For after all, what is man in nature?
A nothing in relation to infinity, all in relation to nothing,
a central point between nothing and all and
infinitely far from understanding either.


Anthony
Valais Air Base, Ustio
April 2, 1995

"Yo, Pixy!" I hollered. "Wait up!" I jogged over to the man who was standing patiently by the door of the main building of Valais Air Base. I finally caught up with him and entered the building. The warm air was a relief from the biting cold from outside.

"Jeez, look at you," the person commented. "Your face looks horrible." I didn't know what my face looked like, but I could probably tell that it was strawberry red. Of course, it's not that I'm not used to this kind of weather; winter nights in my hometown can get very cold. But the weather in the Tyrann Mountains, in northeastern Ustio, is much colder than anything that I have experienced. It's April, but the mountains don't seem to have gotten the memo that winter had ended. The only good time to be here would July and August when the mountains get the most sunshine. But the rest of the year was cloudy, and snow seems to fall every day.

"How are you in this bad shape, Cipher?" he asked, calling me by my TAC name. "I thought you knew how to handle this weather."

"I'm not from the mountains, dummy," I retorted.

"Wow, when I heard that I would be under your command, I was expecting something different."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. You'd be tougher."

"Shut up."

The man next to me just laughed. His name was Larry Foulke, but he liked to go by his TAC name, Pixy. My name was Anthony Štepánik, although I either go by Tony or Cipher. If one looked at the two of us without knowing anything, he or she might think we are brothers. In some ways, I do feel like Larry was the older brother I never had. There wasn't much in the way of differences between us. Physically, we were pretty much the same, being the same height (six foot one) and build, with the only differences being Pixy has brown hair and brown eyes, while I have blonde hair and blue eyes. Both of us were also kind of quiet, although I was a little quieter than him.

"How do you think we can turn this situation around, Cipher?" Pixy asked. "Ustio is almost overrun with Belkan troops. It's not like we can save this country"

"Yeah," I answered. "I don't know if this country can even win. Many people on this base are saying we should just give up, even though they hired us."

I should back up and explain what is happening. You see, Ustio was originally part of another country, Belka. Belka was the most powerful country in the eastern part of the Osean continent, but things changed during the 1980s. During that time, Belka drastically increased its military spending, perhaps fearing the cold war between the world's two superpowers, the Osean Federation and Union of Yuktobanian Republics, would turn hot and threaten the country. This excessive military spending sent Belka into a deep economic recession. Belka tried to remedy the issue by passing a law in 1988 that allowed the eastern territories to secede, which they did. One of the territories became the countries of Gebet and Recta, while the other one split in half, with some going to the country of Ratio and the rest becoming the country of Ustio. This didn't solve the recession, and Belka had to give up more land. Parts of western Belka went to Osea (the country), a part of southern Belka went to Sapin, and parts of eastern Belka went to Ustio, Recta, Gebet, and FATO.

Belka's economic crisis got worse in 1991 when the Oseans made a boneheaded move by proposing a company with Belka to mine the Great Lakes for natural resources. However, the company's real goal was to further destabilize the Belkan economy, which it certainly did. Around that time, an extreme right-wing party led by politician Waldemarr Rald, the Democratic Liberal Party, came to power by promising to end the economic crisis and restore Belka's lost territories and honor. They increased military spending and industrial output to an unprecedented level. After natural resources were discovered in Ustio, Belka invaded its neighbors on Mark 25, 1995.

The Belkan juggernaut seized the Osean towns of Wesson and Rutherford, as well as the Futuro Canal near the Osea-Sapin-Belka tripoint. The Belkans only advanced a little bit into those countries, probably because only a small part of them was formerly Belkan. On the other hand, the open moments of the war were disastrous for the eastern countries, which lagged behind Belka both in military equipment and training. Recta had some of the best pilots in eastern Osea, but their military equipment was outdated, and FATO had advanced equipment, yet their military was not as good as Belka's. None of them were able to stand up the Belkan Air Force, which led the invasion. Of Belka's four eastern neighbors, FATO suffered the least damage, again because only a small part of FATO used to be Belkan territory. On the other hand, half of Gebet and Recta was controlled by Belka. Ustio suffered the most under the Belkan assault. The country was almost completely overrun in one week and had more than 70% of its air force destroyed, with only a few Ustian pilots and foreign mercenary pilots left. The last remnants of Ustio's military retreated to Valais Air Base, located in the Tyrann Mountains in Ustio's northeast. Now, all that stands between Belka and Ustio's defeat is a tiny, isolated airbase that is out of reach from the Belkan army. An airbase where the main runway is so short that a concrete extension had to be built over the edge of a cliff.

I checked the nearby clock to see the time; the time was 1215 hours. "Shit. Pixy, we gotta get to the briefing room, now," I warned him. The mercenaries weren't all that popular among the regular Ustio pilots, or anywhere in Ustio's military. The last thing I wanted was to give the CO a reason to reprimand me, Pixy, and pretty much every mercenary on this base.

We made it to the briefing room just as the other mercenary pilots were entering. I breathed a sigh of relief. The base commander entered shortly after all of the pilots. Seeing that everyone was here, he motioned the guard to close the door and dim the lights. The Axe & Hammer computer screen whirred to life, before zooming in on the part of Ustio near Valais Air Base. "Listen up!" the CO ordered. Everyone snapped to attention and focused on the screen, now detailing the positions and movements of enemy aircraft. "We have a major situation on our hands. A major squadron of Belkan bombers has crossed our border and is making its way here, to Valais Air Base." The map showed a force of six B-52H Stratofortress and four Bm-335 Lindwurm bombers escorted by several F-4E Phantom II and F-5E Tiger II fighters. "Apparently, they intend to attack our base in an initiative to gain hegemony over the entire Republic of Ustio. Valais Air Base is our country's last line of defense. If our base falls no one will be left to stop Belka from taking over Ustio. Your mission is to destroy the squad of bombers and defend our base. Belka's invasion must end here." The computer shut off and everyone barged out of the briefing room to get to their planes.

Pixy and I both made it to the hangar to get our fighters ready for battle. Unlike the six other mercenary pilots who were joining us, Pixy and I both have our own aircraft, which coincidentally, happens to be the F-15C Eagle. Both of our fighters were decked with UAF (Ustio Air Force) markings: the roundel of the UAF (a red, white, and black triangle in front of a trapezoid with three lines) was painted on both the wingtips and in front of the engine nacelles. Our aircraft numbers (032 for my plane and 011 for Pixy's plane) was marked both below the cockpit and on the base of the tail. On the top of the tail were the letters VL, the home base of the UAF's 6th Air Division, a foreign mercenary unit. And in the middle of the tail was an image of the head of a red dog biting on a chain. It was the emblem of the unit I'm in: the 66th Air Force Unit, also known as the Galm Team, of which I'm the new leader. Since we were mercenaries, our fighters were allowed to have paint jobs that regular Ustian pilots wouldn't normally have. The right wing of Pixy's F-15C was painted red to commemorate the time when he survived a midair collision and landed back at base with only his left wing. By contrast, the wings, stabilators, and tails of my F-15C were painted blue, which was just my choice. Visually, this also allowed friendlies to differentiate between the two of us.

Our two fighters were fueled and armed with the standard armament of four AIM-120C AMRAAM radar-guided missiles, four AIM-9M Sidewinder heat-seeking missiles, and 940 20 mm rounds for the M61 rotary cannon, arranged in 18 half-second bursts. Once we were ready, our fighters were taken out of the hangar and ready to take off. The six other mercenary pilots that were also taking part in this operation were already taking off. Because they didn't have their own aircraft, they were using whatever aircraft that this base had. Three of them were using F-5E fighters and the other three were using...ugh...J35J Drakens. Old, rustbucket, second-generation fighters that would probably get crushed by modern fighters, especially the new stealth fighters that Osea and Yuktobania were starting to produce. But I pushed those thoughts aside as Pixy and I lined up on the main runway. "Galm Team, you are cleared for takeoff," the control tower said. "Roger that, Galm Team taking off," I answered. Pixy and I lit the afterburners on our fighters and charged down the runway, taking off within a few seconds. We raised our gear and headed off towards the AO.


Operation Crossbow
Northwest of Valais Air Base, Ustio
April 2, 1995
1300 hrs

Snow began to fall from the clouds above the mountains. Horrible weather for flying but apparently the approaching bombers didn't seem to care, and they weren't going to wait for the snow to stop. "It's starting to come down," Pixy commented.

"This is Base Command," the CO's voice crackled over the radio. "Guess all you boys managed to get up. Galm 1, Galm 2, maintain present course."

"Galm 1, wilco," I answered as leveled off near Pixy's right wing.

"This is Galm 2, roger that," Pixy answered.

"Bearing 315, Belkan bombers approaching," Base Command directed.

"Nobody wants to bail out into a mountain of ice," Pixy reminded me as we turned west. "We're counting on you, flight leader."

"Don't worry, Pixy," I reassured him. "We'll make it back to base and get our pay."

"All units, prepare to intercept," Base Command ordered.

"You'd better have our pay ready and waiting," Pixy demanded.

"That's only if we both make it through this alive."

"Be ready to pay up. We'll be back before you know it."

Pixy and I burst through the clouds, ready to engage the bomber force. I armed my missiles and my gun; looking at the radar, I saw multiple blips on my radar, ten of them red, while the rest were green. The red blips were almost certainly bombers. "Galm 2," I ordered Pixy, "arm your missiles and prepare for combat."

"Missiles are armed and ready," Pixy confirmed.

"Galm Team, shoot down all enemy bombers. Don't let them get to our base," Base Command ordered. "Galm 2, follow all orders from Galm 1. Free engagement is prohibited during this operation."

"Roger, awaiting your orders Cipher. You're Galm 1 now."

As we charged towards the bombers, Pixy decided that now was the best time for a get-to-know-you session. "Cipher, I've heard stories about you. People say you never let your prey get away, and that you've got what it takes to win."

"Yeah, I know, Pixy. You're not the only famous mercenary on this job."

"That pride's gonna get you killed, you know."

"I know. Don't worry, its not gonna cloud my judgment or make me do something stupid. C'mon, let's destroy these bombers. Take out their escorts if you can."

"What about the aircraft that are neutralized?"

"Leave 'em alone unless they are mission important. You don't wanna be wasting your ammo on targets that can't fight back."

"Heh, sounds like the Cipher I've heard about."

"Let's get this job over with," one of the other pilots said. "Mop up these suckers real quick, and we can go out for drinks. The nearby bar has a choice of rum, whiskey, and wine."

The first bomber, a B-52H, appeared out of the clouds, escorted by an F-4E and two F-5Es. The three Drakens launched their radar-guided missiles. The three bandits evaded the missiles (probably because the missiles were ancient semi-active radar-guided AIM-4 Falcons that the pilots weren't guiding) and the Drakens immediately began to chase them while firing their 30 mm cannons. Meanwhile, I locked onto the bomber with my AMRAAM and waited for a good radar lock. The moment the radar locked on to the bomber, I pressed the firing switch. "Galm 1, Fox three!" I said as the missile dropped from the fuselage and flew towards the target. The impact caused the bomber to careen towards the Tyrann Mountains, where it slammed into a mountainside and erupted in a massive fireball. "That's one bomber...no two...no three bombers down," Base Command announced. Three? I checked the radar to make sure. Only seven red blips showed up, compared to ten when the operation started. Looking out the cockpit window, I saw that Pixy had taken down another B-52H, while a third B-52H was destroyed by the trio of Ustian F-5Es. "Continue with the operation. Stay sharp," Base Command demanded.

I lit the afterburners on my fighter and charged towards the oncoming bandits. As I tuned the comms to help coordinate an assault with the other pilots, I managed to catch a little bit of the radio chatter from the Belkan bomber pilots. "Escort fighters, back us up. We don't want any fighters on our tails." Sure enough, multiple fighters were beginning to chase the friendlies. I immediately turned to engage an F-4E. It didn't take long for one of my Sidewinder missiles to lock onto the hot exhaust fumes coming from the fighter's twin turbojet engines. "Galm 1, Fox two!" I said as the missile slid off the rack and buried itself in the tailpipe. A massive fireball tore Phantom in half and the wreckage spiraled towards the mountains. "Bandit down!" I crowed. But no sooner had I taken out the first fighter did an F-5E swooped in, its nose-mounted 20 mm cannons blazing. I immediately pulled my plane into a high yo-yo maneuver that got me behind the enemy fighter. Seeing the bandit was too close for a missile shot, I decided to take him down with my guns. I carefully led the target before pressing the trigger. 20 mm shells slammed into the fighter and ripped off the tail. The enemy pilot barely had enough time to eject before the fighter crashed into the mountainside. A third F-5E came screaming in from nine o'clock high. I turned hard left to keep him from chasing. The bandit screamed over my head, missing me, but it very quickly turned around and came for my six o'clock, no doubt lining up for Sidewinder shot. I quickly rolled the plane keeping from locking on to me, while also bleeding speed to get him to overshoot. The maneuver worked: the fighter ended up just in front of me. Realizing the danger, the pilot lit his afterburners in an attempt to flee, but the 20 mm shells slammed into the fuselage as he pulled away. Thick black smoke poured out of the fighter as it began to limp away.

Seeing that he was neutralized, I shifted my focus to the other bandits, as a neutralized fighter wasn't that important. I turned to chase after any bandits that might when Base Command's voice crackled over the radio. "Enemy bombers have penetrated the center of operations airspace." The bombers! The realization hit me like a lightning bolt. I immediately tried to get Pixy on the radio. "Galm 2, this is Galm 1. How many bombers are left?"

"Five."

"Okay, you take any more bombers?"

"Nope. A Draken got the fourth bomber and an F-5E took out the fifth bomber."

"Then, what are you doing?"

"Taking out the escorts so the others have an easier time dealing with bombers."

"I see you only destroyed one bomber. Why aren't you destroying more? Are bombers too hard or too boring?"

"Hey, what did I tell you about-"

"One of the bombers has left the battlefront," one of the Draken pilots alerted. "He must've chickened out." I looked to my right to see a lone B-52H heading northwest back to Belka.

"Why would he leave after getting this far?" Pixy asked suspiciously.

"Maybe something has malfunctioned in the aircraft. Doesn't change the fact that I'm gonna go shoot him down," I told the other pilots.

"Whoa, Cipher," one of the pilots exclaimed. "I thought you left malfunctioning planes alone."

"Normally, yes. But the mission objective is to shoot down all Belkan bombers. Besides, that bomber could be repaired and used on another bombing raid on this base. I'm not taking any chances." I quickly sped up to reach the B-52H before slowing down once I was in range of my plane's Sidewinder missiles. The bomber's tail gun opened fire, spraying 20 mm rounds over my head, but I ignored as I waited for the missile lock. The moment I got a good tone signaling a missile lock, I pressed the firing switch, saying "Galm 1, Fox two" as the AIM-9M slid off the rail and hit the bomber's right wing. The impact sheared off the wing and the bomber spiraled out of control, ultimately slamming into a mountain slope. "Low-life mercenaries!" I heard over the radio. "Only you would be so cowardly to shoot down a plane that's out of commission!" This, I expected. Since the Belkans were the pioneers of aerial warfare, and they have a history of knightly traditions, they saw themselves as knights in the sky and mercenaries as scum. But I pushed that out of my head and focused on the mission. Another two fighters-an F-4E and an F-5E-are coming in from one o'clock. I quickly broke into the bandits, firing a burst of 20 mm shells at the F-4E and landing a hit on the engine intakes, crippling the bandit. The second bandit swung around to engage me in a rolling scissors maneuver. After a few passes, it locked onto me and fired a heat-seeking missile. I immediately jinked right, dumping flares as I broke off. A quick roll brought the F-5E in front of me, and a Sidewinder shot later, the bandit was history.

"Looks like Galm 2 is going to steal the show again," I heard one of the friendly pilots grumble. I shifted my attention towards the spot where Pixy and the other pilots were engaging Belkan escort fighters. Most of them were engaging Pixy, while a few were engaging the friendly J35J and F-5E fighters. While the escorts engaging the other friendlies were holding their own, the ones engaging Pixy were dropping like flies. One fighter got downed by an AMRAAM, a second by a Sidewinder, and a third by a spray of 20 mm shells. A few bandits realized what was happening and broke off, right into the other fighters. Apparently, not all of them were satisfied with the number of bandits. "C'mon, Pixy," one of the pilots whined. "Leave a few for us, will ya?"

"Sorry," Pixy responded arrogantly. "It's first come, first serve. You want to destroy a bandit, you're gonna have to find one and chase him down."

"Yo, Pixy?" I called out to him. "How many bandits did you shoot down?"

"Oh, I shot down six fighters, plus that bomber. You?"

"I took down three fighters and two bombers."

"Ah, you're falling behind."

"Well, not for long. Here comes the last enemy formation."

The last formation of bandits consisted of four Bm-335 Lindwurm bombers, escorted by several fighters. The Bm-335 is one of the few indigenous Belkan aircraft made post-1950s, after Belka's aerospace industry faltered and the BAF (Belkan Air Force) aircraft opted to either purchase aircraft from Yuktobania or reverse-engineer Osean aircraft. "That bomber looks ancient," one of the allied pilots said as we neared the formation.

"Yeah," I replied. "It's as old as the B-52. Uglier too." To get an idea of what the Bm-335 looks like, picture two B-52H fuselages glued together (the top fuselage holds the cockpit, the bottom one has the ground-attack radar). Then replace the tail with four smaller tail fins attached to the horizontal stabilizers, and replace the four pairs of small engines with four larger engines, and that is what a Bm-335 Lindwurm looks like.

As Pixy and I closed in on the bombers, I armed my three remaining AIM-120C missiles and waited for the tone signaling a radar lock. "This is Galm 2 to Base Command. We're nearing the final flight of enemy bombers. Preparing to engage," Pixy informed Base Command.

"By which you mean I'm preparing to engage to bombers," I arrogantly corrected him.

"What? Weren't we a team?"

"Of course, but you decided to take out most of the escort fighters. So it only makes sense that I take out most of the bombers."

"You wanna bet which one of us takes out those bombers first, Cipher?"

The tone signaling radar lock came loud and clear through my helmet. "Don't need to, Pixy. Galm 1, Fox three!" The three remaining AMRAAMs dropped off the fuselage and sped towards their targets. Three fireballs and falling wreckage confirmed the destruction of the bombers. "Only one left," I informed everyone. I lit my afterburners and charged after the remaining bomber.

Three fighters came swooping in to defend the lone bomber. The first was an F-5E, which I destroyed by sending a burst of 20 mm rounds into the cockpit, killing the pilot and sending the fighter careening into a mountainside. The second bandit was an F-4E that came in from seven o'clock high. I quickly popped the air brake, causing the enemy pilot to overshoot and end up right in front of my fighter's gun. A burst of cannon shells lit the enemy plane's engine on fire and forcing the enemy pilot and his weapons system officer to bail out. The last bandit to engage me was a second F-4E. The fighter barreled toward me from straight ahead, only giving me time to do a high-speed guns pass. My fighter's 20 mm cannon fired multiple shells that landed in the bandit's air intake. The engine burst into flames and the fighter spun out of control, slamming into a mountain peak.

With no one to stop me, I closed in on the last bomber from its four o'clock, safely out of range from its tail gun. Above me, I saw Pixy also closing in from the bomber's six o'clock, intent on landing the final blow. "Oh no you don't," I muttered. The tone of the missile lock shrieked into my ear. "Galm 1, Fox two." The final Sidewinder slid off the rail and tore off the bomber's right wing. A final explosion confirmed the kill.

As I leveled my aircraft, I noticed the remaining Belkan fighters, some damaged, retreating northwest, back to Belka. As Pixy leveled off next to my right, Base Command finally came over the radio. "Base Command to all units. The enemy attack unit has been successfully intercepted. I'd like to see how those Belkan cowards report back to their superiors." As we headed back to base, I heard a lot of grumbling over the comms. Something about the other friendlies not getting many kills. Which reminds me.

"Yo Pixy," I asked him, "how many total bandits did you shoot down?"

"Nine. Eight fighters and one bomber," he answered.

"Ha. I shot down six bombers and five fighters. I got eleven bandits."

"Aces on our first mission, eh? Let's keep this competition up. I wanna see who wins."

"Challenge accepted."

After landing at base, we immediately headed for the briefing room for the debriefing. The base commander stepped in and started his debriefing after making sure everyone was present. "Thanks to you all, Belka's attack on Valais Air Base has failed. Your efforts will not go unrewarded. Your actions may well decide who wins the Belkan War. I, for one, will be counting on you. Dismissed."

"Cipher," Pixy said as we headed off to collect our payment. "I got a feeling you and me are gonna get along just fine. Buddy."


Present

"it all started on that snowy day," Pixy said as the TV showed two F-15C Eagles landing at Valais Air Base's main runway (the one with the concrete extension built over a cliff). "My first impression was...He had potential."

"Potential?" Laurie scoffed. "Didn't Pixy know that you were at least a well-known mercenary?"

"He did," I answered. "But he was a tough judge. You can't impress him that easily."

"Well, did you impress him eventually?"

"Hell yeah, I did. I shot down more planes than he did and became a double ace on my first mission. How many pilots can boast of that achievement?"

"Alright, you know what?" Laurie demanded. "I want you to tell me about everything that happened. Even the little details."

"Even the little details?"

"I did say I want to know everything."

"Alright, Laurie. Buckle up, cause this is going to be one hell of a ride."


Alright, so this is the second chapter of my Ace Combat Zero fanfic. Sorry about the wait. Here it is. Quick shoutout to wisegirl502's fanfic "Demon of the Skies." It was a huge inspiration for this story.

For those of you who don't know how this story will unfold, I am combining elements of all three versions of the ACZ campaign (Mercenary, Soldier, and Knight). The way I see it, Cipher was a soldier from missions 1-6, a mercenary from missions 7-10, a soldier again from missions 11-17, and a knight on mission 18. This-in my own opinion-is what happened canonically. In addition, all of the ace squadrons (and I do mean all!) will appear.

I also have to mention that I didn't give Anthony's backstory. This will be revealed in the later chapters. But here is some basic information about Tony.

Name: Anthony Štepánik

Age: 24

Date of birth: February 18, 1971

Place of birth: Solis Ortus, Belka (now Ustio)

Height: 6'1"

Hair color: blonde

Eye color: blue

UAF unit: 6th Air Division 66th Air Force Unit

Position: Galm 1

TAC name: Cipher

I am also going to be showing his total number of kills. I am adding a lot of realism to this story, so don't be surprised if the number of kills is lower than you expect.

Total kills: 11

Please like, follow, and leave a comment. I will be back soon with the next chapter.