« Twenty Bravo, begin take-off checklist. »
It was a strange feeling to be inside a cockpit once again. The one I had sat in for years had went down in flames, making the familiarity feel uncanny.
"Understood Tower. Beginning take-off checklist," I said in the closed oxygen mask of my helmet that was still bearing what remained of the two hand prints.
There were many screens in front of me, each controlled by its own set of buttons. I reached to one of the smaller ones off to the side and pressed one of the small rubber squares. On the display, various confirmation messages appeared as the internal checkups were being ran. Electronics, sensors, fuel pumps… All of these were elements buried deep inside the complex machinery of the FRANV and out of my sight, meaning that I left the machine to check itself. After several long seconds, the last line appeared to confirm the lack of any problem.
"Internal check done. No reported issues," I indicated in my radio without any real emotion before proceeding with what I actually had to verify manually. "Checking elevators."
With my right hand, I pushed the control stick forward as much as I could before completely pulling it towards me. At the back of the vehicle, large rectangular sections of the tail rotated up and down in sync with the input. And it was not long until the voice of the tower operator dedicated to my take off came back on the radio.
« Elevators good. »
"Copy. Checking ailerons."
I then wiggled the stick from side to side, causing longer flaps along each wing to move with symmetrical opposition.
« Ailerons good. »
"Copy. Checking rudders."
This time, it was my feet that I used to activate controls as I pressed on the two pedals buried deep inside my footwell. This time, the parts that moved were along the vertical stabilizers.
« Rudders good. »
"Copy. Checking engine rotation."
On my left were two levers. The bigger one controlled the overall throttle from both reactors, but I was more interested in the second one. I disengaged the automatic rotation by pressing the button placed on top of the lever and then pushed it, putting the controls in various positions. By turning my head, I could see both engines at the tip of each wing, quickly rotating around their axis to reach all the instructed positions.
« Engine rotation good. »
"Copy that. Checklist complete. Everything is good."
« Understood. Wait for roof opening. »
Overhead, the two large metallic panels that separated the hangar from the outside slowly started to move away from each other, revealing a clean blue sky. But I did not have the time to look at the sky. Instead, I continued to press buttons and flip switches in order to complete the various tasks essential to a take-off that followed the book. A deep whine slowly started to fill the hangar as the engines started to power up, blasting air directly onto the heat resistant surface of the hangar floor.
« Roof opening complete. Twenty Bravo, you are cleared for take-off. Wind is heading one six zero at five knots. »
"Copy. Wind one six zero, five knots. Twenty Bravo out."
Suddenly, there was a rush of excitement as I put the engine rotation lever back in the automatic position and slowly pushed the throttle command forward. And in the moment, as my heart felt light despite gravity pushing me down in my seat, I did not realize that all I had done so far was the exact same tasks I had done so many times before.
The strength of the two magma powered turbines was enough to push the FRANV up in the air and towards the sky. My excitement was at its highest as my eyes started to see over the metal walls of the hangar. But it was not long until I noticed that something was wrong with the various elements of my head-up display. Most information had completely stopped updating while others started to act in a completely erratic manner. I was obviously confused for a moment before I heard the sound of someone breathing heavily through their teeth coming directly from the internal communications of the plane. It did not take long for me to connect the dots as I glanced up in the canopy mirror, only to see two painful clenched eyes between a helmet and an oxygen mask.
"Fifty! Can you hear me?" I asked even though I knew I would not have gotten any answer.
One after the other, every display started to turn off until the only elements left were the few tiny back up analog dials displaying altitude and airspeed. But before I could pull the throttle back down and bring the plane back on the ground, a powerful voice filled the air as if it came down from the heavens.
"We're losing contact with the co-pilot. Aborting simulation."
In the blink of an eye, all movements stopped and everything turned dark. I reached for the locking mechanism of my harness as fast as I could while the dome of giant screens slowly rose up from its enclosing position over the recreation of a FRANV cockpit.
Two masked members of the settlement's medical staff were quick to come and pull the canopy up after I had opened the sealing tabs. As I unlocked my breathing mask and unplugged the oxygen tube from the basis of my seat, the doctors started doing examinations.
"I have a pulse," said one of them with two of his fingers placed between her helmet and her neck. "No visible bleeding anywhere."
"I have a reaction to visual stimuli," added the other after he flashed a torch directly into her eyes. "Code Zero Five Zero, can you speak?"
"Ye… Yeah," she replied, much for everyone's relief despite her weak voice.
"Does it hurt anywhere?"
"No… I… I mean it's just that my head aches a bit."
"Understood. We're going to carry you to your whee…"
Before the doctor could finish, he was interrupted by the co-pilot herself.
"No. I can do it alone. Don't worry about me."
She pushed the man away and started to unbuckle herself as I lifted myself out of the cockpit and onto the stairs going from the elevated simulator to the ground. With a bit of difficulty, she did the same, using the edge of the cockpit as support to rotate her body and get her remaining leg out of the footwell and on the steps. Several times, the medical staff tried to reach for her, but each time she brushed them away, going down step by step while tightly holding the railings. I would have helped her get down, but I knew that if she wanted to show she could handle herself, she was not going to back down. So when I reached the floor where her wheelchair had been waiting, I simply moved it a bit to make it easier for her to sit down.
"Hey, are you sure you're alright?" I finally asked as she made herself comfortable in her seat.
"I'm fine. I… I just don't really know what happened. I did everything as usual, I checked all the subsystems, but when we took off my head started to hurt a lot." She lightly rubbed her forehead as if to rub away her headache before looking towards me with sad eyes. "I'm sorry, Eighty-Three. It's my fault."
"Don't say that. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. I'm sure you'll get back into it."
We were so focused on each other that we did not notice Maria, slowly approaching from a set of monitors.
"Your nervous system has been heavily modified in a short amount of time during the operation," she started to explain coldly, startling both of us. "You will need to adapt to it. But it will take time. For now, we have data to analyze."
"Is there really that much to analyze?" Fifty asked in a slightly embarrassed, almost shameful, way.
"There is always data to analyze," replied the officer, this time with a smile to comfort the pilot. "However, the testing schedule has been modified. The next test sessions have been delayed."
This news was surprising to the both of us as we had both told numerous times how important those tests were and how the more sessions they made in a short amount of time, the better.
"Delayed? Why?" I asked, a bit confused.
"I will explain everything once the entire team is together. The others are still doing their own exercises, so go get back in your uniforms and come back to the briefing room."
We both nodded before walking away towards the exit while Maria returned to her monitors. And it would be a lie to say that I did not feel my heart starting to race again. I had a strange feeling regarding this upcoming news, and I was sure that my newly acquired knowledge would have an unimaginable impact.
"This is Charlie. We are at entry point two."
« Copy that, Charlie. Stay on standby. »
The two were glued to the corner of the closed door as the voice faded out of their headsets, both tightly holding the handle of their submachineguns. They perfectly knew what objective they had to accomplish and all the steps that needed to be executed in that regard. And they knew that everything was going to happen in just a few short seconds.
« This is Delta. We are at entry point three. »
« Copy. All teams, breaching in five, four, three, two, one. »
With all of his force, the first one gave a kick near the locking mechanism which was enough to send the wooden panel wide open. He then made a single step back, allowing his companion to rush in, barrel towards any potential hiding place, before following him.
The room they had entered in did not have much in term of furniture. A table, a few chairs and a clear lack of decoration were all they could see.
"Dining room clear."
In their ear pieces, they could hear similar callouts.
« Main hall clear. »
« Living room clear. »
Without stopping, they continued along the planned path and stopped near another closed door. Again, the panel was kicked open with a mechanically similar movement and the two stormed into the room.
Suddenly, a figure popped out from behind a counter. It did not take long for them to identify it as a hostile target, thanks to the distinctive shape of the rifle it was holding. And a split second later, it returned on the ground, several nine millimeter projectiles having pierced its chest.
"One tango down in the kitchen," the shooter announced as they both looked into places where people could hide to ambush them.
And yet again, similar messages were broadcasted.
« Two tangos down in the corridor. »
« Tango down in the bedroom. »
« Copy. All teams, regroup at point four."
This message was all the two needed to hear to continue their progress. There was another door in the way, but they had no need to kick it open as the lock was not engaged. The door lead to the main corridor of the building that had already been cleared by Alpha, so they simply opened the door and walked through.
The four other members of the assault party were waiting near the door to the last room they had not broken into yet. Charlie joined them and the next second, the team leader started to make hand signs to indicate their strategy. Everybody replied with an OK sign as the other part of Alpha started to set up small charges near key areas of the heavily reinforced door. All of this had happened without a word.
When he returned into the group, the leader started to count down with his fingers and when he completely closed his fist, all hell broke loose. Each explosive charge detonated, sending the heavy panel flying into the room, before several flashbangs were thrown inside.
One after the other, the non-lethal grenades detonated, giving them the signal to enter, guns shouldered. As they stepped inside, they could see several figures. Some were not holding any weapons, but there were still several hostiles. Still without a single word, everyone engaged the nearest targets, firing single and precise shots near the vital organs.
All of this lasted for a few seconds until the echoes of gunfire died out.
"Bedroom clear," launched the leader of the gunmen before reaching for his radio. "Twenty Lead, building is clear, over."
There was a moment of silence before a loud horn rang inside all the rooms of the building, coming from loudspeakers mounted on the ceilings. At this point, everyone relaxed, lowering their weapons and engaging the safeties.
"You finished this scenario in seventy five seconds," stated a female voice coming from the same loud speakers. "I have nothing to say on the first parts, but you have hit one unarmed target during the last breach."
"Who did that?" asked the leader, this time simply speaking loudly, knowing that all the dissimulated microphones would pick up his voice.
"From the footage I have, I can say that it is Code Five Nine Four that fired those rounds."
All looks turned towards the young woman who sighed and shook her head.
"Sorry. It's my fault," she simply stated. As usual, she did not say much, but everyone knew that she was scolding herself over her mistake.
"Mistakes happen. That's why we're training after all," commented Three-Aught-Five trying to cheer back up her squad mate.
Scenarios through the kill house were an important part of the regular training of FRANV crews. Coordination with others, adaptability and reaction speed were some of the many important qualities needed to engage the enemy on a real battlefield, and training in a fake building filled with cut-outs of targets that could pop from behind at every corner was the perfect way to work on those skills. There was also the added bonus of learning to manipulate firearms for emergency situations that would force one to use a gun. But it was far from the main point of those exercises, even after the recent crash.
"You got to be careful next time. Maybe run a few solo scenarios later to get back in the rhythm."
Like always, One-Ten had spoken in his serious tone as he slid off the magazine from the open bolt gun and closed the chamber, securing the weapon.
"Sadly this will have to wait, Code One One Zero," interrupted Maria's voice from the loudspeakers. "I have received new instructions for all of you. Come to the briefing room ASAP."
"Understood."
And so, they all left the kill house by going through the rooms they had cleared a few minutes earlier. After a short stop at the automated armory to hand back the guns and the remaining ammunition, they all traded the training suits, similar in texture and feel to the flight suit minus all the flying equipment, for their regular uniforms.
When they entered the briefing room, Fifty, Eighty-Three and Maria were already there. The large presentation screen was off, which was unusual as it would always display important information even before the start of a briefing.
"Settle down," said the officer with a serious tone that immediately installed a feeling of unease in all the pilots. "Things have moved faster than I had expected. Your latest mission has given the Entity access to enough resources to kick start the most important operation in the last few years. It is the kind of operation that needs thorough planning and practice, so we, alongside the squadrons from many other settlements, have been summoned for a LSTM."
LSTM.
That four letter acronym stood for Large Scale Training Mission. Under that fancy name was a rather simple process. Get a large amount of FRANV crews, put them together in one place and do lots of exercises to prepare for whatever operations had been planned by the highest officers of the HPE.
Most of the time, it was achieved through bringing several settlements in the same area. But there were situations where there was not enough time for that. So, instead, the pilots and their officers gathered in the only facility with enough accommodation.
The Human Protection Entity Research Center, and more precisely the facilities of the Special Weaponry Division which had, over the years, gained a very distinctive nickname first with officers, then with pilots.
The Garden.
It was the place where they had all grown up and where they had been cared for, making the name fitting for the pilots while most officers found it more convenient than the long and tedious official designation.
The squadron of Settlement Twenty had come back to the Garden for an LSTM only once before, several years back. Despite that, what they had to do to get to the Garden had not changed. They had to fly their own FRANV there, fully equipped with all the modules related to training, and be ready to receive orders at any time. Or at least it did not change for three of the four duos.
For a long time, Eighty-Three had thought that the ride inside the transport used by officers was comfier than the hardness of his pilot seat, but the last several hours had made him realize how wrong he had been.
The aircraft worked differently than a FRANV as a non-combat vehicle did not need the extensive and complex fighting equipment. It was made of one tube shaped body that flew through the air thanks to two large propellers on top of the frame, one at the front and one at the back, each driven by powerful magma engines. But if on the outside, the helicopter, as it was called, seemed large and spacious, the reality on the inside was really different. Between the cockpit, the electronics, the light armor plating and all the other things needed so that the craft could accomplish its mission, there was relatively not much room left for all the cargo it usually carried.
And in that situation, there was even less space. A huge chunk the cabin was filled with various monitors displaying real time information on all the airborne FRANVs as well as footage from various cameras, transforming the transport into a small command post while the passengers only had uncomfortable seats to sit in on each side of the cabin.
There was not much to do while waiting for the flight to end, so Eighty-Three was grateful to have the earbuds in his ears, under the large noise reducing helicopter headphones, as he looked through one of the circular windows. At a safe distance, he could see the giant shape of a FRANV flying in formation. And it was easy to identify which was piloted by whom thanks to the large black markings painted on the side of the nose and the vertical stabilizers.
20A
110305
From where he was, Eighty-Three could barely see One-Ten's head, only a small grey dot against the blue sky. He was not used to seeing others like this without being in a cockpit himself and that made him a bit sad. One of the things he liked most in life was grabbing a control stick and taking it to the skies, but this was out of his reach for now.
Fifty was on the other side of the helicopter. She was still on her wheelchair in the small place wide enough for her that was not in the way, looking down on the landscape down below. She also felt sad, but there was something else on her mind.
Guilt.
If Eighty-Three had felt guilty of the crash and her injury at first, he had accepted that he could have done nothing to prevent it. But here, everything depended on her own capabilities, and it felt like she was failing everything. She was both failing others and failing herself.
She sighed, still looking at the ground. From time to time, something would break the monotony of the desert landscape. Sometimes it was a forest, sometimes it was a group of ruins, and the latter never failed to bring her mind back to the memory of Eighty-Three and herself, sitting against the ejection pod in the yellow lights of the early morning. She wished to be able to live through other events like that. But that was the only thing they were.
Wishes.
If everyone was deep in their thoughts, no one spoke up their mind about anything as if nobody was daring to start a discussion. Or at least it was like until a voice started to come out of the two small speakers of everyone's headphones.
« Squadron Twenty, this is Airborne Warning And Control System call sign Holy Eye. Do you read? Over. »
Maria readjusted her microphone before sending her reply.
"Holy Eye, this is Twenty Lead. We are hearing loud and clear, over."
« As of now, you will be under the orders of BluFor Command. Maintain your current course and stay on stand by for further instructions. Holy Eye out. »
With this message, the training mission had officially begun. Now, everyone was serious, ready to respond to any order coming from the AWACS, knowing that every move was going to be inspected later. But for a period of time that felt way too long to Eighty-Three, he felt like all of this was for nothing. They were still flying in a straight line and nothing was happening.
It was only when the voice of the AWACS operator returned on the radio and woke him up that he realized he had fallen asleep.
« Twenty, Holy Eye. Three bogeys on radar. Bearing zero niner zero. Intentions unknown. Move for intercept, over. »
A quick look at his communicator revealed that his slumber had lasted a bit over half an hour, which was a complete surprise to Eighty-Three with the constant rumbling and noise.
« Wilco. Three bogeys bearing zero niner zero. Moving to intercept. Twenty Alpha out. »
One-Ten barely finished his sentence before the three planes started accelerating and turning, filling the air with an even louder rumbling sound. And a few seconds later, they had disappeared into the sky.
Now, there were only the monitors that could show what was happening. For a long few minutes, the only things they could see were the blue of the sky, the grey of the planes and the purple glow of the afterburners as the three pursued the unknown crafts.
Or at least everyone was pretending that the crafts were unknown. In this context, the dots on the radar were obviously three other FRANV assigned to the opposition force, running their own fake combat mission.
Tension was quickly rising for all members of Squadron Twenty, fighters and non-fighters alike. But for Eighty-Three, who was now completely focused on the various monitors, the buildup was even more intense thanks to the drums, bass and distorted guitars playing in his ears.
They were playing loud, and they were playing fast. A perfect analogy for the three interceptors.
There goes the siren that warns of the air raid,
Then comes the sound of the guns sending flak.
Out for the scramble, we've got to get airborne.
Got to get up for the coming attack.
« Twenty, Holy Eye. Update from BluFor Command. Bogeys are confirmed hostiles. I repeat, bogeys are hostiles. You are cleared hot, cleared hot. »
Jump in the cockpit and start up the engines,
Remove all the wheel blocks there's no time to waste.
Gathering speed as we head down the runway,
Got to get airborne before it's too late
« Copy that, Holy Eye. Targets are hostiles. Moving for attack vector. Twenty Alpha out. »
Running, scrambling, flying.
Rolling, turning, diving, going in again.
Running, scrambling, flying.
Rolling, turning, diving.
Without trouble, the three planes modified their trajectory to get the advantage over their targets and maximize the effectiveness of the first volley of missiles, fired from beyond visual range. But after that, the distance between the groups would quickly be reduced and the dogfight would start.
Run, live to fly, fly to live, do or die.
Won't you run, live to fly, fly to live.
Aces high.
« Alpha to all, strategy five, strategy five. »
« Charlie, copy. Target locked. »
« Delta, target locked. »
Despite the feed of the cameras inside the cockpit not being displayed on the screen, Eighty-Three could imagine in his head each pilot, their thumbs hovering only a few millimeters from the firing switches as the weapon bays opened.
And when the position of the formation was such that the combined powers of the three data-linked planes gave the highest hit probability, all Hell broke loose. All the while the solo started to play in Eighty-Three's ears.
« Twenty Alpha. Fox three. »
« Twenty Charlie. Fox three. »
« Twenty Delta. Fox three. »
Or at least would have, had the missiles been real. Instead, only the trajectories of the fake projectiles appeared on the head-up displays and the radar screens. Everyone remained silent during long seconds as the dots moved closer and closer to their targets. And all hearts skipped a beat at the moment of contact.
« Alpha, missed. »
« Charlie, missed. »
« Twenty Delta. Splash one bandit, splash one bandit. »
Maria left out a sigh of relief when she heard the voice of Code Five Nine Four before focusing back on her monitors. There were only a few seconds left before the targets would enter the range of the short range missiles, and with one third of the enemy formation already down, the odds of victory had drastically gone up. That kind of training engagements were always ruthless, and by looking at the way the enemy formation was changing to react to the attack while the destroyed ship moved away from the combat zone, they were very experienced. Every advantage was more than welcome.
This was the moment the real battle begun. A fight of maneuverability, reaction speed, short range missiles and gun bursts.
Move in to fire at the mainstream of bombers.
Let off a sharp burst and then turn away.
Roll over, spin round to come in behind them,
Move to their blindsides and firing again.
« Alpha to all. Strategy two. »
« Delta. Copy that. »
« Charlie copies. »
They had the advantage of number and the element of surprise. The formation split in two, with Charlie keeping one target busy while Alpha and Delta took care of the second one.
Bandits at eight o'clock move in behind us,
Ten ME-109's out of the sun.
Ascending and turning our Spitfires to face them.
Heading straight for them I press down my guns.
Or at least that was what was supposed to happen.
« I'm on his six! »
« Alpha, Fox two. »
« Watch out! He's on your tail! »
« Hey! There's something under the target. »
In the middle of the standard radio chatter, the message stood out way too much. Code Eight Two Seven, like all the other pilots, had been trained to adapt to any unexpected situation. But here, there was enough confusion in his voice that Maria knew there was something wrong.
"Charlie, situation report!"
« Holy Eye, this is Twenty Charlie! We have an additional bandit! I repeat, we have an additional bandit! »
Rolling, turning, diving.
Rolling, turning, diving, doing it again.
Rolling, turning, diving.
Rolling, turning, diving.
Run, live to fly, fly to live, do or die.
Won't you run, live to fly, fly to live,
Aces high.
The pilot had not lied. Almost the moment he finished, a shape darted out from under the enemy FRANV. A shape that was both completely unknown to Maria, but also strangely familiar.
« Guns, guns, guns. »
« Good kill! Good kill! »
« Alpha, splash one. »
Even if they were now up three to two, the officer was more than uneasy when she reached for her microphone.
"Alpha, Delta, this is Lead. Go support Charlie! Quick!"
It seemed that the pilots could feel in their officer's voice that something was wrong as they quickly changed their direction to help out their squad mate.
« Charlie, take care of the new bandit. We'll take the other. »
« Copy that. »
Code Eight Two Seven and Code Two Two Two had not yet engaged the enemy, orbiting at a distance while they waited for their reinforcements. And that gave Maria enough time to look more closely at the mysterious craft.
It was largely more compact than a regular FRANV and, compared the large bulky planes, it looked way slicker with its canards, its inverted wings and its angled stabilizers. In fact, it felt just like a group of HPE engineers had a go at making a fighter from before the emergence of Klaxosaurs using the latest technology. However, none of the markings were readable, making identification impossible. The only things that were visible were parts covered in orange.
When his support finally arrived, Charlie broke away from its circular trajectory and headed directly towards the mysterious target to prevent it from interfering with the fight between the remaining regular FRANVs.
It seemed like the bandits understood the intent as they split up into two opposite directions. And Maria just could not get her eyes off the slick fighter. There was something fishy behind it, and she was very much doubting it would bring anything good. But she did not have the time to get deeper in her thoughts as the fighter moved to charge the FRANV head on. Its speed quickly rose up and it was not long until some of its part started to move in unexpected ways.
The canards and the stabilizers flattened themselves on the same level as the wing while the inverted parts of the wings folded inwards, only leaving one flat aerodynamic shape that was gaining way too much speed.
Things were getting worse by the second.
« Charlie, Fox two! »
The gap had closed so fast that Maria had not noticed that the two planes were already in range of infrared guided missiles. What she did notice, however, was that they were still heading towards each other head on, like an airborne joust where the winner is the one capable of attacking before the enemy.
The target suddenly changed its course, using an extraordinary agility to evade the simulated missile. Code Eight Two Seven left out a grunt as he strongly pulled on his control stick to initiate pursuit. But there was not much he could do to keep the bandit in his crosshair for more than a few seconds.
At the same time, Alpha and Delta were still engaged with the other target which was also putting a fierce, albeit more conventional, fight. And the radio callouts were drowning out the communication channels.
« Alpha, Fox two. »
« He has a lock on me! »
« Missile trashed. »
« Guns, guns, guns. »
Most of these indications were useless because of the powerful data link between all the copilots, but in this kind of high stress situation, yelling was to be expected. However, it was far from distracting Maria from the intense pursuit.
« Come on! Stay still for a second! »
Frustration was clear in the voice of the chasing pilot as he let out several gun bursts, each of them missing by a long margin. And that kind of feeling can very easily obscure your ability to notice important details.
Like how the target was greatly reducing its speed. What truly gave it away for Maria was when the wings reopened, the plane getting back its inverted geometry shape. And it was still slowing. Were they actively trying to stall?
And as if the pilot had heard the question Maria was asking herself in her mind, she immediately got an answer. The nose suddenly jerked up as it lost the last bit of forward momentum. The enemy plane was extremely tightly looping around the pitch axis, like hanging from two strings attached to the tips of its wings.
"Chakra Frolova?! Blyat…"
It did not last for longer than a second, but it was largely enough for Charlie to come speeding past.
« Damn! He's on my back! »
Just like that, in the blink of an eye, the hunter became the hunted.
And seeing how easy it had been for it to avoid all the past attack, there was no doubt that Code Eight Two Seven and Code Two Two Two were not going to stay in the fight for long.
The various missile alerts started to ring in the cockpit and the pilot started to execute evasion maneuvers, but again, something was wrong.
They were not firing.
« I need support! I need support! »
« Just hold on. We have our hands full here. Keep it away while we deal with the other one. »
« Hurry up! »
Various alert tones were ringing loudly inside the cockpit. So loud, in fact, that Maria could hear them in the background of radio communications.
But they were not firing.
« Get off me! Get off me! »
At that point, it had already lasted for several few seconds. Seconds of frustration that, in a real live fire engagement, would have been seconds of pure fear and panic.
But they were not firing.
« Alpha, Fox two! »
« You got them. Good kill, Alpha. »
The officer's eyes darted back towards the monitor displaying the feed from the two other FRANVs. And what she saw was the remaining enemy FRANV flying level, leaving the combat zone.
« Twenty, this is Holy Eye. Target confirmed down. One bandit remaining. Engage and eliminate. »
« Copy that. Twenty Alpha, out. »
« Alpha! Delta! Hurry up! It's going to… »
But this time, they fired.
The destruction caused by simulated gun fire immediately cut off Two-Seven from the combat frequency. And as everyone acted as if the two boys were going down in flames, Charlie simply flew away, the pilot screaming out his frustration to himself and his co-pilot.
"Lead to all," Maria stated in her microphone to the two remaining crews. "Charlie has been gunned down. I repeat, Charlie has been gunned down. Proceed with caution."
And despite the confirmations from both pilots, she knew that her message was pretty much useless. They had the numbers, but they had already lost. It was just a matter of time.
« Copy that, Lead. Moving to attack the last bandit. Delta, strategy one, strategy one. »
The planned maneuver was a simple one, but it had worked wonders over the years against the blue monsters. They were two, there was one target, and being attacked from both sides at once is impossible to escape. Sometimes, complex solutions to complex problems are not the most efficient.
But sadly, nobody had the chance to find out if it would have worked.
Missile alerts started beeping as the target charged them with its ludicrous speed. Immediately, both FRANVs started evasive actions, trying as hard as they could to move into positions not reachable for the projectiles. The Gs pulled the pilots up and down in their seats as the many flaps rotated as fast as they could to allow the planes to perform advanced figures.
Yet, in the end, it did not matter.
« Twenty Lead, this is Holy Eye. Twenty Alpha and Twenty Delta have been shot down. End of mission order from BluFor Command. »
"Copy that. End of mission. Going to base. Twenty out."
After those words, Maria took off the large headphones from over her ears, liberating her head from its tight grasp. She rubbed her face, trying to understand what happened in the last few minutes. But at that moment, everything was just confusion.
She brought her look back towards the monitors, only to see the enemy plane pull up next to the three FRANV of Squadron Twenty. It waved its wings, covered with the orange markings normally reserved to experimental prototypes, before breaking off as a fair play salute from the winner. And strangely enough, it seemed that both crew members of that craft were keeping their heads straight forward, the pilot not even turning his look towards those he saluted.
There were too many details pilling up that it could not be anything else than suspicious, and she could only react with a simple whisper to herself.
"What the fuck are you up to, Werner?"
It had been a very long time since Maria had last treated herself to a drink. And she honestly felt that she deserved it. So much had happened over the last few days, and even the last few hours, that she needed a good hour to herself to decompress.
After their arrival, she had debriefed the three crews. Or at least she had attempted to. With that strange encounter, she was not able to say if them getting wiped out was a bad thing or just a reflection of better weaponry. And the pilots themselves did not have anything to add. It was too fast, too agile, too strong. So she had let them go to follow the rest of the protocol, with the meager consolation that they had at least managed to wipe out the more regular part of the enemy squadron.
And now that they were off to whatever welcoming ceremony the pilots had to attend, she finally had time for herself. The officer lounge was far from empty, though. Even if they had not gone through the same events, a lot of officers from various Settlements were resting on the various sofas after long and tiring flights. Some were chatting around warm or cold drinks, but Maria remained alone. Most of the faces she could see were unknown to her and she only recognized some because of some video calls between officers when cooperation between squadrons was necessary.
Not really knowing why, she scanned the room again before returning to her half-full glass of whiskey resting on an empty bar. The atmosphere reminded her of her days in the Russian Aerospace Forces, taking breaks between missions in the bar of the air base. She missed the times when everything was simpler and the fate of humanity itself was not resting on her shoulders.
But in her daydreaming, she did not hear the steps of someone getting closer.
"Hey, you keep flying like that and you'll die real soon!"
Maria immediately turned her head towards the source of those words, both startled and confused.
An Asian woman was standing before her, wearing the same uniform of Squadron Officers.
A woman she had not seen in a very long time.
"Naomi!" launched Maria, springing off her stool towards the woman with her arms wide open and a wide smile. The hug that followed was long, long enough that it attracted looks from other officers.
"It's good to see you, Maria. How long has it been?" asked Naomi as they both sat down at the bar.
"I don't remember…" replied Maria, scratching her hair. "Twenty-Five years?"
"Yeah, something like that… And I still remember how you scolded me back then, when missions got too hot."
They had known each other for far longer. Early in the conflict between the Human Protection Entity and the Klaxosaurs, at a period when the Entity was slowly but surely gaining support within the militaries of crumbling nations, soldiers were deserting in large numbers for what looked like humanity's last hope. And among them was Naomi Kubawashi, a young pilot of the Japanese Air Self-Defense Force that arrived with one of the last few Viper Zeros still in service. She was immediately assigned to Maria's squadron and deployed to the front lines.
As the years passed, she easily proved her skills and became one of the top aces of the squadron. It earned her a premium place at the top of the list of possible test pilots for Project Moses. And both women remained together until the side effects of immortality kicked in and forced adults out of the cockpits.
They parted ways when Maria became an Officer and was transferred to Settlement Twenty while Naomi stayed within the science division. They had come into contact a few times after that, but there had been nothing in the last twenty-five years. A lot had changed.
"This uniform suits you well," she commented to her former subordinate. "How long have you been wearing it?"
"Not very long. I have been named Officer very recently. My kids are still my first group, and they are still rookies."
"I see. Knowing you, you shouldn't have much trouble getting the job done."
The Japanese turned around and waved towards an Officer that was on the other side of the bar for a glass of Whiskey of her own.
"So far I'm feeling pretty confident," she chuckled after taking a sip of her new drink. "I mean, my squadron pulled up a pretty good fight against your own earlier."
Maria almost choked on her drink when she heard the statement.
"It was you back there?"
"Yes," replied Naomi with the same smile. "Looks like the student overtook the master."
She was obviously proud of herself as her smile clearly showed.
"More like the student got new stuff that is way better than the master's." Maria slightly leaned over to be able to have a more private conversation. "Seriously, what was that thing?"
There was another chuckle.
"You had the great pleasure to behold the Flying Reconnaissance And Neutralization Vehicle Mark Two Experimental."
"Well that sure is a long name."
"Officially, the acronym is FRANV Two X. But it feels weird to say. We had to come up with our own replacement."
"How do you call it then?"
This time, it was Naomi that leaned to make the discussion even more private.
"FRANX."
"Has a nice ring to it," Maria nodded. "So tell me then, what is this new toy exactly? Did our friend Doctor Frank made it just for you and your pretty eyes?"
The Japanese shook her head a bit.
"No… It's just that I stayed in contact with Werner while I was taking care of my squadron. He knows that the conflict will not last much longer and he feels like as soon as the last Klaxosaur is killed, the board will throw him out of his position as Head of Research. He kept telling me how he needed to succeed in one last enormous project to satisfy the board of the Entity and keep his rank."
"And I guess that big project is related to that FRANX thing. But I doubt the board is going to find a shiny new small fighter impressive. There's more to it, isn't it?"
Naomi looked around. The lounge was a bit emptier than when she arrived, and most of the Officers were focused on the table of pool where two highly skilled players were going at each other. They were alone, or at least alone enough for secrets to be shared without anyone hearing.
"I can't tell you much… It's just that he made quite a bit of progress regarding mind linking."
Those few words sparked up Maria's curiousness. The more she heard about it, the shadier everything seemed, and the more information she wanted to know.
"You can't tell me? Yeah, sure… Out of all the Officers in this God damn Entity, I'm probably the one Werner trusts the most. I assure you that you can tell me. Besides, it's not like there are foreign spies or something…"
"Look… If people find out I've been spreading around classified info, I'll get into real trouble."
"Come on. If his prototype is able to take down three FRANV in less than five minutes, I doubt it would be very long until he makes the news public to us anyway."
"I guess you're right," Naomi sighed. "But I can't say everything though. You'll owe me a pretty big service."
"Alright. I can live with that."
Naomi checked one last time before whispering into her fellow Officer's ear.
"He's managed to link the pilot's mind to the plane for the controls and stuff. We've been testing it out for the last months and it's by far the most effective way of piloting."
Silence.
"Shit… Really?"
"Yup. That bastard actually did it."
"But how? I thought we did not have enough computing power during Project Moses."
Naomi sighed, shaking her head in disapproval.
"I've told you too much. If Werner discovers that I said even the simplest detail, I would get in serious trouble."
At that point, Maria knew that she would not get any more information from her friend of old and kept quiet as she raised her wrist to look at the time.
"Looks like I only have a few minutes left before I need to go do something," she said as an attempt to subtly end the conversation on a friendly note.
"Well I have things to do too," replied Naomi as she stood up from her stool and hugged her former superior goodbye. "It's been a pleasure chatting with you again."
"Same here, Naomi. Take care of yourself." The younger officer started to walk away, but Maria suddenly felt like she needed to ask one last question. "By the way, how's Hachi?"
"He's fine" was the simple answer she got before the figure disappeared through the door of the lounge, leaving Maria alone on her stool with her glass of whiskey.
Werner was hiding things from her, and she did not like that. She had to go and gather her own intelligence herself. After quickly chugging down what was left of her glass, she pulled out the communicator from her pocket and quickly unlocked it. She already had an idea on where to start.
A small smile appeared on the side of her mouth when she opened up one of the many screenshots of training footage she had kept with herself and looked at the visible markings on the sides of the FRANX.
13X
016002
Hello thanks for reading the fourth chapter of Discoveries.
Great to finally go forward with the events of the story. If last chapter mainly set up the rails, this one sent the train out on its way in my opinion. Of course, I already know what will happen nex and I'm sure you'll all have a great time following this story.
Again, a huge thanks to my friend SpaceFox who did the beta reading for this chapter.
Anyway, thank you all for reading and I'll see you in the next chapter.