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444th Air Base, Zapland, Usea
June 1st, 2019.
1530hrs.
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Leaning against the wall was the only thing Mere could do. The loudest sound in solitary would be her own thoughts. There was no window, no bed, not even a chair. Just the hot, dusty and cramped conditions that were solitary confinement. It allowed the inmates plenty of time to think about why they were in there to begin with but it was torture. They didn't even give Mere time to stow her gear so she sat in the back corner of the cell with the top of her flight suit pulled down, the arms wrapped around her waist. On the other end, near the door she had her g-suit, her gloves, and helmet all stacked in a pile. The limited light the door let in was just enough to illuminate the back of her helmet. She tried to keep her mind occupied going over the work she needs to complete today as well as the potential of new planes being ready for her work but there was only so much planning and theorizing before her mind started to drift elsewhere. She turned her helmet to the side and sat back down in the corner again and stared at the black wings. It only stirred up memories she hasn't thought about in a long time.
She was in her second year of the flight academy at that point when she had gotten an invite by her grandfather to do something quite special. She flew up to the northern part of Osea yet she didn't know the full details about the event she was attending other than it was quite important to her grand father.. As the plane came around to land, she could see multiple large barges and other recovery ships docked in the port while others were out at sea. She knew of the big battle that had taken place here but she didn't know why she was invited to come along. Out of all the passengers on the ride over, she was easily the youngest with the majority of them around her fathers age. Exiting the plane she looked around, shivering a bit from the chill of the North. She wasn't sure what was going on other than the fact that the whole family is invited to come up this way though her father said he was busy and couldn't come. Making her way away from the aircraft, she just followed the crowd into one of the main buildings. Mere relaxed as the warm air of the heated building hit her. Looking around, it seemed like some party was about to kick off. There was a line of tables with food and drinks while two projection screens were pulled down with a faint symbol of a sunken trawler with a few air bags attached with the words "Snow's Salvage," embroidered the top to it spun on the screen. There were multiple round tables strewn about some filled with people yet she couldn't find a familiar face. It was only then when she heard her name called out.
"Heeey, if it isn't lil' Mere!" a voice punched through the crowd. Looking over, her face brightened seeing a group of faces she hasn't seen in a while turn to her.
"Uncle Alvin!" she shouted as she ran over to the table. It was a group of pilots that both her mother flew with as well as being stationed on her grandfather's carrier. The very same people that inspired her to join the flight academy. Looking at the group of pilots she smiled as she greeted the others. "Uncle Grimm, Uncle Alex, Aunt Nagase, Aunt Ariane."
"What are you doing here? Aren't you still in the academy?" Grimm chuckled.
"We're on break right now. The next quarter starts in a week," she said as she looked between them all. "Have any of you seen my Grandpa?"
"Old man Andersen? Think I saw him talking with Snow earlier but I haven't seen him since," Alvin answered before he pulled Mere into a headlock. "And look at you! Suddenly getting this much taller in only two years."
"Just a late bloomer. That's all," she let out a laugh as she tried to wrestle herself out of his grasp.
"You know, any taller and they might kick you out," Grimm pointed out with a light chuckle.
"Well, height limits are taller for the wizzo. No worries here."
"Heeey, wait wait wait wait. A wizzo?" Alvin took a step back almost looking hurt before Ariane patted Mere on the back. She glanced between Alvin and Ariane before rubbing the back of her head.
"Hah! I told you she'd take after me and her mother!" Ariane boasted a sharp grin on her face.
"Whaaat? Oh come on Kid, being a pilot is way cooler!" Alvin went on his hands stretched out to his sides.
"Meredith probably has her reasons," Grimm reasoned while Alvin continued on with his rant.
"You get the glory, you get control of the plane! Everything you do up in the great blue yonder is on your terms!"
"And who had dragged your unconscious ass to safety after you got shot down?" Nagase asked back, crossing her arms while Alex just grinned with a light chuckle.
"W-Well uh… T-That's not the point, Nagase!" Alvin groaned as he sat down.
"The wizzo does a lot of things as well. Lases your bombs, ID's and locks up ground targets with the pod, gets a radar lock for you, watches your six in the dogfight, ready to deploy countermeasures…" Ariane rattled on pausing for a second as she looked Alvin in the eye. "Cut you down and applies the tourniquet on while you're unconscious."
"I get it I get it, jeez," Alvin rubbed the back of his head before looking at Grimm. "Grimm, can't you keep your wizzo under control?"
"I mean… she's got a good point," he said with a sheepish smile. He gave a light shrug while Mere could only laugh. She's heard so many stories told by this group of pilots. The daring fights they've clawed their way out of to the scalpel like strikes they've carried out on the ground. They all were basically her second family.
"Where's Uncle Bob and Uncle Ryan at?" Mere asked Alex and Nagase.
"Ah, Bob said he couldn't take a day off of work. A shame really," Nagase said before she looked back at Alex. He bobbed his head side to side a bit and waved his hand before nodding his head to Nagase.
"Ah, same as Bob?" Mere picked up which he nodded while Alvin just sighed in defeat.
"C'mon Kid, you at least gonna say something to the Kid?" he asked Alex who just shrugged, the corners of his lips curling up a bit. "Nagase, can't you convince your husband to say something to get her with us pilots?"
"Oh what does that mean, Alvin?" Ariane challenged being the only WSO currently at the small party. "There's already enough of you guys thinking you own the sky while us wizzo's do most of your busy work."
"Please Uncle Alvin. It's where I belong. I'm doing all right as a pilot in the sims but I'm excelling when placed in the backseat. Some of my peers are even starting to call me Longbow."
"Wizzo runs in her veins," Alex soon spoke up, "They know about the fiery temper you and your Mom share?" He calmly picked up his cup and took a sip trying to look all innocent while Alvin just sighed in defeat with a "Maaan."
"Some of them figured that out," she gave a light chuckle.
"The events after that all just seemed like a blur to Mere. Shortly after the final group of people came along with her mother and they were able to kick off the event. Uncle Snow had gotten an unmanned underwater vehicle to go survey ships and he was using that to find the sunken Kestrel. She had learned that most of the attendees had all served on the carrier and it was a bittersweet reunion with the old girl. Surviving the Belkan war and launching the fighters that were gonna end the Circum-Pacific war, she had done her duty. If anything, the thing that stuck out to her the most was a ghost of that war. Snow was able to get a look into one of the open hanger doors and inside sitting in nearly pristine condition was a jet black Tomcat. A wing was crumpled as she had smashed herself into the wall when the carrier went down, yet the tail was in pristine conditions. The emblem of the Ghosts of Razgriz on full display. It was a bittersweet thought knowing this was the legacy that they had left behind; unsung heroes that she could never tell the world about. It only sickened her the more she thought about how she basically threw all their expectations all away. What would her Aunts and Uncles think of her now since she…
Leaning forward, she turned her helmet to stare at her own emblem, the bust of a kestrel that's adorned the black valkyrie helmet of a demon, on the back trying to keep her thoughts from leading herself to destruction. She knew now why Solitary was such a big threat to the convicts. It gave them time to think and only let their thoughts consume them. Mere hated it. The more she tried to get away the stronger the thoughts came back. The doubt she had for herself, the disappointment the people she holds close must have for her. Hugging her knees closer to her chest, she rested her head on her leg trying to push the thoughts away but they continued to race through the events of the past two months. The sudden declaration of war to the attacks she heard on their naval bases. The first operation in Farbanti where she messed up and bombed a civilian structure, to the second attack that forced the carrier group away from the capital. The desperate defense put up defending the limping carrier group and then the evacuation the Kestrel 2. Even after all they did, it was still her fault that she and her pilot-
A loud clunk jolted her out of her thoughts. She quickly rubbed her eyes wiping away the moisture. A quick wipe on her shirt fixed that when the door creaked open.
"On your feet prisoner," the guard ordered. Mere had squinted a bit as the light shined on her face. Using her hand to cover them, she got up and retrieved her gear before stepping out. Mere glared back at the guard as he roughly shoved her forward into the center of the room where Tabloid and Champ stood waiting. Tabloid flashed her one of his fake smiles Champ stared ahead only giving Mere a quick side glance where the edge of his mouth curled up before returning to his neutral face. Soon Full Band and High Roller were let free along with the rest of the squadron that had gone up except for Trigger.
"Hey, where's Trigger?" Mere questioned one of the guards.
"The Murderer? He's staying a bit longer since he got the highest kill count," the guard stated while Count just had a sour look.
"Wha- But that was-"
"You have orders to fix up two new planes. The Scrap Queen is waiting for you to head out to the scrap yard so you can find something to work on. If you can't get them ready in a timely manner then you'll face more solitary. Got it?"
"Got it," Mere muttered as the guards escorted them out into the scorching Zappland sun. With a sigh, Mere made her way back to Hanger Four so she could toss her equipment into some form of storage. Closing up the empty box she threw her gear in, she heard the familiar rumble of a diesel engine approach the hanger. Grabbing the small tool box she takes on outings, she jogged to the entrance just as two pickups came to a halt. In the bed of the lead truck sat Mouse and some of the other mechanics while Queen leaned against the cab. Jumping into the back, Mere took a seat in an open corner and slapped the side of the truck.
"I'm in, go," she called. The driver lurched the pickup forward off the taxiway and onto the road leading up to the fake airfield. Passing though, two flat bed semis were waiting on the side of the road, Mouse decided to speak up.
"So we're finding some more planes?"
"Why else would we be heading to the boneyard, Boy?" One of the older mechanics, Shiner as he calls himself, asked sarcastically, "Our oh so holy one of a base commander really wants to kill us mechanics with even more projects. We've already got a Viper and another Flanker in the works at like 80%, why the hell does he want more?" he asked no one in particular before sighing, "Either way, what else are we gonna grab while we're up there, Scrappy?"
"Replacement parts and good sheet metal. Specifically try to find some scrapped F-16 and F-18 planes we can vampire parts off of and shove them onto the flat bed. Make sure the wings and tail are in good condition. Everything else can be blown to bits for all I care," Queen ordered her trusted circle of mechanics. "Other than that, keep tabs on anything that seems like we can save it. And make sure it really can be saved so I don't waste my time hobbling over just to kick your dumbass. Wire and I will primarily look for birds that can fly. Got it?"
"Oh, and try looking out for some F-14 elevators and hopefully other pylon mounts," Mere added
"Got it," echoed the other mechanic. Settling down, Mere looked over her shoulder at the damage the Eruseans did to the fake runway. Craters dotted the black soil while the twisted wrecks of fake planes littered the edges of the runway and fake hangers. It will be a nightmare of a clean up job for us convicts tomorrow.
"So… How was it to be back in the sky?" Mouse asked tentatively.
"Good… for the most part. That new pilot really is something else. A real piece of work if you ask me," Mere scoffed a bit. It usually took weeks of working together for a pilot and a WSO to work efficiently and as a team. They needed to build their trust up with one another to become a crew yet she just seamlessly integrated with Trigger. Honestly, she was quite scared when she first went up. Anyone would, realistically, with how he flew. On the knife's edge at all times pulling high-G intensive maneuvers left and right like it was a Tuesday afternoon.
"I saw him flying above. It certainly looked like quite the spectacle," Mouse seemed to brighten up. "The way he just can throw an aircraft around is certainly something else."
"Yeah, well us mechanics call those pilots pain in our asses. They have little regard for what they do to the air frames," one of the older mechanics, Barb, spoke up. "Seemed like he didn't care too much for his passenger either," he chuckled a bit, glancing at Mere.
"He's a single seater jockey before but it's like when you first make a crew," she said grunting as the driver hit a bump. "Always thinking only for yourself and not for the fact they've got a person behind them."
"Well speaking of you pilots, I got something juicy as well," another mechanic and one of the load masters, Wrench, spoke up. "Guard slipped me a new inventory sheet for the armory and there was a sudden spike in anti-ground ordinances."
"Why would that be important?" Mouse asked, looking at Wrench.
"We've only really stocked anti-air and a limited inventory at that since Asshat in charge of this base is going on a power trip. We're gonna get a shipment of more anti-air plus a big complement of anti-ground."
"So our pilots are going on a ground attack mission," Mouse finished.
"Exactly. So when you split up with your buddies in the second truck, keep a lookout for more pylons and racks for our planes. Especially those triple racks," Wrench ordered, getting a few nods of agreement. Soon they had left the air field and they ventured down into the boneyard that was around Zappland. Coming to a halt, the guards in the truck ordered the prisoners out. Grabbing a radio, Mere briefly watched as the semi's came to a halt and some of the men started to unload the mule off of the vehicle while the others split off into pairs. Mouse tagged along with Mere with a big smile on his face as it wasn't often they were going to explore the boneyard. Mouse is a good kid. Young and wet behind the ears, he is probably the only person here at the penal unit that actually isn't supposed to be here. According to him, he was sent to 444 by accident and he was supposed to go to another airbase. He had gone to McKinsey to voice his problem and he promised that he'll get it sorted out. That was two months ago though and he's been stuck here as a junior mechanic since. The ground crew were quick to take Mouse into their inner circle and protect him from the more unsavory convicts. He was a small kid, smaller than his peers which earned his nickname but he was smart and he was absorbing skills like a sponge.
Walking on, Mere decided it was time to venture deeper into the boneyard. For the most part, they've only really picked at the aircraft near the entrance. It's produced some good planes but that still left the whole yard still ripe for the picking.
"Where are we going this time, Wire?" Mouse asked as he trailed a bit behind his head snapping left and right as he walked by the rotting aircraft.
"Deeper. We might have some luck finding a gem," Mere said as she kept walking. Whoever dumped these planes here at least attempted to keep some of them from just straight rotting. Some planes had some plastic tapped around the intakes as well as some piece of material to cover the cockpit while others were just left out raw to bake and have who knows what crawl into every crevice of the plane. A few minutes had passed in silence as Mere noted the line of F-15's she's robbed parts from to try and fix up the Eagle that's currently at the base before she paused briefly looking at a long line of F-5's. She knew they could easily salvage enough parts from all the Tigers here yet she also knew that their effort could have been put into fixing more modern and capable fighters like the slew of Hornets and Falcons that seemed to be recently dumped. "And now into the unknown we go," she mumbled to herself as she pressed on through the Zappland heat.
Everynow and then they would stop to inspect a plane but there'd be a few things that would be off. Some planes had a cacophony of repair jobs while others had their cockpits either partially gutted or completely gutted. Stopping in front of a line of Super Hornets though, Mere thought she found a keeper. The paint was in much better condition than its surrounding planes which was a promising sign and none of the intake and exhaust coverings have blown off. One downside was that it was an F-model, the two seater, but with modern design and the advent of the Multi Function Displays allowed for a single overworked pilot the ability to make the plane function and fly. Unless another WSO comes along, she might have to go up if a convict chooses her.
"What do you think, Mouse?" Mere asked as she used her limited knowledge checking over the wings and the tail.
"What do I think? Well until I can pull it apart and look inside, the airframe looks fine. No visible patch jobs on the skin. Who knows how manyflight hours have been on her but elevators feel fine, nothing's seized, and the cockpit hasn't been picked apart. I think she looks fine but that'll be up to the Scrap Queen," he said as he pulled some of the tap off to peek inside an intake. "That and the engines are still here."
"Hm… got it." With a nod she glanced around seeing a sign with the letter 'E' on it before she pulled her radio and pushed the transmission button. "Queen, bring the mule down to line E. We've got a potential bird to use.
"Got it, on our way," she radioed back.
"Mouse, stay here. I'm gonna take a look further in," Mere said before looking around, "Actually, could you start stripping some of the pylons here? We'll probably need more of them."
"On it ma'am!" he said, grabbing his tool kit getting to work. Nodding to herself, Mere went on taking a look further down the path. She had a hunch she might find something of value hidden away as so far they've only found the basic fighter planes such as Hornets, Vipers, Tomcats, and Eagles. There were older planes as well such as A-6 Intruders and F-111 Aardvarks but those were so old they weren't even worth looking into let alone trying to repair. Passing by some Mirage's and some Yuke made MiG's something caught her eye. Ducking her head under the Mirage's nose, she initially dismissed the plane as a F-16 or an F-2 but something about the fuselage seemed weird. Getting a better view, her jaw went slack a bit.
"Holy jesus. What is that?" Moving around the Mirage her eyes widened a bit. "What the fuck is that?" Sitting in a neat line was a row of F-16XL's. It was a much larger delta winged F-16 that was designed as a multi-role fighter bomber and the premise was that it would reduce cost of manufacturing since it shared so many parts to its lighter air superiority based sibling. It never did catch on as big as the manufacturers thought it would nor did it become as popular as the Eagle frame yet it did enter a production run and was sent out to some Osean fighter squadrons. The paint was fairly cooked marking how long it's been out in the boneyard, but the amazing thing was that the cockpit was still covered by a tarp and the intake and exhaust was still wrapped up and protected. Not far away on a degrading pallet also sat multiple rails and mounts which probably belonged to the plane as well. Doing a quick walk around the plane is in desperate need of a maintenance overhaul but aside from the paint it seemed like it could be serviceable in her eyes. The mechanical aspect wasn't her forte but she had others that had a much better eye.
"Hey, Queen," Mere asked the radio. It took a second for her to respond.
"The hell did you run off to Wire? Really need that alone time?" she asked. Mere could feel her grinning on the other end of the radio.
"A: Fuck off. B: Want a new challenge?" Mere asked as she went back to the tail, noticing that the old squadron emblem this bird used to belong to was scraped off. "Eagle just needs the wiring done and I know you're sick of those Vipers."
"... I'll be back in like 10. Need to drop off the Super Hornet. Where are you at even?"
"Uuuh… Lot H."
"H!? The hell you doing all the way back there dumbass!?" Queen shouted over the radio. "Whatever, just sit tight and I'll check out what marvelous idea you have for fun."
Taking refuge from the sweltering head by retreating under the massive wing, she sat on the deflated tire and began to think. If there's this gem this far into the scrap yard, what about some of the planes further in? Mayhaps… an F-22? Shaking her head of course it wouldn't be one of those here. Too valuable and too secretive to leave in another nation in an unprotected boneyard. Most likely it's just a bunch of either extremely old planes or bombers. After only a few minutes of waiting, Mere couldn't help it and began her own inspection of the planes. Ducking under each of the six F-16XL's present she began to inspect them to the best of her knowledge just trying to spend some time when finally she heard the familiar burble of the mule coming up the road. Stepping out she saw Queen driving with Wrench and Mouse sitting on the rear. Mere could see Queen's expression sour while Mouse beamed at the sight of the planes. Wrench had a grin when they came to a stop.
"This is a joke right?" Queen asked as she looked at Mere while Mouse jumped off the back and started to run around the plane checking it over.
"Other than the paint, they seem perfectly fine," Mere shrugged before twitching seeing Avril's hand reach for something. Her instincts were only confirmed as Queen hucked a wrench at her. The tool harmlessly clinked down the road while she huffed.
"'Sick of working on those F-16's' huh?" Queen mimicked Mere before glaring at her, "So you bait me into just working on the extra large version of the F-16!?"
"Plane seems quick to fix!" Mouse called from under the plane. He pulled a flash light out and was checking out a maintenance panel that Mere had missed. "I think she'll do us just fine."
"Kids right, And we've got plenty of nice looking parts planes to pillage as we see fit to get her working," Wrench chuckled patting the side of a XL as he went to retrieve Queen's wrench. Stepping back, he handed it back to her but didn't release his grip. "And if we are to meet the big man's quota, we'll need her."
Sighing in defeat, Queen looked between the planes and nodded her head.
"Clear the first one to be pulled," she ordered and the three mechanics went to work, "You better be right or I'll kick your ass."
Making quick work of clearing the chocks, fillings the tires, as well as loading up some of the spare rails onto the mule, they all climbed on and made their slow way back to the flat beds at the front of the scrap yard. Loading up, she looked at the equipment they've managed to salvage so far and Mere let out a sigh; this was gonna be a long week. With the sun setting, the guards called for dinner. Taking a seat, she was surprised a bit as Sinker sat across from her. Looking up at him, she was curious why he seemed a bit nervous. He was clenching and relaxing his hand while looking around the room and then down to his food before up at Mere.
"Hey uh… Hotwire right?" he asked nervously before he dropped his voice. "You the one wiring the planes right?"
"Yeah…?" Mere asked slowly, poking at her food. She kept her eyes on him as his nervous demeanor shifted a bit. "One of the people that do. Something wrong with yours? I can check it out after dinner."
"Yeah… something like that," his eyes darted to the side, his fingers drumming the table a bit when he sighed running his hand through his hair. "Look, I don't like throwing accusations around so be straight with me from one navy guy to another gal, did you fuck with our ejection seats?" he asked, looking Mere in the eyes. Mere was first taken aback with what he said, of all the things that might have gone wrong, the seat would never cross her mind. Her brow furrowed as she hardened her gaze at him.
"Of all the things… Did you pull it?"
"Of course I fucking did. I'm no coward but fuck me if I'm going to put my life on the line being sent up to fight the Eruseans without weapons," his voice raising a bit more as he shook his head, "Can't be sent to prison for deserting if I'm already here. And I'm not willing to risk my life for these other convicts." Shifting in his seat he stared down his food. "Besides, what's the worst they can do? Throw me in solitary again?"
"I get it. I'll look into your plane after dinner. If anything else electronic related goes bad, come to me. Else that's Scrap Queen's and her group's domain," Mere said, going into thought. Maybe she did mess up on one of the planes. Sinker's was one of the new F-18's they completed and she was positive she got green lights from all the major electrical components. Maybe she was getting complacent with her work. Either way, a new work order was laid in her lap so might as well get it done.
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444th Air Base, Zapland, Usea
June 2nd, 2019.
1030hrs.
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Leaning over the cockpit of Tabloid's plane, Mere was fiddling around with the wires heading to the ejection seat. Following Sinker's own concern the other day, she went through a thorough inspection of his plane and the results were troubling. Some of the wires were pulled or cut. Wasn't a too terrible job to fix and she confirmed once again that the seat should be operational. Even when she laid in her cell, she felt a thought gnawing at the back of her head, what about the other planes? She tried to push it aside to get some rest as it would be another early morning to sort out the new planes but she couldn't sleep. Rolling a bit she thought about asking Queen about what she found but she thought again once she found some more solid information. It will only complicate things if more of their planes were sabotaged. Thus, a new day comes and Mere had excused herself from Hanger 1 saying that Tabloid told her he had issues with his Mirage's counter measures. Now she was arm deep fishing around for anything that could be reached without having to remove the seat. Meres' brow furrowed a bit as she finally finished tracing the wire, finding that it's been unplugged. Okay, no big deal, maybe it came undone, Mere tried to reason before glancing at High Rollers F-16 and Count's Su-33. Grabbing her tools she dove in again and quickly found a few wires snipped and pulled just like Tabloids and Sinker. Cursing under her breath she quickly went to patch the issue when a voice surprised her.
"This is where you ran off to, Hotwire?" a voice at the front of the hanger called out to her. Letting out a light shout, she grunted as the back of her head smacked the edge of the F-16 canopy. Cursing as she gripped the back of her head in pain, she shot daggers at whoever was standing at the front of the hanger only to relax a bit seeing it was Trigger.
"Oh, it's you."
"I… Yeah? Was not expecting that reaction…" Trigger rubbed the back of his head. "Still, the hell is this place? I asked the guards that I wanted to work on my plane and they just took me to the hangars and left me there. I asked one of the mechanics where the Tomcat is and they pointed me here."
"Not much to work on her though. Tailplane been repaired and I've done a quick once over to make sure she's in tip top shape," Mere said as she went back to finishing up High Roller's plane.
"So… They said they've got paint in this hanger. Mind if I add something to the Cat?" Mere paused for a second and considered it. The Tomcat was her own labor of love and she didn't want anyone else to work on it. On the other hand, she might be stuck with Trigger for a while longer as none of their current projects were completed. Bobbing her head side to side a bit weighing the different options, she thought what's the worst that could happen.
"Knock yourself out," she said without looking up. "Cardboard's in the back left corner behind the hanger. No blades for obvious reasons yet they allow us access to other pointy things. Paint scraper in the top drawer of the left corner tool box," she rattled off as she packed up to head to Count's plane next, her thoughts weighing if this really was just a really shitty coincidence. If anything, she's gonna beat the shit out of whoever did this cause she's still got ten more planes to look through after Count's. Keeping her mind busy, she began to work on Count's plane and she quickly figured out his plane was hit as well. Letting out a light grunt, she knew it was going to be a long day as she finished her work up and headed off to the next hanger over. With her tool box in hand, Mere glanced over towards the multiple C-130's that had landed earlier in the day all gathered around the hardened bunkers that are serving as their ammunition depot. From the distance away, she could make out they were moving a lot of dumb bombs in addition to multiple pallets with what appeared to be guidance packages for said dumb bombs. Stopping, she pondered for a second about where they might get sent off too next. Wherever, they'd be getting one hell of a pounding. With a light smirk, she shook her head wishing that F-16XL was in working order but with how things are, it'll be at least a week. Entering Hanger 3, as usual there weren't too many people around save for the usual slackers that Queen usually complained about. Weasel, or Spare-9, was "working" on a hatch on top of his Foxbat while Roofer was busy cleaning his plane, spending extra time buffing out his cockpit.
"Hotwire," Roofer curtly nodded to her as he continued to clean up his plane while Weasel only glanced up from what he's doing. He's one of the older inmates here at Zappland. He's an average man, with a deep gruff voice with a somewhat broad build. Apparently, he used to fly fighters before being transferred and became a cargo pilot in the previous war before he got out and started a roofing company. Only reason why he's in here was because he was brought up on charges of tax evasion. Next thing he knew, he was flown out here and told to pilot a jet.
"Roofer," she nodded as she pushed a ladder up to Champ's plane. "Busy as ever huh, Weasel."
"Oh you know it, ma'am. Gotta work on the hoodah and thingamajig to make sure this Yuke piece-of-shit stays flying," he tapped the top of his plane with a smirk before just laying down. "'Sides, I ain't gonna do too much up in the next suicide mission."
"Like you did much yesterday," Roofer grunted.
"I pulled my weight! Shot two fighters down…" he trailed off a bit.
"Then ran the rest of the operation," Roffer scoffed again.
"Tactically observing the furball from the outside," Weasel corrected. "You try being trained to fly low and fast to find SAM's and then dumped onto this piece-of-shit interceptor. And what are they gonna do, find a way to strap bombs onto the pylons? Fat chance. I don't need dumb bombs to hang off this airframe made out of collapsed neutron stars."
"Never know, Queen's worked miracles before," Mere mused. "Just cover our ass. It's the least you can do," Mere dryly suggested as she began her search in Champ's plane. Five out of five planes she's looked over so far have all been tampered with so there's no doubt about it, someone has been tampering with them but the big question now is who? It has to be someone that has ties to the base commander yet this doesn't seem like a thing the commander himself would come up with. None of the pilots are that cynical to pull this stunt against the others either. More importantly, how long have all these seats been sabotaged? Fixing the connection, Mere sat up before eyeing the two pilots who were lazing about in the hanger.
"Say, any of the mechanics come through here checking the planes before the last sortie?"
"Not that I know," Roofer said. "Why?"
"Just wondering. Asked a few to do some maintenance on the planes in this hanger so I'm making sure they got to it," Mere said as she moved onto the next plane in the hanger.
"Well," Weasel then spoke up. "Saw ol' Quiet Mike making a round through this hanger a few days ago. Saw 'im checking out Champ's and and Zip's plane before he asked how the Foxbat was doin'."
"Mmm. Thanks," Mere said before she started work on Full Band's plane. Mike wasn't the first person she'd think of to be the perpetrator but a lead is a lead. For now though, she's got more planes to finish checking before Erusea decides to send another bombing raid to the base.