36

Thank you for the previous so much for the previous reviews, especially to the kind guest who reviewed on chapter 34. apologies to any readers who may be fighter pilots, this is fiction and you can probably tell ;-)

This desert was god forsaken. Scott couldn't remember the last time he'd felt clean. The scum and the grime intertwined with his deep bronze sandblasted complexion. He was miserable. They had been based here for three months now and his heat rash still hadn't gone and there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't have sand or even worse scorpions and camel spiders in his boots. His hair was always dusty. At night the temperature could drop to obscenely cold temperatures. They had just left the mission briefing and having suited up were now getting ready to step. It was 12am night time patrol. Scott made his way over to his assigned fighter at a calm walk, helmet under his left arm. The field was swarming with other pilots, maintenance, ground crew loading various supplies and conducting pre-flight checks. His was a falcon. He put his helmet in the cockpit before jumping down and calling up his checklist on his tablet. First, he ran through the weather checks and his supplies, then he started at the left wingtip and slowly made his way around in a clockwise motion to begin the exterior check. The noise and hubbub of activity died away around him as he tuned into his task completely. Years of practice allowed him to expertly and swiftly work his way around the craft. Satisfied he moved on to the interior checking; windows, flight controls, avionics, fuel quantities and carb heat. He then strapped himself in fully and put on his helmet adjusting the strap and getting the security of the fit before starting the engine to complete those checks including the pre-taxi. Eventually 45 minutes later he began to taxi out ready to be armed. He waited impatiently for take-off. He had twelve pilots under his command today, it should be a standard patrol. A simple show of force but anything could happen out here. Tensions were rising daily with more and more reports of breeched airspace. So far, the other side although doing their best to invoke a reaction had always conceded eventually allowing themselves to be escorted off of allied airspace. Scott was convinced it wouldn't be long before they were ordered to combat patrol.

Take off was textbook and it wasn't long before they were cruising. The weather was calm and proved to be unproblematic. Scott looked to his left and right where his unit were holding the first phase of formation before breaking off into smaller patrols of three. They reported in at intervals but so far it was quiet. Too quiet Scott reflected, they had already been on patrol for two hours and there was nothing. Yesterday by this time they'd already intercepted two unsanctioned craft. Still he shouldn't complain, a quiet day wouldn't be a bad thing. "Sapphire, anything to report?" Scott used Mavi's call sign.

"Nothing to report captain." Mavi was just as surprised it was so quiet.

"Mad dog, report" Scott instructed.

"Also, nothing to report Captain." Scott didn't like it not one bit. He was due to report into base.

"Base to STRAT-calm."

"STRAT-calm receiving you." Scott frowned; they shouldn't be calling him.

"Code Bravo. Offensive counter air-strike" was all that was transmitted the line patchy and indistinct. Shit! Base had been breached.

"STRAT-Calm, message received and understood." Scott quickly flipped frequencies; his small immediate team was nearest to base but it wouldn't be long before the others scrambled back too. he'd tried to gain more intel but the line was blank, they were flying into the unknown but Scott knew it was the right thing to do. With not being able to raise chain of command he was on his own. He broadcasted to his whole squad. "STRAT-calm. Code Bravo, I repeat Code Bravo. Enemy craft counter air strike at command. Alpha and Beta teams scramble - Combat box. Vic formation. Charlie and Delta teams thatch weave on approach." It was basic but with not knowing what they were heading into it was the best option giving them more fire power, unity and the element of surprise.

He received affirmation from the others as he pulled into the lead, Mavi and Mad dog at his side to form the front of the formation. Five minutes later the other three joined below them. They started to close into a tighter formation. They were coming up fast on the danger zone now. Scott tightened his grip on the yoke, his face set; determined.

In the distance all you could see was a plume of black smoke that rose in a column creating an unnatural black mark on the horizon. Scott spied at least four enemy craft, how the hell had they snuck up on them? his radars locked on to the craft in front. "Engage at will. Distract and look down. We need to lure them from base if we can to minimise ground causalities."

"Affirmative."

They flew at the four jets in formation shooting but not near enough to do major damage. The enemy planes continued to loop around the base, seems they wouldn't be drawn out easily. Scott swore they had no choice, they were going to have to engage over base. The rear Charlie and Delta teams took over at his command whistling above him and executing the thatch weave allowing his alpha and beta teams to come in and mop up behind. One of the enemy craft had gone down whilst pursuing Revlon. That left three including the one that Scott had caught on his radar he was locked on, he just wanted to chase them further off. He secured a direct hit the red and orange flames igniting the surrounding midnight coloured sky as it spiralled down. Scott saw a parachute deploy which one of this team quickly dispatched. It was a nightmare in the dark in the chaos of the fighting and the smoke he couldn't see what was going on the ground, that nearly turned out to be his downfall.

The other two enemy jets were still in play when the missiles began. Scott realised they were being targeted from below, probably a couple of trucks but where? These damn things locked on too! Scott desperately tried to outmanoeuvre the four on his tail he flipped into a dangerous dive twisting as he went, two missiles collided just above him. The impact of the explosion buffering him slightly. That was too fucking close! He still had two to shake, he scanned around quickly. There! He thought he could just see one of the trucks. Ignoring the missiles tailing him he strafed low and started firing. He saw people trying to flee as the truck was blown to smithereens below him, the rockets behind cascading into it too. unfortunately, he got clipped in the tail end of the explosion damaging the exposed underside of the jet.

"This is Mad dog. Mayday. Mayday. Mayday!" he shouted over the comm. Scott looked to his left "STRAT-calm to mad dog." Scott repeated it again "STRAT-calm to mad dog. Do you receive me?" Scott sounded calm but strained. "Mad dog receiving you. Ejected and landed. It's a mess down here captain - insurgents everywhere."

"Understood, get to ground teams and support."

"Yes captain."

So, by his calculations they were two jets down and he soon would be joining them. The cockpit was beginning to smoke but he wanted to take that other missile launcher out. There was still one enemy jet according to his squad too. The initial formation had been successful it had wiped out the first three jets in minutes as Scott had suspected these pilots were not experienced allowing them to make quick work of them, especially as they were outnumbered. Scott was worried about the carnage on the ground but they would have to deal with that later. The sky was brightening slowly it would be early dawn soon. He desperately went further out scanning the fringes land surrounding their compound. He caught a glimmer of something. He doubled back There! He saw a missile launch Scott shot it before it even cleared the truck, it exploding back on itself. The fireball could be seen for miles. Satisfied they were going to cause him no more trouble he headed back to base. By now he was really smoking and the fire had taken hold. He had taken some hits from a machine gun at some point in the fray. "STRAT -Calm. Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. Coming in hot. Attempting to land." Scott managed to grind out in between coughing.

He pulled up the yoke and wiped off the speed, He couldn't see shit for smoke. No one had responded he was worried about his squad had they all made it? At this rate he might never know. He contemplated ejecting but he was far too low now and he couldn't get her to lift. One of his engines was hit as well. He deployed his landing gear, the rear left leg was jammed, probably because it was on fire dammit. Fine he didn't need it anyway he told himself resolutely. He banked round onto the runway and started his descent. He was basically semi falling out of the air now the best he could do was to guide her as steady as he could. Sweat poured down his face, he was having to rely on radar and scanners only the grey smoke swirling around the cockpit and the semi-dawn light outside making it hard to observe anything. He hit the ground hard, bouncing down the runway. More flames erupted. It was starting to burn up with him still in it. He just prayed he wouldn't combust; jets had come on in safety over the years but it was still a common problem. He steered her off to the left where he suspected the sand was to try and slow him down and cushion the impact. He skidded out before coming to a jarring halt. He quickly recovered and ejected the hood, dragging himself out of the inferno. He singed his hands through the gloves as he vaulted off the side of jet. He somehow managed to land on his feet and ran for the nearest cover he could sight. Now he was on the ground he was vulnerable; he had no idea what he was walking into. There was shouting and the sound of gunshots as well as the roaring of several fires and the occasional explosion. Scott cringed involuntarily as something went off in close proximity to him. He felt the debris shower on him. He dived behind some cargo, his back pressed to it as he peered around the edge panting from exertion and struggling for breath, his lungs weren't filling with air like they should. He felt he was only taking shallow breaths, it getting tighter each time. He had one handgun on him, nothing else. He drew the weapon checked it, clicking the mag back in. He could see personnel scrambling to cover but in the semi-darkness it was hard to distinguish friendlies from foe. Then his eyes caught sight of a familiar jet coming in onto the runway. She was aflame like Scott's but had maintained her landing gear for a decent landing. He realised with a shock it was Mavi's jet. The fire perilously close to the cockpit. As Mavi brought it to a stop the shooting began. Three insurgents ran out from under cover and directly towards her firing. They were trying to cause it to explode. She was trapped.

Scott had already run from cover before he'd really decided what he was doing. He knew if he didn't do something she was going to die and he couldn't have that, not on his watch. He shot the first one through the head. Scott ducked behind another downed jet for cover as the other two started to return fire. He ducked up and shot again at hearing the tell-tale sound of one reloading. His efforts were rewarded with another cry. He skirted around the edge and took a quick peek. A bullet whistled just past his head. He ducked back "Fuck!" he took a different tactic and crawled under the jet into the darkness of the shadow it left on the floor. The guy was hidden behind Mavi's, after a few moments the guy appeared for another crack at Scott. He stood confidentlety and took aim just as Scott shot him from his concealed hiding place. The guy slumped lifeless to the floor. Scott checked all around before sprinting to her. The flames were worse now licking at the sides of the cockpit. He clambered onto the wing and made his way to the cockpit.

"Scott! its stuck I can't lift it!" She was coughing and spluttering badly with the smoke that had started to irritate him again too. She cried out in pain.

He coughed bringing up a hand to shield his face. "We'll try together come on!" he stood on the plane pulling with all his might on the handle. She did the same but she was getting weaker by the minute. "Scott….I …. Can't. Go before the fire engulfs us both." Her hands slipped down the glass. She coughed before her head started to droop. The glass begun to condense with moisture in the increasing heat.

"No! Mavi! Mavi! Wake up dammit!" He strained with all his might on the clasp. He bent down and yelled when a nearby flame licked the side of his calf. He bit down on his cheek hard. Why couldn't it just fucking open! His hands were burning through the gloves now as they started to melt with the heat. There was a crackle as more flames started to take hold of the engine bay. Any minute now she was going to blow. He stood back grabbed his gun and shot the lock in desperation hoping it wouldn't ricochet at him. He heard it break. With a shout of relief, he yanked it open and dragged Mavi out. Just then he heard someone below.

"Captain Tracy here! quick pass her down."

Mad dog and digs were waiting. "Thank Christ! Some of you are still alive!" He gratefully passed Mavi's unconscious form down.

"Come on Sir have some faith we're not all stupid as Dice. Some of us value our lives." Despite the situation Scott smirked at the joke.

"Er Captain, your leg is on fire." Digs piped up.

"Shit!" Scott quickly leapt off the jet and rolled several times across the floor. He was pretty sure he was attached to his overalls now, it hurt like hell. There was no time to check the damage. They ran to the nearest area of safety, Digs and Scott providing cover whilst Mads carried Mavi. They ran into the supply building. They placed Mavi on the floor while Scott checked her pulse. Strong thankfully but her breathing was laboured. She needed oxygen. "What the situation?" Scott asked as he continued to check her vitals. Digs acted as lookout. He seemed to have managed to procure a semi-automatic rifle from somewhere.

"Multiple hostiles have penetrated base, not sure how. Ground assault started first before the jets. The rest of our grounded squad managed to take some out with our missile launchers but then the invading bastards started targeting our missile launchers and disabling them. I'm guessing that's about when we got scrambled. Most of the enemy are now scattered and on the retreat. Reinforcements have arrived from the local forces and the marines." In this time Scott had sloughed his melted gloves, picking a few pieces off of his skin where it had burned through. The pain in his leg was also starting to burn uncomfortably. It was because it was still burning but he had no water to douse on it so he would just have to make do. Scott nodded as mad dog finished his report. He couldn't reply because a coughing fit had just begun. He ended up on all fours heaving for air. "Captain! Captain what's wrong. Mad dog took in the wide-eyed look on Scott's face, the red rimmed eyes and the smoke smears. "Dammit! Digs! He's got smoke inhalation as well, these guys need oxygen masks, we're in the supplies building."

"Hang in their boss, don't you go croaking out on me!" Mads put a reassuring hand on him.

"On it" replied Digs.

He scouted around to the left. Mad dog propped Scott upright against a munitions box. He was wheezing but a bit more stable. The attack was passing but Scott's throat felt red raw. He looked at Mavi and tried to reach her. Catching on, mad dog checked her pulse again. Digs rounded the corner and chucked a medi kit and a mask down along with a small oxygen tank. There was only one. Scott immediately started to strap it to Mavi, coughing. Mad dog looked at him indignantly but Scott shook his head. She was in a worse condition he would manage. "Captain."

"Don't start mads, when I look like that then you can stick a mask on me and that's an order." He wheezed and coughed. "Now look what you did." Scott replied referring to his new intense coughing fit.

"Sorry Sir, you know if I can't hear your orders then…"

Scott just glared at him. "Joking!" Mads raised his palms and backed down.

Scott found Mav's gloves were so badly stuck to her hands he couldn't get them off. He'd have to leave the medics to deal with it. He did find some painkillers though so gave her a shot. If she woke up, she would be in agony with the degree of the burns. Her legs had sustained significant damage too.

"Right. She's as stable as we can make her, can you carry her Mads?" He responded by hoisting her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, grabbing the oxygen bottle.

"Can we contact anyone?" Scott whispered; his voice was weakening fast.

"Nope we appear to have suffered a black out. Digs has just checked, it's a lot quieter out there now. Reckon we'd have as good as chance as any moving out now."

Scott nodded and signalled with his hand that they should roll out. He needed to preserve his voice. Digs passed Scott another semi-automatic with half a clip. Scott indicated digs should take the rear. He nodded and stepped in behind. Scott paned around, scanning the room as they moved up to the front entrance. He crouched against the doorframe before ducking out. He looked left to right and signalled "Clear." They filed out and headed around the back of the building before heading up the infirmary which was thankfully on this side just after the mess hall. They slid along the back of the buildings keeping an eye to their left on the hills outside the compound. Just as they got to the end of the building they came face to face with a group of men and rifles. "Friendlies!" one of the officers at the front declared.

Scott cautiously lowered his rifle. "Captain Tracy air force, we have injured personnel trying to get to the infirmary." The Guy surveyed the girl slung over the back of the tall guy in combat fighter gear and the captain who looked dead on his feet and sounded like he'd had razors for vocal cords. He was favouring his right leg to.

"Men, change of plan. Let's escort these guys in. Sargent Watson, U.S marines." The guy stated.

"Glad you could make the assist." Replied Scott

Watson nodded before leading them in. Scott couldn't contain the relief. He was weary, it was coming up on eight hours now since they had flown out. The sun had risen. He felt his throat start to constrict again he felt another coughing episode coming on but this time his chest was really tight. Probably from the pace he was trying to maintain to keep up with the marines. They just reached the porch of the infirmary as his leg stupidly gave way. He collapsed to one knee as he slid down the wall, desperately trying to find purchase. Why was he wheezing? The air felt like it was getting thinner. The last thing he remembered was being in mad dogs' arms with him shouting his name, tapping his face and hollering for a medic.