Exercise: Desert Hawks 2016 [IC|Closed]

[Riysa]

♫ "We are the birds of destruction; our land is paradise to our eyes,
We will rain Divine Punishment on those who transgress against us!"♫
-Opening lines of the Riysian Air Force anthem.

Airbase T11, Tiyas, Riysa
November 11, 2016, 18:05 Local Time

General Talal Rabah strode around the lavishly-decorated ballroom, checking every minute detail of what the base's servers had set up. The tablecloths had to be symmetrical, the napkins folded in a certain way, the silver and brass-gilt china and cutlery arranged in neat patterns, and so on. The byzantine rules of the aristocratic Riysian etiquette and attitude towards guests knew no compromises, and as the host, it fell on his neck to make sure everything was exactly as it should. If the guests were displeased with their meal, or the setup even looked a tiny bit messy, then he could expect a star to be ripped from his shoulderboards by the end of the week. If that happened, his relatively stable career would come crashing down quicker than a jet shredded by a SAM.

"Hardly fitting work for a general..." He thought to himself, as he continued his survey. Like a majority of the Riysian officer corps, Talal hailed from the upper crust of Riysian society, so nothing of this was foreign to him. If he tried hard enough, he could picture this taking place in a massively enlarged version of his family's house on the border of the Sha'lan market district, with Uncle Suhail and his family just about to step through the door on a visit. No, the issue was its mediocrity, it was something that a fresh-faced lieutenant coming straight out of technical college should be handling, not a gold-eagled Imad!

"But, after all, a general is just a glorified administrator, isn't he? Heh." Talal paused his monologue to admire a crystal glass. The ballroom was uniquely Levantine in style, using their own traditions to create something just as or even more glamorous than the ballrooms of Paris and Rome. Lined by wooden-framed couches and furniture patterned with mother of pearl and lined with brass, gold-framed glass mirrors on the wall, intricate copper and crystal chandeliers and embellishes, and metal decorations of gold, silver, and copper all around, this salon would be the envy of anyone from Abu Rummaneh, Talal reckoned.

Ever since Desert Hawks was started, T14 expanded at a rapid rate to accommodate the pilots and support crew training, in addition to administration and the normal complement of the base. Thus, indeed, some creature comforts not typically found at most bases were introduced to make them feel at home. This was unusual, though - despite having run the exercise for nearly 10 years now, Talal never had to go this far for the guests. Yes, of the Riysians, the pilots and some of the support crew would also be coming from the same background as he did and would expect some courtesy, but it was the military, not a Eid gathering! There was no full dress requirement, there was no multi-course meal, and there were definitely no crystal glasses or silver forks being given to the attendees! Obviously, it was happening because of the foreigners; specifically, command wanting to make a glorious impression on the ajnabi guests. Talal, after all, had a part in arranging this.

Giving his approval, he went to his reserved seat and sat down, awaiting what was next. Checking his Semiramis brand watch, he saw that it was 6:35 pm. Guests would be arriving shortly, bused over from hotels in Deir ez-Zour and from the barracks at T14, while some of the Riysian detachment should already be arriving. Over the past couple of days, he had seen some of the participants arrive at the airbase to set up and prepare, and had been impressed with their enthusiasm. He hoped that it would last, he thought to himself as his lips curled into a tight smile. The exercise would put a lot of stress on all those involved, much like a real war, but thankfully without the risk of dying horribly.

The sound of the doors opening, followed by the clicking of boots, announced the entry of others a few minutes later. At the head was a Riysian Air Force officer, dressed similarly to Talal - black winter uniform and trousers, peaked cap flashing the Zawba'a cyclone and wreath/crossed guns device with a red band around the center, gold epaulettes flashing the gold eagle-star-wreath insignia of a major general, glossy black boots, golden lanyards, and white gloves. On the black and golden lay a brass sheath for a khanjar dagger; the traditional scimitar sword being too unwieldy for this event. The biggest point of difference was in appearances; the general retained the blackness in his hair, giving away his age of somewhere around 45, while the older Talal shared it with white and grey. Talal stood up in courtesy, and the general saluted. Talal saluted in reply.

"Major-General Sinan Nunu, present, captain." Sinan spoke, indicating respect through the old Air Force nickname of "captain" for those who led and/or were respected.

"A pleasure to meet you, general." Talal replied. Behind the new arrival were several more officers dressed in the full winter dress of the Air Force; some colonels, some lieutenant colonels, but mostly captains and majors - the frontline pilots. "Will you not all sit down? Find wherever you like, and be comfortable, we will be starting soon!" He said to everyone present, while ceremonially taking Sinan by the arm and sitting him down at the same table as he. Following the major general were the four colonels in the group, each head of a squadron playing the role of the opposing force, plus a fifth not attached to any. The table was specifically reserved for the command staff, rectangular rather than circular like the rest, having space for the generals and colonels and room to spare for any foreigners brave enough to ask.

"Thank you." Sinan said, stretching into his seat. "More are on the way, but we're already here. I take it we're early?"

Talal nodded. "I never thought I'd ever see Riysians be early to anything, but here you are! Yes, you are, and I'm very happy you are already here; the buses are on their way, and some might try to enter early." He checked his watch. "Granted, its not very early anymore, we'll be starting soon."

Sinan nodded. "I am interested in everyone who's coming. Lots of different aircraft and air forces, and nearly equal numbers of observers. This is dissimilar air combat training on an entirely different scale. Even the Colombians from the OSN and OSMC are showing up to try us out."

"It'll be a historical moment. Between us, we're making plans to expand Desert Hawks to happen three times a year, with the third being reserved for DACT with allied air forces, if this goes well."

"I hope it does. Training against TaH-29s is good, but getting foreign aircraft to appear significantly adds to the training value."

Talal nodded, and checked his watch. Around him, the pilots had already found their seats and begun to sit down, the squadrons mixing into each other as the 8-seat round tables didn't accommodate an entire Riysian fighter squadron. Opening time was arriving sooner and sooner, and any moment now, others would begin to arrive. In less than 30 minutes, a new chapter of the Riysian Air Force would begin.

Here it goes. Talal thought to himself, as he heard the door creak again.

[The United Remnants of America]

Remnant Delegation

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Airbase T11, Tiyas Riysa

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11/11/2016 - 18:15

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The heavy doors came open, and at the first non-Riysian boots to step into the ballroom were Remnant. While definitely not the closest ally of Riysa, and not even participant in the Desert Hawks exercise, the United Remnants of America was always a country quick to try and remind allies of their existence in an attempt to stay relevant in the ever-changing geopolitical landscape. The truth was, the URA didn't have much in the way of natural resources, and the massive, densely-packed population of one and a half billion people worked tirelessly producing cheap products for local use without the prospect of foreign investment into their work due to the URA's stringent policies due to a sense of nationalism, which was only a fabrication since the military had long ago begun adopting foreign-made equipment that was across the board superior to the local junk.

None knew this better than Commander Stephanie Jenson. Tall for a Remnant woman of Olympian ethnicity, her long blond hair was tied behind her into a professional ponytail and the Commander had made no effort to color out the streaks of grey that rain through her mane. Commander Jenson had been the leading edge of the Remnant Military's modernization efforts, which had focused primarily on the Air Force, and while she was here as one of the most experienced commanders of air units in the URA, she had a secondary purpose here to observe the foreign aircraft in the exercise and seek ever superior equipment. Jenson had even heard that the Americans were going to be here. Maybe she could find a seat with them, since like most Remnants, she saw the people of the Organized States as long-lost cousins across the seas.

Commander Jenson's sharp grey eyes did not widen in surprise or wonder at the beautifully-adorned ballroom. She was much old to be excited by things such as that. Her only thought was that the Riysians did not lack in grandeur and glamour, both things not seen anywhere in the URA, especially on a military base, where everything had been built and done with efficiency and pragmatism as the cornerstones of Remnant life. Commander Jenson's blue-grey uniform was evidence of the URA's lack of creativity or military fashion. The only way to distinguish her service from the Remnant directly behind her were the small Navy insignia, the three-grey-star shoulder boards of a Commander, and the fruit salad on her chest of campaign medals, unit medals, and personal achievement medals. Who knew commanding an aircraft carrier would lead to such an exciting career?

At nearly half Commander Jenson's age, 1st Lieutenant Jerry McCormick could barely contain his excitement as he crossed the threshold into the ballroom. His uniform hung slightly loose on his lanky frame, and his livid dress uniform was much less sparse than that of Commander Jenson's, but he had two things she didn't have, and those were the rotary-wing aviation insignia, and the insignia of the Air Force Bronze Star for his actions in combat. McCormick really was a hero of the military, and it was really for that reason why he'd been tagged to go and accompany Commander Jenson on this trip. In all fairness, the helicopter had no business being here, but here he was.

In McCormick's eyes, the Riysians had gone all out, and the ballroom was probably the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. The amount of color and downright shine was something he thought only existed online and on TV, but here it was for him to see, for him to experience personally like some kind of royalty. Any self-doubt he had had on the way here about being a purely political choice for this exercise's delegation vanished in a kind of childlike wonder from a kid born and raised in Olympia where "travelling" was being deployed by the Air Force to the country's eastern border to fight the Zhanguanese. Oh yes, McCormick would enjoy this while it lasted.

Last in the trio from the URA, 1st Lieutenant(Simulated) Tobias McCloud was feeling notably under-dressed as he wondered in after the Remnant Navy boat captain and the Air Force hero kid. Tobias had been in a combat aircraft for the last ten years of his life, and was flying trainers before that. Walking into the ballroom in a blank pale green flightsuit, that while freshly pressed and washed, Tobias had decided that he was not prepared for a dress event, and nobody had offered to notify him of this.

Tobias was a private contractor, anyways. He was a pilot and adviser for the Contracted Personnel Division, the URA's joint-arms force made up of mercenaries, contractors, and partisans. Technically, his rank was simulated, since every unit in the CPD was allowed it's own command system due to the semi-independence of the CDP. Even though Tobias was technically not attached to a specific unit, he'd never be given a higher simulated rank or, God forbid, an actual rank in the Remnant Military. CPD was still commanded by Remnant officers, and even at the lower command levels, foreigners were always given shit commands opposed to their Remnant counterparts. If Tobias had been Remnant-born rather than a foreigner, chances are he'd be a lieutenant-colonel at this point and in charge of a wing of fighters in the CPD, or maybe he'd have been transferred to an actual military branch that wasn't used as the URA's plausible-deniability suicide-mission mercs.

Even so, Tobias was the only one of the three in the URA's delegation that actually flew fixed-wing aircraft. Stephanie just commanded them, and even then she was still a Navy officer and an admiral's yes-woman since her fleet's admiral had made her carrier his flagship. Jerry was a helo pilot, and while he had a surprisingly extensive record for a kid, he was still a helo pilot and had no place here with fast-mover jocks like Tobias, the Riysians, and the others. That left Tobias as the go-to for Stephanie and Jerry to come to for any in-depth technical questions they wouldn't know themselves. Which was as well; Remnants wouldn't talk to a foreigner CPD merc dog any other way.

As the three representatives of the United Remnants of America walked into the ballroom, different thoughts ran through each of their minds. But regardless of their upbringing, their mindsets, or their expectations, all three knew one thing: Desert Hawks was going to surely be an interesting exercise.

[Kobolis]

On the road to Airbase T11, Tiyas, Riysa
November 11, 2016, 18:25 Local Time

The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon for some time now and had made place for darkness to fall over the landscape. Some small animals took the opportunity of darkness to come out of hiding to hunt their pray in the night. But other than that, the night had brought a certain peace.

The headlights of the bus that illuminated the road ahead pierced the darkness as much as it pierced that peace, as it made its way from the T14 airbase, where the elements of the Kobolis Air Force that would participate in exercise Desert Hawks had landed yesterday. The support elements, the majority of the 4th Maintenance Squadron and a flight from the 4th Security Squadron, had landed first and were immediately directed to their parking areas where they could set up for the arrival of the follow-on units.

Over the following 70 minutes, the twelve Kobolian F-14 fighters arrived in pairs of two with ten minutes between them, with the large E-3 closing the ranks as it was the last to touch down. The organized spacing was most likely welcomed by the Riysian controllers, who had to juggle a lot of aircraft, with so many different units arriving in such short timeframe. Colonel Clifton of the KAF had remarked later that it looked like "everyone decided to arrive at the same time". The colonel of course didn't know who had arrived the day before.

Now, the Colonel had exchanged his flight suit for his mess dress, as had all the pilots of the 1 FS, the command crew of the E-3 and the officers of the 4 MXS and 4 SFS, before being put in the bus for a ride. Not everyone was equally happy about having to wear the mess dress though. If the Colonel hadn't enforced the mess dress, the majority of the 1 FS pilots would've most likely gone to the reception in flight suit.

The KAF units had the bus to themselves, considering the large group they were, another nation's attending units wouldn't have fit in. The only other person in the bus was the Riysian driver, who kept to himself.

"Cross... under...over...fold... no" one of the lieutenants muttered, as he was trying to tie his bow-tie, something which the movements of the bus did not make a whole lot easier. His futile attempts to get it right were a source of amusement for those seated near him.
"C'mon Alex, you can do it!" one of the other pilots teased him as he stroked his own perfectly done bow-tie.
"I'm not a bow-tie man. Give me a break..." was the reply, as the lieutenant re-tried and once again not receiving the desired results.

More to the front of the bus, Colonel Clifton was holding his tablet on his lap, reading the briefing the Riysians had kindly provided in paper and in digital format. Major Boom, commanding officer of the 1 FS, was seated next to him.

"I don't get it major" the colonel muttered to his subordinate, as he scrolled up the briefing again.
"Sir?"
"Orders to assume an offensive posture, written in those words, with the other orders basically saying 'stay defensive', doesn't really make sense, does it?" the colonel asked, before pulling the protective cover over his tablet as he shut it down.
"Perhaps they mean aggressive posture sir, I interpreted it as that" Major Boom replied, once again looking back at the remainder of his pilots.

The colonel shrugged, rubbing his forehead slightly.
"Most likely. We'll ask for clarification tomorrow."

The bus continued down the main road, before turning onto a side road as it approached the base where the ceremony was being held.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, look sharper than sharp now. You're representing the best we have to offer. Make sure we're something to write home about" Major Boom said as he had turned his head above his seat towards the rest of the assembly.
"Yes sir!" was the reply.

The major seated back down again in the correct, nose front fashion.
"Oh, and before I forget" he said, not even looking backwards, "If Lieutenant Herodos appears to be able to fly the most advanced fighter jet on this planet, but can't even tie a bow-tie, we're all going running very, /very/, early tomorrow. I'd like you all to know that."

The muffled commotion in the back indicated at least two other pilots had all but jumped on the lieutenant to do the bow-tie for him.
"You know the Riysian driver is most likely going to report that one of our pilots can'd do his own tie, right?" the colonel whispered to the major, who nodded in reply.
"Oh I count on it sir. Let them underestimate us. Though honestly, who the frak can't tie a bow-tie?"

On the road to Airbase T11, Tiyas, Riysa
November 11, 2016, 18:55 Local Time

The bus came to a stop in its indicated area and opened its doors. The assembly disembarking the bus looked sharp, no fault in their dress or demeanor could be spotted. The colonel, who was first off the bus, shot a glance at a few other buses already parked ahead.
"We're not the only ones early majors."

Both Major Boom and Major Free followed the colonel's gaze towards the other buses.
"And you were worried it was impolite to be early?" Major Free asked Major Boom, as the assembly was escorted inside by a Riysian officer who spoke accent-less English, quite a feat for a Riysian.

[Organized States]

Airbase T11
Tiyas, Riysa
November 11th, 2016
1845

Marksmanship Badges clanged together as Lieutenant Colonel Thomas "Guamadan" Hunt strode slowly through the entrance to the ballroom, accompanied by the other officers of his unit, VMFA-321, all of whom examined with keen eyes the faces, uniforms, and actions of the entire room. They were in sharp contrast to the many Blue and Grey uniforms of the various Air Forces and Naval Air Arms of the world, clad in the sleek Midnight Blue Coat and Sky Blue Pants with the famous Scarlet Blood Strip along the outer seem. In place of the boots worn by the Remnants, the Marines wore very sharply and precisely polished corfram shoes, having dumped the leather shoes years ago at the behest of the Secretary of the Navy in an effort to be more environmentally-friendly, an action which did not come without some public grumbling and politic-ing by the Commandant and his staff.

Regardless of how well they were dressed however, this was not exactly how Hunt wished to be starting the Exercise. His Marines, down from his Executive to his Public Affairs Officer, were itching for a fight. This itch, originating from their desire and mission to support their brothers-in-arms on the ground at any cost, was something that the Marines believed separated them from their Navy and Air Force counterparts. The past iterations of the VMFA-321 were no slack in a fight either, their squadron's colors having been carried into battle above the Solomon Islands during the Second World War. However, despite Hunt's relative inexperience with the squadron command billet, only having been given the command of the historic squadron a few months ago, young age of 35, and his desire to keep morale in the unit up, he had come to appreciate the value of events like these. They gave his aviators a bit of time to decompress after the long trans-Atlantic flight, and additionally, the ability to converse with their counterparts in tactics, career advancement, and the all-important quality of leadership. A little bit of an outside perspective never hurt anyone. Hunt thought, passing by a number of junior and a few field-grade Riysan Air Force officers, some of whom had already been engaged in conversation by some of Hunt's officers, even the normally quiet Executive Officer, Major Ryan "Lockout" Oliver appeared to be having a great discussion.

"Glad to see we're making progress." Hunt said to himself before taking a seat at one of the tables in the room.

[The Selkie]

Brigadier Kiah Eitil of the Tribe of Wicklow smiled as she walked towards the ballroom, where the ceremony starting the whole Exercise, Desert Hawks 2016, hosted by the very generous Riysians, was to be held. She, a woman vintage 1969, her blonde hair nearly white, her blue eyes sharp, led the delegation of the SDF to watch this exercise.
It wasn't the first time she was abroad, during her two years of exemption of flight service, she attended many foreign exercises, not to mention her many foreign deployments, but this was indeed the first time she was in Riysa. Upon the briefing by the Foreign Office, the ladies and gentlemen of one of the three constant ministries of the Free Lands only had good words about their hosts and their representatives.
If she was honest, Eitil looked forward to meeting them and the other officers at this prestigious occassion. And, of course, seeing them in action, as well as their planes. There had been a bit of a debate within the SDF weather to ask for the permission to participate with own planes or not, but ultimately, they decided against it due to multiple reasons, mainly that they did not have the budget for such an expensive trip.
Accompanying her was a good looking man in his middle ages, vintage '86, Major Finnegan 'Finny' Dóire of the Tribe of Sligo. Black haired, brown eyes, suave, a man, who worked himself up to his position from the rank of a Flight Sergeant, a NCO turned officer. He was also the commanding officer of the flying components of the Mobile Forces Command - the five squadrons under his command weren't many, but they were good, he made sure of that. He was also an ace with the pencil and paper, planning to, if permitted to, capture moments of the exercise with his utensils in his free time.
One of the commanders of one of his squadrons was with them, Captain Faye 'Fairy' Ainnir of the Tribe of Wicklow, a keen observer and pilot of the small Veilhbit by heart. Trained in a secondary occupation as a designated markswoman, a daughter of the Archipelago and of a retired pilot, she breathed the air and the speed, the rush of flight. And she was a nice singer as well.
All three of them were dressed to their nines, SDF-Army Blue Dress with golden cordons, heavy boots and no headdresses as those were rarely seen with SDF-personell to begin with.
The Brigadier led the small formation, Finn to her left and Faye to her right, grinning along. Their hosts were nice and, from what they could see from the outside of the ballroom, indeed went all out on the event, showing their best and most beautiful. In the Free Lands, it would be far more formless, but this certainly had its charms as well.
Kiah grinned stopped at the entrance, both awed by the beauty she beheld inside, as well as the different people already present. She could make out the Organized States Air Force and URA Air Force from a glance, as well as of course their gracious hosts.
She looked over her shoulder to her two pilots. "Ready?", she asked in a whisper.
Both nodded, awed as well - SDF Air Bases were far more spartanic, with the notable exceptions of Calafort Bay and Fortham, but that was not their immediate concern. This would be fun, they were sure of it.
"Then on to the attack run.", Eitil confirmed in the same volume as before and entered with a smile on her lips.

[Pakiranistan]

Airbase T11, Tiyas, Riysa
November 11, 2016, 18:05 Local Time

Group-Captain Jamshed Tahir walked gracefully towards the ballroom, closely followed by his subordinates whom were keen to keep in step with their commanding officer to show discipline and uniformity. Tahir was a man nearing his 40s and as such it showed, his complextion was getting darker and his hair was begining to lose its jet black color, still Tahir was doing just fine for someone his age. The various ornate badges and awards for his service were gleaming bright on his navy blue service dress uniform as he opened the doors to the ballroom. Service cap in hand, Tahir stood at the door for a moment or two, taking time to analyze the ballrooms lavish decorations and lighting as well as other foreign officers that were attending the exercise.

"They really outdid themselves, anyhow time to greet everyone" he thought to himself.

Tahir began his gaiting towards the various Risyan staff present in the ballroom, shaking their hands and giving them the greeting of Salam. He did this to everyone present there even the lowest of the lowest of staff, his lead was closely followed by his subordinates who did the same moving at a steady pace behind him, this continued on till the group reached General Talal Rabah.

Tahir stood at attention, hands cupped to the seam of his pants, feet at a 45 degree angle infront of General Talal Rabah. He proceeded to hold up salute, a commonwealth one, where the full palm of his right hand was showing and his arm was in a acute angle. The rest of the Pakiranistani staff stood at attention on the side, waiting for their turn to greet the General.

[Riysa]

The sound of the doors opening echoed across the room; some of the officers, those intrigued and not too immersed in conversation like some, stood up in respect, their eyes focused on meeting their compatriots and soon-to-be competitors. Wordlessly, the two generals stood up from their table, and strode over to meet the fresh arrivals.

In first was an observer team from the URA, no doubt particularly excited to learn more about everyone involved. Well, they would certainly love what was in store for the next couple of days. At their head was a woman presumably around the same age as Sinan; this would be the navy Commander, Mrs. Stephanie Johnson. By her side were a couple of younger men, with the one with the helicopter badge and air force uniform obviously being Mr. Jerry McCormick, leaving the other one to be the contractor, Mr. McLeod. Their early arrival would be happily remembered by Talal; people were, after all, serious about this exercise.

"Welcome to Riysa!" Both generals were replying salutes and handing out greetings like it was Eid day, in rather accented English.

Next was the first combat team, the Kobolian 1st Fighter Squadron. Fellow regionmates from across the sea, their presence here was symptomatic of the increasing relevance of Riysa and the Tel al-Riyah Pact in the Astyrian stage, as well as a desire to increase relations between the two nations. To both Talal and Sinan, they were especially interesting, as they were bringing their latest VLO - "stealth" - aircraft. Such a plane, piloted correctly and commanded by the right officers, would pose a significant threat to the opposing force aircraft. While the Riysian Air Force had some experience with combating VLO aircraft, training against the Kobolians would provide a unique opportunity that would be normally hard to replicate. Both looked forward to what the next few days would hold.

"Please, sit anywhere you like! Mix with the pilots if you want, most will understand you." The routine of being good hosts continued for the two, while some of the latecoming Riysian pilots slid in between the foreigners. Unlike the first group of Riysians, which were all fighter pilots, this second group were all support and SAM officers. Also unlike the first group, which were exclusively captain and above, this group had second and first lieutenant-ranked officers.

Third in line were two combat teams from the same nation, the Organized States. A SACTO ally with the two nations enjoying amicable relations, the presence of their world-class Marine and Navy combat teams would be greatly appreciated by both sides. Sinan had noticed that some of their aircraft was coming from a dedicated OSN aggressor squadron, which made him excited. They would be an especially difficult opponent, perfect to test out his own pilots on.

"And do not be afraid to sit by us, either! We have many seats reserved for those who want to talk." The generals said to everyone, waving in the direction of their table.

The last ones to arrive so far were the Selkie Defense Forces pilots. Despite only recently establishing diplomatic relations, the two nations were moving swiftly towards a steady partnership on the world stage. Riysian diplomats had visited their lands before, so now it was time to return the favor, with the Riysians playing the part of grateful hosts this time. Despite having a relatively small, defensively postured military, the lessons learned here would be just as applicable to national defense as to expeditionary interventions. Talal, out of a mix of genuine empathy and pragmatic career-mindedness, hoped that they would fully enjoy their stay here - though poor Major Doire might come to quickly notice an acute lack of females in the Riysian Air Force.

"Just relax for now, this is a reception to calm everyone down before the big fight! Enjoy your stay!" The teams so far seemed to be enthused for fighting, the observers were interested, and everyone was motivated. So far, so good.

[McNernia]

The Mcnernian observer was a Group Captian, if a senior officer was tasked with observing an exercise then the exercise was one of the more high priority. Group Captian Michael Ronan a thin man but quite fit was not unused to parties. He was a Ronan and if you were in that family what you had was several decades and generations of aviation fame. A Ronan, Michaels great uncle was the first Mcnernian astronaut with the launch of the Icarus-1 capsule in the 1960s. There was the issue of the fact Michael was an ace.

Seven kills in the last civil war against Soviet trained rebels and Soviet volunteer pilots it was rumored had se him commened and alleged family influence had seen him shooting up the ranks to Group Captian.

What price have I paid..born a Ronan and cursed to be a damned observer, a ace pilot who should be leading the Mcnernian Royal Air Force delegation He thought bitterly of how news of this would be received by the pilots. There had been some tensions over the last time HM Forces had gone to a international exercise. New Engollon four or three, five years ago maybe. He did not exactly care and it was Terpischore and Jacky Heath that hung over the Royal Air Force like a shroud. Dishonor, he would do his duty and he would be the observer the Embassy in Tel-Al had said he was.

His hotel had been nice, could not really complain about the weather. His blood itched, a few handpicked pilots and they would own this. Then again the Shadowhawk could be beaten, F-35As had seen extensive modification as had Cs when HMAFM had taken them on. He walked through the doors alone, his light navy blue colored tunic having pants to match. This winter cotton uniform had plenty of gold rank badges and some braid on his shoulders.

He would seek out the OSMC, world class pilots by all account. "Michael Ronan, Group Captian Mcnernian Royal Air Force. How do you do?"

[Hutanjia]

The Hutanjian group walked in a little later than the rest, with really no good excuse. They had been held up a bit by the Teremaran (2 Neu Engollians and a Gaul) delegation of observers, who had hailed them. One of the Neu Engollian pilot observers (from their Naval air wing) had served with the Uli Schwyz Galien Air Wing in the Hutanjian War before rejoining the NEDAF. They were comrades on the same side, even if they hadn't met face to face previously. The USG mercenaries had been employed by the Hutanjian government in the fight against the Cardwithian separatists and their Falkasian backers. He had felt the need to share that with the Hutanjians upon locking sight on them.

Other than 2 fresh, green pilots in the 13th 'Eagles' Squadron, the rest were all hardened veterans of that War. They had seen many comrades lost to the enemy, including USG and New Edomite allies. They would be well prepared for the coming exercises.

They filed into the ballroom and saluted and shook hands with their counterparts when appropriate. Some of the participants they were familiar with, especially the hosts. The Riysians were as firm allies of Hutanjia as New Edom, although maybe not as much direct financial backers as the Cornellians. Besides the TaH-29 Shrike fighters flown by the HRAF, many of the vehicles and arms used by the HRA were provided by, or based on designs of the Riysian High Command defense industry and along with Arcanum Arms, it had helped them update from their old Soviet bloc arsenal. Arguably keeping them from being overwhelmed.

Others in the room were known by reputation, but many of the nations were unfamiliar to the pilots and their commanders, Lieutenant Colonel Guillaume Sonaga, Major Barrett Gjatovo and Lieutenant Colonel Maxwell Olargu.
They might be known by Hutanjia's Foreign Affairs Ministry, but that didn't currently help the HRAF men in the room.

The brown skinned Polynesians mostly kept to themselves, polite but reserved, as they observed the others mingling and exchanging pleasantries. They wore light maroon flight suits, much like the maroon color of the Hutanjian flag. The three commanders were the only ones to wear dress uniforms, which were also a light maroon in color, with various ribbons and honors attached. The Hutanjians were already getting into mission mode and ready for the preliminary briefings to begin, they felt that that was the best way to meet their new 'allies', was to plot strategy and see them in action.

[Neu Engollon]

The Teremaran observers entered after their pleasant encounter with the Hutanjians. They were in a jovial mood,especially as the pressure was off with the NEDAF not competing in this exercise.

The Gaul officer, Lieutenant Colonel Gilbert Caldreau, was the most subdued of the men. He knew few of the participating nations or observers. That was a good deal of his task during this exercise was to reach out and establish relations with like-minded national representatives, or really any of the military officers and pilots.

The Neu Engollians, represented here by Lieutenant Commander Angelo Goermann and Colonel Louis De Perle, may be less aggressive militarily than their western neighbor Terre des Gaules, but were much more accomplished on the diplomatic front. The neutral Confederacy's government had friendly relations with several of the national groups present. They wandered into the melee, brandishing sharply snapped salutes and quick flesh pressing hand shakes for all who would afford them the attention.

[The Selkie]

The sound of the doors opening echoed across the room; some of the officers, those intrigued and not too immersed in conversation like some, stood up in respect, their eyes focused on meeting their compatriots and soon-to-be competitors. Wordlessly, the two generals stood up from their table, and strode over to meet the fresh arrivals.

In first was an observer team from the URA, no doubt particularly excited to learn more about everyone involved. Well, they would certainly love what was in store for the next couple of days. At their head was a woman presumably around the same age as Sinan; this would be the navy Commander, Mrs. Stephanie Johnson. By her side were a couple of younger men, with the one with the helicopter badge and air force uniform obviously being Mr. Jerry McCormick, leaving the other one to be the contractor, Mr. McLeod. Their early arrival would be happily remembered by Talal; people were, after all, serious about this exercise.

"Welcome to Riysa!" Both generals were replying salutes and handing out greetings like it was Eid day, in rather accented English.

Next was the first combat team, the Kobolian 1st Fighter Squadron. Fellow regionmates from across the sea, their presence here was symptomatic of the increasing relevance of Riysa and the Tel al-Riyah Pact in the Astyrian stage, as well as a desire to increase relations between the two nations. To both Talal and Sinan, they were especially interesting, as they were bringing their latest VLO - "stealth" - aircraft. Such a plane, piloted correctly and commanded by the right officers, would pose a significant threat to the opposing force aircraft. While the Riysian Air Force had some experience with combating VLO aircraft, training against the Kobolians would provide a unique opportunity that would be normally hard to replicate. Both looked forward to what the next few days would hold.

"Please, sit anywhere you like! Mix with the pilots if you want, most will understand you." The routine of being good hosts continued for the two, while some of the latecoming Riysian pilots slid in between the foreigners. Unlike the first group of Riysians, which were all fighter pilots, this second group were all support and SAM officers. Also unlike the first group, which were exclusively captain and above, this group had second and first lieutenant-ranked officers.

Third in line were two combat teams from the same nation, the Organized States. A SACTO ally with the two nations enjoying amicable relations, the presence of their world-class Marine and Navy combat teams would be greatly appreciated by both sides. Sinan had noticed that some of their aircraft was coming from a dedicated OSN aggressor squadron, which made him excited. They would be an especially difficult opponent, perfect to test out his own pilots on.

"And do not be afraid to sit by us, either! We have many seats reserved for those who want to talk." The generals said to everyone, waving in the direction of their table.

The last ones to arrive so far were the Selkie Defense Forces pilots. Despite only recently establishing diplomatic relations, the two nations were moving swiftly towards a steady partnership on the world stage. Riysian diplomats had visited their lands before, so now it was time to return the favor, with the Riysians playing the part of grateful hosts this time. Despite having a relatively small, defensively postured military, the lessons learned here would be just as applicable to national defense as to expeditionary interventions. Talal, out of a mix of genuine empathy and pragmatic career-mindedness, hoped that they would fully enjoy their stay here - though poor Major Doire might come to quickly notice an acute lack of females in the Riysian Air Force.

"Just relax for now, this is a reception to calm everyone down before the big fight! Enjoy your stay!" The teams so far seemed to be enthused for fighting, the observers were interested, and everyone was motivated. So far, so good.

Eitil smiled at the greeting, placing a hand above her heart and bowing her head. "Thank you, General, it is our pleasure to be here.", she said, her nearly white hair hiding her face for a moment, "Mister Crionna and Miss Sciamhach spoke very highly of Riysa. I would love to talk to you later, but I am afraid, that you have other guests to attend to for now."
With that, she nodded to the officer and went onwards. She liked it here, so far, the people were nice.
The good Major did not, as the Riysian Air Force lacked female officers and crew - regardless, he was not here to charm the living daylights out of their friend's pilots, if he was honest (he would still do, if the chance presented itself, though).
"Split up.", Eitil commanded with a smile, in a whisper over her shoulder. And that was, what the blue-clad SDF-officers did.

The Major had already locked onto a target, a tall woman in the uniform of the Remnant Air Force, her blonde hair tied to a ponytail. Professional and cold, grey uniform... the Major was not on his way to charm her, but to talk to her.
He smiled, as he approached. "Good evening.", he greeted, extending his hand a bit awkwardly, as this foreigner custom was not really usual amongst the Selkie. "Major Finnegan Dóire of the Tribe of Sligo, SDF-Army Air Service, at your service."

Faye afforded the attention to the Neu Engollians, returning the salute and shaking hands, smiling.
"Good evening, Sirs.", she said, trying to make a good first impression as she looked available for talking, standing around and watching the buzzing around her. Amongst so many high-ranking military officers, she felt a bit out of place as a mere Captain. "Wonderful evening, isn't it? Couldn't be a better weather for flying."

The Brigadier meanwhile went to one of the tables and sat down with a smile, looking available for being joined in sitting around and talking.
The more she looked at this exercise, the more she wanted to participate next year, leading the force sent by the SDF, if they were to. However, this year, she would watch as good as she could, thinking about how to apply everything to the small SDF and their Army Air Service and the SDF-Navy Aviation Command. Commodore Eitleoir, their head, asked her to watch especially for their rotary-wing aircraft, as that was the main-equipment of the Naval Aviation at sea as they did not have full-fledged aircraft carriers, despite SDY building the Beag for everyone willing to pay the price (and the SDF was not willing).
Next year... next year would be different, she knew it.

[Neu Engollon]

Captain Faye Ainnir addressed the Neu Engollians, returning their salutes and shaking hands, smiling.
"Good evening, Sirs.", she said, "Wonderful evening, isn't it? Couldn't be a better weather for flying."

Colonel De Perle agreed,
"Most definitely, Captain. One couldn't ask for much better weather. Let's hope it holds out for the pilots."

Lt. Commander Goermann nodded,
"Yes, one should hope. Makes for excellent observation with the naked eye, assuming we'll be close enough to the area of operations and not in the bunker."
He was always impressed by female pilots. They usually had much more of a struggle than their male counterparts to achieve the same ranks and stature. At least in the Confederacy. Things were slowly changing as the Neu Engollian Defense Forces became more gender integrated, but old traditional ways were tough to chip away at.
"Excuse me for changing topic, Captain, but I am most curious...what bird do you typically fly in your service? I'm assuming you are a pilot, of course...Forgive me if that's not the case."

[The Selkie]

Captain Faye Ainnir addressed the Neu Engollians, returning their salutes and shaking hands, smiling.
"Good evening, Sirs.", she said, "Wonderful evening, isn't it? Couldn't be a better weather for flying."

Colonel De Perle agreed,
"Most definitely, Captain. One couldn't ask for much better weather. Let's hope it holds out for the pilots."

Lt. Commander Goermann nodded,
"Yes, one should hope. Makes for excellent observation with the naked eye, assuming we'll be close enough to the area of operations and not in the bunker."
He was always impressed by female pilots. They usually had much more of a struggle than their male counterparts to achieve the same ranks and stature. At least in the Confederacy. Things were slowly changing as the Neu Engollian Defense Forces became more gender integrated, but old traditional ways were tough to chip away at.
"Excuse me for changing topic, but I am most curious...what bird do you typically fly in your service? I'm assuming you are a pilot, of course...Forgive me if that's not the case."

Faye smiled and nodded.
"I am indeed a pilot - usually for the Veilbhit-I, but as of late, I am also engaged as a part-time test pilot for the Veilbhit-II over in Traverse.", she explained with confidence, "They are both ground-attack aircraft and... I like it. Rushing deep over the ground with nothing more but my own skill over hills and trees and with a screaming WSO in the back, rushing with maximum speed and pelting them with shells."
She shook her head. "I'm rambling, sorry, Sir.", she said and blushed lightly, "If I may ask, Sir, which aircraft do you normally fly?"

[Christoslavia]

Airbase T11, Tiyas, Riysa
November 11, 2016, 19:00 Local Time

Christoslavia had always been an international pariah ever since the incident with Brasilistan, and Deputy Marshall Steven Ral was well aware of this fact. It still boggled him as to why Christoslavia was going to have a seat at this exercise but he knew it best not to question SUPREME OVERLORD, as the loudspeakers back home say, Dissent is Treason.

Regardless, Deputy Marshall Ral was honored that his leader had handpicked him to represent the CAF at this exercise. Ral knew he had to impress, Christoslavia had one of the strongest militaries in the world, the global 1%, and if he so much as spoke out of line, or did anything to jeopardize Christoslavia's reputation as a military powerhouse, he'd be executed as soon as he set foot back in Christoslavia.

"Hell, maybe Commander Sarten might even get my job", Ral thought, "That mongrel has always been waiting for me to slip up"

Ral stopped thinking about it, this wasn't good, he needed to focus on the positives. While on the X-17 Dual Role Attack/Transport Helicopter, one of the finest in the Air Force, he made sure the creases on his trousers were perfect, that his blouse was wrinkle free. his tie knot perfect, cap on straight, and his medals and ribbons in perfect order. The Riysians were ones to impress so we needed to return the favor, looking like a slob in front of this much decadence would be intolerable.

As Ral looked out at the compound, the reflection of a particular medal caught his eye, the Star of Honor, granted for being the pilot who dropped the first plane based nukes on Brasilistan. He didn't like to think about it, Ral would do anything for SUPREME OVERLORD and Christoslavia but he couldn't help but picture all his comrades. Everyone he befriended at the Academy was killed in one way or another, Kal shot down by an enemy fighter, Reen killed in a bombing, and Zaren...Ral wouldn't forget the incompetent Captain who's danger close fire mission order killed his best friend. Ral made sure that Captain was beheaded for his incompetence, the Brass sympathized.

Ral looked at the crows feet under his eyes, so bright in his youth but dulled to an almost periwinkle from how much war ages a man. The wrinkles around his mouth, the streaks of grey in his neatly cropped hair, he never put any thought into how much 25 years of fighting ages a man, he was only 45 but looked and felt 70.

"Sir, we need to go" one of Ral's lieutenants said to him from the cockpit. "It never ends does it? Alright open the door". Ral stepped out of the helicopter and into the compound where the dozens of other diplomats and military leaders were waiting, Ral shook General Rabah's hand and thanked him. As he took his seat he thought to himself "Now this is where the fun begins".

[The United Remnants of America]

As the Lieutenants took their seats beside each other at a table roughly midway between the door and the rectangular table at the front of the room where the Riysian commanders sat, Commander Jenson's hair on the back of her neck stood on end, causing her to look around. Eyes were on her, and she quickly found the source in a man who appeared to be younger than her own age of 45. His eyes locked with hers and he smiled wide as he approached and reached out with his hand. Jenson wondered to herself whether he was expecting an international handshake or a Remnant handshake that involved grabbing the wrist rather than cupping the hand; a traditional greeting in the URA stemming from a time when hidden blades were concealed in bracelets and sleeves.

He introduced himself as Major Finnegan Dóire, and when he said "Sligo," Jenson recognized his origin before he said it. He was Selkie. Jenson filed away how his accent sounded when he spoke. She'd read briefings that included Selkies before, but since she couldn't recall any major governmental or military interaction between the Selkie tribes and the URA, there wasn't much other than overview information. Jenson gently took the Major's hand and shook it once in the international greeting, nodding as she did so.

"Hello, Major. I'm Commander Stephanie Jenson, Remnant Navy, 6^th Fleet," Jenson assumed mentioning her fleet meant little to him, but the 6^th Fleet was the most experienced and practiced fleet in the Remnant Navy. "I take it you're CO of one of the units here? I'm just observing."

[The Selkie]

As the Lieutenants took their seats beside each other at a table roughly midway between the door and the rectangular table at the front of the room where the Riysian commanders sat, Commander Jenson's hair on the back of her neck stood on end, causing her to look around. Eyes were on her, and she quickly found the source in a man who appeared to be younger than her own age of 45. His eyes locked with hers and he smiled wide as he approached and reached out with his hand. Jenson wondered to herself whether he was expecting an international handshake or a Remnant handshake that involved grabbing the wrist rather than cupping the hand; a traditional greeting in the URA stemming from a time when hidden blades were concealed in bracelets and sleeves.

He introduced himself as Major Finnegan Dóire, and when he said "Sligo," Jenson recognized his origin before he said it. He was Selkie. Jenson filed away how his accent sounded when he spoke. She'd read briefings that included Selkies before, but since she couldn't recall any major governmental or military interaction between the Selkie tribes and the URA, there wasn't much other than overview information. Jenson gently took the Major's hand and shook it once in the international greeting, nodding as she did so.

"Hello, Major. I'm Commander Stephanie Jenson, Remnant Navy, 6^th Fleet," Jenson assumed mentioning her fleet meant little to him, but the 6^th Fleet was the most experienced and practiced fleet in the Remnant Navy. "I take it you're CO of one of the units here? I'm just observing."

The Major shook his head with a charming smile. "Actually no, I am an observer, too.", he explained, "The SDF debated for quite some time, wheather we should participate or just watch and decided to have keen eyes here, namely myself, one of my best pilots and Brigadier Eitil."
The URA 6th Fleet did ring a few bells with Dóire, mainly because they had been in several operations, which he analyzed with the publically available data along the way. They had a reputation within the SDF, that was for sure. Meanwhile, their governments interacted very little with each other, so it was highly possible, that he was currently establishing the real contact.
His handshake was firm, if a bit awkward as he as a Selkie was not really used to that gesture.
"She leads us here.", he continued with his explanation, "Next year, if our gracious hosts allow us to come here, we will participate and hopefully, I get to lead a squadron into the air - if we need rotary wings, that is." He chuckled. "How about you, Commander? Do your people plan to come again next year?"

[Aquitayne]

T11 Air Base, Riysa

"God damnit, Grech. Now we're going to be late."

Major Reina, a rather tall gentleman, scoffed at his subordinate's lack of coordination, which resulted in a very red cranberry juice stain on his dress shirt. It would end up taking ten minutes or so, but eventually the stain was mostly gone and with a quick blow from a hair dryer the shirt was dried and they were ready to move on to the reception area. The other young officers, mostly the squadron executive officers, the battery lieutenants and the assorted pilots, of course, were already waiting down in the concourse for the trio's arrival. They had been told to report at 17:50, and it was now approaching 19:10 hours. The beauty of being at the top of command is that you're never late, only on time.

The Aquitaynian delegation for the Desert Hawks 2016 exercise was lead by Major Reina, the commanding officer of the 75th Fighter Squadron, a world-class fighting unit that had seen action over Insula Fera during the 2013 Invasion of Pangus and subsequent Greater Insula Feran Conflict. Additionally, the unit had been rapidly deployed at the onset of the Aswickan Civil War, and had fought hard to engage enemy surface-to-air missile systems and destroy vital lines of communication. The unit had been awarded many decorations and awards, and the pilots of the unit were well-decorated.

Reina had wondered why she was sent as the commanding officer for the delegation, but she had settled on a calm reality that the Aquitaynian-Riysan alliance was strong enough and cordial enough that the necessity for sending flag-staff officers wasn't deemed a necessity, and rather the commander of the unit itself would represent the nation just as well. Even so, Reina wasn't expecting anything special for himself or the other officers. Though the alliance was incredibly strong, it wasn't quite the union Aquitayne shared with Symphonia, where customs dictated higher status officers and a much better seat at the figurative table.

Nevertheless, Reina was content with his mission here in Riysa and he was excited to get the operation under way. He knew his pilots were eager to prove themselves to the other competitors, even though they had already proven their mettle in the hellfire of combat. It was a matter of pride. Sure, they had dodged SAM missiles and dropped bombs in crowded cities with minimal civilian casualties, but their opponents had never particularly had a formidable air force to fight against. It was here that their real piloting skills would be put to the test, and they were ready.

Reina and the two other commanding officers, Major Alyssa Cornara and Captain Thomas Grech, came down the upper concourse stairs and into the main room where the delegation was waiting. Looking over his troops quickly and without too much detail, Reina nodded and smiled. "Have fun in there guys. Tomorrow, they're your competition." He could see the eyes in his pilots light up with excitement at the prospect, and he knew it was going to be an excellent evening and training exercise.

The group made their way into the reception hall where it appeared that they were, quite frankly, incredibly late. Copious groups of people were already mingling. Reina let his pilots wander off towards the bar or other groups of young pilots to chat, while he himself looked through the crowd for the Riysan general. Eyeing him a little ways through the room, Reina dispatched Grech and Cornara and made his way over. "Sir, Major Arkan Reina. Let me first say it's a pleasure to be here, and secondly let me apologize for our lateness. I spilled some cranberry juice on my blouse and didn't want to appear unkempt."

[The United Remnants of America]

The Commander smiled and nodded through Major Dóire's explanation and offered a thin smile, "To be quiet honest, I can't say whether we will or not. Most of our Air Force has been under renovations for quite a while, and actually, I've been one of the lead planners for the reorganization. I think if we did come back next year, we'd be here to show off the thing I have the most experience with, the Shark Talon, since it's the only locally-made fighter. It might not be the best thing on the market, but it's economical, and we're proud of it. So who knows? Maybe next year, Selkie and Remnant pilots will fly alongside each other? That is, if an ocean forms nearby so we can park our carrier here." Jenson raised an eyebrow, her smile breaking into a more friendly form of itself.

The Shark Talon was the R-15 Carrier Defense Fighter, a Remnant aircraft, and the first one developed from the ground up in the URA rather than just being a local copy. The R-15 was first and foremost a carrier-based fighter aircraft, designed to be used to defend the larger Titan-class aircraft carriers in the Remnant Navy. As a primarily defensive aircraft, they probably weren't the best thing, as Jenson said, but they did their job, and they did it cheaply. The joke in the military was that the pilots' jumpsuits were worth more than their aircraft.

[Neu Engollon]

Faye smiled and nodded.
"I am indeed a pilot - usually for the Veilbhit-I, but as of late, I am also engaged as a part-time test pilot for the Veilbhit-II over in Traverse.", she explained with confidence, "They are both ground-attack aircraft and... I like it. Rushing deep over the ground with nothing more but my own skill over hills and trees and with a screaming WSO in the back, rushing with maximum speed and pelting them with shells."
She shook her head. "I'm rambling, sorry, Sir.", she said and blushed lightly, "If I may ask, Sir, which aircraft do you normally fly?"

The two Neu Engollians chuckled. Their Gaul colleague had wandered over to another group, not out of disinterest, but in the interest of furthering connections for the Teremarans.
De Perle trailed off into a smile,
"Oh...my dear Captain, you are a true pilot. Ramble away. I think that Commander Goermann and myself understand very well the feelings you are describing."

"Very much so, yes." Goermann agreed. "I am a naval aviator...Yes, little Neu Engollon has a navy. Believe it. So, for me, riding just above the waves gives me the same rushing feeling. I started flying Gripens, as that was the standard fighter for both the Navy and Air Force. Then we got the Warriors, I've taken a spin in the Krakens and Tanans, too. Yet to get in a Shrike, but I hope to soon."

Colonel De Perle smiled wistfully,
"Oh those days. Still a good plane, the Gripen, we still have some NEF-29s in service. We had the Viggens before that, I started on those. By the time the Shrikes and Warriors were getting introduced into the NEDF, I was mostly flying a desk. I miss my flying days. They don't let Colonels fly too often. I have to find an excuse to get in the cockpit, then my bosses, the Generals, usually tell me to stop screwing around and keep the paperwork flowing."

Lt. Commander Goermann slightly turned to his NEDF compatriot, thinking to make a comment on the sad ennui laden statement, but he held his tongue.

[The Selkie]

The Commander smiled and nodded through Major Dóire's explanation and offered a thin smile, "To be quiet honest, I can't say whether we will or not. Most of our Air Force has been under renovations for quite a while, and actually, I've been one of the lead planners for the reorganization. I think if we did come back next year, we'd be here to show off the thing I have the most experience with, the Shark Talon, since it's the only locally-made fighter. It might not be the best thing on the market, but it's economical, and we're proud of it. So who knows? Maybe next year, Selkie and Remnant pilots will fly alongside each other? That is, if an ocean forms nearby so we can park our carrier here." Jenson raised an eyebrow, her smile breaking into a more friendly form of itself.

The Shark Talon was the R-15 Carrier Defense Fighter, a Remnant aircraft, and the first one developed from the ground up in the URA rather than just being a local copy. The R-15 was first and foremost a carrier-based fighter aircraft, designed to be used to defend the larger Titan-class aircraft carriers in the Remnant Navy. As a primarily defensive aircraft, they probably weren't the best thing, as Jenson said, but they did their job, and they did it cheaply. The joke in the military was that the pilots' jumpsuits were worth more than their aircraft.

The Major nodded, highly interested. He had heard of the R-15, a cheap defensive aircraft for the Remnant Naval Aviation - but then again, a shield could also be used to bash a head in, so 'defense aircraft' was a relative term, if one asked him.
"I sure hope so.", he said and smiled, "I might be a helicopter pilot, but we have a few tricks up our sleeves as well..." He chuckled darkly, making it clear, that he was serious and joking at the same time. "No easy pickings there, with or without carrier parked nearby. We recently made reforms with the SDF as well, named after the architect of them, General Niochan. He restructured the entire SDF in one go - this..." He made a sweeping gesture, encompassing the room, "...is one of the points of it, further participation on exercises with foreign nations."

Faye smiled and nodded.
"I am indeed a pilot - usually for the Veilbhit-I, but as of late, I am also engaged as a part-time test pilot for the Veilbhit-II over in Traverse.", she explained with confidence, "They are both ground-attack aircraft and... I like it. Rushing deep over the ground with nothing more but my own skill over hills and trees and with a screaming WSO in the back, rushing with maximum speed and pelting them with shells."
She shook her head. "I'm rambling, sorry, Sir.", she said and blushed lightly, "If I may ask, Sir, which aircraft do you normally fly?"

The two Neu Engollians chuckled. Their Gaul colleague had wandered over to another group, not out of disinterest, but in the interest of furthering connections for the Teremarans.
De Perle trailed off into a smile,
"Oh...my dear Captain, you are a true pilot. Ramble away. I think that Commander Goermann and myself understand very well the feelings you are describing."

"Very much so, yes." Goermann agreed. "I am a naval aviator...Yes, little Neu Engollon has a navy. Believe it. So, for me, riding just above the waves gives me the same rushing feeling. I started flying Gripens, as that was the standard fighter for both the Navy and Air Force. Then we got the Warriors, I've taken a spin in the Krakens and Tanans, too. Yet to get in a Shrike, but I hope to soon."

Colonel De Perle smiled wistfully,
"Oh those days. Still a good plane, the Gripen, we still have some NEF-29s in service. We had the Viggens before that, I started on those. By the time the Shrikes and Warriors were getting introduced into the NEDF, I was mostly flying a desk. I miss my flying days. They don't let Colonels fly too often. I have to find an excuse to get in the cockpit, then my bosses, the Generals, usually tell me to stop screwing around and keep the paperwork flowing."

Lt. Commander Goermann slightly turned to his NEDF compatriot, thinking to make a comment on the sad ennui laden statement, but he held his tongue.

"For us, flying generals are common - ask Brigadier Eitil, she still flies patrols.", she explained with a smile, which turned sad for a moment. "Not as often as anyone would like, but she still does."
Faye took a moment to look over to her commanding officer, before she looked back to her conversation partners, changing the topic a bit. "I was trained on old transport planes, believe it or not, before they let my fly the Veilbhit - and that was my... destiny, I would like to say, but that would overstate it a bit..." She laughed sheepishly. "I learned how to fly from my Mom, though, she has an old floatplane and was a pilot for an airline when she was around my age. I did have my share of test flights in foreign planes, though, but I doubt that many of them would tell you anything. How is it to fly the Kraken, though?"
She was highly interested in the Kraken, due to several reasons, but mostly it was simple: Speed. The rush of air passing by. She would do many things to have a spin in one of these things.

[New Aeyariss]

*** Airbase T11, Tiyas, Riysa
111819BRAVONOV16

As the discussions between the pilots filled the cantina like a joyful singing of the birds in the park, another set of figures entered it - quietly, with the leading one lustrating the entire room with a pair of green eyes gazing from beneath dark, unruly hair positioned on top of his small head, under which rested a face with extended cheekbones, visible Nihonese carnation that when coupled with oval face given him almost textbook look of how the westerners would imagine person from the land of the blazing sun. Indeed, 34 year old ichi-i Otsuki Taro was rather careful about his behaviour, although eager to have fun before the day of combat he thirsted to see. After all, alongside the rest of the Nihonese crew he was a 1st class pilot, something for which at least 550 flying hours and 1200 sorties, usually achieved in 6 years of frontline service were required. That very fact meant that Riysans will face best what Nihon had to offer, a restless foe that will show them no mercy.

Both air forces knew each other quite well - Taro flew with Riysans already during times, partaking in termination of communist presence across the globe. The fact that both forces knew had so big knowledge of each other contributed to even greater desire for the Nihonese pilots to prove themselves in combat against ones with whom they shared a friendly rivalry, alongside a great degree of respect. On the other hand, there was no chance any of the pilots was going to bring dishonor to the Imperial Nihonese Army Air Arm, even if achieving it meant a heroic loss against overwhelming Riysan force - and about the skill of Riysans, no Nihonese had any doubt.

The real reason why the Captain so much wanted to take part in the exercises, however, was because several hours earlier several A18T - also known as Type Zero by the kaigun - landed on the sand covered airstrip under the warm, tropical sun, ready to begin first public combat performance of the famed Nihonese fighter. Recent conflicts were waged mostly by air arm of the Kaigun, thus why Army Air Arm - which was in fact name of an independent air force branch - had no chance to test A18T in combat yet, with Imperial Nihonese Navy's Tenrais taking everything upon themselves.

Should he score a success in the following days, a great honor would be won for him, his family, Imperial Nihonese Army Air Arm, and above all, Nihon.

But so far, the Captain entered with his two colleagues to the bar, just to relax before the fighting. All of them were on strict 36h no - drinking, no-sex policy before the flight. Discipline in the Imperial Nihonese Army was very harsh, and none of them wanted to earn additional leashes with a bamboo stick on their backs, nor bring dishonor to their nation. But, in addition to relaxation, the place offered them a chance to socialize with other nations, thus contributing to teamwork, and gather some intelligence on their opponents.

So far, they only sat down in the corner, talking among themselves and telling each other their exploits in the skies of Poland, Timurovsky, and many other conflicts....

[Neu Engollon]

"For us, flying generals are common - ask Brigadier Eitil, she still flies patrols.", Captain Ainnir explained with a smile, which turned sad for a moment. "Not as often as anyone would like, but she still does."

De Perle responded,
"Your generals are lucky. I think for our Air Force, it's a matter that there's more personnel than there are aircraft. The younger, more agile, sharper pilots are given preference. That's the official line, anyway, but senior officers such as myself and Lt. Commander Goermann I would hesitate to say are any 'less sharp', as our experience far outweighs our age declined acuity."

Goermann agreed,
"That and there's not much opportunity for us to fly - The current administration put a clamp on any more neutrality violations such as our past peacekeeping ventures...Then there's the occasional cross border incidents with the Austraks, our eastern neighbors. That's about it for combat flying beyond the usual patrols and training. We get the small trickle of pilots that have left for private employ..." He was alluding to the USG and other such PMCs that maintained air wings, "...and come back after a period. There's no official policy in place and they might deny it, but the NEDF is glad to get small batches of combat seasoned veterans in to mentor the up and coming pilots. It's been that way for decades. So, for those reasons, the senior officers tend to be relegated to the paperpushing so the younger pilots can get as many flight hours as possible."

Faye took a moment to look over to her commanding officer, before she looked back to her conversation partners, changing the topic a bit. "I was trained on old transport planes, believe it or not, before they let my fly the Veilbhit - and that was my... destiny, I would like to say, but that would overstate it a bit..." She laughed sheepishly. "I learned how to fly from my Mom, though, she has an old floatplane and was a pilot for an airline when she was around my age. I did have my share of test flights in foreign planes, though, but I doubt that many of them would tell you anything. How is it to fly the Kraken, though?"

Goermann locked eyes with the young Selkie Captain,
"You have led an interesting life with an interesting family for one so young. The Halcyon built FAS-26 Kraken?" (It was redesignated the NEF-206 Kraken in the NEDN)...Hmm. It's quite an aircraft. It is not built for altitude, but quite the opposite. It is a wave skimmer, but due to the elimination of need for altitude, it can hold a much heavier load than traditional multi-role bombers. The giant, one shot ship killer missiles that are usually ship or land based. It's a stealthy ship killer, for sure. It's no secret that the NEDN has a good compliment of them, as with a small navy, that is one of the ways we can even the odds in a fierce, full on fight with an aggressor at sea. I was one of the first test pilots for the NEDN to try them out. I will tell you this...That sudden drop towards the drink after launch off the carriers? It's not for the faint of heart. It's something one has to get used to. That and the lack of rapid up and down maneuverability, but at the level, small shifts in horizontal flying make a big difference. It is not like flying any other type of aircraft. We lost one aircraft and pilot early in trials. His subconscious drove him to try to hotrod and climb suddenly, which would be acceptable in a regular multi-role fighter. This caused the Kraken aircraft to upend and cartwheel, breaking up in the surf. It was horrific to watch..." Goermann's eyes went to a distant place as his voice trailed off and softened.

[The Selkie]

"For us, flying generals are common - ask Brigadier Eitil, she still flies patrols.", Captain Ainnir explained with a smile, which turned sad for a moment. "Not as often as anyone would like, but she still does."

De Perle responded,
"Your generals are lucky. I think for our Air Force, it's a matter that there's more personnel than there are aircraft. The younger, more agile, sharper pilots are given preference. That's the official line, anyway, but senior officers such as myself and Lt. Commander Goermann I would hesitate to say are any 'less sharp', as our experience far outweighs our age declined acuity."

Goermann agreed,
"That and there's not much opportunity for us to fly - The current administration put a clamp on any more neutrality violations such as our past peacekeeping ventures...Then there's the occasional cross border incidents with the Austraks, our eastern neighbors. That's about it for combat flying beyond the usual patrols and training. We get the small trickle of pilots that have left for private employ..." He was alluding to the USG and other such PMCs that maintained air wings, "...and come back after a period. There's no official policy in place and they might deny it, but the NEDF is glad to get small batches of combat seasoned veterans in to mentor the up and coming pilots. It's been that way for decades. So, for those reasons, the senior officers tend to be relegated to the paperpushing so the younger pilots can get as many flight hours as possible."

Faye took a moment to look over to her commanding officer, before she looked back to her conversation partners, changing the topic a bit. "I was trained on old transport planes, believe it or not, before they let my fly the Veilbhit - and that was my... destiny, I would like to say, but that would overstate it a bit..." She laughed sheepishly. "I learned how to fly from my Mom, though, she has an old floatplane and was a pilot for an airline when she was around my age. I did have my share of test flights in foreign planes, though, but I doubt that many of them would tell you anything. How is it to fly the Kraken, though?"

Goermann locked eyes with the young Selkie Captain,
"You have led an interesting life with an interesting family for one so young. The Halcyon built FAS-26 Kraken?" (It was redesignated the NEF-206 Kraken in the NEDN)...Hmm. It's quite an aircraft. It is not built for altitude, but quite the opposite. It is a wave skimmer, but due to the elimination of need for altitude, it can hold a much heavier load than traditional multi-role bombers. The giant, one shot ship killer missiles that are usually ship or land based. It's a stealthy ship killer, for sure. It's no secret that the NEDN has a good compliment of them, as with a small navy, that is one of the ways we can even the odds in a fierce, full on fight with an aggressor at sea. I was one of the first test pilots for the NEDN to try them out. I will tell you this...That sudden drop towards the drink after launch off the carriers? It's not for the faint of heart. It's something one has to get used to. That and the lack of rapid up and down maneuverability, but at the level, small shifts in horizontal flying make a big difference. It is not like flying any other type of aircraft. We lost one aircraft and pilot early in trials. His subconscious drove him to try to hotrod and climb suddenly, which would be acceptable in a regular multi-role fighter. This caused the Kraken aircraft to upend and cartwheel, breaking up in the surf. It was horrific to watch..." Goermann's eyes went to a distant place as his voice trailed off and softened.

Faye supressed a wince.
It indeed did not sound pleasant to watch, especially from what she knew about the Kraken from articles, media and the official product page on Halcyon Arms. Still, she was thankful for the information, but as Faye was used to flying close to the waves, thanks to flying floatplanes in a plentitude of low occupations, it would hopefully be little of a problem.
Hopefully, she would one day at least be able to put her hand on a Kraken's outer hull.
"My condolences.", she said in a comforting tone, "We, too, lost a few people during trials and tests of new aircraft, but that is part of why such things are done. I remember them with fondness, as they ride Mag Mell."

[Riysa]

More and more participants kept piling in, taking the time to greet each other before the reception officially started. Soldiers of nations that had never interacted before were acting like they were seeing old friends. That was good - as the allied force, they'd have to coordinate with each other extensively. Best to get started on it immediately, rather than waiting until a (simulated) missile was bearing down on your cockpit.

"Walaikum al-salaam." Both of the generals responded to the Pakiranistanis, kissing each other on the cheek three times after returning the salute. The last to announce their participation, but certainly not the least interesting of those here, they came with their small delegation to gain practical combat experience for defending their borders, and as metaphorical brothers it fell to the Riysians to help teach them it. "Sit wherever you desire. Our table is there." Sinan pointed towards the Riysian "command table". He was especially interested in them; the F-16s and JF-17s weren't flashy like the myriad of stealth and 5th generation fighters present, but they were practical, cheap, and the F-16 in particular had a good reputation. Seeing them in action would be telling, especially as they represented a nation similar in capabilities to the simulated OPFOR of the exercise.

The Hutanjians, Teremarans, and Confederates stepped through nearly at the same time. All three of these nations had long-standing, good relations with Riysa, with Hutanjia and Neu Engollon even operating Riysian-made aircraft, so they had been invited to take part alongside everyone else. Seeing as they were already catching up with other people, Talal and Sinan just waved them on after giving them the greeting - there'd be more chances to talk later.

Eitil smiled at the greeting, placing a hand above her heart and bowing her head. "Thank you, General, it is our pleasure to be here.", she said, her nearly white hair hiding her face for a moment, "Mister Crionna and Miss Sciamhach spoke very highly of Riysa. I would love to talk to you later, but I am afraid, that you have other guests to attend to for now."
With that, she nodded to the officer and went onwards. She liked it here, so far, the people were nice.
The good Major did not, as the Riysian Air Force lacked female officers and crew - regardless, he was not here to charm the living daylights out of their friend's pilots, if he was honest (he would still do, if the chance presented itself, though).
"Split up.", Eitil commanded with a smile, in a whisper over her shoulder. And that was, what the blue-clad SDF-officers did.

The Major had already locked onto a target, a tall woman in the uniform of the Remnant Air Force, her blonde hair tied to a ponytail. Professional and cold, grey uniform... the Major was not on his way to charm her, but to talk to her.
He smiled, as he approached. "Good evening.", he greeted, extending his hand a bit awkwardly, as this foreigner custom was not really usual amongst the Selkie. "Major Finnegan Dóire of the Tribe of Sligo, SDF-Army Air Service, at your service."

Faye afforded the attention to the Neu Engollians, returning the salute and shaking hands, smiling.
"Good evening, Sirs.", she said, trying to make a good first impression as she looked available for talking, standing around and watching the buzzing around her. Amongst so many high-ranking military officers, she felt a bit out of place as a mere Captain. "Wonderful evening, isn't it? Couldn't be a better weather for flying."

The Brigadier meanwhile went to one of the tables and sat down with a smile, looking available for being joined in sitting around and talking.
The more she looked at this exercise, the more she wanted to participate next year, leading the force sent by the SDF, if they were to. However, this year, she would watch as good as she could, thinking about how to apply everything to the small SDF and their Army Air Service and the SDF-Navy Aviation Command. Commodore Eitleoir, their head, asked her to watch especially for their rotary-wing aircraft, as that was the main-equipment of the Naval Aviation at sea as they did not have full-fledged aircraft carriers, despite SDY building the Beag for everyone willing to pay the price (and the SDF was not willing).
Next year... next year would be different, she knew it.

"The pleasure is ours." Talal responded to Eitil. "I'm happy that our predecessors made such a positive impression on your people, and I hope we continue the good tradition with Desert Hawks. The weather will be a bit different over here than what you all are probably used to, but it shouldn't be too discomforting. Enjoy your stay!" Moving them on, they turned to face the next guests.

"Happy to meet you, Major. You're still on time, so there's nothing to worry about." Talal said. Both generals were happy that they had taken the time to get the stain out; in a formal Riysian occasion, being late wasn't normally an issue unless foreigners were involved, but showing up sloppily dressed or messy? It conveyed massive disrespect. "Go ahead and find a seat wherever you want." Sinan said. "We'll be starting shortly."

Having seen the Nifonese - another SACTO nation, and perhaps the most determined opponent they'd face, Sinan reckoned - inside, both of the generals returned back to their table, getting ready to start with the program. Instinctively, the colonels stood up and saluted, before being waved back down to sit. At their table, Talal shuffled some papers with his speech and notes written on them, giving them a good look over. The Vietnamese and Atmaerans hadn't arrived yet, and the FAPAF had backed out at the last moment, but virtually everyone else was here. Just give it a moment, and then he'd start.

The Brigadier meanwhile went to one of the tables and sat down with a smile, looking available for being joined in sitting around and talking.
The more she looked at this exercise, the more she wanted to participate next year, leading the force sent by the SDF, if they were to. However, this year, she would watch as good as she could, thinking about how to apply everything to the small SDF and their Army Air Service and the SDF-Navy Aviation Command. Commodore Eitleoir, their head, asked her to watch especially for their rotary-wing aircraft, as that was the main-equipment of the Naval Aviation at sea as they did not have full-fledged aircraft carriers, despite SDY building the Beag for everyone willing to pay the price (and the SDF was not willing).
Next year... next year would be different, she knew it.

At that odd table sat a few Riysian pilots in their dress uniforms, sipping their ice water and making small talk. From appearance, they looked a little older than your average non-Riysian pilot, with their age lying somewhere in their late twenties to early thirties, with one of the four appearing around 35. Sensing the approach of someone from the corner of his eye, the older one turned his head towards the walking brigadier. Tapping one of his compatriots on the shoulder, he stood up, saying Tahiya! in a low voice to not disturb the other tables, the others quickly standing up as well.

[The Selkie]

[...]

At that odd table sat a few Riysian pilots in their dress uniforms, sipping their ice water and making small talk. From appearance, they looked a little older than your average non-Riysian pilot, with their age lying somewhere in their late twenties to early thirties, with one of the four appearing around 35. Sensing the approach of someone from the corner of his eye, the older one turned his head towards the walking brigadier. Tapping one of his compatriots on the shoulder, he stood up, saying Tahiya! in a low voice to not disturb the other tables, the others quickly standing up as well.

Eitil, having seen the people noting her approach, smiled friendly, softly rolling her shoulders to adjust the uniform for a bit.
The group had been talking amongst each others up to that point, about what was not clear to her, the men looking somewhere around 35 and a bit younger, but none of them being as young as Faye. It looked like a nice group, she had to say.
"Good evening, gentlemen!", she greeted them with friendlyness, "Mind if I sit with you?"