Presidia- the crown jewel of Cascadia. Even Prospero and Solsitium in its prime couldn't compare to the regal majesty of the capital city and everything it stood for. It stood unwavering in the face of the endless stretch of blue that was the Pacific Ocean. Its skyscrapers reached up high as if trying to pierce the veil of scattered clouds above. Before long, those clouds were swept aside as a C/T-17 glided through the air toward the nearby Presidia Air Force Base. Its landing gear slowly fell into position as the transport plane's altitude fell further and further. After making the necessary adjustments to its heading, the C/T-17 lined itself up perfectly with the runway, and its wheels touched the ground. The plane slowed further and further until finally, it had reached a stop, and after taxying off the runway, its rear cargo door opened. Out came countless people; airmen, maintainers, and above all, pilots. Most wore the Cascadian Air National Guard's flight suit, but one woman wore the flight suit of the Federation Air Force. She scanned the crowd of people that were waiting as the newcomers arrived and spotted an older man dressed the same as she was.
"Are you Glade?" the man asked as he led her away from the large crowd.
"Yes, sir. Lieutenant Avery Finch, reporting in," the woman nodded, still standing at attention as she followed him. She offered the man a salute, which he quickly responded to with a dismissive hand wave.
"It's alright. I'm not one for formalities." He gave her his hand, which she promptly shook as firmly as she could, hoping to make the best first impression she could. "I'm Captain Jackson Page. I'm the XO of the 25th Federation Fighter Squadron. You can just call me Cutter, though. Welcome to Presidia."
"Oh, this isn't my first time here, sir. I've lived in Presidia all my life," Avery explained. "Shipping out to the Academy in Ulaanbaatar for my flight training was really the only time I've gone anywhere outside the city."
Cutter gave her a curious glance. "Really? Not often that you see Cascadians going into the Air Force. Most tend to join up with the National Guard." He shrugged before carrying on. "Anyway, the Major wanted to be here to greet you himself, but he's still out of country on leave. He won't be back until tomorrow, so I'm still running things until then. For now, though, let's go and introduce you to the others. They should be in the rec room."
Avery looked around as she followed Cutter, taking in the surroundings of what was now her new home. "So, how many are there?" she finally asked, breaking the momentary silence.
"Well, there's the Major, myself, Padlock, Babble, and ASH, and now that you're here, that makes six," Cutter explained. "Don't worry; you'll get to know them in no time."
As Avery followed Cutter through the winding halls of the base's barracks, she couldn't help but notice just how many National Guard pilots there were compared to Federation pilots. It seemed that for every Federation pilot she saw, there would be another four Cascadians. It made sense in her head, but the part that was offputting to her was the way they distanced themselves from each other, the expressions of discontent that would be flung in both directions.
"Seems like tensions are a bit high around here," Avery observed, keeping her voice low as she looked around.
Cutter scoffed. "You can thank Captain Griffiths for that. He's one of the National Guard pilots in what's basically a glorified clique that's become increasingly vocal against the Federation. Now everyone's on edge as things get more hostile within the government."
Avery cocked an eyebrow up. "So, they're just going around complaining about the Federation? Are they just trying to pick a fight or what?"
"Some people seem to think so," Cutter replied with a shrug. "A few think their intentions are a bit more malicious, but I think that's reaching a bit. Regardless, things would be going a lot smoother if they weren't going around and fanning the flames." He looked down at the young pilot and noticed the increasing concern on her expression, quickly adding, "You won't have to worry about any of that, though. If any of them give you a hard time, we'll be there to tell 'em off."
The two pilots rounded a corner and stepped into a room that couldn't be anything but a rec room, although it wasn't as big as the one back in Ulaanbataar. There were all kinds of people doing all kinds of things, but Cutter quickly zeroed in on two pilots across the room. A man and a woman sat across from each other at a table, staring each other down intensely as they put all of their might into an arm-wrestling contest. Both of them gained the advantage and lost several times, and all the while, the woman grinned while the man had nothing but determination on his face.
Cutter slowed his advance to the table, keeping his footsteps quiet until he stood over them. After loudly clearing his throat, he asked, "So, how long has this been going on?"
The man looked up at Cutter, taking his attention away from the woman for just long enough that she mustered the strength to slam his hand against the table. "Aha! Suck it, Pad!" she cheered, shoving her fists into the air.
"Oh, come on, that's bullshit! You only won because he showed up, and you know it," Padlock protested.
The woman shrugged. "Hey, a win by technicality is still a win. It ain't my fault you're too easily distracted."
Cutter chuckled. "Gracious in victory as always, eh Babble?" he quipped. "I suppose it's better than putting up with you after you lose at something."
"Nonsense. I'm as gracious in defeat as I am in victory- humble as can be," Babble replied. She quickly noticed Avery and turned her attention toward her. "Who's this, then?"
Cutter put a hand on her shoulder. "This is Locksmith Squadron's newest pilot, Avery Finch- callsign Glade."
"Glade?" Babble echoed. "How does someone get a callsign like Glade?"
"I was a bit too… enthusiastic about keeping my quarters clean back at the Academy," Avery explained. "Now, it doesn't take a whole lot of guesswork on my end to tell me where the name Babble comes from," she added with a smirk.
"Oh, I like you. We're gonna get along just fine. I can tell."
"Well, you've already gotten to know Babble more than most can stand to know her. This right here is Padlock, so excluding the Major, the only one left to meet is ASH. Where is she anyway?" Cutter asked the other two, who both responded with a casual shrug.
"Sir!" Cutter's attention was quickly drawn to a voice coming from across the room. As if on cue, a younger woman, only a year or two older than Avery, came running up to the group. "Sir, the- the Commander wants to see us, said it was urgent."
"Ah, perfecting timing, ASH. Our newest pilot just showed up. This is Avery 'Glade' Finch," Cutter introduced the newcomer.
"But, sir, we really should-"
"Easy, easy, take a breath, ASH," Cutter assured her. "Grayson can wait two minutes while we get to know our new wingman."
ASH shook her head. "No, sir, it's urgent. He wants us in the briefing room ASAP for a sortie."
The other pilots all looked at each other, surprised and confused, while Avery stuck close to Cutter, her one source of security up to that point. "Well, Glade," he said, looking down at her. "Guess you're gonna get to show us what you're made of sooner than we thought. Let's go."
The pilots rushed off to the briefing room as fast as they could, although Cutter hung back to make sure Avery didn't get separated from them. Before long, they came to a surprisingly unimportant-looking door that was already cracked open. The pilots quickly filtered inside, where a man dressed in a Federation officer's uniform stood in front of a large screen at the other end of the room.
"Lieutenant Finch, I presume?" the man asked, right at Avery.
The young woman stood at rigid attention, giving the man a salute as fast as she could. "Yes, sir. I just arrived a few minutes ago."
The officer nodded. "I see. Well, I'm Commander Grayson. I'm in charge of the Federation forces here in Cascadia. Now, introductions aside, we have a situation brewing." He stepped up to the laptop on the table in front of him and powered it up, which in turn powered on the screen behind him as it pulled up a map of Cascadia. "Ten minutes ago, ATC picked up a group of unidentified cargo planes heading for the Cascadian Border without any clearance. We believe they're arms dealers trying to smuggle weapons into the country. However, there are an unusually high number of them if that is the case. They're not flashing any IFF or responding to our attempts to make contact with them, so we're sending you up. Locksmith Squadron, you will intercept them at the Fresnon Mountain Range, make contact with them, and force them to change their heading. However, you are to keep weapons safe on these cargo planes at all times. If they refuse to comply, then we'll arrest them once they land. All the same, we'll be sending you up armed just in case. Now get to your planes. Dismissed."
All five pilots stood up and saluted the Commander before turning around and leaving the briefing room. Avery did what she was best at so far and followed the crowd to the hangars. Although, the fact that she recognized some of the hallways and corridors gave her hope that she wasn't going to be perpetually lost in this base.
"Hey, does this happen often?" she finally asked, breaking the silence as the group closed in on the hangars.
Cutter shrugged. "It's pretty uncommon, but you'd be surprised how many illegal border crossings we stop."
"Besides, it's a nice change in pace to get a little actual action," Padlock added. "Sure as hell beats the boring CAP flights."
The group stepped into the hangar, and Avery took a long look at everything she could. There were all kinds of planes crammed in from front to back, but the others led her to a group of six F/C-16s. All but one were loaded with four MLAAs and two STDMs. Cutter pointed out which plane was hers, and she promptly wasted no time in starting it up.
"Locksmith 2, ready for takeoff. All callsigns, confirm," Cutter ordered over the radio.
"Locksmith 3, good to go," Padlock confirmed.
"Locksmith 4, ready to roll," Babble confirmed.
"Locksmith 5, ready for takeoff," ASH confirmed.
Avery looked over her cockpit one last time, and after confirming everything was in order, she spoke up. "Uh, Locksmith 6, ready for takeoff."
"Locksmith Squadron is ready for takeoff. Tower, requesting clearance," Cutter continued through the process.
"Takeoff clearance granted, Locksmith Squadron. Take off whenever you're ready."
One by one, the F/C-16s taxied onto the runway and sped off into the sky. Once it was Avery's turn, she looked around and took a deep breath. Slowly, she pushed the throttle forward. As the plane picked up speed, she was forced further back into her seat until finally, she was airborne with all the others as she followed them to her first sortie.
"Locksmith Squadron, you're twenty klicks from the target. Begin transmitting to the bogies," Commander Grayson ordered.
Cutter cleared his throat before broadcasting over an open channel. "Attention to the unidentified aircraft on heading 330; you are approaching Cascadian airspace without clearance. Change your heading immediately, or you will be arrested as soon as you land. Please acknowledge."
The flight of five F/C-16s pierced through the clouds, and moments later, four C/T-17s appeared on their HUDs. However, there was no response, nor did they change their heading. The Federation pilots buzzed past the cargo planes and immediately began to loop back around. One by one, they formed up on the bogies' wings, hoping to get any kind of reaction from them, but there was nothing. It was almost like these planes weren't being piloted by anyone and instead had just been sent on their way. Soon, though, Avery was ripped from her thoughts by a new sound- a harsh, incessant beeping coming from her RWR.
"What the hell? I'm targeted?" she exclaimed, already taking evasive action.
"Same here. What the hell's going on?" Babble replied.
Padlock was the first to spot them. "There, coming up from below us! MG-21s!"
"Are you telling me these bastards have escort fighters?" Babble asked, totally dumbfounded.
"Dammit, those are mercenary roundels on the wings," Cutter observed. "Command, this is Locksmith 2. The bogies have mercenary fighters providing escort. I repeat, the bogies have escort fighters. Requesting permission to engage!"
Grayson sighed. "Dammit. Permission granted. Sanitize the airspace, Locksmith Squadron- transports included."
"Anyone got a tally on the bandits?" Padlock asked, turning wide as he went defensive.
"I'm seeing… six, seven, nine, ten, eleven… twelve. There's twelve of them," ASH reported, following Locksmith 3's lead.
"Then we'd better get to work," Cutter decided.
Avery shifted all her weight to go along with her plane as she pulled to the right, dumping chaff and flares. The missile tracking her got closer and closer, pulling onto her tail with a straight shot at her engines until it crashed into her countermeasures, exploding prematurely. With her tail clear, she inverted and pulled down to face the incoming bandits as they climbed. Setting her sights on the one at the edge of the formation, she thumbed the weapon selection switch and readied an MLAA. The missile locked on in an instant, but the MG-21 quickly went defensive. Chaff lit up the midday sky as they inverted and started downward, gaining as much speed as they could. However, as the bandit tried to escape, Avery went after them, and it didn't take long for her to find the opening she needed.
"Locksmith 6, Fox 3! Fox 3!" she called out, pulling the trigger.
Avery yanked back on the stick, curling her plane upward as the missile shot forward. The MG-21 banked to the left, bleeding off most of its speed in the process. Although, it made up for this by launching off as much chaff as it could. However, it was too late by then. The missile had found its target, and the older airframe didn't stand a chance against its might. One explosion later, the wreckage of the first bandit was plummeting toward the mountain range below.
"Nice kill, Locksmith 6," Cutter praised her. "Keep it up."
"Hold up, hold up, you're saying the newbie got the first kill?" Babble asked, lacing tone with a jesting edge. "Guess that means I've gotta step up my game."
"Oh boy. Now you've done it, Glade. Babble's getting overly competitive already," Padlock groaned.
"Not much she could do about that," ASH pointed out with the slightest hint of a snicker. "Babble probably would've seen her not getting kills as an insult and challenged her anyways."
"You guys realize I'm on this comm frequency too, right?" Babble replied. "But now that you've mentioned the idea of a kills competition, I think we've gotta do it- for the new kid's sake."
"The new kid. Riiiiiight," Padlock replied, making the snark in his voice apparent for all to hear. "And I'm the Prime Executive of the Federation."
"How about we focus on taking down the bandits?" Cutter interrupted. "Or did you forget that we've only splashed one of twelve?"
"No harm in a little chat while we work, Cutter," Babble replied. "Normally, you don't have an issue with it."
Cutter groaned loudly. "Normally, we're not outnumbered two to one by hostile bandits. In fact, y'know what? I'm ordering radio silence until we're picture clean. Anyone who breaks it gets to help write the mission report, which I can say for a fact is gonna be a long one."
"Hmph. You're no fun," Babble replied, switching off her mic.
Suddenly, Avery found her attention drawn to the RWR in her cockpit as it blared to life. She twisted her head back over her shoulder to see one of the MG-21s firing an STDM her way and turned defensive as quickly as she could. Her hands reached for the flare dispensers instinctually, and before long, she was turning back around to meet the bandit head-on. Thanks to the flares and her maneuvers, the missile went wide, hitting nothing but air, leaving Avery free to focus her attention on the MG-21 that fired it.
Neither of them could get a shot off on the other as they passed by, forcing them to curve back around and try again. Avery went straight up, pulling back on the stick as hard as she could as her F/C-16 made a wide loop through the sky. Her opponent had opted for the same strategy, but since their plane lacked the maneuverability of her Viper, it was helpless to do anything as an STDM flew off her left wingtip and smacked straight into it.
Taking a minute to collect herself, Avery straightened out and took a deep breath. She looked down at her radar, trying to figure out which hostile she should go after next. Of the twelve that first ambushed them, only seven now remained, and ASH had seen to it that the transports weren't going anywhere but the mountains below. One of the bandits was headed her way, but she seemed to have things under control, so Avery instead changed her heading toward the two MG-21s headed for Cutter.
She readied her MLAAs, opting to fire off one at each of them while she still had some range between herself and the bandits. Both MG-21s split off in different directions at full speed, banking this way and that as they tried to evade the missiles headed straight for them. In the end, though, only one was able to survive, and once they had eyes on Avery, they sped toward her. An SAA shot off their left wing, as Avery's RWR made her very aware of, and began hurtling through the sky as it found its target. Acting as fast as she could, Avery sent off the last of her MLAAs and went defensive, pushing through the weight of the g-forces as she tried to escape her pursuer's lock. The MG-21 stayed its course, hoping to get a kill on its prey before the missile heading for them could find its target. Unfortunately for them, though, they underestimated the missile's speed, and they, like all the others, found themselves engulfed in flames. With its host no longer painting the target, the SAA lost its mark and cruised absently into the mountains.
Avery didn't have long to celebrate her victory, though, as another MG-21 found itself behind her. Tracers flew by her cockpit, leaving her with little time to think or react. She jinked instinctively, avoiding any hits by the slimmest of margins. No matter what moves she made, though, the bandit stayed glued to her tail. They tried firing off their last STDM, but more flares from the F/C-16 deterred it with ease. Avery looked down at her radar. Another bandit was heading her way, so she needed to deal with this one and fast. Seeing an opportunity present itself as the pursuer whiffed its last missile, she acted as fast as she could. She quickly lowered her flaps and went into an aileron roll. Her plane gracefully spun over and around the MG-21 as she bled off more and more speed. Once she was far enough behind, she straightened her plane back out and raised the flaps, readying her last STDM.
"Alright, one shot. Gotta make it count," she murmured to herself as she fixed her pipper to the bandit.
The Fox 2 left her right wingtip, leaving her bingo Remington as the heater picked up speed. It pulled to the right along with the plane it was chasing, getting closer and closer until it finally made contact with the flares that the bandit dropped as it continued flying unscathed. Avery glanced down at her radar again. The second MG-21 was getting closer, leaving her with two choices; go for guns and risk getting shot down on her first sortie, or break off and regroup with one of the others. As she pushed the throttle all the way forward, she decided to go for option one. She expected 500 rounds on her gun to be more than enough, but with one burst of gunfire after another resulting in not a single hit, she found herself down to 120 rounds. Fortunately for her, though, she was about to get the best shot she could ask for, and she took it, holding down on the trigger until the MG-21 was sent spiraling down with no control to speak of.
The second bandit had already fired an STDM, and Avery turned up to meet them head-on, deploying flares along the way. She looked down at her HUD- only ten rounds left. As the very real possibility of her own demise began to seem more and more likely, she felt the panic creeping up her throat as it tried to manifest itself as a cry for help. Nothing came out, though, and her fight or flight instincts decided to go down fighting. She quickly spent the last of her ammo which, as she suspected, missed entirely. Another STDM loosed itself from the bandit's wings, and Avery climbed higher and higher, using the last of her flares to evade it. She looked over her shoulder at the MG-21 as it came in close for guns but almost jumped in her seat when she saw a missile crash into it. She looked around frantically to see ASH coming up behind her and forming up on her wing now that the last bandit had been destroyed.
Avery tried to speak- give some semblance of gratitude to the woman that saved her life, but the fear she felt still left her speechless. Instead, her wingmen spoke up. "Holy shit! Did Glade really just make ace on her first sortie?!" Babble asked in disbelief.
Padlock chuckled. "Damn, Babble. You got totally played."
Locksmith 4 scoffed. "Boy, I'll say. Can't believe I got served by the girl who's been in the squadron for less than half a day."
"It's no small feat," Cutter agreed. "And it deserves to be celebrated appropriately. We'll have to do that once we get back." The other F/C-16s regrouped with him as they turned back toward Presidia. "Just a shame that the Major's gonna miss out on it."
Avery took hard, deep breaths, moving as much oxygen through her body as possible, and when that didn't work, she pulled off her mask, sucking more air in directly through her mouth. Slowly but surely, she managed to steady her nerves and cool her blood. She was still alive, and that was all that mattered.
