Original material based on stories and characters by Project Aces. The author claims no for-profit ownership over them. Special thanks to John_Silver of the Vector Thrust modding forum for inspiration for the "international squadron."
Chapter 4: Nothing But A Good Time
4 April 1995
Valais AFB, Ustio
Hangar D
1621 hrs.
Ustio's successful last stand against Belka hadn't significantly improved morale on a base still trapped in one of the last pockets of territory still held by the Ustians, at least not as much as the oncoming spring weather opened up the skies. The most visible of optimism among the staff was the more diligent stride everyone took to their daily routines, as if there was a larger shred of hope to be lost than before.
If there was one person that quite wasn't feeling that hope, ironically, it was Benjamin Smith.
The burly central Sotoan had taken the time to become as regular a foreign fixture to the hangars as the Yuktobanian VVS An-12 cargo plane that continued to loom outside the hangar just down the tarmac. But he had his own reasons for being more frustrated than the rest of the base's personnel.
"How's our baby Blue coming along?" he asked the mechanic, observing him as he worked on the blue-tipped F-15C he had previously saved Ustio with.
"I told you, she'll be ready when she's ready. Jesus, you've broken her in worse than Pixy did to Red," the mechanic replied exasperatedly.
"Are you saying this was her first time?" Smith asked it like machines could suddenly become pregnant with something other than explosive ordinance.
"According to her flight records, yes. First one since High Command decided to drop it here," he continues, grabbing another set of tools and continuing on the next panel.
"At least I brought her back intact, unlike half the planes you've sent out already," Smith retorted. "And are you literally the only one here?"
"Me and a couple others assigned to this hangar AND the other one apart from you," the mechanic grumbled. "Don't think I don't appreciate your help but we have to keep every plane on this base in working condition, and Blue is a ways down the line."
Smith tossed his hands in the air. "Fuck me."
"Look, if there are any planes available you can take 'em with you if they call you up," the mechanic added, pointing almost threateningly at Smith with his pliers. "In the meantime just let me work, okay?"
"Fine," Smith grumbled, making his way back to the hangar doors to watch the goings-on outside.
The drab gray An-12 was still there, still parked and casting a long shadow into its hangar as pilots, staff, vehicles and planes went in and out. Although no longer as ominous as its first arrival under daylight, its parking position made it look like it was simply biding its time for the pilots inside to die out so it would have room to enter.
There were, unfortunately for the An-12's crew, more pilots than there were two weeks ago. A wing of Yuktobanian Sukhoi Flankers had moved in to form the "international squadron" with the former Jackdaw. Their pilots never seemed too pleased that the An-12's female officer seemed to be associating with one of Jackdaw's pilots - the "Heartbreaker." The gossip around the base was that he was some kind of Osean playboy-wannabe hotshot stuck in the 1980s.
Whatever really went on in there, Smith couldn't find out. The mercenaries and "expeditionaries" were kept apart more for ideological differences than any official protocol. If the means justified the ends, then as long as the base wasn't burning then it was a situation that all parties could agree upon. And besides which, Smith was often too far to mock the Heartbreaker and his Yuke girlfriend for the reactions they got.
"You know what, fuck it," he sighed, turning back to face the mechanic. "Gimme a fucking wrench mate."
"Good idea, Benny," the mechanic replied, more exasperated than relieved. "That Tiger II in the corner there's been needing some TLC since her last sortie. Sgt. Drucker there will walk you through what needs fixing."
15 April 1995
Briefing Room
0645 hrs.
If the mission two weeks ago was given to a sparsely-populated room, the current one might as well have been for a private black-ops mission. Only five pilots had gathered for the briefing today, all dressed in standard-issue Ustian flight suits. The silver lining, on the other hand, was that this was because they were the only ones needed as compared to being the only ones still alive.
Smith was among the pilots present, sitting to the left of the projector beside Pixy with his arms crossed and legs casually open. Hex squadron, or rather, the new set of pilots that comprised Hex Squadron apart from their leader, sat to the right.
"Good morning gentlemen." Colonel Merrill Kluge wasn't at all bothered by the turnout as he set up the briefing presentation on the projector.
"Two weeks ago we thwarted a bombing raid and restored Ustian morale. The damage we incurred on Belka's bomber fleet bought time for our remaining forces on Ustian soil as well as exiled forces in Ratio and Sapin to reorganize and fortify their lines."
Pictures of more organized Ustian military operations and camps flickered across the screen.
Well, we're not dead or in a labor camp, so he's probably right about something.
"We have received orders from High Command to aid Ustian forces in Sapin in retaking the autonomous state of Galatia from Belkan forces. We must regain control over Route 171, which runs through Arlon county, in order to secure a transit route for our ground troops. The Ustio 132nd Infantry will be moving into position in this area, and they have requested our close air support."
The screen then switched to an overhead map of the area.
"There are three bridges running along this route, along the Aare River. All three are heavily guarded by elements of the Belkan 29th Panzer Division."
Pictures of Belkan Leopard 1 tanks rumbling across highways and down city streets appeared on the screen. While they would certainly seem as small as toys to pilots more accustomed to the T-55s and other Cold War vintage surplus they'd encountered, the Leopards and the accompanying highly-trained infantry were no laughing matter to the clearly outmatched Ustian IFVs and APCs that would be sent to retake the area.
"Galm and Hex teams, your orders are to destroy the armored forces along these bridges - objectives Alpha, Bravo and Charlie, and help the 132nd secure the supply line between our forces and the Osean Army."
Kluge then switched slides to a list of possible enemies.
"Air cover is expected to be minimal, but recon has also indicated a measure of surface-to-air support including stationary and IFV-mounted Zwillingsflak cannons along the designated route, as well as Flakpanzer Gepards. We also have unconfirmed reports Marder IFV utilizing the Roland SAM system patrolling the area, so keep your eyes peeled."
File pictures of the anti-air installations flickered onto screen. With another push of a button, Kluge changed the map to illuminate several clusters of targets just off the main route.
"Reconnaissance intel from the Esapino army suggests the Belkans have commandeered civilian houses and agricultural facilities into supply dumps to discourage attackers, as well as potential ambush points. They are also believed to be using caravan campgrounds - trailer parks for our Osean comrades - as refueling depots. This has created an intricate local resupply network for Belkan ground troops across northern Galatia."
Cipher raised both eyebrows, eagerly wondering if this was heading where he figured it was heading.
"These targets will be marked as non-priority on your radar, as we prefer that your ammo usage should be focused on the Belkan armor. However their destruction will put a significant strain on their ability to resupply their forces in northern Galatia, which will ease our advances. As a result, destroying these non-priority targets may result in extra remuneration to be determined at our discretion."
A smile crossed Cipher's face at the reflexive mention of 'extra remuneration.'
"Good luck and godspeed, gentlemen," Kluge concluded as he shut off the projector. "The fate of our young nation will continue to rest on your shoulders."
So will my fucking bank account.
Hangar D
30 minutes later
A light shower had graced the airbase that spring morning, and the sun was only starting to peer through the clouds and illuminate the reflections off the tarmac. A lone runway monitor guided two planes out of Hangar D to a spot on the tarmac where they would wait for Hex Squadron's trio of Saab 105U aircraft to finish their takeoff procedures.
Dating from the 1960s, the Nordennavic-built trainers also served as light attacker aircraft and in the right hands were found to be at least adequate for harassing Belkan infantry and slowing their momentum. Of course, such slowdown was only noticeable as of late and mostly in part to more organized opposition as they approached the Esapino and eastern capitals. Each pilot from Hex Team was paired with an Usean domestic co-pilot to help familiarize the desert warriors with the terrain.
With 'Blue' to be cleared for flight tomorrow, the F-5E Tiger II leading Pixy's red-winged Eagle as they taxied out onto the runway looked almost embarrassingly small by comparison.
The aircraft itself had originally been reserved as a backup for Thanatos team, but right now they did not currently have enough members to warrant backups. It took some convincing on Cipher's part to get the mechanic to sign off on it for him, along with its loadout. And much of that convincing was owed to the maintenance attention Cipher had given to it over the past few days.
That maintenance would be put to the test today.
Slung to the endpoints and pylons underneath the fuselage were Two Sidewinders for anti-air defense, four Mavericks for the panzers and other armored vehicles, and a single Mark 83 bomb autographed by the lead mechanic with a mocking message in Belkan. The ammunition would weigh the Tiger down enough to noticeably affect handling.
"Galm 1, you're up next. Cleared to taxi to Runway 19," the control tower ordered.
"Affirmative, tower. Taxiing into position," was the procedural reply from the Tiger's pilot.
"This is gonna be your first trip to Sapin, Cipher," Pixy added as he watched Cipher's Tiger II roll along the tarmac toward the runway. "Hope you haven't packed too much for a day trip."
"I'll be coming back light, I think I can manage," Cipher joked as he gave a semi-mocking salute to the ground crews from his cockpit.
5,000 feet above Route 171, Arlon County
Galatia Autonomous Territory, Sapin
1020 hrs.
The rolling meadows and farm fields of northern Sapin were a far cry from the desert sands and savannahs of Sotoa. But they were certainly more hostile than the meadows that Cipher had earned his western wings over, at least just over the horizon.
"Approaching the main combat zone. 10 miles."
Due to the occupation zones, the five planes had circled around through Ratio and were now flying in from the south. They would not have much time to complete their objective before having to fly back.
"All planes, this is AWACS Eagle Eye. I'll be in charge of this operation. The Ustio 132nd Infantry is in position to advance toward the Aare River. The target is in formation across the highway. Commence operation."
"Whoa, we get ourselves some overwatch now," Cipher quipped, "Fancy."
Although airborne early warning and control systems were luxuries reserved for first-world air forces, they served much the same function to Cipher as a ground-control base - or in many instances, direct radio transmissions from whoever happened to be fighting. It was definitely more convenient to have a monitoring center for managing multiple combat zones in close proximity, at least.
"Belkan forces are blocking off our transport routes. Destroy them all."
"What's our strategy, boss?" Hex Leader asked. Formerly Hex 3, he had been moved up in the order too fast for even him to cope.
"We're gonna have to care of the anti-air first," Cipher replied, "Then slot those tanks as they flee."
"Hex 2 to Galm 1," came another interjection. "3 and I used to run SEAD against those People's Labor commies in Tamburo. We'll go ahead and clear 'em out."
"This ain't Tamburo, bru," Cipher joked. "These fuckers can actually aim."
"Works for us," Hex 3 joked. "What's the plan, boss?"
"Plan is, me and Pixy are gonna draw their fire so you can nail 'em good. Then we'll come back in and fuck up the tanks."
"How the fuck are you gonna draw their fire when we're in the easier targets?" Hex 3 asked.
"Easy," Cipher replied, smiling under his respirator, "Pixy and I are going to put holes in the roving APCs and non-priority targets to draw their attention." He pronounced the word 'non-priority' with extra sarcasm to drive home the point.
"What?" came Hex 1's startled reply.
"Like they said in the briefing, the Belkans have stuffed them full of supplies. We don't want to take any chances," Pixy explained reassuredly, with the slightest hint of reluctance. "Belkan quartering protocol, the citizens will have been evacuated."
"And if they haven't?" Hex Leader shot back.
"Then the Belkans are the ones in trouble for keeping the civilians inside with them?" Cipher answered frustratedly. "Jesus, mate, we're not being paid to ask questions!"
Any further debate was quickly put to rest by another communication from the AWACS.
"Eagle Eye to all planes, we're picking up bogies on our scopes. Appears to be a flight of Four Tigersharks diverted off regular patrol into your area, ETA 2 minutes."
"Galm 1 to Eagle Eye. Good thing we brought Sidewinders. We'll take care of 'em too."
"You're flying a pregnant Tiger, not an Eagle or Draken," Hex Leader replied. "You sure you don't want our help first?"
"Well, I suppose I'll be able to afford a round or two for you guys afterward if you do," Cipher chuckled.
"Don't worry, Princess, I've got you." Pixy replied sardonically, to which Cipher laughed.
"Well then, it's time to be the girl of the fucking ball," Cipher added as he checked his radar for the nearest 'non-priority' target. Spotting a windmill approaching over the horizon, he banked away from formation and dove toward it. "Break formation and good hunting, gentlemen!"
The windmill didn't show up on the HUD, instead only appearing on the radar as data on its location was fed directly from the AWACS.
Cipher pulled the trigger and sent cannon shells flying at the upper part of its bulk, shredding and shearing off two of the windmill's giant vanes. Fragments of its stone structure seemed to explode out of it with every shell punching holes directly through to the opposite side.
As he pulled up, his vision seemed to flash with tracers suddenly racing at him from below.
"I think it's working, they're firing toward you!" Hex Leader confirmed. "Hex Team, engage."
"Roger that," Hex 2 replied, "There's an APC and some Gepards along the highway before Alpha."
Looking out toward the river as he rolled and pitched the Tiger II over to head toward the non-priority targets on the opposite side of the road, Cipher's attention was suddenly diverted toward four new squares appearing on his HUD.
"Looks like our company arrived early," Cipher noted over the radio.
"Confirmed. Four Tigersharks incoming at vector 2-niner-zero." Eagle Eye's report caused Cipher to pitch slightly to his left.
The squadron of Belkan F-20s were already spreading out from their finger four formation, intending to attack in pairs.
"Keep working on the surface-to-air," Cipher ordered, despite maintaining course toward objective Alpha. "We'll handle the fighters."
"You still sure about that mate?" Hex Leader asked as he lowered his 105's altitude to prepare an attack run alongside Cipher. "You're still running pretty heavy."
"Let me fix that," was Cipher's cocky reply even as Pixy's Eagle was already changing its trajectory to face the fighters higher up.
Cipher pushed up on the throttle lever, beginning a charge into battle like the last mission. Only this time this was a charge downward toward the still-untouched group of targets at Alpha following the river's course, while Hex Squadron wasn't far behind as they followed the highway from higher up.
Bullets and tracer rounds flashed past Cipher's Tiger II as his charge drew the attention of most of the stationary AA installations surrounding bridge Alpha. And that gave him the focus needed to pick out the Leopard 1 guarding the northbound entrance to Alpha for one of his Mavericks. Missile lock was quickly achieved, and Cipher pulled up and away from the anti-aircraft fire as soon as the missile was launched.
The Maverick hit its mark dead on, the Leopard 1's turret dislodging completely from its hull as the missile blew out the tank's interior.
Cipher's attention was already diverted to the two pairs of Tigersharks approaching. One pair was clearly headed in Pixy's direction, somewhere to Cipher's eleven o'clock, but the attention of the other two appeared to be divided between Cipher and the three Saab 105s attacking their allies.
Cipher continued to push up the throttle and gain altitude, to gauge their response.
Sure enough, one of them decided to follow him upward with the other going for the 105s below. Pulling upward ahead of the Tigershark that decided to follow him, he could tell that the other one wasn't interested through his radar. He figured the pilot flying low regarded the 105s as easy meat and the other traditionally-trained Belkan could at least keep his lone Tiger II busy.
As it happened, Cipher now regarded the situation in a similar manner. With Pixy apparently keeping both of his Tigersharks busy, Cipher suddenly looped out of his climb as the approaching F-20 entered the pursuit angle, and turned his attention toward the Tigershark heading for Hex Squadron.
"Pixy, you gettin' troubled over there?" he asked.
"Playin' with my food, Cipher. If you could help me eat 'em though, I'd appreciate that."
"Bring 'em over to the pack then, let's keep them scrambled ek se?" Cipher chuckled.
"Right. Drawing them over."
"Hex 2 to Galm Team, we're working on the anti-air but the
By the time Cipher brought his Tiger II back in range, the Tigershark had dispersed Hex Squadron from their attack run at the foot of Alpha, although much of the anti-aircraft installations leading up to it had been neutralized with Galm's distractions turning their attentions away for a few fatal seconds.
Flying at a higher altitude, Cipher pounced on the first Tigershark, spraying the top of its fuselage and its left wing with cannon fire. The cannon shells also ruptured through the fuel tank, detonating the aircraft just off the main road.
"Slotted one, baby," Cipher clenched a fist in excitement despite being fully aware that he'd brought the Tigershark's partner into the party as well, with Pixy slowly drawing the other two in.
"Hex Leader to Galm 1, I'll assist you with them," came the rather enthusiastic reply from the leader of the Saab 105s. After the now-destroyed first Tigershark had dispersed Hex Team from Alpha, Hex 1 had decided to swing around and get on the second Tigershark's tail to draw him off Cipher.
"That's my boy," Cipher replied cheerily. "I'll get the other two to safety then come back to help you finish 'em off."
"Thanks mate," Hex 2 added. "Leopard dead ahead trying to get back to its mates."
"I call that one," Cipher confirmed. "You go on and keep doin' what you do so well."
"Same bru, catch you on the downside yeah?" Hex 3 replied.
The group were halfway over the bridge's span when Cipher achieved missile lock on the fleeing Leopard. The tank barely made it a kilometer from its location when it was rendered a hunk of burning metal by a Maverick straight to its engine.
"Destruction of enemies around objective Alpha confirmed. The Ustio 132nd are beginning their advance."
The other anti-air installations were fairly spread out between Alpha and Bravo. With Cipher and Pixy dragging the rest of the air patrol in their direction, the two other Hex planes could distract and pick off each of the AA guns with ease.
But while Cipher and Hex Leader had helped get Hex 2 and 3 to relative safety, the numbers had turned in the mercenaries' favor. Pixy had taken out one of the F-20s, leaving two Tigersharks against three friendlies.
"Ooh, look at these fuckers panic!" Cipher jeered as he brought his F-5 around. "Lemme have one!"
"Fuck off, Cipher, you let me have this one!" Hex Leader half-heartedly whined.
Cipher's maneuver, however, turned into a full circle when a sudden radio transmission jarred his attention.
"Roland! Roland!" Hex 2 shouted, with missile tracking alarms blaring in the background. "Fucker crawled out of a hole!"
"I can't shake it!" Hex 3 cried out. "WSO deploying flares!"
Cipher's HUD wasn't advanced enough to distinguish the various blips on his radar, but as he rolled the Tiger II to its side he could make out the silhouette of a mobile SAM launcher right next to a barn marked 'non-priority.'
The Marder could also see his F-5 approaching, turning its SAM turret as fast as it could.
The Maverick reached the Roland-bearing missile system about a second after it launched a heat-seeking SAM directly toward the F-5. Cipher had already started pulling into a loop as soon as his Maverick left his wing, letting the missile line up with his exhaust before pulling flares.
Fortunately, the missile didn't follow him out of the loop as the missile latched onto the flares and detonated prematurely. Cipher's missile on the other hand, not only detonated the Marder's remaining Roland missiles where they stood but also obliterated the near half of the barn house it used as a garage, hurling wood planks and splinters hundreds of meters into the distance.
"Marder confirmed destroyed, Galm Team. Good shooting." Eagle Eye confirmed to the rest of the team.
"I'm this close to becoming Pixy right now," Hex 3 replied regretfully. "I got clipped and she's barely keeping in the air."
"Then at least look alive before you die, arsehole," Hex Leader replied, "I'm chasing one of those fuckin' Krauts that wants to eat you like a vulture yeah?"
"Then slot him quick, I'm not spreading my arsehole open for him," Hex 3 came back.
"Fine, looks like the princess gotta do the saving today," Cipher sarcastically groaned as he tried to bring his F-5 around to Hex 3, who was retreating past Alpha with both remaining Tigersharks on his tail.
Although Cipher was already activating his afterburners to catch up, Pixy had a much easier time doing so with the stronger engines of his F-15. The two Tigersharks tried to split up, but Pixy managed to catch one out with a Sidewinder, sending it spiraling and smoking to the ground. The last one decided to break off pursuit, climbing up into the clouds and trying to break north to the relative safety of anti-air cover.
"Thanks guys," Hex 3 said, sighing in relief as he pulled the Saab 105 up to circle. "Should be a safe place to bail out behind the Ustian advance."
"Roger that, Hex 3," Pixy added. "We'll go clean up the rest of the opposition."
Pixy appeared to be content with leaving the last one to Hex Leader and Cipher, moving on toward Bravo to back up Hex 2, staying at a safe perimeter. Hex Leader was definitely content with returning to protect his remaining wingman, but Cipher would not be content until he had locked onto his prey.
In fact the fatigue of flying a long way around with a still heavily-loaded plane was starting to take its toll, or at least a more noticeable one. It was growing increasingly tedious for Cipher to keep up with a Tigershark that was barely visible even on radar in the overcast sky, and in response he concentrated that much more on making sure he didn't waste valuable ammo in the air he could use to rain chaos on the ground.
The HUD at least put a shaky square on the Tigershark burning through the clouds, and it was here that Cipher's experience and instincts began to almost literally shine through as he slid a finger onto the cannon trigger.
He pulled the trigger right before the Tigershark flew up into the sights and out of the cloud bank, resulting in a shredded tail-fin and shells punching at an angle downward through the fuselage.
The last F-20 began spewing smoke from its engines, fluid spraying out of its wing. Its IFF disappeared from the HUD, indicating that its pilot intended to disengage from battle.
"Tigershark confirmed neutralized. Skies are clear." Eagle Eye replied.
'Yeah, for you they are,' Cipher thought to himself, still keeping his gaze on the smoking Tigershark as he dialled back on the throttle.
With the push of a button his other Sidewinder dropped from his right wing and shot directly into the Tigershark's engine. The fuselage was quickly consumed in a bright explosion of fire, taking the pilot with it. His - and the plane's - burning remains fluttered to the ground below as Cipher pushed down on the flight stick and dove back into the action. The thrill of a particularly explosive kill would have been reason enough for Cipher to at least shout an expletive in celebration.
"Cipher, I got the tanks at Bravo. Should make things a little easier."
Cipher, however, held the radio off as he shouted an expletive in frustration.
"Right, time to frag some Charlie," Cipher snarled to himself. Still in his focused trance, he dialed up the throttle almost to afterburners in an effort to make it to the last bridge in time.
Another non-priority target - a grain silo - lay a couple of miles to objective Charlie's southwest. Seeing the more modern F-15 well on its way past him to the bridge piqued Cipher's anger enough to strafe a line though the center on the way there.
The silo erupted into flame from the grain stored inside more than the telltale explosions of ammo, but not even the fire could distract Cipher from what was now one primary target ahead instead of two.
The first Leopard tank at Charlie was no match for Pixy's Maverick. The two active Hex Team squads were also doing a good job at picking off the remaining anti-air installations. Cipher had already armed his own Maverick for the second, but there was another problem.
"Did that tank just jump into the river!?" Cipher exclaimed. "I don't have any torpedoes on this thing!"
"Almost, but not quite," Pixy replied, having flown past the bridge after destroying the previous tank. "You oughta take a look at this."
Cipher guided the Tiger II past Charlie to see for himself.
The remaining Leopard 1 had slid down the side of the embankment to a dirt path running alongside the river, twisting and turning on its treads to keep it from falling all the way in. It was already scurrying under the bridge by the time Cipher brought his Tiger around its front.
"They're daring us to destroy the bridge," Hex 1 commented.
"Fine by me, my bomb's been making my fucking nuts itch all day." Cipher grunted.
"Galm 1, hold your fire!" Eagle Eye suddenly interjected as Cipher's Tiger made it around to the opposite side, facing the front of the tank. "You have not been ordered to destroy objective Charlie. We'll need it intact to secure the transport route."
"We'll run out of fuel before the Ustians get here," Cipher groaned as he eyed the contours of the river running under the bridge. "Hmm, I think I have an idea."
The two embankments surrounding the bridge were more than deep enough for a tank to hide in, and for a small-enough jet like the Tiger II to make an attack approach. Cipher turned the plane out in a wide circle that ended about a half a mile west up the river from the bridge. Staying low and dialing back on the throttle, he put his concentration into controlling the roll and yaw of the old Tiger as the bridge approached.
Only a few seconds later, he spotted the tank hiding right where it was, with its rear end fully exposed at the angle which he was flying.
With his sights aimed squarely at the Leopard's lightly-armored rear flank, Cipher pulled the trigger and sent cannon shells straight through its thin rear armor into the engine block, causing small explosions as its fuel lines were severed.
"Bang! Right up the arse, bitch!" he cheered, ignoring the altitude warnings going off in the cockpit.
Smoke poured from the tank as the surviving crew members climbed out and scurried away. Cipher would make them regret not staying in the tank just a few seconds longer, as he pushed low and flew between the bridge's central supports.
"Tank confirmed destroyed, Galm 1." Eagle Eye squawked as soon as Cipher pulled up at the other end. "Main operation complete. Our forces can now secure a military transport route. Well done, Galm and Hex Teams."
"It was a pleasure, Eagle Eye," Cipher replied with an imaginary salute as his Tiger regrouped into formation with Pixy. Hex Team also regrouped formation, with Hex 3 picking up a shaky tail.
"Looks like luck was on your side again today, Solo Wing," Eagle Eye added.
"Yeah, well, I've had my fill of going home without wings."
"Hey, speaking of supply routes," Hex 2 piped up, "What about those extra objectives? Are we still going for them?"
"Oh yeah, that's right, eh?" Cipher replied as he checked his HUD. Several co-opted civilian buildings were still marked on his radar. "I still have a Mark 83 under my ass."
"Well then don't drop it all in one place, bru," Hex Leader replied. "We'll be heading back to base, yeah."
"Hex 3, your aircraft's getting bad, mate." added Hex 2, as he observed several thin plumes of smoke spewing from Hex 3's aircraft. "Best get going back to base."
"Roger that, 2. I'm going down to take a look at that trailer park by Bravo though. I think it might be a refueling yard."
"Careful, they might shoot back at you," Cipher joshed as he eased his F-5 out of formation to follow Hex 3. "I'll go with you."
It was tempting enough for him to put Hex 3 out of his misery as he followed, in a way similar to how the Tigershark went down. Of course, the Belkans hadn't offered him any incentive to do so and besides, right now Hex 3 was a different kind of prize pig.
"Confirmed!" Hex 3 shouted as he suddenly started pulling back up. "Those are army vehicles are evacuating the campsite!"
Cipher could feel saliva leaking into his facemask as he suddenly banked the F-5 toward the trailer park and kicked the afterburner into motion.
"I'm on it Hex 3, get the fuck out of here before she gives out," he replied.
"Roger." Cipher could hear the tension starting to seep through Hex 3's voice. She should be able to put down behind friendly lines. Hex 3 out."
The Tiger heaved a little as its single Mk. 83 detached itself from under the fuselage. Cipher had already gunned the throttle back up to escape the explosion.
That explosion could still be heard above the cockpit noise, almost as loud as the close-quarters of bridge Charlie's acoustics. Cipher was shaken in his seat as he banked the Tiger around to get a closer look.
The entire fuel yard seemed to be engulfed in a single thick pillar of pitch black smoke as what few soldiers survived the impact blast ran away in any direction to avoid any fuel that might ignite. Some of the smaller vehicles closer to the impact site had been blown clear of the trailer park and were burning on their own, the vehicles with larger fuel loads causing secondary explosions.
Cipher chuckled darkly under his mask. Each one of those destroyed vehicles meant fewer forces and supplies for the Belkan armed forces, and a few more added bonuses to the check.
"That's a confirmed hit on a Belkan fuel yard. We'll be reviewing the damage from here. All planes return to base."
"Eagle Eye, confirmed status on Hex 3?" Pixy asked.
"Hex 3 has bailed out of the engagement area. 132nd Infantry has confirmed good chutes from the ground and are moving in to recover."
"Looks like I'm saving a drink for him then," Cipher chuckled.
16 April 1995
Blue Stallion Pub
Valais Township, Ustio
1923 hrs.
Contrary to the bank, the Blue Stallion pub was one of the township's oldest watering holes and a favorite of the military forces stationed there. What the pub had lacked in tourist numbers thanks to the war's onset, it made up for in repeat business from the newcomers. Tonight the Valais airmen were there in full force, Ustian and otherwise.
In these dire times, survival was celebrated more than victory. The losses that both soldiers and mercenaries had to deal with called for one common panacea, or two, or twenty, or however many different kinds of alcohol were in stock that particular day. The supply itself had been dwindling up until last week, when supplies from Ratio finally made it up the mountains. That ended up being the true morale booster.
Of course, Ben Smith's presence was always enough to lift the mood or elicit a few happy greetings from fellow mercenaries who at least knew the local legend behind 'Baron Rijnders' kid.'
As they were celebrating victory more than survival today, his arrival elicited the latter from the two Hex Team pilots who raised their glasses to him and their rescued comrade, still recovering in Sapin. The ambience today was also upbeat and celebratory for a fairly small pub, with conversations and cheers battling for dominance over the jukebox music.
"Hey, buddy!" came a familiar voice by the bar, quickly drawing Smith's gaze.
The other pilot from yesterday's flight was already waving to Cipher from the far end of the bar.
Larry Foulke was seated on a barstool close to the corner, waving him over. His flight lead grinned and plopped down onto the empty seat next to him, letting out a conspicuous sigh.
"What'll it be tonight, Larry, Ben?" the barkeep asked, wiping his forehead from the nonstop customer service.
"Pint of the house's finest for me and Ben here, put it on the tab." Larry replied with a confident smile.
"Actually," Cipher smugly added as he withdrew a pair of 50-schilling notes from his jacket pocket and placing them on the table, "I'm buying these two and a round for the Hex boys at the table there. Keep the change."
"Sure thing," the barkeep nodded toward Smith, before pouring two hefty mugs from a very ornate beertap. He shuffled the two mugs over and took the notes before shuffling off himself to prepare the order for Hex.
"A toast to our latest rampage?" Smith raised his glass, and an almost flirtatious eyebrow.
"Yeah, the rampage for Ustian freedom." Foulke smiled confidently yet dismissively, before clinking his mug against Smith's. The two then took a swig in sync, although Smith's was more of a heavy chug followed by a loud sigh of contentment.
"Damn, that's definitely house's finest. Fuck!" Smith growled as he brought the half-filled mug back to the ground with a firm clack.
"With a thirst like that, God help us if we have to scramble tomorrow," Foulke replied cheekily. "That's pretty gutsy of you."
"You want guts, you're the one strutting around with the black-and-yellow on your shoulder," Smith chuckled, tilting the glass a little in Foulke's direction. "You don't seem at all disturbed getting into a hondo with your former countrymen."
"Yeah, I figured someone was going to ask eventually," Foulke replied before taking a quick swig. "What'd Verhoeven tell you before he died?"
"Not gonna lie," Smith shrugged, "They said you were too much of a risk after you got your wing blown off, but that can't be it, is it!"
"I was a risk all right," he replied. "I was born in Ustio when we were comfortable being a province. Thought I'd join the Air Force to find some purpose, and I got my wings around the time Ustio seceded."
"Why'd you take so long to leave though?"
Foulke took another swig, and took a deep breath before he continued.
"Because I wanted to believe in a Federation that could stand up to oppression by the superpowers, and respected the rights of all its citizens, even the ones that chose to leave," he sighed, continuing after another sip. "When the fascists took power, I could see where they were heading, but my sense of duty begged me to stay. Losing my wing gave them a reason to finally cut me, and I could come home guilt-free."
"I've heard crazier," Smith smirked before adding manner-of-factly, "Now you're fighting alongside those superpowers as well as the craziest flat dog in the swamp."
"That's the reality of the situation," Foulke nodded solemnly, "Everyone's gotta pick a side in this battle, and if siding with the superpowers will teach those fascists a lesson about oppressing people, I'll follow my country of birth."
He then turned on his barstool to face Smith. "What about you? What's your story behind all these folktales I keep hearing about?"
The larger Sotoaner leaned back a little, smiling smugly. "Same as everybody sittin' on that side of the briefing room. People hire me to do a job for them, and I made my name for doing them a little too well."
"So between you and me..." Foulke leaned forward a little, the faint smell of beer and the faint tone of suspicion on his breath as he continued, "Are some of these other stories true?"
Smith smirked knowingly and pretended to look around suspiciously before picking up his glass and leaning toward Pixy.
"Actually, yes. I am close to bankrupt," he said before snickering, the first scents of beer wafting from his mouth as he sat back up and took another hearty swig. It was mostly true, after all the bank he'd stored his cash in still hadn't gone out of business or gotten destroyed by Belkan high explosives. "The only things I have to my name are my clothes and this plastic thing you get cash from machines with-"
"Not that, more like..." now it was Foulke's turn to look around. "The things you've seen or done."
Smith stopped and put the drink down. Far from being disturbed or sent into some kind of emotionally dark state, he casually replied, "You know Sotoa's not like the colonists' lands, bru, hasn't been for years."
"So, pretty bad, huh?" Foulke inquired.
"Oh, you should be happy we're just drinking, not eating," Smith nodded contently. "But look, a soldier's gotta eat too, okay? I gotta get my hands dirty to eat, I'm gonna get into the muck to keep me full for a week, is it!" Smith then added with a chuckle, "If it makes you feel better, I've got less dirt on my hands than lots of folks that hire me."
"I think I know that feeling," Foulke replied with a smile. "I take it you'll be staying then?"
"Until the end or mine, bru. Cheers," Smith nodded.
"Look, I'd love to hear just one story though," Foulke pestered.
"Okay, fine. We're gonna need more drinks though." Smith replied just loud enough to be heard before he waved the barkeep over to order another round.
Foulke took the glasses as they were served his way. "You don't have to get into all the gritty details, buddy."
"Oh, but sometimes the grittiest details are the fun ones. Was '88ish, when Gran Adama still thought they could export their revolution to Ndongo. Now I'm pulling favors for South Sotoa at the time, but some may-hor calls me over and says that El Presidente can overlook a few things I did if I escort this shipment for him across the desert, which apparently the Matambans wanted destroyed..."
To Be Continued...
A/N: Still taking liberties with canon events. But I haven't forgotten about Cipher's monstrous side, which we are only getting a small taste of here...