacts on the screen to see information about their flight makeup, their airframes, and the mission that was being sent back and forth to Kingmaker, fifty miles to our north at angels thirty.

For now, there was nothing to see, nothing to worry about. No inbound contacts, no surface-to-air missile systems to attempt to shoot us down, nothing. It would be a long and boring flight, just as the flight from Khentasi had been.

Things weren't always exciting, after all.

From here on out, it was all autopilot. Hell, with my waypoints punched in, and one of the autopilot modes selected, the Strike would fly itself the whole way with no problems. It could even maintain a set altitude over the ground with its navigation pods and ground radar system. I never trusted it that much, though.

"You think this'll be the start of something new?"

I hadn't expected it from Alex, and looking at my mirror, I saw she was still buried in her cockpit, her helmet the only thing showing. "What do you mean?"

"Turn the tables on them, I mean."

"That's wishful thinking. We've got maybe 15 or so planes capable of flight right now. The Eruseans have… what, a whole air force?"

She glanced up, and I caught one of those blue eyes while her visor was lifted, before she was back in her displays. "You know what I'm getting at. After that intercept yesterday, I think something changed."

"Do tell."

"I mean… everybody there was running on empty. Upset, depressed, whatever you wanna call that mood that settled on us like a damn heavy blanket. They were not in good spirits. After we came back from that intercept, though? You didn't notice the change?"

My lips pursed, tightening into a thin line as I thought back to the previous day. She was right. I hadn't paid attention to it, but it didn't feel like I was suffocating under an aura of resignation or despair. It felt… lighter. "I did."

"Then you know they have hope now. We can have hope."

I set my head back against the seat, out of view of the mirror. My eyes were hidden behind the darkened visor and my oxygen mask covered the rest of my face. "Hope for us right now is hanging on by a thread, just like we are. One victory doesn't win the war for us. A flight of bombers and escorts from the 80s and earlier aren't a sizable force."

I could hear the frown in her voice. "No, but it doesn't have to. It's a start. It's something we can hang on to. You've been sour for months because we've been running and barely able to engage. Now that we're here, you made ace within a few hours of us hitting North Point. Do you realize what that means?"

I knew where this was going. Once before, ten years ago, a pair of fighters had turned the tide of the Belkan War almost singlehandedly, starting from the first mission they had been recorded going on. Not even uniformed soldiers, but mercenaries, someone who was in it for the money. Money was one thing when it came to a motivating factor, but what about fighting for your home and family? That had to mean something, right?

"I'm not Cipher, Alex."

"I know you're not!" She almost yelled it, and I looked in the mirror to see she was trying to peek around my seat and get a look at me. There was silence between us as I looked back into her eyes. "Look… it doesn't matter who you are, but you're the first ace we have, the only ace we have. That has to count for something, and I'll be damned if I let you sit here and squander how important that is. Maybe not to you or me, but to everybody else."

She was right, and she knew it.

I closed my eyes, staying quiet for a moment. When I responded, it was almost resigned. "You really think it's that important?"

"I know it is. We've both read the books, studied the battles, consumed every shred of info we could on Galm and the Round Table's fights. You remember the kill count, don't you?"

I said it almost without thinking.

"Two ninety one confirmed, and upwards of four hundred unconfirmed, ground and air."

"If yesterday was anything to go by, then we'll watch ours go up too, and maybe we'll turn this around."

It was wishful thinking, a desperate grab for anything to hold on to and keep us all above water for as long as we could. Realistically? We'd be snuffed out over time, run out of materials and jets, fuel and weapons, and then we'd be wiped off the face of the planet. But who was I to crush my love's dreams? Her hopes?

"Maybe…" It wasn't much, but it was something.

"I'm just saying, a victory sure would be nice, Emma."

I had to agree with that at least. "It sure would."

Our conversation ended at that. Neither of us knew what else to say, on opposite sides of the seesaw that was emotion when your back was against the wall and you were out of options. Acceptance and resignation against desperation and sheer will. Looking through the mirror again, I caught sight of her, staring out the left side of the cockpit at the sea below.

She had always been a hothead, and stubborn to a fault. I'd run out of steam long before she would. Maybe it was better that she was willing to fight me to the bitter end on it, and with how things had been going for the majority of this war, I still firmly believed that we would indeed have a bitter end. That didn't mean I was giving up, per se…

But when she looked back, and those blue eyes stared through the mirror at me, I knew that I couldn't even think of giving up. Only the bitter end would be able to make me give up so long as she was still in the bird. She couldn't fly with anybody else, and I couldn't bear the thought of her going out alone with someone who might end up making the wrong move and getting them both shot down or killed. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. No matter what I did, she would find another jet and go back up, back into the thick of it, until she could do it no longer.

Raising my visor up, I let her see my eyes finally. There was an unspoken message passed between us, one that made the corners of her eyes wrinkle as she smiled at me. That was all it took. I would do whatever was needed to get us both through the other side. The only option I could consider was victory.

For her.

The cockpit blurted a loud warning, lights turning red and a green arrow appearing on my HUD as the altimeter dropped rapidly, a sink rate of almost thirty thousand showing up on the HUD as we fell back down to Earth.

I pulled back on the stick at the last second, letting us level out at five hundred feet above the grassy plains below. A single two lane highway drifted through the open plains, wooden power poles on one side of it leading to who knew where. The direction we were going, however, was right where our objective marker was.

"Waypoint six, designated," Alex called, just as targeting symbology appeared on my HUD. We were five miles out from the power station, and the FLIR pod on our belly was searching for the coordinates with the help of the inertial navigation system.

Given how flat the area was, we were in plain sight of it, and the countdown on my HUD was at thirty seconds to release. I keyed the mic. "Two, Four, go combat spread, set air to air master mode, get ready to intercept anything that's not friendly."

Two clicks. Fifteen seconds now. I kept the solid line going vertically through my HUD at the proper position, and when I got the cue for it at five seconds, I pulled back hard on the stick, feeling the airframe shudder violently and my face start pulling with the positive Gs. My thumb hit the red button on the left side of my stick, and one of the guided bombs dropped away with a heavy clunk, its guidance package already maneuvering it for an optimal entry path to hit the main power station that had been deemed important given it was on our ingress route.

"Pickle!" I yanked the stick to the right, rolling over and dropping back towards the Earth on an offset heading from the heading I had run in on. "Alex, air to air, get ready to blast whatever shows up."

"Always ready," she shot back, and I saw the HUD symbology change again, but not before the TTI indicator on my HUD counted down to 0. A glance out the left side of the aircraft, and I saw that the power generating station had been turned into a lot full of twisted scrap, flames and inky black smoke climbing out of the wreckage.

"Kingmaker, Hellfire One. Shack on the power station, hundred over a hundred."

Kingmaker came back, his voice serious and level. "Copy your last. Strike package is just behind you. Sagittarius lead just called in, they have multiple long range contacts, bomber sized with escorts. Bombers have a much lower closure rate, so they're likely landing. Close and engage."

"Hellfire flight, engage offensive."

It was all I had to say. Two and Four were out a mile on either side, ready to start lobbing missiles. They wouldn't be the first to fire though, not by a long shot.

"Sagittarius One, fox three times two."

"Sagittarius Two, fox three times two."

The F-14s had just shot off four of their Phoenixes. A quick glance at my data link confirmed they were still ten miles behind us, and Rigley was another twenty out from there. It would take their missiles just long enough that they would be going active and seeking out their targets with their onboard radars right after they passed over us on their way in.

While I didn't see the missiles with my eyes, I did see the sudden change in activity at the air base on my situational awareness display. Several of the marked hostile targets were moving erratically, likely going defensive now that they weren't just being locked up by airborne radar, but because the Phoenixes were actively pinging with their own radars as well and let them all know a missile was on its way.

I was close enough now that I could see the runway. Three bombers were parked off on the ramp, one was still taxiing off the runway, one was halfway down the runway, and another was on final approach. "Alex, pull the trigger on one of our Long Shots."

She didn't ask twice, and instinctively keyed her mic just as she launched one of the radar guided missiles. "Hellfire One, fox three."

The missile streaked off of its rail, the smokeless rocket motor meaning it was barely visible to the naked eye as it picked up speed and pushed through mach two, eyes on the bomber that was on final. I watched as it slowed its rate of descent, the pilots pushing their engines back to full power, but it was no use.

Our missile impacted right on the nose, blowing the cockpit and its inhabitants to bits as the bomber started to keel over and lose altitude, a ball of flames that only got bigger when it dug its nose into the ground on the side of the runway. It almost disintegrated, and black smoke covered the crash site.

Other bombers struggled to evade as well, but I saw three more simply burst into flames where they had been holding in the landing pattern. Sagittarius' strikes had hit all but one of their targets. Hellfire Two and Four called their own launches a moment later, and at this rate, it only took a few seconds for two more bombers to take hits, dumping flares in a vain attempt at survival.

Six bombers of the fifteen strong flight had been wiped out before they could respond, but the job wasn't over yet. Their fighter escort, still capable of fighting, broke up. At least ten of them were on station, and they all turned to engage Hellfire and the Murder Hornets. They knew that they'd never get in range to attack the Tomcats.

In the time it took those bombers to come down, I pushed the throttle forward to the max, the afterburners lighting in the engine nacelles and propelling us faster towards the enemy base, and the distance closed rapidly as we pushed into close range.

As we entered visual range, I got more information on the targets by recognizing their shapes and silhouettes. The bombers were Tu-160 Blackjacks, and their escorts had been upgraded as well. At least one Mig-29 turned in on me and started to try and go lead for a missile or guns shot. I pulled the stick to the left and snap rolled 90 degrees before yanking it back as far as I could.

I didn't have time to warn Alex, and in the span of time it took to roll and pull the stick, we went from one G up to around six, our faces deforming under the helmets and masks. I clenched my body, trying to keep the blood from leaving my brain and pooling in my legs. Black tinted the corners of my vision and I felt the airframe start shaking like it was going to rip apart. Vapor appeared on the wings, and the Eagle's engines kept burning to try and maintain as much power as they could.

Then we had crossed each other, and I made a quick decision. I yanked the stick back in the other direction, rolling onto the jet's right side and pulling it back hard again, extending the air brake with the push of a button.

It flapped out on a hydraulic arm, slowing us down quickly. I heard the warning beep, watched the gear lever start flashing an angry red. We had fallen from mach 1.2 down to almost 250 knots in just seconds. The bird was screaming that we were going to crash at this altitude and speed, and our angle of attack was too high. I even heard the pre-recorded warnings start playing. Stall warning. Stall warning.

In front of me, I watched the Mig as it turned around, the two of us heading straight for each other now. I barely had time to yell it out. "Going for guns!" The flick of a switch on the stick and the HUD shifted into the radar controlled gunsight. Range closed rapidly and it started blinking with the IN RANGE cue. Pulling the trigger, I held it for a moment before I yanked on the stick again, rolling off to the side and trying not to crash into the other plane or the ground.

As I did, yellow tracers skirted past the left side of the canopy, barely missing us. The Mig, on the other hand, was not so lucky. The 20mm shells of the M61A1 Vulcan spat out into the air between us, impacting the nose of the Mig and tearing through it like a hot knife through butter.

Then we passed each other, and time seemed to slow. My Eagle was still alive, still in the fight. So was I. All that was left of the Mig's cockpit, passing by not even twenty feet away, was a ruined mess of scrap, flames, and whatever had survived of the pilot's remains.

It felt like I stared at it forever, time moving at a crawl. It was unsettling, and I couldn't tear my eyes away. It had been the closest kill I'd taken so far, and the thought that I was looking into the whites of their eyes when I saw that inferno in the cockpit wasn't lost on me.

And then it was gone, off to the left, over the wing and spiraling towards the ground not far below. It was as if they'd never been there at all, and I was back into the fight fully, pushing the Eagle skyward toward a battle where one of the Eagles of Talon flight was in a circle fight with another Mig.

"Talon, Hellfire is coming to sanitize, just keep yourself alive!" Alex knew what I was going for even as I focused on getting the proper target locked up and not a friendly.

Their circle fight was getting slow, and it seemed like the Talon was having trouble, because when he responded, he sounded like he was forcing himself through the strain of a high intensity workout. "Talon… Three copies… hurry!"

A blip in my headset as the low growl of the Standard missile's seeker found its target, the hot exhaust from the Mig looking like the flash of a sun when the Mig's tail came about, and I let the heavy whine be my cue to fire. One of the Standards went off the rail and closed the distance in just a few seconds.

So preoccupied with the Talon fight, the Mig pilot never even knew what hit him as the missile impacted in the center of his fighter and sent pieces of it off to the sides. One of the fuel tanks must have ruptured, because there was another larger explosion and the cockpit sheared off, flipping end over end as it fell to Earth, where the pilot managed to punch out.

Circling over the kill, I saw a chute pop.

"Thanks for the save, Heartbreaker." The Talon was still out of breath, and probably felt like that must have been it for him.

"Break away, collect yourself, reengage," I ordered. It wouldn't do to have him floating around becoming a target for everyone. The click of a mic was all the acknowledgment I needed, and I watched as the Talon bird turned northeast and kicked the burners, lighting out quickly with a single flare dropped almost like another thank you.

That led me to our other targets. "Alex, status?"

She was slow to respond, and I figured it was because the air space had turned into one big blob with so many aircraft in five miles engaging. "Kingmaker's useless in this furball, says we're too low and there's too many of us out here. Looks like, uhhh… half the escort and bomber force are splashed. Escorts have engaged completely, and the bombers are turning and running. What are we doing?"

I thought about it for a moment, and frowned. Half of the escort was down and almost every one of them was engaged now with a Talon or a Stinger from Murder Hornet flight. Then I got an idea. "Sagittarius, you think you can close in fast and reach a bomber with your Phoenixes?"

"Uh… maybe? If they're Blackjacks flowing cold, we'll have our work cut out for us." Sagittarius One's RIO answered this time. "Why?"

"Both of you, close in at best speed. I'm chasing the bombers and if they get too far away we'll lose them. The less they have to take a bite out of us later, the better."

A few seconds later, I got my response. "...Yes ma'am, we'll do what we can." Then they were gone, and I didn't need to listen for any more comms. Alex could handle it, and she was already a whirlwind of activity as I turned the Eagle off to the west, tracking some of the bombers that were still in sight.

"I've got two of them locked up! Rest are at five miles and hauling ass!" She called out, and I saw the first of those two targets boxed on my HUD. The other would appear after, but our multi-target scanning mode for our radar meant that she would be handling all the missile shots.

"Fire both!" I pushed the throttle forward against its wall, the engines turning into fireballs again as we picked up speed.

The bombers were supersonic with variable sweep wings, not unlike the Tomcats high in the sky right now. They could get up to some insane speed, but they were big and heavy, took a while to accelerate. That would be the only easy part about this intercept.

Our mic clicked and Alex transmitted, just as two Long Shots dropped off the rails and ignited their rocket motors. "Hellfire One, fox three times two!"

Ahead of us, the automatic countermeasures for the Blackjacks started to throw out chaff and flares in a rain of countermeasures against our missile. It wouldn't save them. The first Blackjack took a hit directly in the tail, knocking out whatever control surfaces controlled the elevator. Then it began to nose down quickly, and before I could think too much, it had turned into another casket for another crew on the grounds around Rigley.

The other Blackjack turned a little, dropping lower to the ground, and the missile tracked in until it impacted on the right wing root, detonating and ripping off the wing, sending it into a roll where it dropped to the ground and exploded, the fireball rushing across the surface until the wreckage came to a stop.

"Hellfire One, splash two Blackjacks!" Alex whooped, still searching for more targets, but each one was getting away quicker, and the closest target was at ten miles now and increasing the distance. She locked up another and pulled the trigger. "Hellfire One, fox three! Sagittarius, the rest are yours!"

That was all I needed, and I didn't listen to the response as I turned back towards the base. Another dark trail of smoke filled the sky as another Mig was shot down, and I watched it crash into the space between the ramp where the hangars were and the runway itself. I didn't envy the grunts who'd have to clean that up tonight.

The majority of the escorts had been dealt with by now, and I gave the order. "Stinger, Hellfire, switch to prosecute ground targets. Talon maintain overwatch."

A chorus of each flight's callsign met me as each lead acknowledged, with Hellfire Two and Four responding on datalink. As I passed over the base itself to let Alex get targets in her targeting pod's sights, I finally realized that the response of ground forces had been nonexistent. SAMs weren't even a factor. Anti-air guns were all that really existed here, and they were all older Shilka types with four 20mm guns. Nasty in a fight at low level, but even though we were on the deck, we were still too fast for them to properly engage.

At least, that's what I had thought.

Off to my left, one of the Stingers went in on a run, and I watched as the Shilka below tracked and started to fire. "Stinger, evade! That Zeus is gonna fuck you up!"

The Hornet on the target pass rolled without hesitation, breaking hard to the right, and most of the rounds passed by harmlessly as the Shilka tried to adjust its targeting solution, the path of the rounds adjusting as well. They didn't stop firing, hoping they could fill the sky and hit something.

Afterburners on the Hornet sent it away, and I heard the pilot's call of thanks. Only a moment later did I hear another call.

"Hellfire Two, pickle." Ten seconds passed us by as I searched the sky for Hellfire Two, and when I saw them, they were on the opposite side of myself and the Shilka, who had switched to targeting them. It was too late, though, and as the guns swiveled around, the five hundred pound GPS guided bomb homed in on its target and the Shilka disappeared in a fireball that nothing could have survived in.

"Good hits, Two," I said, and started a lazy clockwise turn over the runway, high enough to be out of range of the Shilkas, and dipped my right wing. "Alex, show's yours now."

"Roger all," she replied, and I let her do her thing as I brought up the targeting pod page on my MFD to keep appraised of her targets. The first one was one of the bombers that had already landed, next to the other two. I didn't miss that there were crewman scurrying away from it as they realized just how bad it was getting for them.

She went on with her target in sight. "Target acquired. Take us in from a heading straight down the ramp, I'll ripple on all three of them."

"Got it, adjusting now." I responded. "All flights, engage defenses and other targets of opportunity, Hellfire One is lining up on the landed Blackjacks." More mic clicks, and I pushed the throttle forward and brought us around to where we were on heading with the runway and the ramp on its side. "On heading, on speed."

"Confirm. Twenty seconds to release. We'll be ugly after this so get ready to trim it out."

"Always ready."

Twenty seconds came and went, and I felt the first bomb fall off with that dull thunk that went through the airframe. Another came off almost immediately, and then the final one, before Alex called it out. "Hellfire One, pickle times three, off to the north."

I pulled my stick and banked us to the north, as she'd said. It was easy enough to decide on my own, but we'd fell into a rhythm long ago, knowing exactly what we needed to do to get ourselves in and out safely.

More time passed as I waited for the bombs to impact. The FLIR display showed the last target that had been dropped on, and on the side, I saw a flash, and then another, and then the last one, with all three Blackjacks being smashed by the five hundred pound bombs landing directly on top of them.

"Good hits on all targets," I replied in a level voice, before taking my eyes off the display. She had seen them, of course, but it was almost like it was a habit to update each other throughout the battle. A two person crew worked better when both knew what was going on.

"Confirm good hits," she replied. "Kingmaker, Hellfire One."

"Kingmaker, send traffic."

"Splash three Blackjacks on the ramp, two more runners, one unconfirmed, two escorts."

"Kingmaker copies all, Hellfire One. Good job. Sagittarius, update."

Sagittarius One, who was by now passing over the runway, came on next. "Three confirmed Blackjacks. Out of Phoenixes. Orders?"

Kingmaker was our battlefield commander, not just our eyes in the sky. He had a direct link to HQ and had the best picture of the battlefield to issue those orders. It's why Kingmaker probably had at least one star on his collar. "Cease pursuit. Majority of bomber force eliminated. Scopes are clear. Finish off the targets on the ground and RTB. Managed to get a tanker up that will be meeting you halfway if you need fuel, callsign Jerrycan. TACAN 87X, push button 12. All others, head home once you're done. For now, update state."

I called in to Hellfire to give me their fuel states, and made note of our own as Two and Four chimed in.

"Two, state 8.9."

"Four, state 7.5."

Lastly, I added my own. "One, state 9.1." Nobody else was on the frequency with Kingmaker yet, so I went first. "Kingmaker, Hellfire low state 7.5."

Talon flight next. "Talon, low state 5.4."

Stinger responded with "Stinger, low state 6.1."

And finally Sagittarius. "Sagittarius, low state 11.0."

Kingmaker had been appraised of our status now, and I watched as Hellfires Two and Four kept attacking whatever was on the ground, including the two Blackjacks that Alex and I hadn't struck, and Stinger pulling away to begin the trek to the tanker. "Roger, finish your current runs and bug out. Kingmaker out."

We had our orders now, and as I watched the other two finish their runs, I called them back in, where they settled in on either side of me. "Turn heading 030, climb to angels 30, and settle in."

Two mic clicks, and we peeled away from the devastation that had been wrought on the Eruseans occupying our air base. It would be a victory again, one that had been completely one sided, a turkey shoot even. We hadn't lost a single fighter, and the enemy had lost the majority of a bomber flight, all of their escorts, and several of their air defenses. Thinking about it now, the fact that no SAMs had been in place was confusing. As if they didn't expect us to attack. Were they really that arrogant? Was this just us getting lucky that the commander in charge of securing Rigley was incompetent? Or had Alex been right in having some hope?

I'd come to figure that out in time, I guess. Depending on how the next fights went, who knew what we would end up doing. That was all for the brass to think about, though. I was just another pilot, albeit one with a status symbol now. More of what Alex had been saying on the way over started to come back to my mind as I realized my kill count had skyrocketed, even if the bombers that we had destroyed on the ground had all been Alex. That was still a handful of kills.

Hellfire Two and Four were already on the datalink, chatty after their first victory, and without being damaged like Hellfire Three had been the day before, they were excited, filled with adrenaline. Even Hellfire Four's normally quiet and strict WSO was letting himself unwind because now they had hope that something was about to change.

As if he knew what I was thinking, Four's WSO called out. "Damn good work today, Heartbreaker. You might have made double ace today."

I didn't miss Alex in the mirror looking at me with inquisitive eyes, the wrinkles around them letting me know she was smirking at me, as if being proven right about earlier. "I wouldn't give me too much credit. Most of the kills were stationary or sitting ducks."

But I knew that he wouldn't let it go. Four's WSO was Major Bruce "Longsword" Campbell. He had taken part in the Belkan War, and even more, he had been in the furball at the Round Table when Operation Battle-Axe had gone down. Out of all of the members of Hellfire, he was the only one who had been able to not only see the Galm Team in the skies, but had seen them in action as well. "Last time I saw someone with your skill was the day that the Demon Lord got his nickname."

I frowned slightly, realizing that it wasn't just Alex who was thinking it, but someone else. Someone who knew exactly what a true ace looked like. In a way, it frightened me, and I wondered if I'd live up to it, if this war would come down to rest on my shoulders like it had on Cipher's. Could I handle that pressure? I would be lying if I said I knew.

"You're not the first to say that to me today, Bruce. And I know you won't be the last to say it." I almost felt resigned in a way, saying it like that.

"I can imagine it was Watcher that said that, yeah?"

"You'd be correct."

"She didn't get her callsign for nothing, y'know." Longsword had been the one to give Alex her callsign when we'd gotten into a training fight, and Alex had never lost sight of the other target that I hadn't been on at the moment. She'd seen the little patterns in their flow, and had very quickly become not just a competent WSO, but a force multiplier. She saw things that others likely didn't. "I figure she can read you like a book, too."

Another glance at Alex, still staring at me quietly, and my frown deepened. He was right, damn it. She knew me like the back of her hand, like she knew every system in the back seat. She had always been intuitive, but she had kicked it up to eleven after we had been married for a few months. Patterns, habits, changes in mood, she knew almost everything about me before even I did. I trusted her implicitly, but it had been a stretch to compare me to the Demon Lord through only books and second hand information. But now a man who had been there, who had seen Cipher tear through the hostile skies of the Round Table with his own two eyes, was saying it too. That wasn't just a guess or just a comparison. If he was seeing those same things in me… What did that spell for the rest of the war? What did that spell for me and Alex?

Sitting there in the cockpit, with the autopilot on, and unable to shake that feeling, I realized I didn't know, and it bothered me. All I could do was embrace it, and maybe become more than just one pilot, in the eyes of friend and enemy alike.