"So who'd you pick up anyway?"
"Honestly, I have no idea."
Ash and Grimm were having a conversation in the crew room. The two were the only people in the room.
"Haven't heard jack from Hamilton, Perrault, anyone. I take it you haven't either." Grimm had been saying.
"I got a brief that it happened and that was it." Ash leant back in her chair and sighed. "Must have been somebody important."
"Yeah. Or they know something that's their equivalent of top secret." Grimm suggested. "In any case, it's out of our hands."
"Yeah." Ash agreed. It was up to the seniors in their chain of command to figure something out.
22 OCT 2010
Sand Island
As it turned out, Sand Island's command staff had indeed figured out something.
The entirety of Wardog Squadron had been sortied for a CAP rotation the morning of the twenty-second. As Blaze departed the base, she noticed a C-5 coming in to land on one of the other runways. Escorting the C-5 were four F/A-18Es. Super Hornets, peculiarly with OADF markings. Thinking little of it, she carried on southwards to their designated position on the island's perimeter.
In comparison to Oured, the weather on Sand Island was much more humid. By the time that Vincent Harling and his close protection detail had been escorted off the Galaxy and into a nearby building, Harling was already sweating bullets. Nevertheless, he carried on until he was brought into a miniature meeting room. Inside were over a dozen people, the majority of them of a nationality other than Osean. Sand Island's base commander, Perrault, was sitting down at the head of the table. Flanking him were two members of the Air Force Security Forces, both armed with carbines and fitted with body armour. The final dozen or so people in the room were of Yuktobanian origin. Most were wearing uniform, signifying that they were military, but there was a singular man wearing a business suit that attracted Harling's attention.
"Mister President." Perrault said, standing to attention. He saluted Harling, as did the two guards. Harling returned the salute.
"As you were." Harling stated. The president strode towards the suit-wearing civilian. "Mister Arkady, I suspect we have much to discuss."
"I suspect the same, Mister Harling." Thomas Arkady stated, standing up and shaking the president's hand. Arkady didn't have the same kind of authority in his respective government, but he certainly held an important role as Yuktobania's Minister of Defence.
"We can talk on the go." Harling looked at the others that Arkady had brought along in his trip to Osea. "Are these the people you brought with you?"
"Officers who would listen." Arkady said. "Generals, admirals and such."
"Alright, they're coming too." Harling replied. "Follow me, we're going back to the mainland before anybody knows you're here."
Arkady turned to the officers and aircrew who had escorted him. "Вы слышали его. Пошли. (You heard the man. Let's go.)"
The president was on the ground for less than ten minutes. Together with Harling's personal security detail, Harling, Arkady and Arkady's escorting men and women were escorted onto the C-5 that Harling had been flown in on. Their flight was given express permission to override all other flights on their runway. In less time than it had taken to land and taxi, they were airborne and flew out eastward towards Osea proper.
Flying trail position for the escort flight protecting the C-5, Ashley Bernitz felt a sense of boredom in the back of her head, even though she and her squadron were less than twenty minutes away from enacting their most significant move yet in the war effort. Chalking her boredom up to apathy from having been flying since the early nineties, Bernitz found herself checking her datalink display every couple of minutes waiting for any sign of contact.
"Grabacr 1, Valkyrie, fuel stat?" The crew commander of the C-5 they were escorting enquired.
Bernitz eyeballed her fuel gauge. "One hour of play time."
"Copy." Valkyrie replied. Bernitz and her guys were flying light, bearing only two Sidewinders and four AMRAAMs for each aircraft in the four-strong squadron, but it was expected that if any contact was made, support was only five minutes away.
"One, Three." Grabacr 3 spoke up. "I've got eyes on two unknowns on radar, dead east, 250 at Angels 2."
"Rog." Bernitz leant forward in her seat. Two contacts. These were their people. "Two, Four, split off to get eyes on."
"Roger that Cobra." Grabacr 2 replied, taking himself and Grabacr 4 on an accelerated course due east towards the unknowns.
"Valkyrie, turn heading 045." Bernitz instructed Valkyrie.'
"Copy, 045." Valkyrie replied, turning north-east, bringing them closer to the mainland.
Bernitz flicked over to another radio channel that she had set before flying out.
"Hornet, Grabacr 1, Popeye, Popeye, Popeye."
While Ashley Bernitz and Grabacr Squadron were running a counter-intercept, Ashley Paige and Wardog Squadron were flying around a racetrack-style orbit south of Sand Island as part of their combat air patrol routine. All four squad aircraft were in the air today, an oddity with their rostering since they normally only flew CAP with two aircraft at any given time.
WARDOG 1 / BLAZE, SAMURAI / F-15E
WARDOG 2 / CHOPPER, ZOOMER / F-15E
WARDOG 3 / EDGE, CORVUS / F-15E
WARDOG 4 / ARCHER / F-16C
"Wardog, Thunderhead, I'm receiving strong interference east relative to your location. Can you go and check it out?" Thunderhead called in a potential situation to Blaze.
"Wilco." Blaze replied. "Wardog, turn heading 090 with burners."
Turning away from their patrol marker to investigate the source of signal interference, Wardog lit their burners and zoomed. As far as Mudhen loadouts went, Wardog was packing light, with four Sidewinders and four AMRAAMs per aircraft. Once they were closer in that direction to the reported interference, Blaze lit up her radar. Briefly she spotted eleven contacts, five of which were tagged as friendly by IFF, but her display almost immediately became unreadable.
"Woah." Samurai muttered. "Radar jamming."
"Yeah." Blaze got on the radio. "Thunderhead, Wardog 1, receiving strong radar jamming bearing 070 from my position, moving to intercept and destroy hostile jammers."
"Roger that, Wardog." Thunderhead acknowledged.
"Wardog, space out, keep an eye out for enemy fighters." Blaze instructed her squadron. The squadron put some space in between each other to allow for everyone to independently manoeuvre without the fear of crashing into each other.
"Ose- is- est cov-" A scrambled voice sounded off over the radio.
"Does anyone hear that?" Nagase asked.
"Previous callsign, Wardog 1, you are loud and distorted, say again your last." Blaze answered what she assumed was a call for assistance.
"War- Valk- und-" The voice called out again, still scrambled to high hell. Blaze groaned in annoyance.
"Double time." Blaze ordered. Already moving at supersonic speed, Wardog picked up the pace even further, going fast enough to outpace Grimm flying his single-engine F-16C. As they got closer to the scene of the crime, Blaze spotted a large aircraft heading north-east on the horizon. Keeping an eye out for any radar spikes or other smaller aircraft, Blaze approached. The large aircraft she had spotted was a C-5 Galaxy, one of the single largest aircraft in the OADF's fleet. Not seeing anything else via the Mark One Eyeball, Blaze pulled up alongside the Galaxy. Whatever was jamming the Galaxy's radios, it wouldn't be able to jam its radios if Wardog was quite literally next to the transport.
"Wardog Squadron on your right." Blaze said over radio to the Galaxy crew. "What's going on here?"
"Oh thank god." The aircraft commander on the other end of the radio muttered. "Wardog Squadron, this is Valkyrie 1, we're the OADF transport aircraft next to you. We're under attack and require assistance."
"Chopper, Edge, Archer, go hot." Blaze instructed her squadron to light up their radars. In the back, Samurai did the same for them. "Ack that, Valkyrie. Do you have any escorts?"
"Four aircraft. Callsign Grabacr." Valkyrie 1 responded with the name of their escorting squadron.
"Hey kid, radar pings on four aircraft with no valid IFF, plus four friendlies." Chopper informed Blaze of the presence of hostiles and friendlies.
"Edge, Archer, stay with Valkyrie. Chopper, on me, we're going to assist Grabacr." Blaze issued orders. With nothing but a mere confirmation from her squad members, Blaze and Chopper lit their burners and rushed east. Four Super Hornets were in a clusterfuck of a dogfight with three Su-35s and a single Su-35KP.
"No way we're not fragging somebody in that." Chopper mentioned.
"Yeah. Close in, we'll get them with heaters." Blaze instructed. A heater was slang for an IR guided missile, in this instance their AIM-9Xs. "Grabacr Squadron, this is Wardog Squadron, we're moving in to assist you from the west."
"Copy, Wardog!" The familiar sounding voice of an older woman called out. "Take care of this fucking jammer!"
"Wilco." Blaze replied. She set her sight on the Su-35KP, the jammer aircraft that was currently engaged defensively against an Osean Super Hornet. Approaching from the Flanker's side, Blaze uncaged her first Sidewinder's seeker and let it lock onto a target. Once it picked up the Flanker's heat signature and locked, Blaze fired. "Blaze, Fox 2!"
The Sidewinder flew off its rail and burned towards the Flanker-KP. The jammer saw the missile coming out for it and went defensive by popping flares and turning against it, but at the ranges involved there was little to no chance of evasion. The Flanker took the missile and exploded. Fortunately for its crew, the pilot and electronic warfare officer ejected before the cockpit was engulfed.
"Blaze, splash one." Blaze called the kill. As she turned the aircraft around and looked around for another target, she spotted the smoke trail of an Su-35 on fire and falling towards the sea. A Rhino was turning away from it and looking for another target. There were two Su-35s, one being chased by a singular Rhino pilot, the second being chased by two Rhinos and Chopper. Blaze elected to assist the lone Rhino pilot in taking out his target, but by the time that Blaze was in a position to be able to assist, the Flanker she was after was a burning wreck.
"Grabacr 1, splash one." The lead pilot said calmly, her tone indicating some level of personal boredom.
"Grabacr 3, splash two." Another Rhino pilot rattled off. Verifying that the skies were clear of the enemy, Blaze levelled out and turned back towards the transport they had just saved.
"Thanks for the assist, Wardog." Grabacr 1 thanked Wardog Squadron, flying up to and alongside Blaze.
"Oh hell, that is a fossil." Samurai observed, referencing the pilot of the Super Hornet off their right wing. Blaze looked over to the Rhino. COL ASHLEY BERNITZ was displayed under the lip of the Rhino's canopy. Below that was the word COBRA, presumably the pilot's callsign. Bernitz gave Blaze a two finger salute before pulling away and linking back up with her squadron.
Blaze's mind pondered. She had heard that name before. "Oh shit. Those are the people who were escorting Harling when he visited." Blaze said to Samurai once she made the connection.
Samurai frowned. "Weren't we meant to go to Red Flag with them before the war?"
"Uhhh…" Blaze gave it some thought. "I dunno off the top of my head."
"Classic." Samurai joked about Blaze's airheadedness. Blaze gave Samurai the middle finger as she made haste to join up with the rest of the squadron. Beep, beep. New contact on RWR. Blaze gave it a glance. Four Su-35s approaching from the west. Her radar wasn't picking up the contacts, which probably meant that they were a fair distance out. More concerningly, they weren't visible on the datalink display.
"Thunderhead, Wardog 1, I've got contact to my west, do you have eyes on, over?" Blaze asked the AWACS. She received no reply. "Thunderhead, Wardog 1, do you read, over?"
"Blaze, I've got bandits on my scope." Nagase called out. "Four Flankers, two hundred and closing fast!"
Beep, beep. More RWR contacts, this time to Blaze's north-east. Blaze cursed. They were being enveloped.
"Thunderhead, radio check, over?" Blaze attempted to radio Thunderhead one more time. One more time, she received no reply.
"They must have jammers with them." Grabacr 1 commented. "Wardog, intercept those western bandits before they get too close. We've got the enemy to the north."
"Copy that, Grabacr." Blaze replied. "Archer, Edge, intercept those fighters before they get too close. We're a minute out."
"On it." Grimm answered for the two. Grimm and Nagase detached from Valkyrie 1 and turned dead west, 240, to intercept the approaching fighters. The group of four bandits split into two pairs. The pairs started moving to pincer the two closest Osean fighters.
"Edge, split and distract." Grimm instructed. "You take the northern group, I've got the southern group."
"Copy." Nagase replied. Grimm banked south and went head on against two Su-35s. As he closed the distance, Grimm locked up both Flankers and fired a pair of AMRAAMs at one hundred kilometres. Not wishing to be outcompeted by a lone Viper, the lead Flanker got a missile off at Grimm before notching against Grimm's AMRAAM. Grimm continued to close the distance before notching against the enemy R-77. After circumventing the seeker cone of the missile that had been fired at him, Grimm turned back into the enemy to find that neither of his missiles had hit the mark. The Flankers locked him up, ready to take another shot. In reply, Grimm locked up the two Flankers again and fired off another volley of AMRAAMs at seventy kilometres.
"Archer, fox 3, fox 3." Grimm calmly rattled off brevity as he notched against a missile fired at him. Not a moment too soon, a second missile was in the air homing in on the radar signature of his Viper. Grimm dived down from twenty thousand feet to five thousand feet, looking to get below the seeker cone of the two R-77s now bearing down on him. Diving was a gambit. Grimm wanted to maintain an altitude advantage over the two Flankers, but he also didn't watch to catch a missile in the thin air up high where they could manoeuvre. Fortunately, Grimm was able to manage both tasks. As soon as he broke the radar lock, Grimm kicked in the afterburner and pointed right at the Flankers. By the time that the Flankers reacquired the tacky little F-16C, Grimm was virtually right on top of them. He slaved a Sidewinder to his HUD, uncaged the missile's seeker and looked down at the lead Flanker.
"Archer, fox 2." Grimm reported as one of his two Sidewinders shot off its pylon and towards its target. The Flanker dropped flares and dived with what little altitude he had below him, successfully evading the Sidewinder. He was less fortunate with the second shot, Grimm nailing the lead Flanker with a second missile that blew the aircraft apart.
"Archer, splash one! Winchester missiles!"
Having expended all of his missiles, Grimm headed into the second Flanker with the intent of splashing the bandit with his cannon. As Grimm was about to enter the merge, he started pre-flaring, correctly anticipating that the Flanker would let off a missile before entering the dogfight. An R-73 flew over Grimm's head, tracking on the flares he had just dumped. Grimm prematurely started turning into a rate fight, gambling on the hope that he didn't end up in front of the Flanker. Grimm had gotten his timing down to the millisecond. The Flanker started to turn, but Grimm slotted in perfectly on the aircraft's six. All he had to do was put the gun predictor sight on the Flanker and pull the trigger. The Viper's M61 cannon roared. One of the Flanker's wings came off, ripped away from its aircraft by a burst of twenty-mike high explosive.
"Archer, splash two!" Grimm called out his two kills. Out of the fight but similarly almost out of ammo, Grimm banked around and made his way for the transport.
"Valkyrie 1, Wardog 3, missile out for you, evade!"
The bandits facing Nagase were much more aggressive and were pushing the transport with extreme prejudice. With the four AMRAAMs she had, Nagase had targeted both Flankers on her own. Both of her missiles in the first volley had missed. She had splashed one of the Flankers with a second volley, but was forced to turn defensively to avoid a missile fired her way. By the time that Nagase had safely defended against the missile, the Flanker had overshot her looking to target Valkyrie 1. The Mudhen was faster than the Fulcrum in a dead sprint, but there was no way Nagase would catch up in time.
"Blaze!" Nagase called out over the radio to the still-approaching Blaze. "Flanker pushing Valkyrie 1! I'm not in position to intercept!"
"I got it, I got it!" Chopper replied. "Chopper, Fox 3!"
From almost a hundred kilometres away, Chopper fired a missile to ward off the bandit. The final Flanker pilot was undeterred and maintained his course. Nagase was just barely too late to shoot down the final bandit with a Sidewinder before the bandit fired a missile at the transport.
"Valkyrie 1, Wardog 3, missile out for you, evade!" Nagase called out in panic.
Evading in the giant brick that was the C-5 Galaxy was far, far easier said than done. The pilot of the transport pushed the aircraft's four giant turbofans to the absolute limit of what they were capable of while turning the Galaxy away to expedite its retreat away from the missile. C-5s could be fitted with flare dispensers, but they never carried chaff dispensers. Their radar signatures were much too big to hide behind small clouds of chaff metal.
Just as Blaze arrived at the scene of the crime, she witnessed a flash and a puff of black smoke erupt in front of the Galaxy. Valkyrie 1 had been hit.
"Oh fuck me sideways." Blaze angrily muttered to herself. "All callsigns, Wardog 1, Valkyrie 1 has been hit! I say again, Valkyrie 1 has been hit!"
Blaze and Chopper pulled up alongside Valkyrie 1. The Galaxy's starboard side seemed intact, but when Blaze swapped sides to put herself on the aircraft's port side, it was a whole different story. The left side of the Galaxy had been peppered with shrapnel from the cockpit all the way back to the wing joint. Both of the aircraft's left side engines were smoking, and at least one of them appeared like it was spooling down from damage sustained in the hit. Valkyrie 1 was drifting slightly and slowly losing altitude.
"This is Valkyrie 1…" The aircraft commander piped up on the radio, quite audibly in pain. "We're hit. All of the cockpit are injured. Engines three and four are damaged. Fuel lines are ruptured. We are losing speed and altitude."
"Valkyrie 1, turn north." Grabacr 1 instructed from over the horizon. "Try to make landfall. We can arrange for SAR."
"Hold on Grabacr." Blaze interrupted Grabacr 1's transmission, looking at movement in the cabin of the Galaxy. "Looks like the crew's being shuffled around in the cockpit. Nobody's on the radio."
"Fuck." Grabacr said plainly. "Stay with them, we've got a second wave of hostiles out here."
"Do you need assistance?" Blaze asked the other squad leader.
"Neg, we've got it. Stay with the transport." Grabacr 1 ordered.
"Ash!" Samurai called out. "Movement in the cabin."
Blaze's gaze shot to the cockpit. The wounded personnel were indeed being shuffled out of the cockpit by a group of people wearing camouflage uniforms, aviator uniforms and casual clothes. One of the people wearing aviator greens took the now-empty pilot's seat and put on a headset.
"This is the transport, does anybody read on this channel?" The pilot asked with a clearly Yuktobanian accent.
"The hell is a Yuke doing on Valkyrie 1?!" Chopper said aloud, bewildered.
"Comms." Blaze said sternly. "Transport pilot, state your ident."
"Senior Lieutenant Anna Krushov, defecting Yuktobanian Aerospace Forces." The acting pilot stated. "I've got a lot of master warning alarms going off and no navigation. This scrap heap is going down. Requesting bearing to the closest landmass."
"Anna, I'm the F-15 pulling out in front of your nose." Blaze said, getting ahead of the Galaxy and positioning herself a few hundred metres in front of the transport. "You see me?"
"Yes." Anna replied.
"Sam, give me a bearing to the closest approach to the mainland." Blaze said to her WSO before going back on the radio. "Anna, we're directing you to the nearest runway. Follow my tail."
"Alright, on you." Anna replied.
"025 for one-fifty to the mainland. 040 for three hundred to the closest airport. I don't think they'll make three hundred with two engines." Samurai gave Blaze the bearing and distance for both the closest section of land and the closest airport that could handle a Galaxy landing. Blaze pondered.
"Anna, what are you carrying onboard?" Blaze asked.
"Wait." Anna replied. There was a ten second pause between transmissions. "Aircrew and VIPs. No cargo."
"Roger, follow my lead." Blaze stated, beginning a slow left hand bank. The Galaxy struggled to keep up, dropping a couple hundred feet in altitude while bleeding speed. The aircraft was barely managing to stay in the air. Slowly and painfully, Wardog Squadron and Valkyrie 1 headed towards the mainland. One of the Galaxy's engines stopped trailing fire, indicating that the engine had run out of fluids to burn.
"I just lost an engine." Anna stated. "Am now running on two engines."
"Copy, try to maintain your bearing." Blaze urged. They were a mere one hundred kilometres away from landfall, but it was anyone's guess if the Galaxy could even make it that far. After a minute of sustained flight, Blaze looked behind her. The Galaxy was gradually losing speed. As they approached to within thirty kilometres of the coast, the Galaxy slowly started to lose altitude. The transport was going down.
"Cmon, cmon, cmon, cmon…" Blaze was talking to herself, silently praying that the Galaxy could glide the rest of the way. "Chopper, go ahead and get me eyes on the ground. Find me a flat bit of land."
"Goin'." Chopper replied, separating from the formation and zooming ahead to scan the land ahead of them for the safest possible place to ditch the transport. Blaze spotted the coastline at five thousand feet as the Galaxy glided, its two remaining engines barely providing enough thrust to keep the aircraft moving forward.
"Kid!" Chopper called out. "Maintain your course, plenty of farmland to ditch on."
"Anna, there's fields up ahead. Drop your altitude, pop flaps and hold on. Good luck." Blaze said to the Yuktobanian pilot flying the transport, pulling out of Anna's line of sight to allow the pilot to line up for a sketchy landing attempt.
"I see it. I'm going in." Anna replied. The Galaxy pitched down, trading altitude for speed so Anna could better control her landing approach. Blaze saw that the Galaxy's right side flaps were being actuated in an attempt to keep the aircraft from rolling over. The transport's landing gear slowly deployed and Blaze started wondering if this Yuke pilot was a transport pilot prior or if the Galaxy's aircrew was giving instructions while receiving medical care. They were flying over what seemed like an endless field of paddocks and farmland. If Blaze had to choose where to crash land, this was one of the best places to do it.
Coming in slow but hard, the Galaxy's wheels slammed into the dirt and immediately sheared off. The entire weight of the gigantic transport aircraft was suddenly resting on its belly. Ripping up a gigantic section of dirt in its crash landing, the Galaxy started rolling over to one side, bending and folding the right wing. Fortunately, an extra point of contact with the ground provided extra drag and the Galaxy eventually came to a stop just short of a row of power lines. In its wake lay four hundred metres of torn up farmland and wheat.
"Valkyrie 1 is on the deck." Blaze reported. "Resting on my current position."
"This is Anna…" Anna said on the radio, clearly winded to high hell but alive at the very least. "We're alive. Handing off the radio to the mission commander."
Silence for a moment.
"Valkyrie 1, radio check." The aircraft commander from before got back on the radio.
"Valkyrie 1, Grabacr 1, loud and clear." Grabacr 1 piped up, her squadron of Super Hornets linking up with Wardog's Mudhens. "Airspace is clear, Wardog. We can take it from here. Go home, get some rest."
"Ack." Blaze replied. "Have fun with this mess."
"Always." Grabacr 1 retorted.
"Alright Wardog, RTB, let's get the hell out of here." Blaze instructed her squadron. All four aircraft still airborne but critically low on ammunition, Wardog Squadron withdrew north-west from the crash site, beelining for Sand Island. Grabacr Squadron would provide air cover and call in search and rescue for the people who were onboard the transport.
"Axel 1-0, Grabacr Actual. Jackal, Jackal, Jackal."
"1-0, acknowledged, Jackal."
Bruised and sore but otherwise intact, a battered Harling took off the harness holding him to his seat and stood up to stretch his legs. To say he had just been through the most stressful period of his life would have been an understatement. Leaving the passenger cabin, Harling walked forward to the cockpit, briefly making way for the injured aircrew commander. Remaining in the cockpit were two members of Harling's protection detail and the Yuktobanian pilot who had volunteered to take control of the aircraft.
"Good flying ma'am." Harling complimented Anna.
"Just doing my job." Anna replied, excusing herself to disappear back into the cabin. The senior of the two bodyguards in the cockpit turned towards Harling.
"Air cover called in a recovery team for us. They'll be here via helicopter in fifteen minutes." Liam Quinn, a member of Osea's Secret Service and the overall commander of Harling's current escort, informed the president.
"Alright." Harling nodded his head. His nerves were shot from the crash landing.
"First time in a combat situation, sir?" Liam asked. Harling nodded. Liam chuckled. "Feeling lasts a couple of days. You'll get used to it."
"I'll be in the cabin if you need me." Harling stated. Liam nodded. Harling left Liam to his business and walked aft into the passenger cabin. He slumped back in a seat selected at random and pondered on how the Yuktobanians could have known who they were carrying or what their mission was.
While they waited for recovery, the rear cargo bay door of the Galaxy was opened and a perimeter was established around the aircraft by the security team. The aircraft was almost certainly a hull loss. The hull was beaten in and peppered with shrapnel, the left wing had been perforated by shrapnel and was logged with various fluids, two of the engines were nothing more than burnt up hulks of scrap and the landing gear assembly had totally collapsed.
"Valkryie 1, this is Axel Flight, approaching from your north. We will be boots on deck in two mikes." A voice called in over the radio. Their relief flight.
"Axel Flight, Valkyrie 1, copy that, we'll be ready for you." Liam answered the call. He chucked the headset onto the dash and keyed the push-to-talk for the radio network that consisted of himself and his team. "All callsigns, start moving VIPs down to the cargo bay."
"Hey Liam?" The other OFSS member in the cockpit called out. "Were we expecting four helicopters?"
Liam's ears perked up. He looked out the cockpit windows. Sure enough, approaching from their north were four MH-60 Blackhawks, the Army's main medium utility helicopter. Liam frowned. Two Blackhawks would have been enough to carry their surviving number to safety. Why had they sent four?