Tauberg, Belka, 07/06/1995, 10:00, Weather: outcast, risk of thunder.
The Su-25 was slowly approaching the airspace of the Belkan Wunderwaffe. She obviously knew they had been tracking her since she entered the airspace or even before, when she took off maybe. They didn't send any notice yet, but they might soon, she guessed. She had never seen the dark building towering over the Tau. Only heard stories and saw the few pictures taken by the onboard cams of the very scarce survivors amongst the allied pilots that launch raids on them. These could be counted on a slightly severed hand. As such, she was struck by the sheer size of the one-kilometer high chemical laser from her windshield, even from a near dozen kilometers away.
The expected notice came quickly, but not under the form she would have wanted. Its form was the locked alarm. Some radar was tracking her at an unknown location, while she was almost above one of the destroyed jammers. Still, there was active jamming around Excalibur, as she wasn't able to get a single reading on it, and as such couldn't see who was tracking her. Though she could deduce it a bit from the distance, with no IFF in the close vicinity, that she was either tracked by some long range SAMs, or any aerial platform bearing ERAAMs. It had been reported that the DW-2s were in possession of such capacities and were used by the CSB as AAMs interdiction platform. Coupled with the Merlin satellites, such network could, would and should eradicate any allied opposing force, even if including latest generation stealth fighters.
The lock was confirmed a few seconds later, while she blinked her eyes to try seeing the pitch black shape of the DW-2s. One was indeed hovering a few kilometers away from the dark tower. From the trail she could see north of Excalibur, two MiG-31s had just taken off for interception purposes.
"Schwarze Falke 3 zu Kontrolle. Eindringling verschlossen. Feuerbereit. (dark falcon 3 to control, intruder locked, ready to fire)." The Belkan ERAAM operator onboard the said DW-3 announced, ready to fire at this insignificant target of the fighter that this Su-25 was. They had shot down Osean F-35s and Yukte Su-32s with ease, after all, and it was enough to have their confidence in the might of their weaponry set high enough.
For a few seconds, the blaring alarm was all that the Sapin pilot could hear, quite afraid that such weapon would terminate her. It would be a shame, to get shot down by her new allies due to misunderstanding.
"Nicht schießen. Identität, bitte. (hold your fire. Identification, please) " A cold and Yukte-sounding voice interrupted the interception, curious to who could be in the seat of this old Su-25. Which was supposed to rest in his Mosauleum like his old Su-47, but apparently people didn't authorize rest nowadays.
"Huh, what did you say? No Hablo Belkanès (I don't know Belkan)." She admitted she had not a great knowledge of this language, unlike her leader.
"Gault 7, your compatriots seemed to have survived. Welcome at Tauberg, Marcela Vasquez. Landeklar, you're clear to land." Kupchenko was allowing her to land, and with these words the locked alarm stop blaring into her cockpit. Still, he only her to do saw after having had her voice recognized twice through a specific software and verifying that this Su-25 was indeed the one he let to rest in his Mausoleum. He had made his maiden flight onboard this attack fighter, decade ago.
Appeased by this news, Vasquez bypassed the dark tower, keeping her pace toward the runway. Kupchenko was trusting this Sapin pilot enough to let her land unharmed. After all, even if such defectors remained loyal to the allied forces and try to go rogue against the CSB, they would be shot down by either the DW-3s, the nearby SAMs, the gargantuan amount of tactical laser systems on and surrounding Excalibur, and since a few days, the Schwarze squadron was amongst the defenses of the Sword of Kings as well.
"Entendido. Lowering gear." The Sapin pilot said, as she was about to engage herself in the axis of descent toward the two-part runway, going on the east one, while the MiG-31s were following her close.
Her landing was a short one, with the tarmac being in good state in spite of the constant attacks they were facing from the allied forces. Shortly after, the two red and black MiG-31s landed, then the DW-3s proceeded to do a vertical landing at the Southern industrial zone of Tauberg. This one had suffered most of the damage when the Ustian and Osean mercenary squadrons had attacked a few weeks ago, but now all had been fixed. It was under the protection of five RTLSs dispersed in this area than the DW-3s landed into a small hemispheric hangar, which was sealed soon after by harden duraluminium plating which glided from the four edged to meet in the center.
Tauberg, Belka, 07/06/1995, 10:20, Weather: outcast, risk of thunder.
After some other checking of her identity, and while the old Su-25 was towed toward a hangar to rest permanently, Vasquez was finally sent to meet with Kupchenko, accompanied by Gault 7, Fernando Perez, her only compatriot in the vicinity outside of her leader. She stepped onboard a little electric railcar which carries her from the aerial base to the main compound, due to the two being separated by a few kilometers. They seemed quite close from the skies, but not that much on the ground. Then, the railcar went below the ground, as they were closing to the ring of hills surrounding the king of swords. For a few minutes, it made its ways amongst underground corridors, from which she could see through some bay underground facilities, where something big was being built, apparently. One of the building halls they crossed on a glassed catwalk was more than eight hundred meters long and almost the same in length, and quite high.
Still, the secrecy of these projects was none of her concerns as she was taken to upper levels, which if her measurements of distance were correct, were inside of the tower itself. They had to use multiple lifts, as there wasn't a single lift to avoid the possibility of planes going right through its shaft, but an array of them going to different speed and different sectors of the facility, where they would cross the path of both guards on patrol and scientist and technicians going from one room to another in their respective white or grey lab coats.
She reached her destination, which was a small room. The next room was called Meinungsausbildungsraum, again an incomprehensive Belkan word to her. From the bay window, she could deduce they were in the southern side of the hemicylindrical lower part of Excalibur, near some diagonal support array.
"Against, my warmest welcome amongst us, Miss Vasquez." A man with brown hair and small cold grey eyes spoke, with her voice having an undiscussable chilling tone. The tone of commandment was much more present when talking to him face to face than when hearing him on the radio, he knew it full well, and was using it at his advantage. He then invited them to take a seat in front of his desk, after having made slide the computer screen into the metallic piece of furniture and sat on his own chair, a curious one, where he was not sat but kneeled, without back support. The seller had said it was better for his back, since it forced the user to stand right.
"I won't go ten thousand ways. ¿Como esta mi líder (how is my leader)?" The Sapin pilot asked, still feeling worried about her leader she hadn't heard of from anyone here yet. They would have surely said something if he was dead, but she was still deeply worried about him.
" I know a bit of your mother tongue from your colleague at your side here. I can show you his current state." Kupchenko responded politely, having understood the worries of Vasquez from both her words and her non-verbal communication.
"Bueno. Where are we going?" She was about to leave to check his condition when Kupchenko caught a small remote control on his desk and pointing on the bay window behind him. The landscape became blurry, only to reveal what looked like an hospital chamber, with Vasquez' leader bedridden in it, with an IV cannula in his right hand, pulse control in his left, and a respiratory support system set on his face.
"This bay window is only a high definition screen that most of the time display the landscape using optic fiber. But it can be used as computer screen sometimes." Kupchenko explained, letting the Sapin pilot ask the oblivious question:
"lo que paso? I mean, what's happened to him?" She asked with renewed worries.
"His J-35J had sustained extensive damage in the rear section, and thus he had to bail out above the runway. But not only the fighter had sustained damage, his body did, and the high-G induced by the ejection rocket hadn't help. He's in induced comatose for the time that his injuries heal." He recalled how the event unfolded two days ago.
"Will he suffer consequences?"
"You must understand that the vertical acceleration almost snapped his spine." Kupchenko specified the injuries of her leader, which left her speechless.
"Maldita." She swore, feeling the unluckiest person in the world, after she considered herself to be lucky enough to have survived an encounter with Schwarze Luchs.
"He might become tetraplegic, but the exoskeleton projekt is near completion, and should be compatible for flight with minimal losses in reaction time." Perez tried to show her the bright side of the events: he might be able to fly again through the miracles of modern technology.
"That's nice." She admitted that this was making her feel a bit unluckier. Still, having technology being able to make him fly again would not make him fly again right away. Human spirit and body could both be broken and maybe it would need a bit more time than reducing a fracture required.
"Perez will guide you to his room. However, before you go, I want you to tell me what's happened with Iskanda Rayien. I know she discovered the Mausoleum and use my own fighter two days before, and that she had gifted you this Su-25." Kupchenko gaze went to friendly to inquisitive, as he inquired the Sapin pilot about these short moments shared with the Erusean-Ustian mercenary, what she had learned from her and her motives.
So, she told him everything Iskanda had recalled her. Her origin was not much of a mystery for the Yukte-originated tactician. He had already used his agents in Erusea to get some intel, and due to their respective positioning in l'École de l'Air of Farbanti and the local armies alike. He found a darker origin that he was expecting, but this last decade had not been the brighter for the Usean continent as a whole. To be honest he knew more about her origins and what had caused her to flee from Farbanti than the young Sapin pilot, and maybe than the concerned person herself.
Then she recalled another event, that could bring some explanation for why Iskanda Rayien accepted with full compliance, if not joy and pleasure to fight and hunt down allied pilots over the battlefield. This weakling that admiral Weeker was had sentenced her to death, but maybe in doing so he only sent his own soldiers to die. She might be seeking vengeance after this very man. And he would be more than happy to provide her anything she needed to enact her vengeance.
In light of these new news, the dissensions into the allied forces ran deeper than he hoped. Because he could work on these dissensions, to turn allied against each other's, or to turn adversaries into allies. Indeed, if enemies deserved nothing but too be dealt with and wiped out, adversaries could sometimes come to an understanding. Understanding that they are seeking the same things, from other points of views, and that fighting one another is insignificant. Understanding that they could join forces to achieve their common goal. He had already succeeded in turning Zukov, after all.
He now needed to give her a final message before he could let her go join with her leader. He had deduced they had some attachments above the level of the relationship between leader and wingman from her sincere worries, but it didn't matter to him, as long as it didn't affect each other's performances. And maybe these attachments would make her less likely to accept the task he was going to ask her to undergo, but in the end it was a necessary doing.
"Well, I have one final matter to discuss with you here."
Vasquez nodded with a little head gesture and he kept talking.
"You might know that we are evacuating industries from Hoffnung. You might have even seen them partially during your way toward my office. But not all has been evacuated right now. I have full control of the weapon industries, and their full compliance. But there's another industry where I don't have full control, and I believe you might help guarantee the success of the technology transfer by being my eyes and hears there, as one of the lead engineer in this technology is one of your compatriot. Perez had less credit than you for him, as he had left Sapin for too long. Do you agree?"
Vasquez was left a bit unphased. The determined tone in Kupchenko's voice was making it quite hard for her to think to say "no". She was now wondering how Iskanda could have refused to simply join him two days ago and put up this desperate fight. Sure, there could be risk in this assignment, but nothing seemed to be riskier than having to fight this merc another time. As such, her answer was oblivious, and was the one Kupchenko expected.
"voy a hacer esto (I will do this). But I want guarantee that I won't have to fight Schwarze Luchs once more." The Sapin pilot agreed, still marked by her fight. She had though they were equals when they fought side by side at the retaking of Futuro Canal. There she had already seen her performances, and her willpower. She had attributed that to her admiral that had spoken up for her, but even alone she was a formidable opponent. One she didn't want to fight ever again, or she may have something worse than a sprained ankle.
"Good. Be assured, you won't have to fight her as long as everything run as planned Of course you won't leave just right now. Maybe in two or three days, if I don't manage to negotiate directly. You may proceed, Perez." Kupchenko answered the doubt of the Sapin pilot, even if he spotted a little distrust in her mood. Was it distrust, or mistrust? The lines between the two was rather thine anyway.
After the two of them left, the screen behind his desk glided vertically, revealing a small corridor that linked to the Meinungsausbildungsraum of Hellenseite. And the latter stood there, with a bit more of doubt that the Sapin had displayed. Which was rather rare, given Hellenseite cold and introvert nature. It wasn't long before he expressed his true mind on the true goal of this operation:
"You're sending her blind. You're expecting many things to happen here. Way too many things to be in the six-sigma interval. Where is the man that had planned our uprising for months and figured every contingency before this war?" He tried to explain how Kupchenko's planning had went so chaotic since he had been hit by this cyanide bullet. The Arzt (medics) had fully treated him, but this now left him with worries for his friend.
"I acknowledge that fact. But we don't need everything going as plan with a 99.74 percent rate (the six-sigma interval). We need to take the chaotic nature of some people now involved in the equation." Kupchenko retorted, wanting to diminish the doubt of his friend. He could have sent him instead, as he knew well the lead engineer, but he didn't want him to take the risks.
"Although chaos can be beautiful, it cannot last." Hellenseite quoted, preferring methodical approach to issues they needed to tackle rather than empirical ones. Empiricism was based on what could be, but it also included all that could not be. And Hellenseite definitively wanted that their victory was in the would be and even in the should be. Yet, how many events that will led to this victory were still laying in the unknown, he couldn't have a grasp on anything regarding that matter.
"It won't last indeed. But we need this chaos in our game if we wanted to have the balance of power in our side, entropy aside or not. Besides, we still have some 4 members to add to our little festivities" Kupchenko ended their talk while steering it into another direction. These protagonist of his little conquer game could change many things, more or less than the chaotic variable. Or maybe they could bring as much change, but he would have to do a few calls before. One candle had been matched. Now he needed to light up the whole chandelier, and then these members would see things better than hidden in the dark like they were right now.
Two days later, a DW-2 would bring Vasquez to Hoffnung, escorted on their way by some members of Schwarze team. The travel was quite calm, with the few patrolling aircraft preferring to look around and not engage anything. Some Flankers did try to engage them at some point, but a Helligen Kolumne trashed their SAAMs, and the ERAAMs of all aircraft decimated the enemy squadron - all MiG-31 had been modified to bear this weapon -. Their other modification allowed them to carry some ATGMs containing Hypersthene, and vectored nozzles. Kupchenko had based these redesigns on the MiG-31X/V of some mercenary he once saw fighting against the future Solo Wing Pixy.
Yet, Vasquez had no idea to where she would end up. Negotiations would be fine, she hoped. Her only wishes was that she wouldn't have to indulge in aggressive negotiations. So far, nothing unforeseen happened. But she had been sent for more reasons than she knew, and as such, was facing much risks than she knew for this reason. What was the danger, she didn't know. Danger would cause risks, and risks hazards. When these hazards would turn into incidents, she had no way of knowing either. Her second hope would have to have left when the allied would come for Hoffnung.
Mausoleum, Schayne Plains, Belka, 10/06/1995, 14:00, Weather: outcast, risk of thunder.
It was during one of the moments in which the two current inhabitants of the Mausoleum were occupied to two different things. Kellerman had managed to salvage the radio of his own F-4X III Geist now laying in the dust here and was trying to fix it. It was a bit difficult for him, being not as much of a tech-savvy than his younger students He was born at a time where crystal radio were still a thing, and not a piece belonging to museum. He was born in an era in which radio using FM bands were only pirates' radio. He didn't try to comprehend the complexity of the Phase Modulation technology in it. Only to have access to an AM/FM radio. It seemed enough for him if he wanted to stay in touch with the rest of the world, at least news wise. Maybe fate had made him do these little repairs. Or he would have never seen this specific message a few minutes later.
At this precise moment, he wasn't the only one tinkering around the technology that had been left here. But Iskanda had chosen to look around the ultralight plane that had rest below a big piece of white fabric. On the opposite of the spectrum, its silk was pitch black, maybe it was some aircraft made for night flight. She was unsure to use the term "silk" to designate the shaping of the wing, because it didn't feel like silk or any synthetic tissue she had felt or worn. It seemed to be extremely light, even a bit lacking thickness to resist much from her point of view, but maybe it was one of these new "intelligent" tissues or something like that.
Another thing that startled her was the energy of this ultralight plane. Usually, a light thermic high-efficient engine was used, sometimes it was even old motorbike engines that could be use. But here, it was a strange propeller, that was made of concentric layers of metal, linked together by over metallic plate that were cutting the metallic hollow cylinder into thirds. Maybe it was one of these electric engines that were able to produce wind without moving parts. She had already seen some high-costly cooling fans that used such systems, but they were more prototypes than mainline products, and as such, she never offer much attention to this nascent technology. The battery was not like the one of cars. It would have been far too heavy and far too cost-efficient. Strangely, the marking on it said that in order to charge it, all that was needed was water and power. She deduced it could be some sort of fuel cell, and was wondering why such expensive system was put on such an insignificant plane -because to the eyes of the fighter pilot she was, a ultralight plane had not that many use-, when Kellerman broke the silence.
To be honest, it wasn't Kellerman that broke the silence, but a streak of high pitched sounds that looked like some amplified Morse code. For what she could heard, it wasn't an SOS. It wasn't even letters, as letters had for signal, and she could count fifth of them between the small intervals. Of course, the emitted sound had nothing in common with the old Morse signal she had heard in movies, and for this reason alone, her curiosity was raised, and she darted toward the small room that was used as a basic dining room and kitchen, and where Kellerman was currently trying to write the short message on a piece of paper. The signal was only emitted once, which was difficult to listen too.
"Who can send pulse radio like this? Some radiostar thing?" She asked, doubting that it could be such outbound signal, and surely not some space signal but a more down-to-earth one.
"No Quasar or Pulsar here. Only someone that doesn't have much time, or his afraid to get caught by someone and thus had to act quickly. Luckily this military radio has a semi-automatic record system." He explained, as he rewound this small tape of five signal groups. He knew maybe Morse code better than the young one facing him. And the old Belkan code, unused since many years, that he had almost recognized, he was getting pretty sure about it. So he began trying some combinations, after having done a small periodic table on another piece of paper.
"I know Herr Thesermeister managed to figure that the ADFX-01s were carrying Hypersthene through his knowledge in applied physics, but in which domain will a periodic table helped us decipher a message ?" She expressed her curiosity once more; this piece of intel doesn't make sense to her no ringing any bells.
He stopped his writing for a moment, then remove some of the letters, only leaving the prefix of the supposed elements. His first try didn't make any sense for both of them, or only a tiny bit for him. And half of the element he was writing were unknown to her. Not fully unknown, she had heard their names in chemistry, but did not know the use someone could make of these specific elements, outside of deciphering some Belkan code. That seemed as simple as that twisted game Thesermeister had to use to decipher the resistance code.
For a moment, he almost ignored her question, so focus in the deciphering of this very short message, that was less than a half minute in duration. He rewound the message a dozen times more before meaningful words appeared on his piece of paper. And to be honest, meaningful word would have been better, since there was only one five letter word.
But as he wrote this word slowly his eyes lightened suddenly, he apparently found something, she guessed. And out of the blue he explained what he was using:
"These numbers are a combination of mass numbers and atomic number, the A and Z of the periodic table. The hard thing is to understand when to start and when to begin, and which one is an A or a Z. I think I have found the first word of his message. You see, the fifth first figures are 4,5,4,1,4. I do think the order is a ZAZ, because if we took them as only Z or only A I only get meaningless letters."
"Great use of physics. And?" She replied, a bit doubtful toward his results, not wanting to be disappointed by too much expectation.
"Well, in this order it gives Helium, Xenon, Stickstoff (Nitrogen). Or He, Xe and N. That made Hexen." He carried on with his strange explanation, that were only beginning to make sense with this word that Iskanda understood quite quickly.
"Witch. Are the allied preparing some magic tricks?" She translated the word. It was obviously a code name for something. It might be some Osean squadron. She had heard of the Wizard and Sorcerer squadron that had successfully destroyed several long-range raid groups of Belkan fighters and bombers at the beginning of the war.
"I doubt of this. But the two over elements made less sense to me : 42 can done Molybdenum or Scandium and 111 can ever give Roentgenium, three times Wasserstoff oder a combination of Bore and Wasserstoff, and I don't understand the -1" He shown his little findings on the second part of the message.
"Molybdenum symbol is Mo, it could be an abbreviation for Modus Operandi, or anything else. Besides, I know more words beginning by Mo rather than by Sc." Iskanda try to keep what was making the more sense inside of the equation.
"That would made sense. The - - 1 could mean to change the symbolic letter in one of the aforementioned elements. Then it doesn't make sense if its Bore or Wasserstoff, since their symbolical letter is their first letter." Kellermann conceded that Iskanda's reasoning seemed to be in the good direction.
"Then it would give R and t instead of g for Roentgenium. So Hexen Mort. What could it mean overall? Dead witches? Death of the Witches? Or the Witches of death? And why would the allies use Belkan words?" Iskanda tried to find the overall significance of this message, but only gave a flurry of hypothetical meaningless could-be message.
To this followed two Belkan Bad words, expressing their lack of luck "Gott Verdammt". And a few minutes of silence followed the profane words.
Then, in a spark of genie, Kellermann realized what the word Hexen was speaking off. He would have shouted Eureka to celebrate this success if he didn't know the true gruesome link to his past in this word. A past he had long thought to be far away, but not far away enough, as it seemed.
" The Witches will bring Death, that's the meaning of this very short message. And no, the Witches are not some Osean sister squadron of Wizard and Sorcerer. They're something far sinister. Weit schrecklicher (far more horrible)." He exclaimed, having no fear of any Osean squadron so far. These, he knew how to handle them: deception and better training were the two spearheads of the Belkan doctrine, which was meant to control the Belkan.
"What are those "Hexen"?" She sought to know how horrible these witches were, using the Belkan word this time. They couldn't be that much terrible than herself, she thought. She already considered herself to be pretty horrible, with her mind filled with matricidal envy.
"You have seen the Vulture in action. Pretty ruthless killer, isn't he?" He wanted to compare these two shadowy group. However, as he was about to point out, these two shadow killers had great disparities.
"I did, above B7R. He was just doing his job with great efficiency and not letting anyone interfere, but accepted help. Killing afraid people from Rald-Regiment didn't seem to frighten them either, even before Kupchenko gave them the order. But I guess Kupchenko had not convinced the Hexen mit Versprechern von Erlösung (promises of redemption), hadn't he?" She showed almost to no fear toward this pilot. She was surely as ruthless as he was, having shown very little hesitation when engaging Crow 2.
"There you must have seen that Zubov has some sense of honor. He might have lost every bit of honor he had as a Yukte pilot during the conflict in Romney. I think you know what happened in this troubled period: the Yukte pilots, following their command had to bomb what they had been told to be an abandoned town filled with criminals and radicalized resistance fighters. The truth was, with town was filled with moderate political opponents and people that thought they were safe because this specific town was known to welcome all asylum seekers. Zukov's plane were equipped with white phosphorus bomb. Casualties were in the thousands. It only led to much more radicalization of moderates, and even more blind bombing. In the end, Yuktobannia invaded to control the area that had gone crazy. Of course, when they were debriefed after the conflict, they bolted from the blue. And of course, Yuktobannia couldn't accept that these soldiers that had committed blatant war crimes on their behalf to live. Half of his squad was shot at dawn. The other were secretly recruited by Belka into its Night chase squad -the deserter killers-. But I guess I'm digressing with all of his story." Kellerman paused a little, still shocked by human nature. He had seen its core, and he could be wondering if there was a bit of light inside.
"Great. Now you manage to make me feel compassion toward the Vulture." Iskanda went sarcastic, even if honestly speaking, she was feeling a bit of this unusual sentiment for her toward these broken mans, abandoned by their lords and led toward damnation. It was understandable that they had betray Belka when Kupchenko gave them a chance of salvation, from her point of view.
"But these Hexen. They just kill to kill, without aim or purpose. They are the ones that will secretly torture opponents. At the beginning they were just a bunch of assassins. All womens. They had almost been all caught by the government preceding the Rald ascendancy. And the Rald freed them in exchange of little services. They rarely killed, but when they left their victims alive, what is left is more of an hollow body, and empty shell. Their methods can nearly wipe the minds of their victims." He confessed his real fear toward these dangerous women. He had already had issues with them, and to him, once was already one too many times
"How many are they?" Iskanda interrupted him, realizing that such unit would be a nice addition to her killscore. She was a bit afraid by his way of describing them but wasn't showing that much of it.
"12 younger, and one older. There was 13 of them before their chemist, Frau Toxis left. You know, the one that is one of the reasons for Kupchenko's survival. You want to know if you can try to fight them, don't you?" The old man raised an inquisitive gaze at the woman with half-tanned skin and black-haired woman, who was almost grinning out of excitement to fight such dangerous person.
"They aren't worthy adversary in an honorable way. But I'm not an honorable fighter. I think you already know that. Everyone had their weaknesses." Iskanda confirmed her intent to seek conflict rather than trying not to be within their grasp.
"Killing a few stranded Osean is one thing. Killing while outnumbered in the air is another thing. But killing while outnumbered on the ground is a whole different aspect of the fight. You might need to think this through before rushing in." Kellerman recognized she had great fighting skills. He couldn't give her proper and direct help, but a bit of intelligence about these Hexen, which he possessed, could turn the tide in her favor.
"It wouldn't be my first time." She smirked, drawing her blade from below her uniform. She had shown it before, and Kellerman had seen the reddish and yellowish marks of old rotten blood on all of its surface, especially its barbs.
"Indeed, your history is so tainted in blood that I could wonder if you're not some kind of blood-thirsty creature." He replied as he looked once more at the weapon. It was a piece of fine art, and through it she had turned the murder of her next one into a fine art too.
"I'll admit I'm blood-thirsty. Where could I slake my thirst?" She asked him, curious if he could guide her on what seemed to be a suicide mission. But Koenig had judged her tunnel run to Directus to be suicidal too, and yet she had obtained a great victory that day.
"That I can provide you data on it. Let's go for a little history lesson, shall we?" He invited her to sit with a dapper hand gesture. She nodded and sat on a chair in front of him, while he was looking at her with his hand in front of him, on the table and with interleaved fingers.
"They won't be in Hoffnung. Rather in Verzweiflungsberg (The Mountain of Despair.)."
"Fitting name, for a bunch of women that revel into breaking people's mind." Iskanda commented with humor.
"This place has a rather messed up story. In the High Middle Age, there was a town who was supposed to become the rival of Hoffnung, being on the other side of the valley on which Hoffnung is today. Back then the Löre was going through this city and not through Hoffnung. But following some natural catastrophe such as a big landslide, the river changed its course and began irrigating Hoffnung. The other city was soon abandoned, left to thugs, thieves and misfits. During the great plague period, it was there that the people of Hoffnung would send their sick to die. The place was a giant lazaret. These acts met their end with St Victoire's era, but only to reemerge once her rule has ended. Then, in the middle of our century, Belka chose to build an air force base over these cursed grounds. Sometimes, people reported to see "phantoms" on their radar and such. It was mostly due to magnetic anomaly or hidden experimentation of energy-based weaponry, but it didn't help lessen the reputation of this place. The airbase was deserted after the future Heirs of Kupchenko torched the place while deserting. A few buildings are left today. But there's another building that is still standing in this era: an old chapel featuring a crypt. It is said that there was Black mass occurred there in ancient times. And more recently, it is in the vicinity of this old church that Belkan patrols would find the opponents to Belka's regime, haggard, having lost all will and being almost dead souls in a living body." He described the place, that the Witches had judged to be fitting enough for their atrocious acts.
"So, a bunch of messed-up people are messing up with the head of some others, in a long messed-up place. I guess this place might need to be exorcised through bloodshed and fire." Iskanda showed once more her intent to do battle against these evil-minded persons. But was she less or eviler? She had only tortured Herr Zeichner through his psyche, but she was sure she could also break the spirit of some if she resorted to enough pain. Anyone would break with a certain point. She knew her was quite high, but she wasn't indestructible.
"I must precise that if you want to fight them, you'll want to be the one attacking them with as much fierceness as they have, and maybe even more. If they take you down one time, they won't let you any chance to survive. It's survival or death." He summed up what she should adopt to fight them. Sometimes it was needed to choose horror to destroy the horrific ones, to become a greater evil than these evils she wanted to take down.
"I won't back down in front of evil. They will know what horror mean in my book." Iskanda nodded, holding her blade strong in her hand, wanting to see it covered in flesh and blood once more.
"You might need to leave at nightfall. My Geist is out of commission, but the ultralight is a good plane." Kellerman insisted on the urgency of the situation. If someone had got wind of this, they needed, and more, she needed to act fast. These Hexen might like to take their time to slowly break their victim's mind, but once the process was engaged, it was quite hard to restore the people's identity. The few victims he knew of had become people locked in their own body, like if they had suffered hypoxia but had retained the motor function.
"That will be a first to me. Using an ultralight to go do battle." She asserted, not used at all to such plane without much electronics.
"This one is quite unique. It was meant to give the capacities for some Belkan stranded here to harass the enemy forces around here. It has a reduced radar signature, and its electronic engine without moving part made it quite silent. I will show some other things about it and give you some more advices against the Hexen." Kellerman told her this wasn't the basic ULM used for tourism or for fun. This was supposed to be use in war. Then both left their seat to look around the ultralight.
The few things he told her was to look for some case below it that she thought was some way to either carry ordnance or some payload, but it was just a case below it, put on the ground. It contained an oxygen regenerator, which was needed due to the cruise speed of the machine, which was above the hundred kilometers, an impressive foot for such kind of airplane and the lack of pressurization. Still, it had a light cockpit made of carbon fiber to improve its aerodynamics. The cockpit made her think about a bobsleigh more than a fighter, but both were designed with reduced friction in mind, after all. Another thing that this case contained was a pair of IR glasses, that for some reasons were not showing things in shades of green but in shades of red. At least she wouldn't see the blood she would spill. However, to diminish the onboard wait and electronics, there wasn't much to help find her path. And she would have to cross the Waldreich mountain, or at least go through some pass in the mountain, since the topology of this part of Belka was as following : the Waldreich were separating the south-west from the North-West, with the first being now the CSB. The closest city to the mountains was Sudentor, an important industrial center, but of lesser importance than Hoffnung. So, she would need to go around it. Among the data that he provided her was the time she would need to get there: almost three hours. He told her a few other advices, one of them being to seek something in the abandoned base they hadn't here but would be necessary to survive her encounter with the Hexen. He also helped her prepare her gear a bit.
She left at nightfall like he had suggested. This time, they couldn't use the launching system, the ultralight was too fragile for such high Gs. So, they had to make the ultralight go from its limit to achieve take-off speed. Her last word that Kellerman heard were punctuated with mad laugh of sick joy and were the followings:
"Hexenjagd hat angefangen (Witch-hunt has begun!"
Valais Air Base, Ustio, 10/06/1995, 16:00, Weather: medium cloud coverage.
Far away and without any knowledge of what was happening, what had happened and what will happen in Belka, Pixy was chatting with two of the only people he could still trust in the base : Herr Steller, the chief mechanic, and Hervin, Herr Abweichler. Both had mixed feelings about what would happen for them. At least the last shipment, and the last Osean squadron that had arrived here were giving a few hypotheses.
"These F-15Es are full of sub-munitions bombs. They aren't planning to do precise bombing." Pixy rejected the idea that the war could stay clean. It hadn't been since the beginning.
"I agree, the target will surely be either Sudentor or Hoffnung. This will be again a tripartite battle, with again Belkan shattered between their loyalty to the motherland and the will of Gault 1. Besides, the Pendragon Projekt had many parts produced in Hoffnung. Both the allies and the North Belka have interest in burning this city to the ground." Hervin agreed, lowering his gaze, not liking the idea to see the motherland burning. But if they attacked, the air would burn too : Kupchenko was not afraid to use Excalibur, even to strike at defenseless ground forces. Allied losses would be again in the hundreds.
"They are intending to burn it. I thought they were carrying tanks, but these things they had on their underbelly are white phosphorus bombs." Herr Steller pointed out, knowing the terrible effect of such chemicals.
"And I thought it was banned by the last war convention. Apparently, it isn't. Or Osea had forget their holy idea of "conquering to bring freedom". They will only bring death. Freedom is in life." Pixy was forced to agree that Osean had forgotten their way in this war. Everyone had. What have they become, he asked himself? Were they still the good guys? He knew what he would tell if an Osean ask his mind about this subject: define "good".
"Besides, I don't know what they are going to do to circumvent Excalibur." Hervin made notice of the first reason that could jeopardize the allied bombing raid. It was the reason why the allied hadn't obtained any victory since a month.
"I don't know to be sure, but Perrault was bragging about something. He said, I quote that if Kupchenko may have some fairies and wizard to protect his forces, we had some witches striking on our behalf, or something like that." Steller intervened, the Osean bragging about that like these Witches could bring the unexpected yet wanted victory. Because if Osea and Yuktobannia had managed to keep their morale and will to fight high enough, it had gone low in Sapin and Ustian forces. There were rumors that these latter countries were secretly talking peace with the CSB, but they were only mere rumors and few people were giving them any weight right now.
"Well, I do not believe in magic tricks. I hope I won't have to fight against that black Berkut above Hoffnung. His or her pilot was ruthless and dauntless, and alone this Belkan was responsible for dozens of allied and North Belkan deaths." Pixy pointed out another reason to why the third battle over B7R had ended in an utter disaster for the allied forces. To him, it had been a total victory, as he slaughtered the Grabacr. It still remembered watching Ashley Bernitz being vaporized by two static FAEBs. He had tear of joy in his eyes when he recalled that story to the resistance members, while the nearby Oseans judged him with contempt, as he left several of their men die to accomplish his personal vendetta. But their mind mattered not to the Belkan mercenary. Only his Vergeltung (vengeance) had mattered.
"I hope for you too. We are still out of red paint." Steller retorted before laughing a bit of this funny situation.
Yet Pixy wondered if he wasn't laughing for another reason. He had often found him smiling, him and other Ustian resistance members when they were talking alone and far from Osean hears. Maybe they were simply mocking the Osean -they had all the good reasons to mock these traders-war-profiteers, and he had too-, but they were showing a bit too much of enthusiasm for him. He had only seen such before the last great victory they had, the retaking of Directus. Were they expecting a victory? Yet, what does a victory for Ustio mean now? Ustio had been freed, and only a margin of the Osean contingent was still left, since they couldn't operate from Directus nor Solis Ortus. This left the mercenary with more questions than answer in the end, and enough hypothesis to write a three-hundred-page philosophy thesis.
A second short filler chapter has been filled, with a bit more of historical details. Soon the action will begin. The next chapters will contain a lot more of action than those two lasts, be sure of that. Words will be swept away, living place to action, mercy (huh, no, they won't be any), sacrifice (there will be some). They will be moment of pure passion. At least it's what I hope to achieve.
So, these ones were a bit more about how things evolved outside of the battlefield, something we rarely have in ace combat. More than often we don't have any data on the true consequences of war, for both parties involved in these wars.
Anyway, i won't get too philosophical, I let that to Pixy. I hope I didn't lose anyone with physical talk about the use of the periodic table. There will be a test in the next chapter… (Just kidding…)
I tend to use Word to diminish my grammar and spelling mistakes. I have a good level in English and German, but I know next to nothing in Spanish though. So, if anyone want to make suggestion for the words I use in this language, I'm open to suggestion
Feel free to review, favor, comment… Und bis nächst mal, Lesern und Leserinnen.