Ch 1
Mobius 1 looked down from the cockpit of the F-20, seeing the fuel refineries in flames. The mission was a big gamble, and they had won a substantial victory against Erusea. Now, the invincible fleet was trapped in harbor, and ISAF now had months, if not years of breathing room.
"All pilots, lets go home." he said, yawing to the left until his nose was pointing east.
"We have a heavy group of 5 coming in fast!" Sky Eye warned. Mobius 1 and the surviving pilots only knew what that meant.
"I got a bearing on them. They're 5 yellows!" one of the pilots exclaimed.
"Shit. All pilots, turn east and get out of the combat zone. Engagement is prohibited." Skye Eye ordered.
Mobius 1 watched as his wingman bugged out, no-one wanted to be claimed by the dreaded yellow squadron.
"You are cleared to engage. Splash all hostiles." one of the enemy pilots said.
"Not on my watch." Mobius 1 muttered, gripping the control stick. Turning around, he zoomed past his retreating wingman, and got sight of a small fur-ball happening in front of him. The Erusean fighters were making mincemeat of anyone they could catch, killing the planes that were too far out and too damaged to retreat. Locking onto one of yellows, he pulled the trigger and sent one of his missiles towards him.
"What the… i'm being marked!" the enemy pilot exclaimed, shocked that one of the ISAF pilots would have the gall to fight them.
"Focus on the stragglers. I'll take this one out." Yellow 13 ordered.
Mobius 1 stayed onto his prey, firing another missile at his foe. He clenched a fist as he watched the missile hit, though it wasn't a kill shot.
"I'm hit!" the enemy pilot exclaimed.
"You're lucky that shot didn't down you. That pilot is no pushover." Yellow 13 advised, now tangling with Mobius 1. Yellow 13 was impressed with his foe, as he fired at any yellow squadron aircraft in his view, keeping the fight as disorganized as possible.
"ISAF must have sent their entire air-force after us. We're trapped!" One of the yellow pilots exclaimed as he saw tracers flying past his canopy.
"Captain Osea." Yellow 13 muttered to himself. The newest addition to the yellow squadron had a bad habit of running his mouth off and blowing things out of proportion. After repeating the order to his pilots to leave this lone wolf to him. He briefly looked at 'captain Osea' watching as he chased down a retreating F-15.
"Follow my tracers!" the blood-thirsty Erusean pilot exclaimed, firing his nose cannon beyond its range.
Yellow 13 tightly turned into his foe, both pilots firing everything they had at each other. He twisted his head left, right, up and down, trying to maintain the advantage. One thing was for certain. His new enemy was giving him the hardest fight he had since training with Mihaly. He briefly wondered who this foe was. ISAF no longer had capable pilots. Was this man Osean?
'No. Osean pilots aren't this brave. Not since the Belkan war. That means he's either Yuke, Belkan, or god forbid, one of those cold-blooded mercenaries from the Belkan war.'
Mobius 1 watched as his skilled foe slipped into his gun sights and he squeezed a burst of 20mm gunfire until- click
"Oh shit." Mobius 1 said, yawing away from his enemy and accelerated as fast as he could. Yellow 13 chased after him, getting ready for a gun kill. But when he got close enough, he hesitated on pulling the trigger.
Mobius 1 looked behind him, seeing the feared yellow right on his six. Knowing that escape was useless, he sighed and waited for the end.
A burst of gunfire past the canopy fully alerted him, and he looked to his right to see the Su-37 fly in formation next to him. His radio crackled and the calm voice of his enemy was heard.
"You got balls, ribbon. Staying behind so your wingman can live another day. Not many would dare do that." Yellow 13 said, saluting him.
"Thanks, i guess." Mobius 1 said, lost for words.
"If you don't mind, where are you from? Belka, Yuktobania?" 13 asked.
"Federation of Central Usea." Mobius 1 said.
"Really? I thought you were from Belka, or were a merc from the Belkan war. Can't believe ISAF still has capable pilots." 13 said.
"You haven't killed all of us." Mobius 1 replied, chuckling.
Yellow 13 didn't respond, but looked up at the early morning.
"It's a nice view. It's a pity us pilots are at war with each other. It should be like this. Just flying around as friends. Damn war." Yellow 13 spat.
"Amen to that. You can thank that damned asteroid for ruining all of our lives and eating all of our steak." Mobius 1 answered.
"I agree. But shit happens. Old men and women sign a piece of paper sitting comfortably in the government buildings, and people like me and you get to spill our guts out in the trenches." 13 lamented.
"Why did Erusea attack? There was no need for any of this." Mobius 1 said.
"Ribbon, believe me i thought long and hard about it. Erusea was in a bind. Osea and the Usean countries were going to shove crippling sanctions down our throats unless we bended the knee. Our country was quickly going down the tube. Now do i support the war, of course not. But we were left with no choice. And had we opened the borders and let the refugees in, Erusea would have succumbed to chaos, famine, if not civil war. It didn't matter what anyone did. Our fate was sealed the moment those asteroids hit terra." 13 explained. The two rivals sat in uncomfortable silence.
"Sounds like you're saying we're fated to fight this war." Mobius 1 replied.
"All i know is that something happened beyond our control, and we're stuck in it. Regardless of who wins this war, life will never return to normal. The continent is fucked, and it'll take years if not decades for us to recover. And god forbid if Osea, the cum swallowing pricks they are, decides to interfere." 13 bitterly replied.
"In that case we'll be fighting on the same side against the Oseans. As much as we hate each other, i think we all hate the superpowers even more. By the way, i noticed that one of your pilots was flipping out, saying that you guys were trapped." Mobius 1 said.
"It's a long story, ribbon. Lets just say that some pilots are high-strung in combat. As for us-" 13 was cut short as the fuel alarm went off in the cockpit. Looking down at the instruments, he cursed as he realized he was running low on fuel.
"Ribbon, hate to cut this conversation short but i'm bingo fuel so i'll be heading back. If we survive this war look me up afterwards." 13 said, waggling his wings and peeled away. Mobius 1 looked behind him at 13's retreating plane. As he headed home, he wondered if he made an unlikely friend with the top pilot of the Erusean air-force.
Yellow 13 looked ahead and saw his squadron join up on him.
"Yeah! We really fucked their shit up, didn't we?" Captain Osea happily exclaimed.
"We did. Yellow squadron, rtb." 13 curtly replied. He ascended away from the squadron to get some peace and quiet. His radar chirped and he saw yellow 4 ascend to meet him.
"Mike, are you okay?" Yellow 4 asked.
"I'm fine, Mariana. Just need to think. Had a nice chat with the fellow i was trying to kill." yellow 13 said.
"Really? How was your date?" Yellow 4 teased.
"Yellow 4, i wouldn't call it a date. Just a friendly chat between enemy pilots." Yellow 13 said, but his wingman wouldn't stop with the teasing.
"Sure it is. If it's possible, i'd like to go on a date with this rival of yours. Maybe i can see what's alluring about him, since i presume you spared him." yellow 4 continued.
"Can someone please explain to me the supposed benefits of leading a fighter squadron?" Yellow 13 wondered aloud.