To have two different commanding officers in the span of a month was a bad omen. To have three was nothing short of a shit run of luck. And yet there Wardog stood watching as Chopper received his captain's bar. The squadron's newest leader. It wasn't much of a ceremony. Hamilton and Chopper exchanged salutes before everyone was dismissed. The mood in the air was heavy but silent. While they couldn't confirm that Ash was dead, they couldn't confirm that she was dead either. In either case it didn't matter. She couldn't command a squadron from either the grave or the other side of the ocean.
Wolf turned on the TV in the squad room and switched to the news channel in an attempt to lift the otherwise sour mood. He landed dead bang on breaking news.
"Yuktobanian aircraft shot down by the Emmerian Air Force…?" Nagase read the news headline aloud. Wolf turned up the volume.
"In a stunning and brutal display of military prowess, two Yuktobanian Air Force combat aircraft were shot down over the Fuscum Sea by fighters of the Republic of Emmeria Air Force in the hours of noon." The reporter said over the broadcast.
"Oh shit." Kitagawa said with a tone of alertness.
"Emmerian military officials claimed that the two aircraft fired upon the Emmerian aircraft after requesting intentions from the former. Yuktobanian officials are currently refraining from commenting on the incident."
"What are the chances they're trying some two-front bullshit?" Grimm asked in hindsight of the events that had led up to the war they were currently in.
"Hope not." Chopper remarked as the broadcast continued.
"An Emmerian pilot who asked to remain anonymous has theorised that the Yuktobanian aircraft were hunting an Osean aircraft in the region, but this theory is unverified by official sources." The reporter continued.
"Ash?" Kitagawa perked up at the mention of an Osean aircraft. The mood in the room had lifted considerably. Not a second too soon, the phone started ringing. Chopper picked up.
"Lieutenant- uh, Captain Davenport, Wardog Squadron." Chopper answered.
"Are you watching the news?" Hamilton was on the other side.
"Yes, sir." Chopper said as he eyed the TV.
"Sounds like your promotion was a bit too hasty." Hamilton cracked a warm-humoured joke. "Wait out. I'm making calls up the chain to see if the Emmerians have your trump card."
"Roger that." Chopper replied estatically. "Let me know if they have her."
OFS Kestrel
Pacific Ocean
The aft-most starboard side elevator of the OFS Kestrel came to a halt on the flight deck, bearing an F/A-18E and an E/A-18G. Swordsman made sure the canopy was sealed properly as he was brought forward up the flight deck. Rain hammered the deck and waves battered the carrier's hull, but Poseidon be damned, Carrier Air Wing Ten would be operating at full operational tempo.
"Swordsman, radio check." Swordsman checked in with the rest of his strike package. A yellow jacketed member of the deck crew directed him to move forward to the armament station. Swordsman swung over to the directed station aft of the waist catapults.
"Lima Charlie Swordsman." Freakshow replied over the air. Swordsman looked to his rear. He was being loaded with air-to-air missiles out the fucking wazoo. Preparations for their mission had been a little more hasty than Swordsman would have liked, but that came with the job.
"Rednecks, all airborne." Leatherneck announced, the tacky Marine squadron leader and his Hornets up circling in the airspace above the carrier.
Today would be the Kestrel's first carrier-to-carrier engagement of the war. The carrier had faced other carriers a handful of times in the past couple of weeks, but this time they didn't have Air Force support. This was purely a Navy fight.
Once Swordsman was armed and fuelled, he was rolled up to the outermost catapult, Catapult Four. Freakshow was rolled alongside him at Catapult Three. Freakshow's guys, Ghoul and Woodstock, were sitting at the forward most catapults. Swordsman gently rolled forward until he was sitting over the catapult attaching point. Green jackets hooked his Rhino up to the catapult. While waiting for the catapults to build up steam pressure, Swordsman did a flight surfaces check. Wings, green. Tail, all green. Rear flaps, all green. He was good to go. Steam started rising from the opening in the deck for the catapult. He was almost ready to go. Swordsman pushed the throttle all the way forward to burner. The Super Hornet's turbofan engines roared. To his side, Freakshow was sent flying off the deck, the Growler pilot's own afterburners glowing a powerful orange.
"Scouts, all in the air." Freakshow reported as the last member of his squadron to leave the deck. Not a moment too soon, another yellow jacket gave Swordsman a thumbs up. He was good to go. Swordsman glanced at the waist catapult control centre, a small pod with glass windows in between cats three and four, and saluted. The catapult control officer pressed a button and cat four fired. Swordsman shot back into his seat as he rapidly accelerated forward and off the deck. The moment his wheels left the tarmac, Swordsman retracted the landing gear and pulled back on the stick to climb.
"Big Birds, all up." Swordsman called in for his squadron, three aircraft including himself. Snowbird Squadron's Rhinos were the last of the carrier air wing to get airborne. The Snowbirds linked up with the rest of the air wing, forming part of the forward screen. The Kestrel's opponent according to an overhead AWACS was an Admiral Kuznetsov-class aircraft carrier, an older Cold War design generally considered to be inferior to any of Osea's larger fleet carriers.
Inferior in theory. Intelligence had no idea exactly which carrier they were up against, nor the number of aircraft it was carrying. While the Kuznetsovs were not particularly well known for their speedy deployment of fighter aircraft, at their maximum complement of twenty-four fighters they outnumbered the Kestrel's current complement of thirteen Rhinos, Hornets and Growlers.
Swordsman kept an eye on the datalink and on the radar as the air wing approached the enemy carrier. They were south of the Kuznetsov. The most recent report from Owl Hunter indicated that there was a pair of Flankers some two hundred kilometres north of the Kuznetsov. The carrier itself was being escorted by a pair of frigates, Krivaks, with an early warning radar helicopter orbiting the carrier group.
The Oseans closed in like sharks. While Swordsman kept an eye out for any sign of approaching enemy aircraft, the electronic warfare aircraft and the squadrons carrying a volley's worth of anti-ship missiles were coordinating their attack.
"This is Scout 501, the music is playing. Courtesy of Woodstock, this evening's track selection is Hurt by Johnny Cash. Lay the fucken pain on 'em." Freakshow and his boys began jamming the enemy's radar emitters. Not a moment too soon, the Harpoon carrying attack aircraft began their attack, targeting the enemy carrier. The radio was packed with the calls of Bruiser for the next thirty seconds. Swordsman and the Snowbirds carried on towards the carrier for a moment while the rest of the formation turned away. Thirty odd anti-ship missiles were in the air and were tracking on their target.
"Big Bird, Owl Hunter, two contacts bearing 040 at Angels 10 for 300, incoming hot. Most likely Fulcrums." Owl Hunter called out a pair of approaching enemy fighters for Swordsman and the Snowbirds.
"Roger. Burner to intercept." Swordsman lit his burners and turned towards the Fulcrums. Moving at his current bearing would take himself and his guys over the enemy carrier group, but he trusted that Freakshow and the other Growlers could keep the enemy ships suppressed. As it turned out, that wasn't even a concern. The Fulcrums crossed over their carrier before the Rhinos could. Within effective weapon range, Swordsman locked up the lead Fulcrum and fired.
"Big Bird 102, fox 3." Swordsman banked away and went defensive as he fired.
"Big Bird 111, fox 3." Brady, Swordsman's wingman, fired upon the second Fulcrum. The opposing Fulcrums fired back with their own long range missiles. Swordsman's RWR indicated as much. He dived down towards the ocean, dumped chaff and turned away from the missile. He forced the missile to burn all its energy, resulting in a miss. Unfortunately, judging by the still-present electronic signature of at least one Fulcrum, the Fulcrum lead had done the same against Swordsman's AMRAAM.
"Big Bird 110, fox 3!" Swordman's other wingman, Goldilocks, fired to finish off the target Swordsman had missed. The final Fulcrum then fired upon Swordsman again. Already halfway through turning back into the enemy interceptor, he reversed his turn and went cold against the approaching R-77, dumping chaff and ducking down again. The second missile fired against him missed.
"Big Bird 110, splash one!" Meanwhile, Goldilock's AMRAAM had nailed its target.
"Owl Hunter, all visible hostile aircraft splashed." Swordsman reported his squadron's kills to the AWACS.
"Negative Swordsman, new tasking. Target and destroy the hostile AEW helicopter." Owl Hunter corrected Swordsman's statement about having destroyed all hostile aircraft in the area of operations. Swordsman turned his nose in the direction of the new target's electronic signature. A Ka-31 radar early warning helicopter. It was inferior in capability to any kind of fixed-wing AWACS, but it could take off from STOBAR or VTOL configured aircraft carriers, which made it a vital asset for the older Yuktobanian carriers.
"Tally target." Swordsman had his sights set. The Ka-31 was hovering about thirty kilometres south of the carrier group, which safely put him outside of their threat ring. Swordsman, Brady and Goldilocks tracked in on the helicopter. At sixty kilometres, Swordsman lobbed an AMRAAM at it. Nowhere near as fast or as manoeuvrable as a fighter, the Ka-31 ate the AMRAAM and was turned into a million fragments of shrapnel.
"Splash one." Swordsman called the successful kill.
"Copy that Swordsman. Maintain position and await further orders." Owl Hunter's orders were clear. The Snowbird trio committed to a circular orbit and awaited the approaching anti-ship missiles.
Thirty Harpoons approached the Kuznetsov, passing by the escorting Krivak harmlessly before they entered their terminal homing phase. The Kuznetsovs were well-defended ships with almost two hundred SAMs and numerous CIWS batteries, but with the Scouts providing radar jamming against the outdated carrier, the only defence it had in practise was via manual fire on its AK-630 gatling guns and its laser-guided Kashtan missiles.
As the Harpoons went terminal, the Kashtan's beam-rider missiles opened up. While the number of targets the Kashtans could engage was limited, the ones they could target were taken down with ruthless precision. Harpoons were downed in scores. Once the surviving missiles entered the minimum engagement distance of the Kashtan's SAMs, the carrier's AK-630 CIWSs opened fire, filling the skies with lead. Their fire was horrendously inaccurate without radar guidance, relying purely on the operators within the carrier's CIC to put up a wall of lead. Some kills were scored against the Harpoons, but the surviving half dozen missiles penetrated the carrier's final line of defence and slammed into the Kuznetsov just above the waterline. Almost immediately after the warhead detonations, fires were sparked aboard the ship.
"Owl Hunter, Scout 501, impact." Freakshow called it in for the AWACS. "'Bout a half-dozen made it through."
"Roger that. Templars, Rednecks, new orders, return to carrier to rearm. Big Birds, Scouts, withdraw south for one hundred and maintain station for possible fighter intercept." Owl Hunter issued orders to the carrier squadrons under his command.
"Big Birds, pulling back." Swordsman took his guys and moved back towards the Kestrel as instructed. They linked up with the Scouts while the two strike squadrons, the Navy Templars and the Marine Corps Rednecks returned to the carrier.
Maintaining a circular orbit at twenty thousand feet, Swordsman happened to glance at the datalink. He frowned. Two of the Kestrel's escorts, a duo of Arleigh Burke-class destroyers, were advancing in a line formation away from the Kestrel and towards the enemy carrier.
"Owl Hunter, what're the destroyers moving up for?" Swordsman asked. His immediate assumption was that they were turning in for a missile attack with their onboard Tomahawks, Harpoons and SM-2s.
"Praiden and Barry are moving to attack with their missiles." Owl Hunter explained to Swordsman. "Scouts, are you still jamming the carrier's radar?"
"Like bread and peanut butter." Freakshow stated. The enemy carrier couldn't see shit.
"Good, carry on." Owl Hunter replied. Compared to the aircraft above them, the destroyers were lethargically slow, but the time it took for the strike squadrons to land, refuel, rearm and launch again gave the destroyers time to get in close. The Kuznetsov was attempting to use its radar to detect any targets on the horizon, but the jamming from the Growlers in the air wing stopped that effort well short of successfully detecting surface or air targets. The Yuktobanian trio of ships had turned around and were heading east towards the Yuktobanian mainland. Twenty minutes passed before the first of the carrier air wing's strike fighters was back up in the air.
"Templars, airborne."
"Rednecks in the air."
"Rednecks, Templars, join formation with Scout and Big Bird and make heading 325." Owl Hunter instructed. "Attack carrier heading west to east."
A quick glance of the datalink was all Swordsman needed to understand the mission intent. They, the fighters, would be attacking the carrier from the west, right on the Kuznetsov's rear aspect. Assuming the destroyers got into position in time, they would be attacking from the south, pincering the enemy with missiles. Even in the middle of a storm, the destroyers were hauling ass at over thirty knots.
"All aircraft, reference your waypoint display." Owl Hunter informed the pilots. "Fire upon reaching that final marker."
"Time on target assault. Smart." Swordsman muttered quietly to himself. They kept a watchful eye for any approaching fighters as the strike aircraft merged on them and flew in towards the enemy carrier's rear. The skies were clear… until they weren't.
"Contact, two Fulcrums, 305 for four hundred. They're taking off from the carrier." Owl Hunter reported. The Kuznetsov was launching its fighters. "Make that three bandits."
"Big Birds, heading 305 at burner to intercept." Swordsman broke away from the strike package to intercept the approaching Fulcrums before they got within missile launch range. At first the Fulcrums flew east, the opposite direction of the approaching Oseans, presumably because of a lack of intelligence regarding the locations of Osean aircraft. A couple of minutes later however, after the Fulcrums had gained altitude and speed, they turned back west. Their bearing seemed to be focused on the source of the radar jamming. They were going after the Scouts.
After tracking the movement of the Fulcrums via datalink and lighting up his own radar once they got within AMRAAM range, Swordsman took a shot and cranked to the south. Goldilocks and Hardy followed suit. These Fulcrums were quick on the draw, returning fire a scant few moments after being fired upon themselves. With the altitude disadvantage however, the engagement wasn't anywhere close to being a fair fight. The Snowbirds remained at altitude, forcing the R-77s to waste much of their energy climbing up to the Rhinos, while all their AMRAAMs had to do was move through thin air and dive. All three Fulcrums were blown out of the sky for no losses on the Osean side.
"Splash all Fulcrums." Swordsman declared.
"Roger Swordsman, keep an eye out." Owl Hunter ordered. After taking down the Fulcrums, the skies remained clear. Either the opposing carrier group had run out of deployable fighters or they weren't willing to launch fighters while they were under direct threat of getting shot down on takeoff. In the meantime the Harpoon-equipped Hornets and Super Hornets were closing in on the Kuznetsov from the east while the two Osean destroyers were moving to cut the carrier off from the south.
"Rednecks and Templars are on point." Leatherneck said over radio. "Rednecks, bruiser."
"Templars, bruiser bruiser bruiser!"
Swordsman looked at the map and the BLUEFORCE unit tracker fitted inside his cockpit. The two Burkes were still a long way out, a detail that led Swordsman to wonder if they were firing upon the carrier with Tomahawks instead of Harpoons. The strike package of their carrier air wing pulled away from the launch bearing and started orbiting. Swordsman glanced at his fuel gauge. He was starting to push the Rhino's endurance, which meant his wingman were also pushing their range.
"Owl Hunter, Big Bird, we are bingo fuel." Swordsman stated, dragging his squadron and turning towards the Kestrel. "I'd say we've got about ten minutes of play time."
"Rog. RTB." Owl Hunter cleared them to return to the Kestrel to refuel. Swordsman climbed up to twenty thousand feet to cruise through the thin air back to the carrier.
Airspace west of Sand Island
WARDOG 1 / EDGE, SAMURAI / F-15E
WARDOG 2 / ARCHER / F-16C
COYOTE 1 / JACK / F-22A
COYOTE 2 / SPONSOR / F-22A
Not all fronts were chock full of action. Back at what had originally been the spark point of the war, the airspace surrounding Sand Island had been quiet ever since the Yuke's failed amphibious assault. Nevertheless, the squadrons currently stationed there were conducting routine combat air patrols to deter any further aggression towards the base. This morning's rotation was being undertaken by a mix of crew from Wardog and Coyote Squadrons.
Rather unsurprisingly, today wasn't any more exciting than the past week of patrol. The only Yuktobanian activity anybody had spotted anywhere near Sand Island had been the missile attack when President Harling had made a surprise visit.
Even though there was a good chance that Ash had survived the suicide mission she committed herself to, the mood inside the cockpit of the acting Wardog 1 was sour. Nagase was flying while Samurai acted as her wizzo. Nagase could tell Samurai was moody.
"話してみたいですか? (Do you want to talk about it?)" Nagase enquired in Samurai's native tongue. Samurai didn't reply. Nagase looked back to the WSO seat. "Sam?"
"落とせ、圭. (Drop it, Kei.)" Samurai muttered. Nagase looked forward and sighed. She at least partly understood why Samurai would be in a bad mood, but flying with her as a result of that made Nagase feel a little uneasy.
In the cockpit of the single F-16 with the squadron, Grimm was alert as always, keeping an eye on his radar, his datalink screen and visually around him just in case a Felon decided to be cheeky. Grimm knew that the chances of encountering contact were close to zilch, but he also knew that complacency was a dangerous opponent.
"Hey Archer." Jack opened up on the radio. "I hear you have a couple of Felon kills under your belt."
Archer shook his head. "Lucky shots."
"They say the Felon's about on par with a Raptor. Do you reckon you could take me down if it came to it?" Jack was egging Grimm on. Grimm looked around. They weren't fighting, so now seemed a good chance to get air-to-air training in. Grimm flicked and rotated a switch. He was now in simulator mode.
"Want to take that chance?" Grimm asked before he committed to a fight.
"Guns only dogfight?" Jack was ready to take a fight against the rookie Viper pilot.
"Grimm, try not to crash." Nagase reminded Grimm of the fact that they were still on duty.
"Relax Nagase, I won't." Grimm retorted, clipping his mask on and flipping down his visor. "Alright Jack, on you."
"Alright. Fight's on!" Jack declared, pulling into Grimm from the latter's left side. Grimm slammed in the afterburner and turned to face the Raptor. Jack got his nose on target first, forcing Grimm to ditch the fight and dive to evade incoming fire. Virtual bullets sprayed over Grimm's canopy. Jack shot overhead and immediately started turning. Grimm banked hard left at a slight down pitch and started rating around looking for Jack's tail. The Viper couldn't turn nose-to-nose with a Raptor, but it excelled at rate fighting. The two fighters came around the circle looking for each other's tails. Jack reversed the turn, now turning into Grimm. Grimm pulled back hard on the stick and painted the gunsight over the Raptor. Turn reversals were a death sentence in a dogfight, even for a Raptor pilot. Grimm squeezed the trigger. Simulated rounds flew down range and scored an almost perfect hit on the fifth-generation fighter.
"Archer, splash one Raptor." Grimm declared, levelling out and reducing his speed. Three turns was all Grimm needed to take out a theoretically superior fighter.
"Fuck, I didn't think you'd be able to make that shot." Jack said. "Alright, let's do a proper merge. Guns only."
"Rog, heading south." Grimm turned to the south and flew out a few kilometres. Jack flew north a few kilometres. "Ready whenever you are."
"Copy. Fight's on." Jack started the dogfight. The two headed dead on at each other. Rather unsurprisingly, even at close range Grimm couldn't lock the Raptor on radar. As Jack approached, Grimm pointed his nose at him and fired a burst. Jack noticed the tracers approaching and jinked, but Grimm held down the trigger and sprayed where he predicted Jack would turn. His predictions were right, catching the Raptor with a lethal burst of lead once again.
"Archer, splash one Raptor." Grimm declared once more.
"Goddamn it." Jack muttered. "Again?"
"I'm as willing as you are." Grimm replied. The two returned to their starting positions for the third fight. Jack commenced the fight. The two approached each other. This time Jack fired first, using his gun in an attempt to down Grimm before entering the merge. Grimm jinked, rolling and diving. He avoided the first spray. Grimm briefly stopped jinking to point his nose at Jack and fire while the latter was lining up his gunsight. Grimm then recommitted to evasion, albeit rather pointlessly. Jack levelled out as he flew by.
"Archer, splash one Raptor." Grimm announced. Three to zero in his favour.
"Shit kid, you're a weapon with the gun." Jack complimented Grimm for his ability to nail tight shots with the Vulcan. "I'll swallow my pride there. Nicely done."
"Thank you sir." Grimm replied, joining back up with Nagase and Sponsor, the two pilots actually doing their jobs and keeping the CAP boundary secure.
"Remind me to stay on your good side." Sponsor remarked after witnessing his flight lead getting absolutely shit on by the Viper pilot. Nagase giggled.
"Nah." Grimm yawned. "Just got really lucky there."
On the other side of the ocean and in a completely different continent, Ash was sitting around in a shower block waiting for her uniform to dry. She was sitting down wearing a jumpsuit that the Emmerian Coast Guard had been nice enough to lend her. Ash was - unsurprisingly - jittery. Her gambit of running like hell for Emmerian soil had worked. Now it was merely a matter of getting to the Osean embassy in Emmeria and organising for travel from Emmeria back to Osea.
Before any of that happened however, Ash had to make a particular call. Not to Major Hamilton, not to her squadron, but to her wizzo. About eighty percent sure that she remembered the right number, Ash got hold of a phone booth, dialled in the number and made the call. She got directed to voicemail.
"Second Lieutenant Isha. I'm either on duty or asleep, leave a message and I'll get back to you when I can."
Beep!
"Hey Kita, it's Ash. Figured I'd let you know first that I'm still alive. Sorry for pulling a Houdini on you, but I wasn't going to put your life unnecessarily at risk. I'm in Emmeria right now. I'll be back at Sand Island soon."
Ash damn near swallowed her tongue mustering the courage to say what she wanted to say.
"Love you. Bye."