The men of the Titan Liberation Army took cover in their foxholes and trenches, the heavy shells of the UNSC artillery pounding their positions. The private clutched his helmet as he ducked down.
"We're gonna die here, Sarge!"
The non-commissioned officer ahead of him shook his head.
"Not yet."
He motioned to the radioman nearby.
"Is the support overhead? I've got grid coordinates for them."
The radioman nodded.
"Go ahead!"
"25 South, 32 West."
He paused while someone spoke back to him on the radio set.
"They got a good copy. Expect a strike in less than a minute!"
The Sergeant turned back to the private.
"Looks like our friends on Europa have come up with some sort of new bomber plane."
"Do you think it'll work?"
He pointed up at the smoke-filled sky.
"Let's see."
Three V-shaped objects soared through the yellow atmosphere, twisting and dancing through the flak exploding around them.
"This is Highflyer Actual with your requested munitions, dropping now."
Shrill air-raid sirens erupted from the UNSC trench line as the planes neared. Soldiers ran to their anti-air guns. Officers blew their whistles.
"Assume your stations!"
"Get down, get down!"
"Shoot them. Shoot them!"
The Highflyers burst through the shrapnel and fog, their bays opening up to reveal dozens of lethal bombs tucked inside. The UNSC soldiers down the line watched in stunned silence while three dozen ten-pound incendiary munitions slammed into the artillery pit, anti-air guns and artillery pieces bursting into sharp fragments while men were vaporized in the flames. The private peeked over the edge at the hellfire coming from the UNSC lines.
"So what do we do now?"
The sergeant strapped on his gas mask, the radioman racking a shotgun behind him.
"We charge."
Lieutenant Miles Lawrence turned off the radio, returning his focus to the horizon before him.
"Another good run. Tagger, what's our fuel?"
Corporal Tagger, sitting close behind the pilot in the cramped cabin, snuck a glance at the fuel gauge on his instrument panel.
"We're at one-third of our take-off fuel sir."
"Good. Should be enough to take us back to the base. Jesse, get on the point to point and tell the wing we're RTB."
Warrant Officer Jesse, across from Tagger, leaned in on her own instrument panel.
"Aye aye, sir."
Lawrence peered out at the battlefield below him as he banked to the side. The naturally rocky surface of the terraformed Shiwanni Virgae region was pockmarked with spots of craters and wreckage that extended for miles at a time, trenches and barbed wire interspersed throughout. On that barren land thousands of men met their death each day fighting for the freedom of Titan. Such was the price that needed to be paid. Jesse adjusted her headset.
"Highflyers 1 and 2 acknowledge, they're both en route to the airfield for refueling and repairs."
"Good. Do we have a course plotted?"
"Yes sir, but there's a massive storm front in our way. It'd use up all our fuel to go around."
"That isn't our concern. I'm sure we can go through regardless."
The new Highflyer fighter-bombers the crew had been issued were apparently rated against the low to middle intensity lightning strikes that were common on Titan, with their coated plating deflecting a certain amount of electricity before overloading. Previously storm fronts had spelled certain doom for incoming air fleets, both Liberation Army and UNSC. But if this plane worked the LA would have the strategic edge in air power. And due to the relatively limited amount of habitable land on Titan, air power was everything.
Freebird knelt on the cliff edge, observing the Liberation Army air wing with a pair of binoculars. The radio on her flight suit squawked.
"Do you have the targets in sight?"
"Yes."
"Take them out."
She stood up and turned to face the XR-993 Stealth Fighter sitting still behind her. The carbon fibre plates of the craft failed to reflect the rays of sunlight coming down upon it.
"Affirmative."
Rain slammed into the viewport ahead of Lawrence. The Highflyer wing had entered the storm front, and fog obscured all vision in any direction. His only pointer now was a GPS system, located on a tiny screen on his dashboard. Jesse chatted with the other crews via the point to point while idly eating a ration pack.
"I mean, those guys are wimps. They need us to clear out everything before they can advance."
"I know, we did ten consecutive bombing runs to get them to shut up."
"The fucking 10th.. Sometimes I wish they would get wiped out during their next advance."
"That'd be pretty funny. But every soldier counts, right?"
"More or less."
Freebird put down the throttle lever, the instrument lights illuminating her helmeted face as she entered the storm cloud. A tiny insignia displaying a flying dove carrying a scythe glowed on her visor cover. Below it read:
Killing For A Future
Warrant Officer Jesse chuckled while trying to get the tasty chicken out of her pack.
"Oh, yeah. I remember that."
"You should've seen that officer's face-"
The signal abruptly stopped before turning into a mix of garbled voices and static.
"Hello? Hello?"
Lawrence turned back to face her.
"What's up?"
The comms technician shrugged before putting down her rations.
"The transmission from the rest of the wing just cut out, sir."
He turned to Tagger, who was hurriedly checking his instruments.
"You getting anything?"
"There's a high amount of electro-magnetic interference around us, it's probably the storm, but.."
"But what?"
"The frequency is going in a locked pattern. It could be man made."
The pilot scanned the blanket of fog around him.
"That's unlikely. The UNSC hasn't fielded that sort of tech in a while."
The lone Highflyer cruised through the mist, droplets of water gracing its smooth wings.
The XR-993 silently veered into position, Freebird firmly gripping the controls in the darkened cockpit. Two out of its six missiles were gone from the weapons rack.
Tagger pressed his headset closer to his ear.
"Uh, something's tripped the proximity alarm, but I don't know what. I think it's a false positive."
Lawrence wiped the sweat from his brow. What could possibly be out there other than the Highflyers? It was most likely super-condensed clouds or the like, for sure. Jesse began to eat her pack again.
"Relax guys, it's-"
Tagger cried out in alarm.
"One missile inbound, two klicks out!"
Lawrence hurriedly flicked on the craft countermeasures and swung over to the side, six tiny flares shooting out from the body of the Highflyer. Tagger stared intensely at his panel.
"One klick."
Lawrence's eyes dilated.
"400 meters."
The missile homed in on one of the flares.
"30 meters. Brace!"
The cabin rocked as the missile detonated midair nearby, spraying shrapnel into the fuselage of the Highflyer. Lawrence didn't look back at Jesse.
"What's our hull integrity status?"
"96 Percent, sir. We almost got licked on that one."
He looked down at the GPS on his console. The screen was jumbled and broken, with the map inverted and error text running wild. Whoever was hunting them knew what they were doing.
Freebird switched the weapon toggle to machine guns. This crew was smarter than the rest, but they'd meet the same fate.
Lawrence felt fear rise in his gut as he desperately tried to reorient the Highflyer.
"Jesse, do you have any idea what our course was?"
"That's a negative, sir."
He tapped the GPS again, but it refused to work. The Highflyer wasn't meant for dogfighting, as it had no direct weaponry other than the bombs in its bay. His knuckles turned white on the controls. Tagger called out again.
"Craft in our proximity, going for a strafing run!"
Hundreds of bullets plinked against the hull of the fighter-bomber as a shadowy plane soared by, engines flaring. Jesse pressed her face against the viewport.
"Hull integrity at 60 percent. The hell was that?"
Tagger turned to the pilot.
"That thing is coming back for another run, watch out!"
Lawrence pitched the Highflyer upwards, the console shuddering. If they were to possibly survive this threat, they'd need to break out of the storm before it could strike again.
Freebird twisted and turned in the fog, the angular stealth plane angling towards the lumbering bomber. This particular pilot was more skilled than the others, and he was going to attempt to breach the storm and reorient himself. Freebird couldn't let that happen.
Lawrence swerved to the side as the plane came in for another attack run again, forcing him to go back into the clouds. The bullet-riddled wings of the Highflyer groaned in the wind. Tagger called out.
"Two missiles inbound, one klick!"
"Open the bomb bay."
The corporal's jaw dropped.
"What? Oh.."
The realization dawned in his eyes.
"Yes sir!"
If Lawrence could time it right, the missiles would hit the bombs coming out of the bay, and hopefully by the time that fighter passed by. It was the crew's best bet.
Freebird watched the bomber tilt to the side, bay opening to welcome her missiles. No way.
Lawrence held the Highflyer in position, while Tagger called out the distance.
"700 meters."
Freebird attempted to stall the stealth craft.
"500 meters."
It wouldn't stop, the deceleration wouldn't happen in time.
"300 meters-"
She looked ahead at the bomber. It was too late.
"Deploy the bombs!"
Tagger nodded and hit the bomb release button, sending all ten of the craft's munitions towards the missiles and the plane behind them.
Freebird couldn't do anything but watch the missiles puncture the loose bombs as she flew directly underneath, the massive explosion casting the cockpit in orange while she covered her face.
Lawrence saw the plane become engulfed in a fiery ball of debris. The crew whooped in joy.
"We did it!"
"Great job, sir!"
He smiled before flicking a couple of switches and going upwards again.
"Let's get out of here."
The Highflyer burst out of the cloud cover, soaring into the brilliant golden sky. The console GPS chimed as it found its bearings again. Jesse bent down in her crash seat, trying to pick up the splattered remains of her ration on the floor.
"So we're scot free?"
Tagger leaned back.
"Yeah, I think so-
Wait, something's back on the proximity alarm again.."
His face was contorted in fear.
"It's back!"
Behind the Highflyer, the sharp and unscathed shape of the XR-993 emerged from the clouds, missiles primed.
Freebird pulled the firing trigger without hesitation, three missiles slamming into the bomber in a series of sparks and smoke. One of the damaged wings of the craft broke off before it spiralled out of control, parts spinning off left and right. She smiled under her helmet at the broken hull of the bomber vanishing back into the fog.
Lawrence lifted his head off of the broken and splintered control panel. Blood dribbled down from his forehead.
"T-tagger?"
The spot where the corporal used to sit was caved in, a splotch of red leaking out from beneath.
"Jesse?"
She stared back at him with soulless eyes from her bent seat. Her neck was snapped in the crash.
"Shit.."
Lawrence unbuckled and staggered to the back of the cabin, fumbling with the lever before opening it. An open plateau greeted him, the fog heavy all around. A suited figure stood in the middle of it.
"You're better than the others, I'll give you that."
A revolver rested in her right hand.
"Who the hell are you?"
The pilot, instead of answering, raised the gun and fired. A chunk of flesh erupted from Lawrence's chest as he fell flat on his back, facing the sky. The pilot crouched over him.
"You'll never really know."
She flipped up her visor to reveal a set of piercing blue eyes, cold and calculating in their nature. Lawrence looked down to see a name patch on her chest.
Beckman
"We're all soldiers here.."
She stood up and put away the gun, producing a flare.
"..But are we human?"
The long flare came to life while Lawrence searched for an answer.
"I t-think so."
Beckman turned back to him, regarding his limp body with mild curiosity. Then she tossed the lit flare into the Highflyer. The interior cabin burned while the pilot began to walk away, sliding her visor shut.
"Well, you have time to think about that."
Lawrence watched her fade into the fog, the fighter-bomber behind him erupting into flames.