____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
- A C T 1 - "M E R C E N A R I E S"
van der Kaap Airstrip, 15km NW of Sofía, Duchy of Canguari
JANUARY 5, 422
__________________________________
"And that all we've bled for
is coming undone"—President Strickland's last words following his assassination, A.C. 399
Distant she was from the revelling wastrels of Torch City, coke-powdery cigsmoke-tinged scenes of amour propre neobrutalist cocktail bars, far-removed phantasmagoric engrams lingering at the corners of Adeline's mind still, reminders of how life had been before. Long ago it'd felt — yet it was only a mere two years' bygone memory. Furthest away lay the memories of home — of Canten. Faded mind-visions resided of the small town ethos, sights and sounds of a simpler, hard-working life evoking patriotic nostalgia.
Gone now were these hypnagogic, oniric reminiscences — replaced by the stark reality of Adeline's situation. van der Kaap Airstrip's amenities left much to be desired, especially in the discomforting swelter of what was, in the southern Hemisphere, the heart of Summer. Sweating buckets was a good way of putting it. Air conditioning system forever unresponding, at least a half-century past its service life, Adeline could help little but sigh at just how much of a nuisance 'living' in this place, or as she might call it, a 'shithole', was — a story of its own. Her belief lay firmly in the supremacy of the Euphemian state - its voluntary degrees of demobilization serving only to feed her disillusionment with the great nation to which she owed her livelihood. Nations south of Red Pine were but mere distortions and imitations of the true, unfaltering model of civilization that the Federal States was built upon. They were assigned here now in Canguari, the damp armpit of the southern continent, operating on the fiscal benevolence of the Central Government. That was not to imply the 'Central Government' was the Duke of Canguari — rather the Central Government was an eldritch abomination of bureaucratic wings, annexes, and offices with metaphorical tendril-like limbs merging government, military and religion, seeping ominously into every echelon of the tropical nation's society.
For it was the Central Government's wealth that had brought them, and by extent, the McLellan-Kuron Corporation, here. Promises of gold and diamonds built upon conflict and the toiling backs of 'generation-slaves' were appealing to most in pursuit of profit. The Euphemian Dream wasn't always the easiest dream one could aspire towards. That was where the lower echelons of the civilizational strata came into play. Though the military's expeditionary prospects became narrower, there were no shortage of men and women swooned by sweet promises of adventure and money — they'd find both in places like the Contested Territory. The Contested Territory, the Valley, the Lawless Zone — there were no shortage of terms used to refer to the resource-rich stretch of territory that had been disputed by Canguari, Floriana and Velezia for centuries — perhaps even predating the Calamity itself. The natives simply called it La Zona... the Zone.
The Zone had it all: drug cartels, commie gunslingers, a few mixes thereof, the Velezian Army (angry sons-of-bitches they were), Canguarian Security Forces, Florianan Army, Sermonist shadow armies spreading the Good Word, natives — and much, much more that served to give this lawless territory an aura of venturesome mystique. Their job was as simple as it was on paper, really: shoot planes out of the sky and flatten villages. Who lived there and what armies held said places mattered little in comparison to the payout said jobs incurred.
Already Adeline was rather accoutered for their first real sortie today, dressing for the occasion accordingly. A man at the airstrip would deliver the briefing in a half-hour's time, to which Adeline was making certain her uniform and equipment were in order. Word was he was like them; a gringo from the north. Unlike them, however, he'd lived in the south Ophiric nation for decades, and had come to comprehend the language, culture and customs of the country as if it were the back of his hands. Former Central Bureau of Intelligence, shady spook types ever apparent, Adeline could wisely guess the man was a relic of a better time — a free-traveling do-what-thou-wilt hedonist, yes, but a wise one seeking liberation of one's essence through gnosis, mindful of his duties and responsibilities.
Uniform code resembled an odd, well-designed hybrid of typical kitsch businesswear attire and a flightsuit. Too fancy and intricate for mil-types, but well within the ludicrous opulence of the Corporation. Dark naval blue suitpants caressing her form as they tightened on the belt's press, soon complemented by shirt and flight-coat. Harness belts clicked as she geared up for what was to come, checking the dim fluorescent glow of her wristwatch to note the time. Soon everything would fall into motion — and Adeline liked being ready sooner.
Outside her quarters, the corridor was silent, save for the low hum of dingy fluorescent bulbs above. Unusually quiet — typically the dingy, faded features of the passageway had sporadically about them Canguarian troops, talking in their own bastard-language amongst themselves only to shoot the occasion compliment in broken Euphemian. They weren't bad compliments, but they weren't good compliments, either.
A door along the hall opening signified the end of this silence, a familiar face emerging from one of the various rooms situated along the corridor. Aviator sunglasses and beard a dead giveaway, Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers was the Squadron Manager of the unit, putting him just a notch above Adeline herself. What she hadn't learned in the training manuals, she'd learned with him. He was exceptional at what Corporate policy demanded of him — fluent in five languages, he handled most of the communication with the locals down here.
"Secretary Squadron Manager Crozier." He acknowledged her presence as they continued on to the briefing.
"Powers." Acknowledging her superior in turn, they continued on through the barracks, the other two pilots pertaining to the squadron emerging from their respective quarters. This would be the first time Adeline would work with them. Anthony Jarvis I-Want-it-That-Way R. Houston and Lynn Newton Sad! Air-Supply C. Easton were, from what she'd assessed in their records, an Augustan and a Westlander respectively. Homestate, race, religion and creed mattered little in the Corporation.
"So, who exactly is this Pecks guy?" Lynn questioned, eyebrow raised in fascinated curiosity at the question of the man who'd be briefing them.
"Former CBI. Second-in-Command to the Duke of Canguari, basically." Replied Ricky, leading the group of pilots out of the barracks. Immediately came the midsummer swelter, blazing sun bearing down on the pilots. Adeline was quick to shield her eyes briefly from the brightness. Walking on to the hangar in question, the squadron manager continued. "...man's said the Duke's sitting on a few centuries' worth of gold. Some of it will be ours, if we do our job."
"How do the local air forces compare?" Anthony asked, his statement immediately eliciting a hearty chuckle from their superior.
"They don't. Nothing in this place can even compare to our aircraft. We're the masters of the sky here." Leading them inside the hangar, pockets of light glimmering in through corroded holes in the iron roofing of the facility, Ricky quickly moved ahead to shake the hand of an older man as the rest of the unit seated themselves. Once introductions were through, the squadron manager stood beside the former CBI agent as he began the briefing.
A friendly smile made itself apparent on Pecks' aged features, nodding as he greeted the pilots. "Right, uh, good morning, ladies and gentlemen." He paused, adjusting his notes situated at the makeshift podium's desk before continuing. "It's been a long time since I last did a briefing, I apologize. —anyhow. As you might all have figured out, you're a few minutes' flight away from the Zone... pretty damn far from good ol' Euphemie, as you might figure. The Anahí river trails south, carrying with it the bodies of the deceased... right into the Velezian-occupied city of Sanchez. Canguari used to call it theirs 460 years ago — and it is for that reason that the Central Government has elected to utilize the resurgence of the Cortina Roja to destabilize the iron grip the Velezians hold over the city. It's well south of where our forces are, of course — but the Central Government wishes to plan ahead. We're starting by reducing the amount of aircraft the Velezians are capable of deploying... by kicking them out of the skies of the Zone's southern reaches. Most Velezian fighters can't really compete with what you're fielding — do be warned, however, that the Las Playas cell of the Army of the New End Times..." Pecks was referring to a Sermonist paramilitary organization that operated in Canguari, the Zone and neighboring countries. As one might expect, it was a wing of the Central Government — or a subtle hand controlling it... nobody really knew. "...believe the Velezians may be developing something tantamount to a fourteenth-generation fighter in the works. There is little evidence to support this claim thus far, but one can never follow too much precaution. The mission is simple: there are three Velezian flights of the 312th Squadron that frequent the skies over Sanchez: Libertad, Justicia and Independencia. Occasionally they fly north and pester Canguarian air patrols — they've scored almost thirty kills in the past five years, with not a single loss. That's where you come in. Shoot 'em down and RTB. Dismissed!"
With that, Adeline left her seat, hurrying on over to the adjacent hangar where her fighter aircraft rest. The other pilots, obviously, were up to the same. Climbing aboard her aircraft, the systems booted up on their own, recognizing her presence as she seated herself aboard the fourteenth-generation fighter. Unlike the usual military-grade equipment on the field, the CF-71 series of fighter aircraft, operated solely by the Corporation, were fitted with a so-called 'virtual assistant system', or VAS — a conversational assistant system much akin to the systems fitted aboard Euphemian carrier vessels, or Akhmanari multipurpose 'Ancilla' systems.
"VAS, run a preliminary check." Adeline said, leaning back in her seat. The response came soon enough from the digitalized assistant-screen of the cockpit on the righthand side, surrealist bluish visage of a feminine form nodding in turn. This was the Virtual Assistant System, a program that complemented the various features aboard the CF-71A by providing a greater degree of automation and accessibility on the fly. They were depicted in forms truly befitting the revival of cheesy sci-fi action flicks from the early 410s.
"++Understood.++" Swiftly on cue, various systems related to the aircraft were tested in a matter of seconds — from flaps to weapon bays. The report came a mere ten seconds later, letters glowing on one of the various screens in the fighter aircraft's cockpit.
Jet engines coming to life, Adeline allowed the fighter to run its usual processes before flight, the pilot attent to the various screens situated about the cockpit. The crackle of the comm emitted from her headset, chatter commencing from the other pilots.
'Ryko' took the lead, Powers taxiing the aircraft out of its respective hangar and onto the runway. It took a few more seconds for the fourteenth-generation fighter to activate its engines with considerable thrust, gliding upward as it ascended into the heavens above. The roar of her own aircraft's engines reached a crescendo as it came her turn, Adeline bringing her CF-71A fighter onto the runway. As if on cue, she raised the thrust, aircraft boosting across the tarmac as she effortlessly ascended into the sky, the jungles of Canguari below her as she joined 'Ryko' in the skies. It was a pleasant morning, even moreso hundreds of feet in the air and rising as she maneuvered her aircraft upwards.
"++Expect rain in the Zone, light winds of 15mph on the ground.++" The feminine voice of the VAS notified Adeline as they continued onward through the skies of Canguari.
"I see." While most pilots with access to this kind of technology often fraternized with the conversational program, she regarded it for what it was — an asset.
The other two aircraft of the squadron — they were quite heavily undermanned until the corporate bureaucracy decided they merited a full sixteen-craft squadron — ascended to join 'Ryko' and 'Tourian' in the clouds above Canguari as they began their way south.
"++Fun fact: the Central Bureau of Intelligence estimated Velezian Army troopcounts of the previous year to number 295,000.++" The VAS interjected with a factoid as they approached the boundaries of the internationally-recognized southern border of Canguari on the map.
"And what might it be now?" Adeline figured she'd entertain its factoid with a question.
"++400,000.++" This seemed to play into her suspicions that the Velezian military was undergoing some kind of mobilization. The jungles only became denser in the lawless stretch of valley that comprised the Zone, the absence of civilization ever-apparent as the highways thousands of feet below slowly degraded to dirt roads hardly visible through the expanse of rainforest. They were quick to pass the city of Corona, continuing southwest. On the horizon she could already see the distant outline of structures, roads and highways that comprised Sanchez. Like a beacon of light in the uncivilized darkness, it was one of the larger — if not the largest — urban agglomeration in the lawless territory. Being occupied by Velezian forces, it had the defenses one would expect — meaning little, however, to their stealth aircraft.
A tense silence followed as they drew nearer to the city of Sanchez, unmistakeable blips of aircraft appearing on console as the four aircraft approached. They were thousands of feet above the city now, though that mattered little — what mattered more was hunting these Velezian fighters and compromising them to permanent end.
"++Enemy aircraft ahead, 96 kilometres and closing...identified entirely as F-38s. Estimated patrol trajectory aligns best with third flight 'Independencia'.++"
Without hesitation, all four aircraft of the squadron pivoted to engage. Coordination between aircraft was practically seamless, targeting of other CF-71A aircraft digitally depicted to ensure the most practical use of air-to-air missiles.
Locking onto one of the Velezian F-38 fighters — they were rather poor imitations of the much more brilliant, maneuverable Akhmanari N-31KM3 'Darter' fighters, what gems they were — Adeline didn't hesitate to open the internal weapons bay and fire off a missile, which promptly trailed off with impressive speed..
"++Opening the Internal Weapons Bay compromises stealth.++" The VAS reminded her.
"Yeah." She nonchalantly nodded, tapping into enemy comms as they continued forward.
Before the other aircraft of the formation could disperse, the other three fired missiles pertaining Adeline's fellow pilots sweeped in, promptly obliterating the fighters in question. With the blips disappearing from radar, their attention inevitably turned to the other aircraft in the AO.
With that, the squadron set off on a southwestern course, Adeline hardly noticing the city of Sanchez below as they approached the next set of targets.
"++Those planes are going to raise alert in the city. Expect their air defense grid to be up in approximately ten minutes.++" The VAS advised as the group continued on to the next force.
"Ten minutes? I can do this in five." Activating her CF-71A's afterburners, she boosted ahead of the rest of the squadron, gaining a lock on one of the four Velezian aircraft beyond visual range. Once again, she opened the internal weapons bay, quickly being detected by the Velezian formation — promptly firing away a missile and closing the bay once more.
The three remaining aircraft of the Velezian formation were quick to take pursuit towards Adeline's last given position. They approached the location in question as she observed the radar map carefully.
"++Soon you will be detected again.++" The VAS cautioned.
Adeline hesitated for a moment before replying to the program. "That's not the point."
A warning blared from her own systems, the computer alerting her to the fact the enemy was locking on.
"++Nine missiles.++" Adeline largely ignored the voice of her virtual assistant, sharply angling her supermaneuverable aircraft upward and deploying her aircraft's countermeasures — a vast ECM suite paired with a DRFM jamming system that quickly spoofed the missiles in question, sending them towards nonexistant targets to explode in the clouds.
Now that she'd maneuvered, she faced the assailing formation — her AESA radar serving as a jammer that quickly fried one of the aircraft as she passed them by, engines of both aircraft screeching as they crossed paths.
One of the blips abruptly disappeared on the map, 'Ryko' swiftly crossing paths with the Velezian aerial formation. This was enough to further disrupt their pursuit of Adeline's aircraft — her method of baiting had seemingly played out.
Distantly behind her, she could see the burning wreckage of the fighter aircraft in question tumbling into the cloudline below, disappearing entirely as it plunged below the dense thicket of nimbostratus clouds that concealed the deeper features of the valley.
"++I believe I can infer to your intention with this tactic.++" The computerized assistant noted as Adeline persisted, gliding through the skies in elegant maneuvers. She didn't intend to utilize her aircraft's missiles for this one. Emerging from the clouds she approached another one of the fighter aircraft from behind, 20mm Fafnir cannons going live and cutting through the airframe of the F-38 aircraft as if it were paper.
Metal paneling and electronics came loose as the structural integrity of the aircraft came undone, the fighter soon bursting into flames and breaking in midair before vanishing into the clouds below. Adeline could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she soared past the doomed aircraft's fall.
Four more blips were approaching fast, to which the group of CF-71As regrouped just behind the last remaining F-38 of Justicia. Without effort, 'Junkie' cut the fighter in question loose, sending it diving wildly into the clouds below. Adeline could see the ejection seat of the ill-fated pilot deploy as the aircraft tumbled to its demise. Hopefully they didn't land over Cortina Roja-held territory.
"++Four more aircraft 80km and closing.++" The feminine computerized voice of the VAS served to remind Adeline of their last target in the Velezian squadron.
Hesitantly, Adeline followed her superior's orders, diving into the grey abyss of the cloudline only to emerge on the other end on direct approach to the city, skyscrapers and apartment blocks denoting the urban area. Warning klaxons gave fair indication that they were being, to some extent, sought after by ground radar in and around the city.
It became apparent what 'Ryko' was up to when hundreds of DRFM spoofs filled the map — enemy lock-ons quickly being lost in the process as they cruised above the urban bustle below.
The last formation of enemy aircraft emerged in pursuit, diving below to maneuver just above the busy skyline below. By the looks of it, however, there were distant blips well on their way to pursue the four Recluse fighter aircraft. If they weren't quick, they'd soon find themselves overwhelmed by the Velezian Air Force.
It quickly occurred to Adeline just what her superior's plan was.
As they effortlessly weaved their way through the city, the enemy formation in pursuit, the rocket-trails of surface-to-air missiles firing around and within the city filled the skies, trailing after the spoofs — which had by now concentrated their nonexistent presences around the Velezian fighter formation.
Trailing north, she could only watch what happened next — explosions filled the sky as the missiles exploded in and around the formation of Velezian fighter aircraft, the burning trails of the wrecked aircraft descending into the city below. Adeline had to admit — it was a pretty damn clever tactic.
Leaving the reaches of Sanchez, the formation ascended upward into the cloudline once more, soon situating themselves safely above. They'd dealt a decisive blow to typical Velezian arrogance — and they'd be getting a helluva lot of money in the process.
The flight back to base would be a pleasant one, Adeline reclining in the cockpit as they passed the mountains and clouds, approaching the border back north into Canguari. She could get used to this...
Gone now were these hypnagogic, oniric reminiscences — replaced by the stark reality of Adeline's situation. van der Kaap Airstrip's amenities left much to be desired, especially in the discomforting swelter of what was, in the southern Hemisphere, the heart of Summer. Sweating buckets was a good way of putting it. Air conditioning system forever unresponding, at least a half-century past its service life, Adeline could help little but sigh at just how much of a nuisance 'living' in this place, or as she might call it, a 'shithole', was — a story of its own. Her belief lay firmly in the supremacy of the Euphemian state - its voluntary degrees of demobilization serving only to feed her disillusionment with the great nation to which she owed her livelihood. Nations south of Red Pine were but mere distortions and imitations of the true, unfaltering model of civilization that the Federal States was built upon. They were assigned here now in Canguari, the damp armpit of the southern continent, operating on the fiscal benevolence of the Central Government. That was not to imply the 'Central Government' was the Duke of Canguari — rather the Central Government was an eldritch abomination of bureaucratic wings, annexes, and offices with metaphorical tendril-like limbs merging government, military and religion, seeping ominously into every echelon of the tropical nation's society.
For it was the Central Government's wealth that had brought them, and by extent, the McLellan-Kuron Corporation, here. Promises of gold and diamonds built upon conflict and the toiling backs of 'generation-slaves' were appealing to most in pursuit of profit. The Euphemian Dream wasn't always the easiest dream one could aspire towards. That was where the lower echelons of the civilizational strata came into play. Though the military's expeditionary prospects became narrower, there were no shortage of men and women swooned by sweet promises of adventure and money — they'd find both in places like the Contested Territory. The Contested Territory, the Valley, the Lawless Zone — there were no shortage of terms used to refer to the resource-rich stretch of territory that had been disputed by Canguari, Floriana and Velezia for centuries — perhaps even predating the Calamity itself. The natives simply called it La Zona... the Zone.
The Zone had it all: drug cartels, commie gunslingers, a few mixes thereof, the Velezian Army (angry sons-of-bitches they were), Canguarian Security Forces, Florianan Army, Sermonist shadow armies spreading the Good Word, natives — and much, much more that served to give this lawless territory an aura of venturesome mystique. Their job was as simple as it was on paper, really: shoot planes out of the sky and flatten villages. Who lived there and what armies held said places mattered little in comparison to the payout said jobs incurred.
Already Adeline was rather accoutered for their first real sortie today, dressing for the occasion accordingly. A man at the airstrip would deliver the briefing in a half-hour's time, to which Adeline was making certain her uniform and equipment were in order. Word was he was like them; a gringo from the north. Unlike them, however, he'd lived in the south Ophiric nation for decades, and had come to comprehend the language, culture and customs of the country as if it were the back of his hands. Former Central Bureau of Intelligence, shady spook types ever apparent, Adeline could wisely guess the man was a relic of a better time — a free-traveling do-what-thou-wilt hedonist, yes, but a wise one seeking liberation of one's essence through gnosis, mindful of his duties and responsibilities.
Uniform code resembled an odd, well-designed hybrid of typical kitsch businesswear attire and a flightsuit. Too fancy and intricate for mil-types, but well within the ludicrous opulence of the Corporation. Dark naval blue suitpants caressing her form as they tightened on the belt's press, soon complemented by shirt and flight-coat. Harness belts clicked as she geared up for what was to come, checking the dim fluorescent glow of her wristwatch to note the time. Soon everything would fall into motion — and Adeline liked being ready sooner.
Outside her quarters, the corridor was silent, save for the low hum of dingy fluorescent bulbs above. Unusually quiet — typically the dingy, faded features of the passageway had sporadically about them Canguarian troops, talking in their own bastard-language amongst themselves only to shoot the occasion compliment in broken Euphemian. They weren't bad compliments, but they weren't good compliments, either.
A door along the hall opening signified the end of this silence, a familiar face emerging from one of the various rooms situated along the corridor. Aviator sunglasses and beard a dead giveaway, Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers was the Squadron Manager of the unit, putting him just a notch above Adeline herself. What she hadn't learned in the training manuals, she'd learned with him. He was exceptional at what Corporate policy demanded of him — fluent in five languages, he handled most of the communication with the locals down here.
"Secretary Squadron Manager Crozier." He acknowledged her presence as they continued on to the briefing.
"Powers." Acknowledging her superior in turn, they continued on through the barracks, the other two pilots pertaining to the squadron emerging from their respective quarters. This would be the first time Adeline would work with them. Anthony Jarvis I-Want-it-That-Way R. Houston and Lynn Newton Sad! Air-Supply C. Easton were, from what she'd assessed in their records, an Augustan and a Westlander respectively. Homestate, race, religion and creed mattered little in the Corporation.
"So, who exactly is this Pecks guy?" Lynn questioned, eyebrow raised in fascinated curiosity at the question of the man who'd be briefing them.
"Former CBI. Second-in-Command to the Duke of Canguari, basically." Replied Ricky, leading the group of pilots out of the barracks. Immediately came the midsummer swelter, blazing sun bearing down on the pilots. Adeline was quick to shield her eyes briefly from the brightness. Walking on to the hangar in question, the squadron manager continued. "...man's said the Duke's sitting on a few centuries' worth of gold. Some of it will be ours, if we do our job."
"How do the local air forces compare?" Anthony asked, his statement immediately eliciting a hearty chuckle from their superior.
"They don't. Nothing in this place can even compare to our aircraft. We're the masters of the sky here." Leading them inside the hangar, pockets of light glimmering in through corroded holes in the iron roofing of the facility, Ricky quickly moved ahead to shake the hand of an older man as the rest of the unit seated themselves. Once introductions were through, the squadron manager stood beside the former CBI agent as he began the briefing.
A friendly smile made itself apparent on Pecks' aged features, nodding as he greeted the pilots. "Right, uh, good morning, ladies and gentlemen." He paused, adjusting his notes situated at the makeshift podium's desk before continuing. "It's been a long time since I last did a briefing, I apologize. —anyhow. As you might all have figured out, you're a few minutes' flight away from the Zone... pretty damn far from good ol' Euphemie, as you might figure. The Anahí river trails south, carrying with it the bodies of the deceased... right into the Velezian-occupied city of Sanchez. Canguari used to call it theirs 460 years ago — and it is for that reason that the Central Government has elected to utilize the resurgence of the Cortina Roja to destabilize the iron grip the Velezians hold over the city. It's well south of where our forces are, of course — but the Central Government wishes to plan ahead. We're starting by reducing the amount of aircraft the Velezians are capable of deploying... by kicking them out of the skies of the Zone's southern reaches. Most Velezian fighters can't really compete with what you're fielding — do be warned, however, that the Las Playas cell of the Army of the New End Times..." Pecks was referring to a Sermonist paramilitary organization that operated in Canguari, the Zone and neighboring countries. As one might expect, it was a wing of the Central Government — or a subtle hand controlling it... nobody really knew. "...believe the Velezians may be developing something tantamount to a fourteenth-generation fighter in the works. There is little evidence to support this claim thus far, but one can never follow too much precaution. The mission is simple: there are three Velezian flights of the 312th Squadron that frequent the skies over Sanchez: Libertad, Justicia and Independencia. Occasionally they fly north and pester Canguarian air patrols — they've scored almost thirty kills in the past five years, with not a single loss. That's where you come in. Shoot 'em down and RTB. Dismissed!"
With that, Adeline left her seat, hurrying on over to the adjacent hangar where her fighter aircraft rest. The other pilots, obviously, were up to the same. Climbing aboard her aircraft, the systems booted up on their own, recognizing her presence as she seated herself aboard the fourteenth-generation fighter. Unlike the usual military-grade equipment on the field, the CF-71 series of fighter aircraft, operated solely by the Corporation, were fitted with a so-called 'virtual assistant system', or VAS — a conversational assistant system much akin to the systems fitted aboard Euphemian carrier vessels, or Akhmanari multipurpose 'Ancilla' systems.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL 12TFS - MAXIMUM ENCRYPTION
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-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "Begin prelim checks."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Tourian" #414-008 | SSQM. Adeline Lionelle Aerosmith Le-Temps-de-la-Rentrée Tropez C. Crozier:// "Copy."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Kerouac" #415-003 | PLT. Anthony Jarvis I-Want-it-That-Way R. Houston:// "Understood."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Junkie" #415-046 | PLT. Lynn Newton Sad! Air-Supply C. Easton:// "Got it."
----
©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
"VAS, run a preliminary check." Adeline said, leaning back in her seat. The response came soon enough from the digitalized assistant-screen of the cockpit on the righthand side, surrealist bluish visage of a feminine form nodding in turn. This was the Virtual Assistant System, a program that complemented the various features aboard the CF-71A by providing a greater degree of automation and accessibility on the fly. They were depicted in forms truly befitting the revival of cheesy sci-fi action flicks from the early 410s.
"++Understood.++" Swiftly on cue, various systems related to the aircraft were tested in a matter of seconds — from flaps to weapon bays. The report came a mere ten seconds later, letters glowing on one of the various screens in the fighter aircraft's cockpit.
MCK-OS v1.17
PRELIMINARY CHECK
----
L WING - OK
L FLAPS - OK
R WING - OK
R FLAPS - OK
L TAILWING - OK
R TAILWING - OK
WPN BAY 1 - OK
LOADOUT - 4/4x AAM-241D Comet
WPN BAY 2
LOADOUT - 2/2x AAM-11 Brushstroke
FUSELAGE - OK
ENGINES - OK
RADAR - OK
COMPUTER TEMP - 45° CENTIGRADE
----
©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
Jet engines coming to life, Adeline allowed the fighter to run its usual processes before flight, the pilot attent to the various screens situated about the cockpit. The crackle of the comm emitted from her headset, chatter commencing from the other pilots.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL CANGFOR/BA-VDK - MILITARY ENCRYPTION
----
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "12th TFS requesting clearance for takeoff."
-[ CANGFOR/ Air Traffic Control | "Luis":// "You and your squadron are clear to takeoff, gringo."
CHANNEL 12TFS - MAXIMUM ENCRYPTION
----
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "You know the routine."
----
©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
'Ryko' took the lead, Powers taxiing the aircraft out of its respective hangar and onto the runway. It took a few more seconds for the fourteenth-generation fighter to activate its engines with considerable thrust, gliding upward as it ascended into the heavens above. The roar of her own aircraft's engines reached a crescendo as it came her turn, Adeline bringing her CF-71A fighter onto the runway. As if on cue, she raised the thrust, aircraft boosting across the tarmac as she effortlessly ascended into the sky, the jungles of Canguari below her as she joined 'Ryko' in the skies. It was a pleasant morning, even moreso hundreds of feet in the air and rising as she maneuvered her aircraft upwards.
"++Expect rain in the Zone, light winds of 15mph on the ground.++" The feminine voice of the VAS notified Adeline as they continued onward through the skies of Canguari.
"I see." While most pilots with access to this kind of technology often fraternized with the conversational program, she regarded it for what it was — an asset.
The other two aircraft of the squadron — they were quite heavily undermanned until the corporate bureaucracy decided they merited a full sixteen-craft squadron — ascended to join 'Ryko' and 'Tourian' in the clouds above Canguari as they began their way south.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL 12TFS - MAXIMUM ENCRYPTION
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-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Kerouac" #415-003 | PLT. Anthony Jarvis I-Want-it-That-Way R. Houston:// "So what exactly does Canguari have for an air force, besides us?"
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Junkie" #415-046 | PLT. Lynn Newton Sad! Air-Supply C. Easton:// "If they had something useful, they wouldn't need us."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Tourian" #414-008 | SSQM. Adeline Lionelle Aerosmith Le-Temps-de-la-Rentrée Tropez C. Crozier:// "A few old F/A-127s and turboprop COIN aircraft. Truly, nothing useful."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "They're feedin' on the scraps of the War, huh?"
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Tourian" #414-008 | SSQM. Adeline Lionelle Aerosmith Le-Temps-de-la-Rentrée Tropez C. Crozier:// "Velezians aren't the same, though. They're building one hell of an army — and an air force, for that matter. One could say they're preparing for a war..."
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"++Fun fact: the Central Bureau of Intelligence estimated Velezian Army troopcounts of the previous year to number 295,000.++" The VAS interjected with a factoid as they approached the boundaries of the internationally-recognized southern border of Canguari on the map.
"And what might it be now?" Adeline figured she'd entertain its factoid with a question.
"++400,000.++" This seemed to play into her suspicions that the Velezian military was undergoing some kind of mobilization. The jungles only became denser in the lawless stretch of valley that comprised the Zone, the absence of civilization ever-apparent as the highways thousands of feet below slowly degraded to dirt roads hardly visible through the expanse of rainforest. They were quick to pass the city of Corona, continuing southwest. On the horizon she could already see the distant outline of structures, roads and highways that comprised Sanchez. Like a beacon of light in the uncivilized darkness, it was one of the larger — if not the largest — urban agglomeration in the lawless territory. Being occupied by Velezian forces, it had the defenses one would expect — meaning little, however, to their stealth aircraft.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL 12TFS - MAXIMUM ENCRYPTION
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-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "Up ahead."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Kerouac" #415-003 | PLT. Anthony Jarvis I-Want-it-That-Way R. Houston:// "So this squadron we're after is somewhere around here?"
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Tourian" #414-008 | SSQM. Adeline Lionelle Aerosmith Le-Temps-de-la-Rentrée Tropez C. Crozier:// "That would be correct."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "All right, we're entering the combat AO. Keep your eyes open."
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
A tense silence followed as they drew nearer to the city of Sanchez, unmistakeable blips of aircraft appearing on console as the four aircraft approached. They were thousands of feet above the city now, though that mattered little — what mattered more was hunting these Velezian fighters and compromising them to permanent end.
"++Enemy aircraft ahead, 96 kilometres and closing...identified entirely as F-38s. Estimated patrol trajectory aligns best with third flight 'Independencia'.++"
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL 12TFS - MAXIMUM ENCRYPTION
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-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "Enemy unit is in the No Escape Zone."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Kerouac" #415-003 | PLT. Anthony Jarvis I-Want-it-That-Way R. Houston:// "And they haven't detected us?"
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// [chuckle] "They'll wish they did. Engage."
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
Without hesitation, all four aircraft of the squadron pivoted to engage. Coordination between aircraft was practically seamless, targeting of other CF-71A aircraft digitally depicted to ensure the most practical use of air-to-air missiles.
Locking onto one of the Velezian F-38 fighters — they were rather poor imitations of the much more brilliant, maneuverable Akhmanari N-31KM3 'Darter' fighters, what gems they were — Adeline didn't hesitate to open the internal weapons bay and fire off a missile, which promptly trailed off with impressive speed..
"++Opening the Internal Weapons Bay compromises stealth.++" The VAS reminded her.
"Yeah." She nonchalantly nodded, tapping into enemy comms as they continued forward.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL EdC312 XXX-XXX-XXX [DECIPHERED]
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-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Ángel" #399-072 | Tte. Domingo Aguinaldo:// [TRANSLATED] "We're detecting something north of us— SHIT! INCOMING!"
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
Before the other aircraft of the formation could disperse, the other three fired missiles pertaining Adeline's fellow pilots sweeped in, promptly obliterating the fighters in question. With the blips disappearing from radar, their attention inevitably turned to the other aircraft in the AO.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL 12TFS - MAXIMUM ENCRYPTION
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-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "Enemy flight 'Justicia' is 339km to the southwest. Move in to engage."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Junkie" #415-046 | PLT. Lynn Newton Sad! Air-Supply C. Easton:// "Pretty soon every dumb bastard in the AO is gonna be on our tail, not just these two flights."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Tourian" #414-008 | SSQM. Adeline Lionelle Aerosmith Le-Temps-de-la-Rentrée Tropez C. Crozier:// "That's the idea!"
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
With that, the squadron set off on a southwestern course, Adeline hardly noticing the city of Sanchez below as they approached the next set of targets.
"++Those planes are going to raise alert in the city. Expect their air defense grid to be up in approximately ten minutes.++" The VAS advised as the group continued on to the next force.
"Ten minutes? I can do this in five." Activating her CF-71A's afterburners, she boosted ahead of the rest of the squadron, gaining a lock on one of the four Velezian aircraft beyond visual range. Once again, she opened the internal weapons bay, quickly being detected by the Velezian formation — promptly firing away a missile and closing the bay once more.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL EdC312 XXX-XXX-XXX [DECIPHERED]
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-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Medianoche" #402-054 | Tte. Valerie Barrios:// [TRANSLATED] "Wait— where'd they go?!— AHH—" [static]
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
The three remaining aircraft of the Velezian formation were quick to take pursuit towards Adeline's last given position. They approached the location in question as she observed the radar map carefully.
"++Soon you will be detected again.++" The VAS cautioned.
Adeline hesitated for a moment before replying to the program. "That's not the point."
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL EdC312 XXX-XXX-XXX [DECIPHERED]
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-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Gringo" #407-022 | Tte. Francisco Illescas:// [TRANSLATED] "I've never seen an aircraft like this before..."
-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Aguayo" #398-013 | Cpt. Sara Botín:// [TRANSLATED] "..Euphemians?.."
-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Dreamer" #400-003 | Tte. Leonardo Collazo:// [TRANSLATED] "Euphemians? Over here? Impossible. This fighter matches nothing in our registries... whose side is it on?"
-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Gringo" #407-022 | Tte. Francisco Illescas:// [TRANSLATED] "The enemy side. I'll shoot 'em down for killing Barrios!"
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
A warning blared from her own systems, the computer alerting her to the fact the enemy was locking on.
"++Nine missiles.++" Adeline largely ignored the voice of her virtual assistant, sharply angling her supermaneuverable aircraft upward and deploying her aircraft's countermeasures — a vast ECM suite paired with a DRFM jamming system that quickly spoofed the missiles in question, sending them towards nonexistant targets to explode in the clouds.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL EdC312 XXX-XXX-XXX [DECIPHERED]
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-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Gringo" #407-022 | Tte. Francisco Illescas:// [TRANSLATED] "What the hell?! Who is this pilot?"
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
Now that she'd maneuvered, she faced the assailing formation — her AESA radar serving as a jammer that quickly fried one of the aircraft as she passed them by, engines of both aircraft screeching as they crossed paths.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL EdC312 XXX-XXX-XXX [DECIPHERED]
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-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Dreamer" #400-003 | Tte. Leonardo Collazo:// [TRANSLATED] "AH FUCK! My electronics are fuckin' fried!"
-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Aguayo" #398-013 | Cpt. Sara Botín:// [TRANSLATED] "God damnit, keep it together! Focus on the bandit!"
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
One of the blips abruptly disappeared on the map, 'Ryko' swiftly crossing paths with the Velezian aerial formation. This was enough to further disrupt their pursuit of Adeline's aircraft — her method of baiting had seemingly played out.
Distantly behind her, she could see the burning wreckage of the fighter aircraft in question tumbling into the cloudline below, disappearing entirely as it plunged below the dense thicket of nimbostratus clouds that concealed the deeper features of the valley.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL EdC312 XXX-XXX-XXX [DECIPHERED]
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-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Aguayo" #398-013 | Cpt. Sara Botín:// [TRANSLATED] "Dreamer, respond!"
-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Gringo" #407-022 | Tte. Francisco Illescas:// [TRANSLATED] "—oh fuck. He's gone, ma'am!"
-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Aguayo" #398-013 | Cpt. Sara Botín:// [TRANSLATED] "Fuck. FUCK! REQUESTING IMMEDIATE REINFORCEMENTS!"
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
"++I believe I can infer to your intention with this tactic.++" The computerized assistant noted as Adeline persisted, gliding through the skies in elegant maneuvers. She didn't intend to utilize her aircraft's missiles for this one. Emerging from the clouds she approached another one of the fighter aircraft from behind, 20mm Fafnir cannons going live and cutting through the airframe of the F-38 aircraft as if it were paper.
Metal paneling and electronics came loose as the structural integrity of the aircraft came undone, the fighter soon bursting into flames and breaking in midair before vanishing into the clouds below. Adeline could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she soared past the doomed aircraft's fall.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL EdC312 XXX-XXX-XXX [DECIPHERED]
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-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Gringo" #407-022 | Tte. Francisco Illescas:// [TRANSLATED] "Oh fuck! Oh FUCK! It won't eject!" [screaming]
-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Aguayo" #398-013 | Cpt. Sara Botín:// [TRANSLATED] "..I'm the last one... I'm the last one. They're... they're no ordinary pilots. Send help!"
-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Aster" #394-047 | Col. Isaías Berrocal:// [TRANSLATED] "This is flight Libertad, we are coming in to assist."
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
Four more blips were approaching fast, to which the group of CF-71As regrouped just behind the last remaining F-38 of Justicia. Without effort, 'Junkie' cut the fighter in question loose, sending it diving wildly into the clouds below. Adeline could see the ejection seat of the ill-fated pilot deploy as the aircraft tumbled to its demise. Hopefully they didn't land over Cortina Roja-held territory.
"++Four more aircraft 80km and closing.++" The feminine computerized voice of the VAS served to remind Adeline of their last target in the Velezian squadron.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL 12TFS - MAXIMUM ENCRYPTION
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-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "Actually, I don't feel like wasting these missiles. Dive below the cloudline, we're goin' into Sanchez."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Tourian" #414-008 | SSQM. Adeline Lionelle Aerosmith Le-Temps-de-la-Rentrée Tropez C. Crozier:// "Wait, what?"
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "It's an old trick. Just watch."
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
Hesitantly, Adeline followed her superior's orders, diving into the grey abyss of the cloudline only to emerge on the other end on direct approach to the city, skyscrapers and apartment blocks denoting the urban area. Warning klaxons gave fair indication that they were being, to some extent, sought after by ground radar in and around the city.
It became apparent what 'Ryko' was up to when hundreds of DRFM spoofs filled the map — enemy lock-ons quickly being lost in the process as they cruised above the urban bustle below.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL 12TFS - MAXIMUM ENCRYPTION
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-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Tourian" #414-008 | SSQM. Adeline Lionelle Aerosmith Le-Temps-de-la-Rentrée Tropez C. Crozier:// "What's the purpose of this?"
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "You'll see in a second."
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
The last formation of enemy aircraft emerged in pursuit, diving below to maneuver just above the busy skyline below. By the looks of it, however, there were distant blips well on their way to pursue the four Recluse fighter aircraft. If they weren't quick, they'd soon find themselves overwhelmed by the Velezian Air Force.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL VELFOR XXX-XXX-XXX [DECIPHERED]
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-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Aster" #394-047 | Col. Isaías Berrocal:// [TRANSLATED] "Get SAMs up, they're going into the city!"
-[ 1. División "Garras de Acero"/ MV-390CV Tigre | Gen. Rigoberto Gaona:// [TRANSLATED] "Enemy aircraft in the skies! All SAMs, open fire!"
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
It quickly occurred to Adeline just what her superior's plan was.
As they effortlessly weaved their way through the city, the enemy formation in pursuit, the rocket-trails of surface-to-air missiles firing around and within the city filled the skies, trailing after the spoofs — which had by now concentrated their nonexistent presences around the Velezian fighter formation.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL EdC312 XXX-XXX-XXX [DECIPHERED]
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-[ Escuadrón de Caza no. 312/ F-38AE Estrella "Aster" #394-047 | Col. Isaías Berrocal:// [TRANSLATED] "Wait.. what the HELL?!—" [static]
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
Trailing north, she could only watch what happened next — explosions filled the sky as the missiles exploded in and around the formation of Velezian fighter aircraft, the burning trails of the wrecked aircraft descending into the city below. Adeline had to admit — it was a pretty damn clever tactic.
Leaving the reaches of Sanchez, the formation ascended upward into the cloudline once more, soon situating themselves safely above. They'd dealt a decisive blow to typical Velezian arrogance — and they'd be getting a helluva lot of money in the process.
MCK-OS v1.17
COMMUNICATION TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL 12TFS - MAXIMUM ENCRYPTION
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-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Tourian" #414-008 | SSQM. Adeline Lionelle Aerosmith Le-Temps-de-la-Rentrée Tropez C. Crozier:// "I can't say I've seen something like that before."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "I learned that one while serving in Mbanza. Stuck with me ever since."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Kerouac" #415-003 | PLT. Anthony Jarvis I-Want-it-That-Way R. Houston:// "There's been how many wars there now?"
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027 | SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers:// "39 total. 6 in the past few decades. It's where pilots go to die — or become aces."
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Junkie" #415-046 | PLT. Lynn Newton Sad! Air-Supply C. Easton:// "How much money're we gettin' for this?"
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Tourian" #414-008 | SSQM. Adeline Lionelle Aerosmith Le-Temps-de-la-Rentrée Tropez C. Crozier:// "A damn good amount. Cause for celebration, perhaps?"
-[ 12TFS/ CF-71A Recluse "Kerouac" #415-003 | PLT. Anthony Jarvis I-Want-it-That-Way R. Houston:// "Last to base buys everyone drinks."
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©422-423 McLellan-Kuron Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
The flight back to base would be a pleasant one, Adeline reclining in the cockpit as they passed the mountains and clouds, approaching the border back north into Canguari. She could get used to this...
-[ CF-71A Recluse "Ryko" #418-027: Piloted by SQM. Ricky New-Power-Generation J. Powers
- Status: OK
- Destroyed 6 F-38 fighters.
-[ CF-71A Recluse "Tourian" #414-008: Piloted by SSQM. Adeline Lionelle Aerosmith Le-Temps-de-la-Rentrée Tropez C. Crozier
- Status: OK
- Destroyed 3 F-38 fighters.
-[ CF-71A Recluse "Kerouac" #415-003: Piloted by PLT. Anthony Jarvis I-Want-it-That-Way R. Houston
- Status: OK
- Destroyed 1 F-38 fighter.
-[ CF-71A Recluse "Junkie" #415-046: Piloted by PLT. Lynn Newton Sad! Air-Supply C. Easton
- Status: OK
- Destroyed 2 F-38 fighters.
Overall: Decisive mission success.
