Tauberg Air Base, Belka, 19/06/1995, 11:35, Weather: overcast.
For once the weather was in accordance with the general mood of the pilots. Their mind was clear, and their CAP of this morning had proved the sky to be even clearer. The only thing they saw was a pair of Osean SR-71s longing the border dangerously close. Dangerously close for them only, as the last iteration of the ERAAM with a liquid fuel rocket engine was able to catch the one spy plane famed for being uncatchable.
"I agree that we could have shot those down easily, and their rescue with the same ease, but apparently Kupchenko does not want us to be perceived as "too aggressive." Iskanda justified why they could not turn this boring CAP into a full open battle.
"At least we saved the ammo. Besides, they left the area quite quickly." Zeichner resumed how it had turned for the Oseans, who didn't want to become target practice for unearthly prototypes.
"They ran like foxes scared by a wolfpack." Zveda commented, being not really much bothered by this new dominant position. It was always great to be in a position of power.
"Aren't we Luchs?" Cipher asked in a rhetorical manner.
"We are apex predators, and they are prey. Prey will always run before the alpha." Pixy replied, setting flight into philosophy once more.
"I wonder, since you were a bit of a Mulan in the Erusean Air Force, did they cast you out and force you to flee once they discovered who you were?" Zveda asked, still amazed that for more than 4 years she was able to trick the system. The political chaos had been surely useful to her back then.
"My roommate did discover what I was. Fortunately for his life he kept my secret. Still, the scene is worth telling." Iskanda replied, having nothing against a bit of storytelling, if it was in both ways.
"He surely was intelligent enough not to annoy you. Otherwise, he would just be another name on your kill list." Pixy said, knowing like every one of her wingmen that she was not someone to be messed with. Or your remains would be just a bloody mess.
"I'm all ears." Zveda announced, ready to learn a bit more about her shadowy backstory that made hers look like a nice sunshine.
"So, let's go to Farbanti, three years and a few months ago." Iskanda set where this story went, in a clear voice. There was no reason to use her overjoyed voice, as she did not commit any nice and enjoyable killing that day.
École de l'Air, Farbanti, 03/08/1992, 18:45, Weather: light cloud cover.
The military pilot college of Farbanti was an important building actually outside of the city's boundary, which were the few hills that surrounded the city and were once dominated by small castles, with their walls joining to create a long line of fortifications all around the city.
The college itself was composed of three long and four story high longitudinal buildings in baroque style, linked by more modern corridors made of glass and metal that seemed suspended in the air. The baroque part possessed a rich and lavish decoration, being the former residence of a very wealthy man a few centuries ago. Man, who had sought to impress the king, however the king became jealous of such displays of richness and seized the building for the crown.
More modern buildings had been added behind the old ones, mainly some hangars, maintenance workshop, and obviously a runway large enough for 747 to land there. The simple metallic boxes contrasted heavily with the old and decorated stone front of the older buildings.
Still, the pilots did not live here with the same luxurious quality of life as those nobles who once inhabited this place. Because their rooms were all located on the fifth floor, just below the roof, where the domestics once lived. They had few windows, and both thermic and sonic isolation were poor. In winter they froze, in summer they had to endure heat waves, and as soon as a plane was taking off during the night, everyone would be awakened.
Those living conditions weren't the worst for the two pilots living in the last room of the corridor, a normal pilot named Jean-Louis Haigneré who had lived in the worst flats at Farbanti, and another known as Iskander, who never heat nor cold seem to annoy. After all, the last person had known far poorer living conditions in her exile.
Besides, cold was the last of their concerns. Right now, drying themselves after the sea survival training, they just did.
"Was it really mandatory for you to show off once more?" The pilot named Jean-Louis and with callsign "Loup" (Wolf) asked his roommate he had been assigned, since his room suffered some water damage. Before that this other pilot had enjoyed an almost solitude that didn't displease this person for obvious reasons that he would learn today.
"You mean, jumping from fifteen meters instead of five?" Iskanda answered, keeping her manly and serious voice even if she would have liked to be alone in her room like she had been for the previous two years. Sure, that new roommate was nice, but it imposed her all-moment caution, or he might discover something.
"I got your point; in a real situation you would have more time to separate from the chute and avoid drowning in it. But were the two following backflips really that mandatory?" Jean-Louis recalled what that person did to impress his comrades. Only one tried to imitate her but has now a sore rear as he did not hit the water with his feet but his butt.
"I like to have my way of doing things. It was funny seeing him be forced to stay standing up during the back trip. Guess that'll humble him." Iskanda replied, having really enjoyed seeing that unbearable person act as if someone slapped him or something else.
"I could try doing some white-water sports but enjoying a warm bed with my girl is a bit more appealing to me than jumping and swimming in cold waters at Rainy canyon." The Erusean pilot commented on the choices of activity of his roommate, unusual ones but not useless.
"I prefer cold to warm. You can take your shower first and use my part of warm water. That way you can go back to your girl. I know you're on leave this weekend." She tried to influence the man so she would be alone in here when showering.
"Thanks. And that intel could be deduced from your reactions after the ten-kilometer swim in sea water. Everyone was exhausted but you just seemed happy." He recognized this pilot had a few things he wouldn't do like the average person. But it could be good not to act like the average person if you wanted to survive in battle.
It wasn't that long before he had his shower, satisfied with having some warm water after having had to swim in a water at 17°C with their flight suit on to imitate what could happen if they had to bail out in the sea. Of course, if that happened, they would use the self-automatic inflatable survival boat they had with their seat. But due to man-seat separation after the bail-out, the dinghy could end up more or less far from you. Hence this kind of trial to make sure you had enough resilience to reach that safe spot.
The only thing they spoke about while he was having his shower was their weekend activities. He had his girl to meet and had planned to propose to her at a fine restaurant. Iskanda on the other hand had planned to do some running on "La Barrière".
And it wasn't that long until he left, men being not that long under the shower, especially when they know they have a girl waiting for them. Far nicer perspective than having some boring patrol exercises to do, or some other survival training planned for the weekend.
And so, for a moment she could forget that she was acting as a guy under this shower. Still, the jade harpoon never left her. She didn't like to stay unarmed, even under the shower. She had almost finished her quick cold shower when she saw something that her roommate had forgotten before leaving: some jewelry box, being the size of those containing rings. She didn't think it to be important at first glance.
However, her roommate quickly realized when he joined up with his girl that he had forgotten something. And he was so hasty about retrieving that precious gift he reserved for his girl that he forgot the elementary politeness of knocking on the door before entering a bathroom. He didn't think it to be that rude, doing just a fast back and forth in the room.
But in doing so, he had a look around as he sought for his gift. And saw the naked back of his roommate. Then his roommate pivoted, and all things became blurry.
"Damn, that's an interesting story." Zveda judged, smiling as it was more of a funnier situation than the other part of Iskanda's bloodier past.
"I can't believe that you thought I would tell some "lemon" about my former girl, and now you are telling me what seems to be close lemons?" Pixy smirked while recalling this very detail, when both of them talk about their past, his romantic one and her very close matricide.
"Nothing funny happened to neither of us." Iskanda objected, sighing as she heard Pixy's remark.
École de l'Air, Farbanti, 03/08/1992, 19:00, Weather: light cloud cover.
When his vision ceased to be blurry, the Erusean pilot was a bit dumbstruck at the scene he was now part of. He was laying on his back on the ground, with a very naked girl on him. Some people could have found such a situation to be exciting. But having a harpoon pointed at your throat was definitely decreasing whatever he could feel about this girl, beside the fact that his girlfriend was waiting in her car right now and would soon wonder what was delaying him.
"I guess Iskander is not your real name." He muttered, having fully assessed that screaming would result in her pushing the harpoon in his throat.
"My true name is not that far, Jean-Louis." She recognized it hadn't been too difficult to change her identity when she only needed to replace two letters.
"Iskanda then?" He asked with the same muttered voice, trying to think about his girl to mask his fear. Fear that would soon necessitate that he took another shower, as he was sweating bullets.
"You have at least some sense into you. Good thing not to scream. Don't think I would have any problem hiding a body. I could put you in a plane as the back seater, bail out after sabotaging your seat and let your remains burn." Iskanda asserted that she already had a pretty good plan about how to deal with dead weights.
Of course, hearing those very cold-hearted thoughts, if not iced-hearted thoughts, caused her interlocutor to tense. She could see fear distorting his facial traits, like it had done to many people she had to intimidate over the years, from her mother to many other nameless obstacles she hadn't remembered the face nor the name, and certainly never felt any regret about their fate.
"Hey, don't go into catatonic shock either." She shouted at him in half-voice, before slapping his face to get him back into a conscious state. An overflow of adrenaline in a human body was like an overflow in an engine: if mastered, it would give greater strength. If not, you would stall and stay paralyzed.
"I can promise ... not to say anything if you want." He whispered, his voice lower than a whistle. One could have thought he had some lung injuries, from the tone of his voice.
"Good choice. you can live and leave." Iskanda accepted his promise. She knew him to be loyal and hold his promise. Well, Iskander knew him to be such a man.
By reflex, he massaged his throat that she had held a bit too tightly, while she left him on the ground and finally dressed up. How casual she had acted while threatening him left him quite surprised. Was she as cold as the seawater in Winter, or was it just an act? If she was, then she could be a good actress if someone were to do a horror movie with a female antagonist.
"You know, my only worry wasn't what to do with your body, but how to clean the blood you would have left on the ground. Blood is quite hard to clean on parquet." Iskanda said, while finishing to put her uniform back, that as he could see, couldn't let anyone see her feminine features as she hid them quite well under some highly tensed fabric. It might hamper her breathing but compared to what high-G suits would do, it was nothing.
"Good thing to know that you cared about something. Getting your blade dirty doesn't matter I believe?" He nonchalantly asked, trying to keep the fear out of his mind with some talking.
"Blades are never dirty when covered with blood in my eyes. They are dirty when covered by dust and rust because they are not used." Iskanda replied with a bit of joy in her voice, remembering those nice moments of fight for her freedom
"You're really crazy, aren't you?" He rhetorically asked, stating something obvious about her. Only deranged minds enjoy killing.
"That craziness has allowed me to reach my goals in life. There's no point in acting like a normal person since I don't know what it means." Iskanda sighted, her arms crossed, a bit bothered by his statement.
"And so, what happened next?" Zveda interrupted the story abruptly, wanting a bit more detail.
"Not that much, he made me meet his girl. A very nice person, who showed acceptance and admiration. If I remember well, she worked at a bakery and was pretty good at baking croissants." Iskanda recalled, leaving her few non-bloodied enjoyable souvenirs behind.
"You mentioned something called "La Barrière." What is it?" Cipher showed some more curiosity about this country that had chosen to help them, the underdogs.
"It's the great project of "Le Sage". A gigantic Dam to push back the sea and thus gain a few kilometers squared on the ocean. It's a few dozen kilometers long, so it's a nice thing for running. In some way, it's the continuation of the old walls that surrounded Farbanti but set against the ocean. The surface gained there had allowed the city to be self-sufficient since they gained some agrarian lands, and since the dam is also a massive tide-powered electric generator, the city has solved its power issue." Iskanda described the massive construction that had allowed men to win over nature.
"How did they find the necessary steel and concrete?" Zeichner demanded, knowing that Erusea had no such quantity of raw resources, thus justifying their expansionism in some ways.
"The steel came from scrapped battleships, and concrete from military fortresses that had been unarmed after the peace treaty. In a way La Barrière finally brought some prosperity that neither Battleships nor fortresses could." Iskanda indicated, having learned during her time there that a lot of cutting-edge industries and start-ups had begun their history there, with the area costing very little. She even rented a nice flat there for a week of leave, and the place was very nice. Besides, the megastructure was not that ugly in the view, having been painted in white. That was Le Sage's vision of the future, not turned inward were only war, devastation and bare land were located, but outward. And today this outward was containing the CSB and their soon-to-be allies.
"The man is really a visionary. He has accepted like his father, and unlike his grandfather that war would not make them great. Furthermore, he was a bit luckier than his father since the warmonger king died when he just began to show some will for peace." Pixy gave his historic reading to those events. In a way, he was what he expected modern kings to be if they wanted to stay in History: not pure representatives without true power like in Emmeria, nor absolute monarchs like in some far away countries that Osea did not find worth giving some nuclear inspection. King's job was not to lead on the battlefield anymore, but toward prosperity and progress.
"I did my talk, but what caused you to come here, the Erben?" Iskanda now wanted to know their past. It couldn't be as bloodied as hers, but it was not pretty, considering the face Zveda made when sighting before satisfying her curiosity.
"It was nothing at the beginning. Just a routine patrol that went wrong." Zveda answered, almost feeling sorry for the lack of epicness in her past. Sometimes the past was just the past, not some great glorious journey like Iskanda's.
Near the Vezonsee, Belka, 20/10/1993, 16:30, Weather: overcast.
Six Belkan F-15Cs with a two-tone grey camo were closing on the area. The name of their squadron was Sperber, or sparrow hawk, as they had been heavily trained to act like sparrow hawks on their targets, hunting them from above like birds of prey. That was supposed to be their first active duty. A simple border CAP. However, something had changed the variables.
"You should see the slowed Osean on your radar." Their Belkan AWACS callsign Bäraugen indicated with an old and stern voice.
"Ja, Schwarz Vogel at 11." Zveda reported, a bit surprised that the Osean hadn't bailed out his SR-71. It was a high-tech spy plane that they would not like to see get taken by Belka.
"This is Black Sun 1, do you receive me, Belkans? I had an engine malfunction and your airport at Blumenberg is the only one I can reach before I run out of fuel." The Osean pilot with a damaged plane spoke, knowing that flying slow was only further reducing the fuel limit of his craft.
"Sperber 1 here, we have you loud and clear." Cipher said, while getting closer to the slow SR-71. He was still at supersonic speeds, but for a plane made to go far above, just transonic speed could be deemed slow.
"Roger. I won't lower my gear to confirm I'm following you, because lowering my gears at Mach 1 is not the best idea if you want to land afterwards, you know..." The Osean pilot answered, now sweating in his pressurized suit. Why did his circle-combined engine have to malfunction above the Vezonsee? Was the universe, or just the maintenance workers against him?
"It should be fine to land there. I mean, there's a few Concordes there used as liaison aircrafts for the higher ups, so the runway should be long enough for your craft to land." Zveda answered, who at that time responded under the name of Sperber 2.
"Good. You seem to be a nice person; I mean for a Belkan lady." The Osean pilot authorized himself a bit of relief. At worst, this incident would just create some tides in the military and certainly put him at odds for not bail-outing and punching the self-destruct order, but he should be back before All Saint's day.
"There's no point in killing an unarmed spy plane." Pixy commented from his outer point of view. Though, his past actions could make him doubt that his mind about this had any meaningfulness.
"Also there's no glory in such a kill. I mean, it's not like A-12 Oxcarts that could fire back, or those that had their D-21 drone to defend themselves." Iskanda backed his arguments, having fought the latter over Hoffnung. And those small drones had been revealed to be pesky little pests. Drones wouldn't be superior in tactics, but size and shape that were freed from the necessity of life support could offer more variety to drones than to fighters.
"Let's go back to the story. You might like that part a bit more." Cipher intervened, knowing what she liked after the few weeks he had spent in her company: slaughter of enemy crafts, without mercy nor consideration for human lives.
"Do we really need that guy alive?" Sperber 3, whose name was Robert, the cadet that Zveda had molested the day they met the major Kupchenko, asked deliberately, right after Zveda just thanked the Osean for considering to be a "nice" Belkan. How could a Belkan be nice with an Osean? For him Belkan could only be mean toward those that had always sought to lead their homeland astray.
"I don't like what you're implying, drei." Cipher raised his voice to a sterner tone, cutting the number four that was about to say something about the worth of that Osean's life.
"We can always say it misfired. Things can happen. Alles ist möglich. (all is possible)" Robert resumed his bad and cynical thoughts about this SR-71. He had now locked this target and has his finger ready for a good release of a pair of QAAM that would need nothing to go explode that stupid trader's servant.
"Ja, und I misfired on your cockpit maybe?" Sperber 1 let his unhappy subordinate know that there was no need to draw blood in this interception. Despite the deep hatred he nurtured toward this despicable "noble" Belkan, he would not open fire first. Better be the defender than the aggressor in the report.
"You're good at fancy maneuvers and that's all." Sperber 3 retorted harshly, still remembering the humiliation he had that day. Which was only deepened by the lack of action from that major that didn't have a Belkan name.
"Don't try my patience." Zephyr sighted, sick of having to constantly deal with this prideful bastard.
"I think I'll rather try your interception capacities." Robert laughed at his superior, which he never considered him as such, not understanding why and how he had gotten the leader position.
And with these words he released a pair of XMAA toward the SR-71. Usually, such missiles were hardly a threat for the extremely fast spy plane, but here in this slowed state they could be quite deadly.
"What the f* are you doing, Belkans? I surrendered peacefully and I'm no threat to you." The Osean pilot shouted, now a bit afraid of his fate. He tried to increase his speed but knew it would be of little use.
"Teaching a lesson to a trader's servant." Robert answered, aiming only to be mean. He wasn't a man of thoughts. Just a false idea of grandeur.
"I'm on a good interception course. Gun gun gun." The Belkan leader announced, arriving on the four hours of the pair of missiles. Only a few bullets were necessary to neutralize this threat.
"You're quite low, putting yourself in danger to save that kind of person." Robert judged from his false supposed noble ground, firing his gun toward the F-15, which zoomed up and was out of harm's way in an instant.
"Und du bist dumm, to risk peace on a kill." Zephyr replied, a bit detached because there was no point and even no fun at angering himself with such a man.
Sperber one chose to engage that fool head on just to show him that he was the best, having no issue evading a pair of missiles with a right barrel-roll to the right. Even if the missiles barely grazed his fighter before falling behind, it had been somewhat of a close call. But he didn't want to kill the man, just scare him off. He quickly devised a plan to put him out of commission.
"Fire away, coward." Robert said with hate, trying to taunt the more cautious leader into making a mistake.
Zephyr saw nothing to answer. If anything, that man was a coward, not him.
The two planes were now flying straight head-on, but on two separate lanes. And a dozen seconds before they crossed, the Belkan leader extended his main airbrake, while pulling the stick leftward, where his subordinate would fly very soon.
And when he flew there the next second, he fired his gun. But only for a very brief amount of time. He could have gunned the Eagle on all its length and reduced it to a flying wreck. In the end, only the nose of Robert's F-15 was hit by his gunfire, neutralizing his radar and thus most of his weaponry.
"Now you stand down!" Sperber 1 bellowed, now out of his mind. He positioned himself behind the damaged Eagle, and ready a pair of missiles.
"I have no order to take from a future eternal first lieutenant." The Belkan pilot replied with a great deal of disdain toward his illegitimate leader in his eyes.
"He's right, which descendant of the Belkan knight would let an Osean free? You're not, so don't argue." Another cadet that both the future Cipher Zveda despised, and that their instructor, that Huckebein guy, had put with them to force them to cooperate.
"Klappe zu 4. Where's the honor of the house Ziegler?" Zveda tried to shut those other people off, even if she knew that only a bullet between their eyes would be the only thing to make them silent definitively.
"Who are you to speak about honor of lineage when you have none?" Another feminine voice spoke, being the sibling of that Ziegler guy and thinking over highly of themselves.
"Don't worry, once this Osean is dead I'll help you deal with her." Robert added, despite hearing the lock-on alarm blaring in his plane. He pushed the throttle stick to reach gun range on the SR-71.
This time the man who would soon become Cipher didn't send any warning. He had sent enough warning today. It had been his last straw. He quickly reached the damaged F-15 and disabled his afterburners with a short burst of gunfire. But the mad Belkan did not stop nor turn back.
"You chose to die today. I chose to live." He sent a final, solemn warning, and a pair of missiles.
"She also chose to die for agreeing with you." Ziegler answered, while engaging with the two other remaining craft to kill Sperber 2.
"Nicht wenn nichts, darüber zu sagen ich habe (not if anything to say about it I have)." Zephyr retorted, turning from the SR-71, letting him go toward Blumenberg, to engage those three that were pursuing his friend.
She wasn't having a nice time. Of course, it was not as difficult as what she would face in her training with the Schwarze Luchs, or when fighting this mad lady in the air. But she could still survive this one, swaying from side to side to avoid both their targeting and not allow them to have a window of fire.
However, she was a bit reinvigorated in their chances of success when she saw her friend's F-15C coming at them. She expected to see him come head-on on them, but what he did was also another good maneuver to keep their attention focused on her craft that was still slipping their fingers like an eel. And thus, have the full element of surprise when he would counter-attack.
"Wachte mal, wo ist der Westwind?" Sperber 6 asked, having seen the F-15C quickly down Robert's plane, then coming around to disappear from their field of view.
"Der Westwind?" Sperber 5 repeated, not understanding immediately what or who he was talking about, focused on aligning her gun with the now "enemy" F-15C.
"He means Zephyr. It's the ancient name of the western wind after all." The pilot of Ziegler lineage detailed this little nickname they had given to their so-called leader.
"You should look up." The pilot they were pursuing without any great success interrupted them, as Zephyr had finished his vertical Himmelman and was now falling on them like a Stuka of the last conflict.
"Ich habe den hohen Boden, Dummköpfen (I have the high ground, stupid)." The interested one claimed, while firing a pair of missiles and his gun, while descending in a perfectly controlled spin. He leveled his craft a bit above the three pursuers, ending his spin abruptly -which made him feel quite a lot of Gs on the instant-.
While he leveled, he could see the effect of his very accurate shot, despite having fired them in the middle of a spin. The two missiles had hit the two flanking F-15C in the cockpit, shattering their canopy and the pilot inside of it in thousands of small pieces of glass and human flesh. His short strafe had hit Sperber 4 on his tail.
And before the last of their opponent could realize his fate, the plane he was pursuing had gained speed, pulled out a perfect Himmelman and sent a pair of missiles down on his air intakes while saying:
"Choke on your honor!"
Even if he did choke on a pair of missiles, but that was less funny to say. The two survivors of this fratricidal battle rejoined and then caught up with the SR-71 that was still leaking fuel due to its slow speed.
"If you ever go to Osea as tourists, I'll pay you for some drinks." Was all they got as thanks from the Osean that had for once been greatly scared in this supposedly invulnerable craft.
"We will remember that." Zephyr said with a great amount of sarcasm, knowing that this unfortunate Osean pilot wouldn't see the mainland until some weeks, if not months. Usually, Belka would trade one spy for another, but that was many years that Osea had not caught any spies. What would they trade their man for was the great question for the two Belkan pilots.
Of course, not very shortly after came the order they feared: to go back to Hoffnung. They knew what awaited them here. At best imprisonment. At worst, a firing squad of SAMs ready to kill them just above the base to set an example. Or just a firing squad on the ground, if they wanted to keep the ammo.
"So, was passiert dann?" Pixy asked, not knowing the base commander of Hoffnung. But he was pretty sure that his base commander would have received them with some armed MPs in his hangar. Or have the Schwarze team on red alert in case they tried to run in the air.
"No firing squads. I think he wanted to understand what happened. I mean, myself I could not fathom why that Robert guy had opened fire on a pristine SR-71, which was of greater worth than just a titanium wreck." Zveda answered with some uncertainty in her voice, still wondering why he had done that. Of course, she hadn't seen a single chute that day. All those people would keep their secret in their nonexistent graves.
"That's understandable when you know the cost of such a plane. I mean, a quarter billion zollar is not anything." Iskanda pointed out that this was one the costliest aircraft of either design with the SR-71 being only able to do some scouting. Maybe the Melwaz cost more, but they had EW on board, which no variant of the Blackbird would ever possess.
"Do you know what happened to either the pilot or the craft afterward?" Günthar demanded, wondering if given the time he would have or not the luck to be back in Osea or not right now.
"We don't know anything about their becoming." Cipher answered honestly, having never sought the man since they arrived here in the Pendragon Projekt. Sure, given Kupchenko's great resources and links in many places, he might have the answer.
"Besides, your escape went pretty well." Pixy said, going back to the second subject of this conversation, having learned back in 1993 that two fleeing cadets had nearly bombed the Hoffnung Air base to ruins. Maybe it was for this reason that they had called his former commander to help oversee the rebuilding of it.
"Well, considering how Kupchenko had set up your witch hunt, we can assume he did the same for us, to make sure everything went smoothly." Zveda declared, having come to this hypothesis after Iskanda recalled how he had set her start variables there to have optimal chances of survival against those deadly ladies.
"I think you're right, star." Kupchenko intervened, calling her by the translation of her Yukte name.
"Did our choice matter that day then, in our hangar?" Cipher looked at him while sighting, understanding that they only chose this because it was the only sensical choice in regard to their survival.
"It depends on the point of view. I could have found other pilots for the Morgans. It would have been difficult to find better ones though." Kupchenko admitted that after their first encounter he had more or less established what their role in his grand scheme would be. He was always playing the long game.
"It's fine, I won't regret it anyway." Zveda conceded that if this choice had some consequences, there were more good ones than bad ones. The reason why she said that with a smile.
"Speaking of spy planes, didn't you say that the OIA hated you because you and your former leader killed three U-2s somewhere in Usea?" Iskanda recalled that Pixy had evoked that while telling how his day before the attack of Hoffnung went.
"Well, slaughtering mercilessly a trio of U-2s won't get me in their good graces." Pixy admitted, almost laughing at the fact that such relics were still used today.
"Then how will they consider me, given that I slaughtered twice that above Waldreich, and all their last Oxcarts above Hoffnung?" Iskanda asked rhetorically, leaning backward on her chair, and looking at the ceiling as if the answer was written here.
"As a mortal enemy. But your story might be interesting, Solo wing." Kupchenko answered for her, knowing that stories, and even the way of telling stories, could tell a lot about some people.
"Alright. It was a bad and rainy day." He began his introduction of this little chapter of his life.
Skawa Peninsula, Belarus, 16/10/1994, 17:00, Weather: heavy cloud cover, risk of hail.
Two F-15Cs were flying over rows and rows of pine trees now covered in low heavy clouds, that gave the place a little phantomatic feeling. Added to that the fact that there was not a single city, nor even a single house in those woods, and the place could feel like it had been damned, to be untouched by man. Or people were living under that heavy cloud coverage that left nothing to see from the ground, with only green pikes standing above it.
"This contract is paying well, but it's a bit annoying." Laura Zielter, current Galm 1, described the situation and the landscape.
"Yeah, just flying from Zubara to here, then go, and then wait for the replacement team at the end of the period and go again in the air." Pixy resumed what this whole mission was. It was for now the least adventurous contract in his few years as a mercenary.
"It makes sense of why the Eastern part of the Usean continent has become so peaceful." Laura stated the obvious. Her tone was shared between satisfaction and deception. Sure, those wars had lasted for decades ever since the warmonger king came to power within Erusea. And now, they would have less jobs due to this sweet peace the commoners were enjoying.
"Strangely, men with a strong will for peace, and not just peace-lovers are some of the most combative men I have ever met. People want peace and stability, not a false idea of freedom and anarchy that is only pure chaos." Pixy agreed that this new Erusean king had some guts to do what he had done. He was a thousand times braver than his grandfather, the warmonger king, was.
"He's a wise man. Let's hope his rule will last. This new Erusea he has helped to create could be a nice place to settle, if we want to, one day." Laura shared this idea she had, to know some peace and stability for a while.
"Well, that could be a good opportunity. If the Usean continent is not utterly thrown in disarray by the incoming asteroids, of course." Pixy pondered this opportunity. Mercenaries did not have a lot of options if they wanted to go back to the "normal" life. The only way to leave this life was either dying or going legitimate. Some choose to become aggressor pilots after having seen so much blood that makes them hate war, but they still want to fly.
"You're right. Maybe we shall enjoy the view of those forests before some asteroid blasts reduce it to ruins." Laura recognized that her hopes had far too many conditions to be realized one day. The first was no huge disaster caused by this asteroid. The second, no new Osean-Belkan war. Two events that had extremely great likelihood of happening.
"Speaking of the landscape, I always wonder why there's so many clouds covering the cliffs near the water." Pixy pointed out, having seen an unprecedented level of steam there.
"Maybe it's linked to some volcanic activities, since IR sensors do pick up some high temperature in those clouds." Laura guessed, having seen some volcanoes, even active volcanoes on some occasions.
In the mess hall of Tauberg, hearing those talks caused Kupchenko to smile a bit, as he knew many answers to those questions. But there was no need to answer them if they hadn't discovered anything while taking down those U-2s.
But Pixy got them back to reality, as the small Belarusian AWACS that was directing them, an A-50 Mainstay was signaling them some irregularity at high altitude, far above the low clouds of rain.
"Northern Eye to Galm, we have some bogeys at 20kms. They might have onboard jammers or be stealth, we can't id their cross section properly."
And up there, the three slow spy planes didn't need much time to realize that if their jammers could spare them from SAMs, it would not be of any use against gunfire, or long-range radar-guided flak shells. They were just glorified gliders with a pair of jet engines, made to go high, but not to go fast.
"I still cannot understand why they announced the retirement of the Oxcart fleet. If we were piloting one of these, we would already be in the safe." The pilot at the left flank of their three-plane formation said, a bit fed up with the fact that they were forced to fly those extremely slow flying coffins.
"There's another reason, Albatross 3. The low-band IR ultra-sensor that should allow us to see through the fog is not compatible with the software of the A-12, nor the SR-71's." Their leader recalled that, which had been an important issue with those old sensors developed to counter insurgents hiding in jungles covered in low clouds or in similar environments like here, where the usual IR sensors would pick nothing.
"Besides, we are not alone here. Permission to call the Peary armada?" Albatross 2 answered, with a slight southern accent.
"Permission granted. Call ASAP if we want to live." Their leader agreed that 3 U-2s against two F-15Cs was not a favorable match-up.
"Albatross 2 to Peary. Mayday. Mayday." The Osean pilot sent the distress signal. Maybe a SOS would have been fitting, considering there'll be only their soul left to save once the pair of F-15C arrived on them. And to think that usually the squadron tasked for the role those mercenaries were doing were composed of F-4Es.
"Peary to Albatross, we're two hundred kilometers at your North-East. ZLTOs are online. ETA should be five minutes." The OIA officer announced from his modified container-carrier, which could hold a dozen F-104s equipped with ZLTOs as last defense.
"Sir, some Harriers have frozen parts. They might need some time before they're ready to launch." An officer transmitted him, while the ship rocked a bit under the thrust of the Zero-Length Take-Off rockets that allowed the F-104s to be launched from virtually anywhere.
"It's not like they would matter against F-15s. Order them to disperse in the area." The OIA officer tried to use what little forces he had to the best of their capacities. He had no high hopes for the survival of those pilots, nor his own.
"Five minutes?" But they are only two minutes away from us?" Albatross 3 shouted, infuriated that they couldn't get their rescue party to come here sooner.
"I guess we're screwed, then." The number two nodded, seeing the pair of F-15C climbing fast, while they were tortoises compared to those fighters. The worst thing was that the mission would be a total failure, as they couldn't get close enough to use their ultra-IR sensors.
Though there was one good thing about the fact that they were up against mercenaries: they didn't let any survivors, unless expressly ordered to in their contract. Since they didn't send a message to tell them to surrender or turn back, they did not show any intention to let them live. Sure, this was not a good thing for their fate that would remain the same, but at least the OIA leaders at Oured wouldn't have to go into long undercover negotiation to retrieve their operators if they were already dead and their remains scattered across the glacial seas of the arctic.
"They don't seem to be running from us." Pixy quickly realized, as the U-2s were, on the opposite of what he expected them to do, accelerating toward the area the Galm Team was tasked to interdict, and that those Dragon Ladies intended to scout.
"That'll only make the job easier." Laura said, as they were only one kilometer away from the XMAA range and closing at the full thrust of their afterburners.
"It'll be bloody Sunday for those U-2s." Pixy mocked them, knowing how poorly U-2 performed.
"It'll be for sure. Fox 3" Laura replied, while releasing a volley of XMAA.
"Increase ECMs! Quick!" The Osean leader of the spy plane squadron bellowed as soon as her missiles left their pylons.
"Increasing ECMs to level 4." The two Osean wingman complied, and the radar went grey for a good five kilometers around them, which now included the two Belkan mercs.
"I bet they'll have enough flares to fool missiles and even QAAMs. Let's try if U-2s and Schräge Musik are a good composition." Laura decided what their strategy would be: plain old guns. It was said that even now, the fifty years old anti-air flak cannons would still be efficient against those glorified gliders, so their 20 mm should do just fine.
As such, the pair of F-15 didn't fire a single missile on the U-2s, who for once thought they were heading for the F-104 behind them. This way, they might get a glimpse at what was hidden below this thick layer of fog.
But their little hopes of success were crushed when they saw the two Eagles pull out perfect Himmelmans, adjusting their bearing toward their rear. Ten seconds later, guns roared at them, penetrating their thin armor, and tearing through their engine and sensor pods on their wings. Pixy focused his fire a bit more on the wing-root, clipping the dragon lady of its wing.
"Try being a Solo Wing with your Flying Coffin, OIA mongrels!" He mocked them using his own nickname.
"I'm on the leader. You can turn back and head for those Starfighters, I'll join you shortly." Galm 1 transmitted her orders, seeing the F-104 closing more and more.
"Roger. Finish him." Pixy replied and turned around. U-2s, and then Starfighters? Osea was just sending them free kills, he thought.
"In gun range, fire." Laura announced, strafing the right wing of the dragon Lady. The sensor pod caught fire, and the wing surface was wrecked. What little lift this wing was generating disappeared instantaneously, and the plane entered a spin toward the fog-covered area he was supposed to scout. And of course, he has no sensors, nor even a functioning radio to describe what he saw next.
"He's falling right to his doom, I'm joining you to deal with those F-104s. Ready XMAA." Laura linked up with Pixy, who was only ten kilometers away from those Starfighters.
"This should be over shortly. Northern Eye, did you track where they were launched from?" Pixy asked, staying well aware of his surroundings, as he was about to enter the range of the Starfighter's SAAMs.
"Not from a ground-based runway, but a makeshift runway on some iceberg, this could be possible." Their AWACS operator replied with a heavy Delarusian accent, which was similar in many ways to the Yukte accent. It was understandable, since Delarus was founded by Yukte sailors. Who outside of Yuktes, or people of the Annean continent could have interest in iced lands.
"Didn't you hear they mentioned Zero-Launch Take-Off rockets, Northern Eye?" Laura pointed out, having heard some bit of the Osean conversation, even if it was quite scrambled by the jammers of the U-2s that also made it harder for them to listen to their radio.
"Oh, right. Looking for moving platforms then." Northern Eye apologized profusely, for not having listened with enough attention to the Osean radio chatter. And so, a few seconds later:
" Air-to-ground radar indicated some metallic mass between icebergs, it must be their mothership." Their AWACS confirmed the intel. He hadn't taken that possibility into account, since the ZLTO program had ended in utter failures. But apparently the OIA had managed to get some work done.
The ten planes would soon meet over the sea of ice, from which the F-104 were coming. There, only death awaited. The ever-moving icebergs made S&R operation hard, if not downright impossible, and only a slow death by freezing awaited those who would eject. Falling in water and drowning was almost a preferable fate than this slow death in the middle of this frozen hell.
"Black Star 4, firing Fox 1." One OIA starfighter pilot fired a SAAM toward the pair of F-15C, from his Starfighter with a black and white draughtboard as their paint job, and a blue star that was the only attachment toward Osea. No OIA symbol, nor Osean markings. That way, people would think those downed planes weren't Osean, and couldn't blame Osea for their actions.
"Did they really think that SAAMs were a threat to us?" Pixy sarcastically claimed, after evading their fire by spiraling toward some iceberg, and leveling at the last moment, with the missile hitting the massive iceberg without leaving much of a dent in it.
"They weren't. But our XMAA will. Feuer!" Laura ordered, and released a volley of 4 XMAAs. Pixy launched his missiles two second later.
The poor mobility of the F-104 didn't leave them many chances of surviving the onslaught. Only the lack of data link saved both of them, as Pixy and Laura had locked without knowing on the same target twice. For those two F-104, their fate was sealed quickly. They exploded above the iced sea, without any trace of chute or pilot in the vicinity.
The four over tried to turn or climb. Again, their poor mobility damned them, and all of them didn't make it. Besides, their planes had very short and thin wings, that would not resist even an impact on their tips, when the much sturdier F-15C's could take a lot more punishment.
The last two tried to climb to gain speed and escape the two Belkan craft, but it was of no use. Since they weren't able and didn't risk themselves to enact Himmelmans or Split-S, they had to climb, and turn at much higher altitude to go back to their base. There, they would have to land on some Iceberg that was acting as an ice carrier, and then a heavy chopper would take the plane back to the ship.
"They think they can outclimb us with those relics?" Pixy sarcastically asked, almost feeling sorry for those Oseans that had not much hope of survival.
"They shouldn't even dare to think that." Laura certified with a posed tone, after enacting an Himmelman to climb right behind one of the F-104 and was followed in her motion by her wingman.
"They're gaining ground." One of the two survivors screamed, when he saw that their twin engines at full afterburner were enough to catch back their fast interceptors.
And only thirty second later, Pixy caught up with his target, and strafed it to shoot it down. The engine blew up almost instantaneously, being lightly armored. The other had a QAAM fired at him by the other F-15C, and actually tried to outturn the fast-moving missile. Only to end up in a flat spin as he lost his lift as he tried turning with a F-104. A XMAA exploded him while he was descending out of control, and his remains scattered in the iced sea.
"Starfighter downed. Where's their carrier, Northern eye?" Pixy asked, after leveling at high altitude with his partner. From there, they could see the immensity of the ice cap of the arctic ocean. It wasn't very hard for a boat to hide in there, and with the white iceberg reflecting the light they couldn't get a sight at anything from the height they were.
"Well, that's not an ice aircraft carrier for sure. We have a medium-sized container-carrier in the arrival vector of those F-104s. Approximately two hundred kilometers to the north east. Sending the coordinates for your radar now." The AWACS informed them of their finding, having figured the exact location using the vector of approach of those F-104s as well as the last maps of the ice sea. There were not that many places for such a big boat to hide in that dangerous place. Even nuclear-powered Yukte icebreakers wouldn't be safe here.
And so, both lowered their altitude to have the element of surprise when they would attack the target now labeled as "Peary" on their HUD. They skimmed over the ice, leaving small clouds behind them, where their exhaust had vaporized a bit of the ice underneath them.
Arctic Sea, North-East of Skawa Peninsula, 16/10/1994, 17:20, Weather: heavy cloud cover, risk of hail.
Now, both F-15C were arriving pretty close to their target. At least the bomb they had taken this morning -and which their AWACS operators didn't see the point of having them to do air police- would be useful. A container-carrier wasn't the most armored target, but if they had to go through ten layers of containers to sink it, they would need some firepower.
Strangely, their radar had not displayed any Harriers when the Osean had clearly mentioned it. But they might be hidden to ambush them while they would decrease their speed to begin their bombing run on their mothership.
The two F-15C climbed above the sea of ice to get a better look at their target. It was sitting idle in the middle of a circle of ice, which had only a narrow access path. Of course, they hadn't expected the container-carrier to have an entire SAM battalion firing at them, and multiple flak cannons hidden amongst those metallic boxes.
"OIA is quite keen on protecting their assets. That thing has more AA weaponry than a battlecruiser." Pixy observed, with shells grazing his fighter, but not hurting it.
Still, those two mercenaries had already attacked fortresses that were more heavily entrenched than this simple cargo ship, and without air superiority. Which caused his leader to answer with a calm voice.
"Yes, but they are just put on the top of the containers, not between them. That would have protected them more."
"You're right. And now we are in peak position for the dive." Pixy agreed that they were only simple anti-aircraft vehicles that had been put in containers that usually transported cars.
"Let's dive and open hell on them, then." Laura asserted that this cargo was and would not be a serious threat at all.
"Intensify topward fire power!" The OIA commander bellowed, watching the two F-15Cs waved through the cloud of smoke created by the explosive shells.
"We can't increase it that much, sir. Most of our defenses are not made to counter Stuka diving vertically, but sea-skimming cruise missiles." A subordinate coordinating the defensive grid reported, forced to watch that fighting mercenaries was not as simple as fighting regular armies.
"Damn It. And to say that experimental laser weaponry was to be added next month after this mission." Their commander ranted, fuming that they thought it had some usefulness to put such things on B-52s that were used for defense, which weren't needed right now, while they would have needed it right now.
"They have dropped their bombs. Brace for impact!" Another subordinate informed them with a slightly scared voice, while reaching for a handle to hold.
And the impact was terrific. Four heavy bombs on lightly armored AA platforms did a number on them. Their clamps were ripped apart by the blast, and a great number of them fell into the water. Iced water and the worst kind of death greeted those Oseans, which for some were desperately trying to get out of their vehicle while those were sinking into the arctic sea. The remote-controlled Flak cannons that were not manned did not create any new casualties, but they fell into the water like the rest.
"They must have lost some speed and taken some bullets. Launch the Harriers, while we have an opening." Their commander ordered, keeping his optimism despite the loss of their entire defensive system. All but the few CIWS they had as last-ditch defenses for their command bridge. But they had not enough range to be effective against those F-15Cs.
"Where are those Harriers?" Pixy wondered, as he circled around the ship to make a run for the command bridge.
They had stayed hidden in the narrow path, on some icebergs that had been flatten using explosives. Also, they had a very white paintjob that made them hard to see in this all-white landscape. So, they managed to get the element of surprise, at least the first pair when they got out of this narrow path and fired some QAAMs on the pair of Eagles.
"Well, we've found them." Laura said, as she lost her QAAM by skimming very close to the cliff of ice surrounding the area, and pulling away at the last second, with some ice falling from the cliff after the missile hit it.
"Let's take them down while they're there." Pixy said, having lost his QAAM on his tail by making them impact a small iceberg, while flying very low above the sea.
"You're right. Fox 3." Laura followed his advice and fired some XMAA at the one that were still in the narrow path between the two floating icecaps, with Pixy closing on the two that were already outside of it and attacking them from their eleven hours.
A missile and a bit of gunfire on their lateral thrusters was enough to make the two of them fall in the water. And if her XMAA didn't score perfect hits, her volley resulted in four losses, as some turned too much to evade her fire or their fallen comrades burning wreckage or were pushed against the ice walls by the shockwave of the very near detonations.
"Only three of them left, I'm going in." Pixy counted on his radar as he was flying near the entrance of the iced path.
"Roger, be careful. I'll try to bomb their bridge." Laura wished him good luck, while turning to engage the "Peary" that had lost a stage of containers or two in some spots, due to their bombing, or secondary explosions from ammo stocked nearby.
"Safety is my middle name, and my mother is careful." Pixy said with a chilled voice, as he flew in the narrow path. There were only two airborne Harriers. Apparently, one had not unfrozen successfully.
"I don't remember that your mother's name is "Vorsichtig". Or maybe it's her maiden name?" Laura laughed from his funny joke, while getting on a small climb to drop a pair of bombs on the Peary's bridge.
"I'll have to ask her next time." Pixy replied with a small laugh as well, while firing a pair of missiles that brought the pair of Harriers closer to the ice walls. And a pair of QAAMs was enough to force them to hit the walls, as they were much harder to avoid. The last one, which was stuck on his iceberg, only received a light gun burst that disabled the already paralyzed fighter definitively.
Thus, the pilot of that fighter would be the only survivor, Pixy guessed. Even if surviving in such an environment would be a miracle in itself.
However, Laura didn't have the same success. Her pair of bombs was intercepted by the CIWS on top of the bridge, and her missiles as well. So, she distanced herself from the ship. CIWS were mainly designed to intercept ordnance, but if she stayed too close, they could damage her in the long run.
"Damn, their ship has some good protection. Luckily for us they only have those on their bridge, or our bombing run would have been unsuccessful." She swore, while linking with Pixy.
"And we have no heavy air-to-ground that can go through that. Northern Eye, I don't think Delarus has any ASM planes?" Pixy pointed out; a bit sorry not to be able to deal the final blow to this threat.
"Why do you think we hired you guys? If Delarus could buy ASM planes, we wouldn't have to rely on you mercs. Not that I have anything against you, of course." Their operator asserted Pixy's mind on this small country's military. The war against the warmonger kings had forced them to use mercs, even for aerial surveillance. It was either that or ask for Osea to build some overseas base here. And the citizens of Delarus preferred to pay some mercs that give up their sovereignty.
"Ah, they can't do anything against us! Try again next time, suckers!" One OIA personal insulted them over the waves, guessing that showing some arrogance to Belkan was a must-do thing, as an Osean.
But fate seemed to be against the Oseans, today. Or maybe it had only begun to be against them that day and had stayed that way for the years to come.
"Underwater motion sensors have picked something. Torpedoes!" The OIA soldier in charge of those sensors alerted, while from the Galm team's point of view, the underwater trail of a pair of torpedoes could be seen clearly.
"Do a quick turn." Their commander ordered, now deeply worried, again.
"But sir, we might hit the ice wall and be in a dangerous posture afterward." The subordinate that had shown arrogance toward the Belkans spoke out, not seeing the point of trading one blow for another.
"If we don't do anything, our next position will have a negative water level. Quick turn, now." The commander repeated his order, with haste and worry in his voice. The main engines were quickly set to maximum course, and the positioning engines as well.
The big cargo ship turned but turned too slowly. They managed to evade one torpedo, but not the other. And the inertia they had in their turn, coupled to the energy of the torpedo, pushed their ship against a portion of the ice cliff that were of a great height, with the cliff walls having a curved shape there. And the ice cliff was so high that it was going above the ship, like a half-arc hovering over them.
The impact was hard, and the ship rocked a bit, only to be stopped by the ice wall he was now resting against. That curved ice wall that was going above their head might protect them from any new bombing run, at least.
"Red line across half of the board! Waterway in the electrical transmission room! Multiple waterways in cargo compartments and a few other lost containers." The bad news arrived quickly to the commander.
"Is the safety of the ship compromised, or not?" Their commander asked, now worried, as the damage control panels were showing waterways flooding multiple sections of the ship, with at some place their people or sailors blocked by the automatic anti-flooding doors.
"It is sir. We might have to order help, or even some Osprey to pick us up." One of his crewmen analyzed the damages on the schematics that his screen was displaying.
"We're not really in a good position to order some Osprey." The commander realized that the situation he had signed for was trickier than one could have anticipated.
"What can we do against this ship? I mean, with that curved ice wall there's there, we might have some trouble flying near them." Pixy realized that what they needed to do right now was just to wait for the ship to sink, or for whatever had sent those torpedoes to send another.
"That ice might not be extremely hard. And you still have eight bombs, and me six. We might not be able to send them directly on the ship, but we might still have some uses for them." Laura tried to come up with a plan, as she flew above that ice wall that were protecting them. But one could get crushed by the rock you are hiding behind, if your enemy finds the point where a single push can send the rock crashing upon you.
"I think I see your idea. Northern eye, can you put some point on our radar, so we'll fire everything in the same area?" Pixy quickly figured out what she was thinking. That cargo ship would soon join the Titanic in the list of ships sunk by icebergs. Even if the Titanic had sunk elsewhere, trying to go around the Annean continent by the north.
"Roger that. Give me a few seconds, begin your climb and it should be done by then." Their operator complied, and while they were at five hundred meters above the sea level, the point was set.
For the next few minutes, they did back and forth vertical travel, showering the place with bombs, missiles and even gunfire. Gunfire didn't do much, and missiles did small cracks, but the bombs that were designed to go through steel when dropped with enough velocity were creating a nice crater that was growing with each second passing by.
And below it, the sailors and OIA members could hear very loud cracks. It was not unusual to hear the icecap crack, but not in such a way. From their position, it was like the cliff of ice was ready to fall on them.
"What are those Belkan doing?" The commander shouted, while small pieces of ice were beginning to fall on the ship.
"I don't know. But the electric transmission is dead, and we're stuck here." The one OIA member that had once shown arrogance was now a bit more chilled, maybe due to those chill-spinning cracks they were hearing at regular intervals, by now.
"It's our last pair of bombs." Pixy announced above while they were diving on the crater that had now evolved into a rift that encompassed a massive part of the ice cliff above the ship. They had alternated their point of bombing, to create that big rift, instead of dropping everything at the same place.
"Let's hope it works." Laura said, while she dropped her last set of UGBLs.
But nothing happened. The rift widened, but didn't rupture.
In the ship, they heard less cracks. Smaller ones from the damage that was already done, but no massive ones like before.
"Damn It, I thought that would work. I bet that If I had kept my pair of bombs instead of wasting them as target practice for their CIWS, they would be already done, and that massive chunk of ice would have already fallen on that OIA ship and every of those Oseans on a free ride toward Nilfhel.
"They have stopped their bombing. Are we safe?" The OIA subordinate that had shown arrogance showed some once more, thinking they were in a position of safety. When being in a slowly sinking ship in the middle of an iced hell was quite the opposite.
"That safety is relative, people. Very relative." Their commander gauged the situation. Their bombing had made some big chunks of ice crash on the ship, enough to crack open some other containers, but not enough to endanger the ship.
"Damn, what can we do?" Laura asked with an infuriated voice, the ice had not cracked enough with a few more missiles.
"Wait. I remember once… Kellerman managed to make some light enemy vehicles turn over by breaking the sound barrier at very low altitude at their level." Pixy recalled what had happened over some mountainous terrain in Wieldvakia. The maneuver had been pretty hazardous, but the result was a success, with the vehicle getting pushed into the steep slope of the mountain from the twisting road.
"That could work, if the shockwave is close enough. I'll project you a waypoint close to the ground on your HUD." The Delarusian operator agreed that such tremor might finally give them the result they desired: this ship sinking and being lost with all hands.
"Roger. Accelerating into transonic." Laura and Pixy agreed with this new strategy and aimed for a point where the crack was wide enough for a plan to do a quick dive in it.
They accelerate slowly, aiming to break the sound barrier when they would be right over it, to maximize the effect of the brutal shockwave. They might have a few shots at this, but all this fight had taken a toll on their fuel reserve, and they might need to go back to base sooner than expected.
Both break the sound barrier with their wings grazing the limits of the small ice ravine that the crack had turned into. They didn't see much at first, as they climbed back to see the results of their first pass, and if others were needed.
On the ship, all hear the dual supersonic bangs.
"What are those Belkans doin..." The arrogant Osean demanded, but very quickly the bangs were eclipsed by a much more frightening sound.
It had begun on the surface. The already fragile ice had been bombed at a critical point by their enemies, and due to its curved shape, they had already seen cracks appear on their side of the ice cliff.
Then, a massive rift grew quickly on the surface, and through the massive icecap part. It was like a giant had taken a step on the wall of ice, and it had fallen under his weight. Ice that became powder on the points of rupture clouded their sight a bit, but the terrific event had finally occurred.
"All hands abandon ship! Abandon ship!" The OIA commander shouted, as he saw their fate coming crashing at them under the form of a giant iceberg.
The massive chunk of ice fell with a great noise, as it slid abruptly on the side of the ice wall it was previously attached to, a noise so loud that even the pilot who was stuck on his disabled Harrier was deafened by the sound. Another metallic noise followed, one of metallic destruction, as the thousands of tons of hard ice were hitting it. It was like hearing horribly distorted bands of guitars playing at fortitissimo.
"Ship zero, iceberg 1." Pixy observed, as the remains of the ship, broken in half, were quickly sinking, pushed aside by the huge wave caused by the fall of the enormous chunk of ice they had liberated.
The Peary sank in less than a minute. The other thing to sink was the damaged Harrier, which was pushed off his iceberg by the wave created by the sinking ship like a leaf by the autumn wind.
"Go join the Titanic, OIA suckers!" Laura insulted the Osean who for many were drowning and dying in the almost frozen water.
"I guess there was no Carpathia to save them this time." Iskanda laughed in the mess hall, thinking to all those souls that had drowned and died there in quite a horrible way.
"Indeed, there was no survivor. I think the Osean said that officially this ship had sunk after hitting an iceberg, like the Titanic in the iced seas at the North of Annea in 1912." Pixy tried to imagine how the OIA would have justified such high losses in personal and resources for a simple recon flight over an underarmed country.
"Afterwards, there was not much that happened there. No one came to spy on this area, and after the end of this contract, we took some vacation in Verusa. Then this war broke out, and we came to Directus from Verusa." Pixy ended his little story, which was still leaving him wondering to this day were those torpedoes had been fired from, or how that U-2 had exploded in mid-air.
"Was there a submarine in the vicinity? I mean, torpedoes don't appear out of the blue." Cipher tried to connect the dots here but found no explanation about the presence of a sub trailing that OIA ship. That could be something to hide what was really happening under the fog.
"I think We'll never know. We were paid enough not to ask too many questions, and those hidden answers were not hiding civilian mass slaughter or anything that was unethical, so we didn't try to investigate any deeper into this." Pixy added, closing that chapter of his past.
"Or maybe whatever was hidden below that fog on those cliffside had very long-range torpedoes. That's not unimaginable. I mean, we have a one-kilometer-high tower armed with lasers that can dust asteroids beyond Mars. So, Torpedoes with two hundred kilometers of range are not impossible." Iskanda recognized that such kind of weaponry seemed to be in reach of most countries. Especially the CSB, although in this case those torpedoes might have hypersthene-primed warheads. And only one of them would have been enough to split the cargo ship in half.
"That's a plausible theory." Kupchenko stated simply, as if he knew which answer to those torpedoes' appearance was the right one, and from the start of the conversation.
"What we can compare is that our SR-71's pilot was luckier than those piloting those U-2s." Zveda guessed, as the pilot they had to intercept lived, while the other had their remains splattered across some squared kilometers.
"About the SR-71 and its pilot. The pilot itself was returned in late 1994 to Osea. However, I battled tooth and nails to get the circle-combined engine of his craft brought here. That might quicken the process of creation of a new line of Griffons." Kupchenko informed them of the fate of those two things that until now had been hidden to them.
"That means that I will fly an upgraded Griffon soon?" Iskanda rejoiced herself at this news, being content with the current variant she had, but she wouldn't say no to a 3.0 or even 10.0 version.
"Not that fast. We cannot produce its airframe right now even if the engine is ready." Kupchenko indicated that she would have to restrain a bit of enthusiasm about the construction of the Super Griffons - their new name, as Griffon 2000 was not really striking in difference with the 50-year-old original prototype-.
"Why, we cannot import titanium hidden in pressure cookers? It works well with radioactive materials." Iskanda pointed out that transporting hidden cargo from Usea wasn't an issue. And the underground of Usea had quite a lot of resources, as it had already received a few asteroids there in the past, enriching the soil in rare-earth materials.
"Because it'll be made through nuclear synthesis. Something that'll soon be available here." Hellenseite gave them some more detail, without disclosing any major data either, being still cautious with those new people.
"And with this power, even the enormous fleet they have massed at Futuro would be nothing but a bad souvenir." Kupchenko cemented the idea that soon they would have a new game changer. Not something hazardous like Francium, but a true map cleaner. Or canal cleaner in this instance.
"So, will it be our next target?" Pixy guessed, half-certain as the "soon" could imply that they didn't have it yet.
"No, not yet. However, one of the targets that I have in mind to convince our allies will be a very far away target in Osean territory that will require a prolonged multi-front operation, just to secure the resupply point for the strike team." Kupchenko recognized that even if the Futuro canal was at the limit of their reach with the reflectors, it was not something they had the strength to strike yet, or it would be a very pyrrhic victory. While those two immediate targets would be easier ones for a few reasons.
"As soon as I get to blow stuff up it's fine to me." Iskanda rejoiced again that CAP would be over for a few hours. She needed that sweet adrenaline boost from near death experiences or boredom would hit her soon.
"And you'll even have to do some inside flight, if the plans we are getting from our spies are correct." Kupchenko finished his promises of action for everyone here. His team would replace Schwarze to do the CAP over Belka that day, as the long-range capacities of the new MiG-31X/Vs made them an invaluable asset for this operation to come.
Just the words "inside flight" were enough to make Iskanda smile. It was the first time he could see a genuine smile on her face, not one brought by sick joy induced by the souvenirs of an almost matricide. For now, she could ignore those souvenirs. But after the victory, she saw nothing holding her back from erasing one house of San Salvation.
Most pilots and other people of the Pendragon Projekt enjoyed the following evening. All but their two main leaders, who had all the answers about what Pixy wanted to know, but what he had said had also left the two of them with a lot of questions.
"The U-2 of the Albatross leader wasn't shot down by them. And yes, Iskanda's right, torpedoes with two-hundred-kilometer range are in Kartzlov's arsenal." Hellenseite recalled the sensitive intel they had acquired from Pixy's story.
"Kartzlov is playing a dangerous game, using mercenaries to protect Skaw-Fell." Kupchenko agreed that the man in charge of the facility there might have enjoyed a bit too much of independence, as they were focused on the war effort since autumn 1994.
"It's good that he protected this overseas extension of the Pendragon Projekt. Its secret needed to be covered at all costs. Using mercs might be hazardous, but they get the job done." Hellenseite brought up his more analytic mind. Kupchenko's tactical way of thinking was efficient, but the coldness of the tactician was more and more eroded by the heat of battle. He was getting a bit less introverted.
"Ends justify means, I know. And we are not really in a good position to lecture him about his choice of allies there." Kupchenko recognized that recruiting his former enemy was more of a reason for Kartzlov to lecture him instead.
"I heard a bit of her backstory. I almost expected something bloodier, given how she got into their air force." Hellenseite changed the subject a bit.
"There's comedy in tragedy, sometimes." Kupchenko replied, leaving his eyes from the Usean map that was displayed in his office. Map that showed Skaw-Fell where that thick layer of cloud was on the cliffs of the Skawa peninsula, as well as the paths taken by the OIA ships and planes, and their pursuers.
"I wonder what such a woman could do in her free time as a hobby." Hellenseite shared a bit of his curiosity toward their ex-foe, not having spoken head-to-head with her a single time since she was here.
"Tinkering with her X-29A most of the time. At first it was just a restoration project for airshows, and then she turned it into a full-fledged fighter. And here's the kicker, the informatician that helped her setting the numerous flight computers to keep her prototype stable was a former student of Schröder, who came to Belka for one semester in his engineering course." Kupchenko recalled what she had told him when he asked her how she got her hands on such a rare prototype.
"So, first she got help from Schröder's student, and in the last battle she managed to turn some of his followers? She might end up turning his own family against him at this rate." Hellenseite declared, smiling at the sweet irony of the situation.
"If she scares them enough, which she might be capable in regards of how she handled the Hexen's assassination." Kupchenko concluded on how they might suppress his family line. Schröder had tried to do the same. Soon, his last remaining bits of DNA would be his blood sample if he had ever given any.
End of chapter.
I admit it's a smaller one, but I wanted to cut the flashback a bit between the other chapters, or there would be almost nothing but missions, and I like to write something else than missions sometimes.
So, apparently Erusea is doing well, a bit too well, what could happen to them…
And yeah, Belkans can be stupid, but who am I to judge? Not Oseans since they seem to be far more stupid.
In all honesty I hadn't planned to add that bit of Pixy's backstory here, but It was needed as I lacked something to write about in this intermediary chapter…
So, the Titanic is a thing in my AU. Just a ship that hit some iceberg near some iced strait. Where could that be…
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Und bis nächsten Mal, Leser und Leserinnen.