Ace Combat: Broken Line (IC/Open)

[Kyraina]

1st Lt. Zach "Knight" Steele

Zach (now in running shoes, blue jeans, and a blue NPAF t-shirt), walked to Garret's office after be relayed a message by a young Seianese private that Garret had wanted to see Zach. Zach wondered what this was all about but shoke his head, and shrugged as he reflected on his time as a Squadron in the NPAF, he had a feeling that this was a offical calling. He sighed and knocked on the door.

"Major Jones, its Lt. Steele. You wanted to see me sir?" Zach said loud enough for the Garret to hear through the door

[Beiarusia]

Major Aleksi Tallow “Null”
November 6, 1992 // Koga, Seian

They had radar contact now. Eight aircraft, high, service ceiling almost, bearing northeast at speed. Morena was low, level at roughly 15,000 feet. The aggressors had the height advantage, but so close to the restrictive limit of the engagement the defenders would have more vertical freedom, an added mobility that could well prove beneficial if utilized correctly. Scythe only needed a plane to reach the target zone, but Morena would have little trouble intercepting so long as they kept the upper hand in terms of numbers.

In all, this would not be a one sided conflict and, ultimately, would come down to planning and pilot skill if not some added luck thrown into the mix.

Null tracked the enemy planes via radar for several moments before giving his orders.

<< This is Null to all aircraft. Break the enemy formation and pick them off one-by-one if we have to. The sooner we thin the numbers the better. Keep your six o’clock clear and stay airborne no matter what. Disengage if you bite off more than you can chew. Kimura… >>

<< Angel: What?. >>

<< The other Kimura… establish a line and take out anyone who crosses.

<< Tokugawa: Border control, huh? Roger that. >>

Morena had scant visual contact now. Extreme range. The F-15C of Tokugawa pulled off and high, forming a defensive line behind the main body of the formation that lone aggressors would find difficult to pass unaccosted – Null was quite certain that some would attempt to bypass the engagement entirely in order to reach Koga for a quick victory. Tokugawa was a good pilot, great if Angel were to be believed, though she had reason to be biased, but regardless the Eagle would do well against what Scythe was fielding and no doubt would force the aggressors to act with some caution, something which Tokugawa wasn’t quite known for. Not reckless, but most definitely aggressive when in a superior position.

The others were closing in now. It wouldn’t be long now before they were in weapons range.

<< Weapons free. And remember, keeping each other alive takes priority. >>[/color]

[Parcia]

Dragon
Airspace Seian

The Bird shuttered lightly as it sailed of the runway, a small yet vivid reminder of the damage he so carelessly inflicted on his plane. Dragon pulled the bird bacl to level and formed up with the rest od his flight.

Keying in the mic, he kept his message short.

<<Dragon: Dragon copys, over>>

He was a bit peeved this wasn't a CAP, but considering it would be the first time since his bird was up and running, and some weeks since he last flew, he understood why their were training.

[Prosorusiya]

Major Aleksi Tallow “Null”
November 6, 1992 // Koga, Seian

They had radar contact now. Eight aircraft, high, service ceiling almost, bearing northeast at speed. Morena was low, level at roughly 15,000 feet. The aggressors had the height advantage, but so close to the restrictive limit of the engagement the defenders would have more vertical freedom, an added mobility that could well prove beneficial if utilized correctly. Scythe only needed a plane to reach the target zone, but Morena would have little trouble intercepting so long as they kept the upper hand in terms of numbers.

In all, this would not be a one sided conflict and, ultimately, would come down to planning and pilot skill if not some added luck thrown into the mix.

Null tracked the enemy planes via radar for several moments before giving his orders.

<< This is Null to all aircraft. Break the enemy formation and pick them off one-by-one if we have to. The sooner we thin the numbers the better. Keep your six o’clock clear and stay airborne no matter what. Disengage if you bite off more than you can chew. Kimura… >>

<< Angel: What?. >>

<< The other Kimura… establish a line and take out anyone who crosses.

<< Tokugawa: Border control, huh? Roger that. >>

Morena had scant visual contact now. Extreme range. The F-15C of Tokugawa pulled off and high, forming a defensive line behind the main body of the formation that lone aggressors would find difficult to pass unaccosted – Null was quite certain that some would attempt to bypass the engagement entirely in order to reach Koga for a quick victory. Tokugawa was a good pilot, great if Angel were to be believed, though she had reason to be biased, but regardless the Eagle would do well against what Scythe was fielding and no doubt would force the aggressors to act with some caution, something which Tokugawa wasn’t quite known for. Not reckless, but most definitely aggressive when in a superior position.

The others were closing in now. It wouldn’t be long now before they were in weapons range.

<< Weapons free. And remember, keeping each other alive takes priority. >>[/color]

<<Dash: Roger, Null. Premission to light up my radar, and take point on this one?>>

Nonna's MiG-23P cockpit felt comfortable, almost homely, after spending time in a classroom with recruits, or in the backseat of an L-29 trainer. Up here, she felt in control once again. She pushed the stick foreword, and the jet engine screamed as it struggled against the speed of sound. She yanked the wing sweep lever back, and the fighter slowly became a dart. As she burst through the clouds, the aircraft shuddered past Mach One. The grey painted MiG glistened in the sun, its shining new paint patching damage of battles past. A new green "x" had taken the place of too many stars to count on the side of the nose, signifying the kills Nonna had racked up in her short time with Morena. Today, she hopped to prove that they weren't just lucky breaks, but represented her skill, not only to her mentor Null but to herself as well. After all, she hadn't done so well the last time she had flown her MiG, in that horrible valley, that one night. She shuddered at the thought, and shook it from her head. Head in the game, Nonna. No more mistakes, now we prove ourselves.

[SaintB]

1st Lt. Zach "Knight" Steele

Zach (now in running shoes, blue jeans, and a blue NPAF t-shirt), walked to Garret's office after be relayed a message by a young Seianese private that Garret had wanted to see Zach. Zach wondered what this was all about but shoke his head, and shrugged as he reflected on his time as a Squadron in the NPAF, he had a feeling that this was a offical calling. He sighed and knocked on the door.

"Major Jones, its Lt. Steele. You wanted to see me sir?" Zach said loud enough for the Garret to hear through the door

"Come on in Zach, I was just about to go look for you." Jones called back when hailed.

He sat at his desk going through a stack of papers, skimming over them and then writing into a ledger, trying to get all of it done before take-off tonight. When Steele entered he waved him in and pointed at a chair by the desk then without a word slid over a manilla folder containing an itinerary, a loadout for Garret's F-14 tomcat, and various maps and charts, "I need a second chair, someone willing to volunteer to go with me and try to find Jax. Its a long shot but I know what airfield he would have to have landed at. They may still be holding them there and I want to do a reconnaissance mission, you were the first person I thought of."

[Kyraina]

1st Lt. Zach "Knight" Steele

Zach (now in running shoes, blue jeans, and a blue NPAF t-shirt), walked to Garret's office after be relayed a message by a young Seianese private that Garret had wanted to see Zach. Zach wondered what this was all about but shoke his head, and shrugged as he reflected on his time as a Squadron in the NPAF, he had a feeling that this was a offical calling. He sighed and knocked on the door.

"Major Jones, its Lt. Steele. You wanted to see me sir?" Zach said loud enough for the Garret to hear through the door

"Come on in Zach, I was just about to go look for you." Jones called back when hailed.

He sat at his desk going through a stack of papers, skimming over them and then writing into a ledger, trying to get all of it done before take-off tonight. When Steele entered he waved him in and pointed at a chair by the desk then without a word slid over a manilla folder containing an itinerary, a loadout for Garret's F-14 tomcat, and various maps and charts, "I need a second chair, someone willing to volunteer to go with me and try to find Jax. Its a long shot but I know what airfield he would have to have landed at. They may still be holding them there and I want to do a reconnaissance mission, you were the first person I thought of."

Zach listened and opened up the folder, and after Garret had finished talking, continued to examine what was given to him. While he didn't speak for several seconds, the look on his face wasn't one of shock or even surprise, but of concentration.

"I'll do it. I'll take any shot I can get of getting Jax back home, and not way of body bag. Based off this intel you gave me here, even with this loadout, we will have to do a Hi-Lo-Hi, Starting out High, going Low right before we get into range of Radar and on way back, and then going High again once we are in the clear. I might be able to pick us out a flight path based on the charts you included I might be able to plot us a course that takes away from alot of the concentrated AA and the fighter bases, only problem would be any aircraft up there with look down-Shoot down radar." Zach said as he looked up and at Garret.

[Beiarusia]

TRAINING MISSION
November 6, 1992 // Koga, Seian

Both sides had closed the distance with Scythe taking initiative and leading the attack, four planes moving to intercept Morena while the others pushed onwards to Koga Airbase, intending for a swift victory. Silvertongue was leading the aggressive maneuver with Fox, Drummer, and Shinden on his wing. Morena followed suit, splitting its forces with Aguila, Dash, Reppu, and Sting moving against the four Mirages.

Dash was the first to be shot down. The Mirage 2000 of Drummer easily outmaneuvered the MiG-23, and despite an attempt being made there was no breaking the radar lock. Drummer soon came under pressure with Sting and Reppu pressing the attack, the Gripen and Chengdu J-7 forcing the Mirage 2000 into an unfavorable position that proved fatal despite the assistance of Fox. Drummer escaped Reppu only to fall to Sting. Fox engaged the pair alone. Sting stayed on the offensive, hounding Fox all the while Reppu was slipping in for the kill. Fox banked hard, avoiding Reppu and baiting Sting into a rolling scissors, easily bleeding off excess speed and attaching herself behind the J-7 which was soon shot down. Fox and Reppu disengaged. As this dogfight played out Aguila moved against both Silvertongue and Shinden, the veteran pilot leaving little room for error as the F-16 jostled for position. The two Mirages were closing in, but Aguila displayed enough skill to avoid their advances, breaking each radar lock and, at times, managing his own. It wasn't enough, however, as Silvertongue eventually managed to score the kill. The victory was short lived. In their effort to claim Aguila the two Mirages had failed to take notice of Reppu closing the gap until it was far too late. Silvertongue was locked and only just managed to escape, moving into a steep dive into the lower ranges of the engagement zone, remaining airborne but at the cost of removing himself from the engagement. Reppu didn't hesitate to move against Shinden and quickly had a lock. Shinden pushed the Mirage III to its limits, and similarly Reppu took the Gripen to the extent of its capabilities. For several tense moments they fought, giving their all, but slowly the advantage turned to Reppu. The Gripen outclassed the Mirage III and secured victory.

Elsewhere the four remaining aircraft of Scythe[i/] had made way for Koga. Dragon was impatient and rushed ahead only to be caught unaware by Tokugawa, who in turn was forced into an engagement with her squadron mate, the two F-15's pulling away to square off in cleaner air (Shōwa wouldn't last long). Tombstone and Hound were all that remained, and against them stood Null, Angel, and Gunny. Fortunately reinforcements soon arrived in the form of Fox and Silvertongue.

Null, having gone after Hound, was engaged by Silvertongue, leaving Angel and Gunny to take on Tombstone and Fox.

Hound was playing defensive, attempting to break away for Koga but Null simply would not allow her despite Silvertongue breathing down his neck. A risky maneuver failed to pay off and Hound was shot down. Now a one-on-one engagement, Null turned to face the Mirage III but, like Hound, was finding his opponent to be stubbornly persistent. Silvertongue found a run and pursued Null with a solid radar lock. Null pulled up before immediately moving into a Split S, continuing the roll and leveling out just as Silvertongue overshot. Null couldn't find the lock and the two disengaged. Gunny and Angel were having a more difficult time. Fox had managed to down Gunny and was preventing Angel from pursuing Tombstone. The Mirage 2000 was aggressive, but Angel was just as assertive and quickly turned the tables on Fox, though by this point it was too late.

Tombstone had reached Koga. [i]Scythe had won the engagement but at the lost of six aircraft.

A few additional practice runs were conducted in the coming hours until they all had worn out their welcome in the skies over Koga. They returned to base shortly before nightfall and, after a short debrief and congratulations, were free for the night. Unknowingly it would be their last evening before being thrust back into the war.

[Beiarusia]

Major Aleksi Tallow “Null”
23:11 November 6, 1992 // Koga Airbase, Seian

Not much else had happened today. Morena and Scythe had gone on their little training exercise, but otherwise that had been the extent of their activities as had been the norm for two weeks now given that the war had gone increasingly cold. The only thing of note was the recon mission taking place later tonight. Major Jones and a volunteer were going to cross the border so as to scout for enemy positions and, more importantly, an enemy military base that was speculated to be moonlighting as a POW camp. No rescue mission was planned as of yet but getting the intel would prove beneficial nonetheless. The outing would be considerably dangerous, but a single fighter may well prove capable of avoiding the worse of the enemy's AA defenses, and truthfully the DAF was grasping for any advantage it could at this point. Null had wished Major Jones the best of luck before leaving the man to prepare as needed.

That had been little more than an hour ago. Null had retired to his room, though he planned to head over to ATC once Shark was airborne since it was only right that he, as squadron commander, keep tabs on the mission that had been given his seal of approval. Until then, Null was enjoying the quiet moment with no company save for his thoughts. Angel was there, sure, but she was asleep, and thus not much for conversation at the moment as she subconsciously buried herself deeper into the thin blankets. Null allowed her to sleep as he was content with the chair for the time being. He'd be leaving soon as it was.

There was a knock on the door. Unexpected. Forceful, as if the person on the other side was in a hurry. Null was quick to answer, finding Dorian Graves, commander of Reaper, standing on the far side of the threshold with a grim look in his dark eyes. Graves was still dressed in his DAF fatigues, same as Null, and likely had been busy elsewhere for most of the day seeing as how he was serving as base adjutant until such time that a replacement arrived. His words were terse as he said, "Good, you're awake. Something's come up and..." He caught sight of Angel sleeping peacefully in the bed behind Null and gave a curious glance to the two of them. There was no reprimand for the perceived breach in conduct, only an offhand remark. "I'm not interrupting am I?"

"I was just on my way out," Null replied with a slight deadpan.

Graves didn't pursue the matter further. "Word just came in. The squadron needs to be in the air ten minutes ago. And before you ask, no, I don't know what happened, but whatever it is it's got top brass spooked."

There really wasn't much more to be said. Morena was going airborne while the 101st remained on-station for security measures. Graves rushed off to pass word along, leaving Null to wake Angel and the others who hadn't already been roused by base personnel, giving them the same general lack of intel that he himself had been given. It took no time at all for the pilots to dress themselves and to head down toward the hangars where crews were already in the process of readying the planes. No time for a custom loadout so the pilots would have to work with whatever they were given, which was primarily anti-air ordinance.

The F-14D of Shark had been pulled from its sortie and Null could see the pilot and copilot standing by as the plane was rearmed.

They were airborne soon enough and heading east. Alone, with no support other than the AWACS and a refueling tanker that would rendezvous with the squadron near Tiananmen. Undoubtedly the pilots had questions, but no answers were given until sometime later once the developing situation had been pieced together, well after they had crossed over the shores of Seian.

<< AWACS: This is Bannik to all callsigns. Sorry to wake you, but given the circumstances we can't be too careful. Maintain radio clarity for briefing. >> The AWACS went silent for a few moments as last minute intel came in. << Thirty minutes ago a Beiarusian Tu-95 was spotted by a picket ship flying over the Atlantic four hundred and thirty-seven kilometers southeast of Adamas. Currently we do not know the intention of this aircraft, but given that Dorusia falls just within its effective range we must assume it to be hostile, potentially with a weapon capable of striking our homeland. We cannot allow that. Be aware, we have just confirmed enemy fighters going feet wet on intercept. A secondary mercenary team, Snowcat, is being scrambled to assist as we speak, but it will be some time before they reach you. I wish I had more to tell you. Good luck. >>

Null felt a stone in the pit of his stomach. Nothing about this situation made sense. The Tu-95 didn't have the range for a return trip even if taking the shorter path over the Antarctic, and without an escort the aircraft was essentially a sitting duck. Enemy fighters were moving to intercept the bomber, so potentially a rogue element, a thought that did little but to raise more questions than answers. Until they knew for sure Morena would simply have to follow orders.

The mercenaries would be in range of the bomber shortly before crossing into colder waters, beating out the enemy interceptors and Snowcat who would be coming from somewhere on the Verusan continent, meaning that Morena would have the first shot. They'd know soon enough just what they were dealing with.

---

23:46 November 6, 1992 // South Atlantic

That moment came all too soon as the contact came within radar range.

Intel had been wrong as a single escort could be detected flying alongside the bomber. A lone Flanker if a guess had to be made, undoubtedly running on fumes this far from home. Again, it didn't make sense, and Null couldn't help but to frown as a bad feeling overwhelmed him. Regardless they had a job to do.

<< I have radar contact. We aren't taking any chances, so let's down those aircraft and get going before the enemy shows up on our six. Weapons free. >>

[Kyraina]

1st Lt. Jax "Ranger" Bradford

Ranger was setting in the Pilot's seat of the TU-95, and Skullkid was in the Co-pilot's seat, and the 4 other Members of the Aircrew were filled out by Aviators of both SAF and DAF, while there were another 6 passengers on board a mixed of military personal (A Doctor, 2 Infintry, 1 Spec Ops, and 1 Intel Specialist). Ranger, Skullkid, and a SAF Flight Engineer checked the instruments one more time before the DAF Navigator Confirmed their course was on track, and everything reported that everything was clear and the heading was correct. Ranger sighed and looked out the windows at the Ocean, and then to the Blue and Gold SU-30 Flanker C on the left side of the plane, when the radio crackled to life with a female's voice.

Paladin 1-2: <<Ranger, Skullkid, This is Paladin 1-2, we have Aircraft inbound from Seian, this might be those friends you were telling us about Ranger. I sure hope so, and I hope they brought a Tanker, we won't make it otherwise. Why don't y'all try establishing comms with them and then tell us the channel so we can patch ourselves in. How Copy?>>

Ranger: <<Paladin 1-2, This is Ranger. Skullkid and I Copy 5x5, will get back to you in a few.>>

"Sgt. Sukiyaki, find the frequency that Morena will be using, and be quick about it, if not we will swimming in the fishes and none of us are in any condition to survive." Ranger said to the radio operator, who just nodded and started switching through the radio Frequencies.

The Radio Operator eventually found the right frequency but only caught the tail end of the Null's order

Major Aleksi Tallow “Null”

<<Weapons free. >>

Those ominous words crackled through the radio, but Ranger and Skull Kid recognized the voice and Ranger was Already on the comms before more chatter started, while the Frequency was given to Paladin to Paladin

Ranger: <<Null if I escaped just to get shot down by allies and to take a very cold swim with the fishes. What a way to end a escape wouldn't you say. By the way this is Ranger, and Bonehead Boy is with me as well, and the Flanker by ourside is helping us Escape, but they are running low on Fuel. Their callsign is Paladin. Now why the Hell are y'all way the fuck out here? Oh and Hello Morena.>>

Paladin 1-2: <<Ranger, Paladin 1-2. I don't know but I sure as am Glad. I handle Comms and weapons for this bird, please tell me y'all have Tanker Support>>

[Ubaria]

Captain Noel 'Aguila' Silva & Maria 'Outlaw' Ferrerio
Koga AFB, Seian

All in all, the training operation had gone without a hitch but still not in favor of Noel or indeed Morena as a whole. Outnumbered by both Silvertounge and Shinden, Noel had managed to hold his own for the majority of the fight yet after numerous weaving turns, loops and half loops the F-16 had knotted itself into an inescapable position with not enough speed nor energy to pull away and ultimately, Silvertounge claimed the kill, that put him out of the running. Still, nobody had been hurt except maybe his ego, it also gave valuable insight into numerous squadron tactics and maneuvers against more agile opponents, Maria of which absorbed as much as she could when she wasn't being pulled around by the boisterous G-Forces.

With the training over, Scythe and Morena retired to Koga for the night, or so they thought. Noel was on the cusp of a deep sleep when the cacophony of sirens and shouting boomed throughout the airbase, waking anybody who happened to be trying to get 40 winks in.

"...two hours..." Noel grimaced, referring to how long he had been asleep for, his body almost refused to move from the comfort of the bunk yet duty called. He met Maria as he left the locker room, she looked equally as disheveled as he did, with her hair arranged in a hasty pony tail and dark rings around her eyes from the lack of sleep accrued.

"You know what's going on?" She grumbled, shoving her ponytail back before strapping on her flight helmet preemptively. Noel replied with a simple shake of his head, his best guess would be that the Beiarusians were mounting some sort of counter-attack, that or somebody had slipped on the emergency alarm system.

"No, looks serious though." Noel replied, observing a multitude of Seianese crewmen scrambling to load the craft with armaments, mostly air to air missiles which implied the mission at hand.

---

Some time later, Above the Atlantic

<< AWACS: This is Bannik to all callsigns. Sorry to wake you, but given the circumstances we can't be too careful. Maintain radio clarity for briefing. >>

"Damn right you're sorry" Noel mumbled to himself, toggling the radio volume.

<< Thirty minutes ago a Beiarusian Tu-95 was spotted by a picket ship flying over the Atlantic four hundred and thirty-seven kilometers southeast of Adamas. Currently we do not know the intention of this aircraft, but given that Dorusia falls just within its effective range we must assume it to be hostile, potentially with a weapon capable of striking our homeland. We cannot allow that. Be aware, we have just confirmed enemy fighters going feet wet on intercept. A secondary mercenary team, Snowcat, is being scrambled to assist as we speak, but it will be some time before they reach you. I wish I had more to tell you. Good luck. >>

No wonder they had been scrambled even more urgently than usual, something about a lone bomber crossing the ocean on a suicide mission screamed 'disaster', without an escort however was even stranger still.

<< I have radar contact. We aren't taking any chances, so let's down those aircraft and get going before the enemy shows up on our six. Weapons free. >>

The AiM-120's had been armed and had acquired the bomber via Radar lock, the only thing remaining was to depress the trigger, yet another transmission carried across the airwaves, at first a little patchy before Maria managed to scrub it clean.


< By th...s is Ranger, and Bonehead Boy is with me...., a...running low on Fuel... callsign is Paladin. Now why the Hell..all way the fuck out here?...Hello Morena.>>

"Maria, Disengage that target. Start sweeping for bandits"

<< Jesus, you almost got yourself toasted Ranger. What the hell are you doing in a Beiarusian Tupolev all the way out here?>>

[Rupudska]

You ever get the feeling you're being watched? It's not a good feeling. In a dogfight, it's a common feeling for a pilot to feel - after all, they probably are being watched by someone they didn't notice. Situational awareness is just as limited a resource as fuel or bullets, and it must be budgeted accordingly.

It's when there aren't any actual hostiles in the area that it becomes an unnerving feeling.

Hound nervously thumbed the 'fire' button on her control stick.

Something was coming. She was sure of it.

<<Hound to Null. How much are you willing to bet that Paladin is bait, and we are about to reel in a shark?>>

[Prosorusiya]

Earlier That Evening

Nonna had done poorly in the training exercise, her aircraft being the first to be clobbered in a barrage of simulated missile fire after trying to pull ahead of the flight to get a radar lock. The moment she'd lit up her interceptors radar set, it'd been. The rest of the day, with Nulls permission, had been spent running through her old training routines, and finished out by rereading the technical manual of the MiG-23P for about the fifth time.

Sighing, Nonna fumbled through her pockets for her room keys. At last they were found, and triumphantly she swung open the door, stripped off her clothes, and melted into the softness of her bed.

She realized now that early in the war, she'd gotten lucky. Her two years practice on the Flagon and preponderance of large bombers had made scoring kills easy. But now, as on that last night mission in the valley, her inexperience was showing. Now, it was like being back in the academy again, having to struggle just to keep up with her friends. By now, though, she'd come to realize how little the school had taught her... which reminded her next time she got the chance, she'd have to ask Null to show her how to fly IFR. Grabbing a small golden notebook from her nightstand, she scribbled the task down on it's pristine pages. Rolling back over, she yawned. It'd been a long day, and nothing had gone quite to plan. Even her plans to reconnect with Dragon had come to naught, all her free time being spent studying the intricacies of her new fighter and undoing the accumulated rust of being grounded for a month, desperately attempting to teach even greener students how not to pile their trainers into the ground. She closed her eyes, and soon sleep overtook her.

~~~

The familiar blare of air raid sirens woke Nonna from her fitful rest. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, and drool from her mouth, she winced at the sound of fighters roaring down the tarmac and darting up into the sky. She took a deep breath, and without taking the time to search for anything else simply jammed herself into her flight suit. Grabbing her helmet from atop the pile of clothes she'd left it on, she burst out the door. Reteriving her Trabant keys, she leaped into the communist car and threw it into gear. Flooring it, she sent the shabby hulk flying across the tarmac,. There were only two destinations she had in mind: Nicky's quarters, and the hangers where her MiG-23P was parked with the rest of Morena's planes. It was times like this she wished she had a car phone... then she might be able to wring up the hanger crew and make sure her plane was ready for action. She shook the absurd worry from her mind: with the base on high alert, no doubt every available plane has being armed and refuled. Right now she just needed to find Nick... and anyone else she could find, and the get in the air. The men's barracks loomed ahead, and she smiled on the break. The Trabant, for probably the first time in it's or any other Trabant's life, skidded dramatically to a halt. Nonna jumped from the car, and banged on Nick's door. "Nicky, are you up? We're scrambling. I brought my Trabi, so I though I'd give you a lift!"

[Anowa]

Lt. Jason 'Tombstone' Cain
2Lt. Holly 'Fantasy' Clark

---

They'd been up for over a day now. Adrenaline from all the flying was the only thing keeping them from sleeping quickly. Rip-Fuel the only thing keeping them from dipping into the abyss of sleep. That and the ungodly green of the shitty NVGs they needed to wear. Granted they only wore them to make sure they weren't bashing the canopy of whoever they needed to refuel, but they'd still help if they actually got into a dogfight... Though only marginally.

Though the voice of their friendly neighborhood AWACS broke the monotony. He spoke in a pace that sounded a bit sympathetic, if a bit hurried.

<< AWACS: This is Bannik to all callsigns. Sorry to wake you, but given the circumstances we can't be too careful. Maintain radio clarity for briefing. >> ... << Thirty minutes ago a Beiarusian Tu-95 was spotted by a picket ship flying over the Atlantic four hundred and thirty-seven kilometers southeast of Adamas. Currently we do not know the intention of this aircraft, but given that Dorusia falls just within its effective range we must assume it to be hostile, potentially with a weapon capable of striking our homeland. We cannot allow that. Be aware, we have just confirmed enemy fighters going feet wet on intercept. A secondary mercenary team, Snowcat, is being scrambled to assist as we speak, but it will be some time before they reach you. I wish I had more to tell you. Good luck. >>

And only half an hour after they'd taken off. Impeccable timing. It was a bit odd, given how the enemy was scrambling as well, but weirder things would likely happen. Glancing in the craft's mirror, he spotted his WSO staring off to the side, her own NVGs folded upwards, once again, doing nothing to declare her namesake untrue, "Food for thought?"

She twitched her eyes in his direction. "It's like a whole other world down there."

Jason followed her gaze to the ground, it was extraordinarily clear out, and with a moon like that, it was just enough light to see the snow sparkling. "From up here it may as well be."

Holly snorted, obviously finding a bit of humor to Jason's lack of artistic understanding, "Not quite what I meant. It's got a, sort of ethereal beauty to it you know? You don't see it too often."

Jason mentally shrugged, "I guess you'd find more appreciation in it than me, I had more than a few night time patrols over the North Sea. I guess I got dull to it."

"Or you just had no sense for beauty in the first place." a chuckle followed.

Jason smiled, at least she was doing better after the news of.. whatever it was, that was on that letter broke, "You wound me Holly."

Null: << I have radar contact. We aren't taking any chances, so let's down those aircraft and get going before the enemy shows up on our six. Weapons free. >>

Tombstone:<<Hangman Tw-... Three-One, copies.>>

With the authorization to engage, Tombstone upped the throttle and flipped the master arm switch, while Fantasy flipped her NVGs down and started looking at the radar screen. That was right before something a bit unexpected happened.

Ranger: <<Null if I escaped just to get shot down by allies and to take a very cold swim with the fishes. What a way to end a escape wouldn't you say. By the way this is Ranger, and Bonehead Boy is with me as well, and the Flanker by ourside is helping us Escape, but they are running low on Fuel. Their callsign is Paladin. Now why the Hell are y'all way the fuck out here? Oh and Hello Morena.>>

Holly's hand was damn near depressing the fire control for the AMRAAMs on the craft, Ranger's timing was a bit shoddy, but excusable given the circumstance.

Paladin 1-2: <<Ranger, Paladin 1-2. I don't know but I sure as am Glad. I handle Comms and weapons for this bird, please tell me y'all have Tanker Support>>

It was fuzzy, and a bit choppy at parts, but both Jason and Holly got the picture. Ranger was on the Bear, along with what was likely other POWs or defectors.

Fantasy: <<Red-light on engagement! Contacts are friendly, repeat, contacts are friendly! Over!>>

Holly broke the lock of the duo of AMRAAMs, "Jason how's the buddy pod look?"

Jason gave a thumbs up from his position, "Fine, hasn't iced over. We can supply Paladin for sure and maybe a drop of Ranger's bird if he actually needs fuel."

Fantasy: <<Hangman Three-Two to Paladin One-Two, how dire is your fuel situation? We've got a buddy pod if you're at Bingo. Over.>>

[Tayner]

Second Lieutenant Dan
Koga AFB
Gunny

Dan had preformed less than stellar during the combat exercise, allowing another pilot to get the upper hand and allow Tombstone to make a run for it while Angel was tied up with the guy who 'downed' him. Although he wasn't enthusiastic, he didn't go around the rest of the day whining. He even gave Fox a "good flying" compliment before heading off to get some sleep.

He barely got a wink until Joker burst into the room where he was sleeping, saying something along the lines of "fuck shit, we're wheels up yesterday" before heading off to get his own self ready. Dan took two minutes to get his gear on and another minute to get to the Hornet, whit Joker not taking much longer. Dan was already confused, the ground crew already loading air to air munitions, and some long range missiles at that. Usually the Beiarusians were a little more pressing in their nighttime raids, not giving the intercepting force enough space to use the long range missiles.

"What's going on?" Dan asked Joker and the crew chief.

"From what I gather we're off to intercept a lone bomber, the entire squadron is scrambling." Joker said.

"I got a buddy in another unit saying that their getting their wheels up soon too." The crew chief said.

"All this hastle for a lone bomber?" Dan asked as he put his helmet on and got ready to climb into the F/A-18 Super Hornet.

"It's making a B-line straight to Dorusia. Brass doesn't like the look of it at all." Joker said, pulling himself into his seat in the cockpit.

"I don't know anything you don't." The crew chief said, before making a quick inspection of the aircraft and giving Gunny the thumbs up.

---

Over the South Atlantic

Morena received a breifing on the go, and before long, the entire squadron was headed off at their best speed to intercept the bomber. Dan glanced over at the coast every once in a while, watching the waves roll in against the rocks over and over through his NVGs. It was almost calm, other than the fact their employers may about to be nuked, or that he was running with little sleep that.

Soon enough contact was made, and the order was given. Joker flipped the master arms switch, and went about targeting the bomber. Just as the lock was achieved, a familiar voice was heard over the comms. Ranger explained himself, and mambers of Morena were calling for everybody to hold fire.

This sortie was almost about to turn into the most complicated blue-on-blue case ever, to say the least.

Fantasy: << Hangman Three-Two to Paladin One-Two, how dire is your fuel situation? We've got a buddy pod of you're at Bingo. Over. >>

Gunny: << This is Hangman Five-Two, I've also got a buddy pod if anyone else needs to top off. Over. >>

[The United Remnants of America]

Lieutenant Aiden Kelly

---

South Atlantic

---

11/6/1992 - 23:46

---

Four aircraft flew at an easy 10,000 feet in the darkness. The radar wasn't picking much up except for empty ocean, but everyone knew that wasn't the case. Inside the cockpit of the lead aircraft, a bulky F-105 Thunderchief, a faint glow was on. Frosty was using a tritium glow light to read the charts that were splayed across his lap and console. He'd been flying like this for the last half-hour or so, double-checking coordinates and trajectories. At this rate, the buddy pods attached to each of the aircraft would allow them plenty of flight, even when they reached their target, which would help. The only downside was the entire flight was light on weapons. Frosty drew on the map of the ocean on his lap in an erasable marker and nodded, mumbling to himself as he looked up to re-check his radar and console readings. All was well.

<<Frosty to Snowcat. Give it one-five mikes until we intercept the target. How copy?>>

<<Frosty, it's Panther. Still good. Ready to open up.>> The Mirage V to Frosty's left waggled wings a little.

<<Talon, Frosty. I'm flying true.>> The small Harrier Jumpjet to Frosty's right was burning to keep up with the other planes, but it was staying with them, despite everything.

<<Frosty, this is Wolf. Bear and I are doing well.>> The F-4E Phantom directly behind Frosty's Thunderchief was just a silhouette to Frosty, but he knew it was there by the IFF on his radar.

Frosty looked ahead into the darkness, knowing that just fifteen minutes away was the target. Somewhere up there was a bomber that needed to be safely guarded, and just beyond them, if the timing was right, was Morena. Snowcat had been tasked to support Morena in protecting the bomber, which rumor had it, Jax Bradford had commandeered. That was just what Frosty had heard before they took off, but he really doubted it, just based on how crazy it sounded. Either way, Aiden was excited to fly with his old partners again, even if the pay for this mission was a little less than what they wanted. The Seianese were cheaper than the Dorusians, but it was what it was; Money.

<<Frosty to Snowcat. Switch broadcast signal to the one provided in your codebook listed as Morena signal. They need to know we're not the enemy, even though we're coming up behind the bomber. Copy?>>

Three responses came. Frosty looked at his chronometer. Twelve minutes until radar contact, give or take. Aiden twisted in his cockpit seat, trying to loosen his shoulders and back to keep from cramping up if he had to make quick movements.

Make sure a bomber gets to where it's going. This should be a nice easy mission.

[Relikai]

"...ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six-"

"Come on, don't get sloppy!"

"...HUNDRED!"

The girl fell flat on the mat, perspiration dripping from her ponytail as she groaned in agony. Her muscles burned from the lactic acid coursing through her veins, arms swelling from her punishment for getting shot down by her partner who was now completing her third set of pull ups nearby. Both were perspiring, but one was tapping on the mat in agony, the other simply keeping her gaze forward as she focused on her own training. It was routine, the two would often hit the gym or exercise area after watching some flight recordings, a routine which trained both the mind and the body. While Yuria carried on with her individual training, Haruna had to undergo the punishment for being shot down, but Yuria herself. The two hundred push ups were promptly cleared by the groaning pilot, who turned around to face Yuria before hopping up onto her feet.

Night training was not exactly common for the two pilots, but with the two taking afternoon naps, bleeding their stamina off an hour before sleeping with a glass of warm milk was the best way for them to wake up refreshed and ready.

"Not fair! You shot me down in my plane!"

"Well, you got it only after losing two other planes..."

"The Bronco was flown by you!"

"Only after yo- hey!"

Yuria released the bar, falling onto the floor as she met Haruna's tackle head on. The young pilot had thrown herself at her friend, hands outstretched in a move Yuria assumed was aiming at pulling down her shorts, an attack she experienced several times over their years together. Haruna collided into Yuria, only to realise her error as the older woman flipped her, the difference in strength obvious from how the younger girl was given a headlock before sending her flying.

"And this is why, you do not just rush in... at least you learnt that in the air." Yuria said, patting Haruna's face as she sat on the squirming pilot, reaching for her towel and patting herself free of sweat. The previous training session went well, Yuria getting used to the Gripen certainly helped in her success in teaming up with Sting during their attack. Haruna fought fiercely, but was ultimately unable to escape Yuria who got her lock on after exploiting the Gripen's superior maneuverability. Yuria did feel at home with it, flying the Gripen seemed to have invoked some memories of the past, her body slowly adapting to the harsh rigors of air combat once again...

The alarm blared as Yuria tried to speak once more, the faint sound getting louder as she stood, Haruna joining her in an instant as they headed for the nearest window. There was some activity on the runway, but it did not seem they got caught by surprise like the second day of the war.

"Time to rush." Yuria said as she turned to Haruna, giving the girl a rub on the top of her head before spinning for the door.

---

During standby phases, her Gripen was loaded with a mixture of air-to-air missiles, something Reppu appreciated given the nature of their mission as they took to the skies. She was slightly fatigued, but was raring to go. Checking her dials to see that all systems were green, Reppu had launched, forming up with the rearranged squadrons as her grey-painted Gripen blended in with the night sky. Apparently, a bomber had made its way through the sea, heading towards Dorusia, and Morena was to intercept. Nothing wrong with it, nor was it too much of a hassle, but deploying almost the entire squadron for this mission seemed excessive.

Until they approached it.

Shinden was still grounded, her mental health being observed carefully by the military doctor to see if she could handle the rigors of actual combat. She performed well enough during the training flight, but her official status meant that she could not fly in combat missions, although she was given access to the Seianese command center in Koga, similar to the previous missions. Intercepted intelligence reports and files on the Beiarusian armoury lay on her desk, the pilot reverting to her pre-mercenary job as an analyst as she listened to the reports as Morena closed in.

Reppu: << Scarecrow Five reporting. >>

She had to get them used to her voice, although she was there for as long as Haruna was out of action, as a member of Morena. Once the transfer finally went through, the two would leave to form part of a new squadron similar in role as Mononoke. Not that the two were touted as equals or better than the existing premier squadron, but Shinden and Reppu had enough experience and proven records to lead the SAF as symbols of local strength and superiority. The loss and weakness of the Seianese military to their northern neighbours did cause a hit to national pride, but the presence of three Seianese in Morena, one of whom was a local celebrity before disappearing, did give the propaganda department a lifeline to hang on to.

Reppu gave a sigh, her night vision goggles pointed at the radar screen as contacts were reported throughout the squadron. She held her position, allowing the vanguard to acquire the target before it was revealed to contain Ranger, Skull Kid and several other allies. Relief soon turned to alertness however, for she knew that the Beiarusians should not be too far behind. At this distance, and taking into context time and mission, interceptors were most like to make an appearance. High speed interceptors, including one which Haruna mentioned was one of the fastest in the world...

Reppu: << Scarecrow Five to Scarecrow Lead, going on high altitude CAP for our friends down here. Leveling off at Angels Forty. Expected threat would be high speed interceptors chasing our friends from Beiarusia. >>

[Beiarusia]

Major Aleksi Tallow “Null”
November 6, 1992 // South Atlantic

<< Hold fire! >>

Null had practically yelled through the radio upon hearing the voice of Ranger, Morena having only just avoided a tragic instance of blue-on-blue. The aircraft that had moved to engage held their fire. Many questions came to mind, such as why the missing pilot was now flying an enemy bomber across the Atlantic, but any answers would have to come later as Bannik passed word of the sudden development along to DAF commanders back at base. Regardless, Null understood that the mission objectives had just changed significantly. The interception was now an escort.

The mercenaries were now forming up behind the Tu-95 and the defector's Su-27. The bomber no doubt had the fuel to make it to wherever they were diverted, but the fighter would be running on fumes, so a volunteer with a buddy pod would need to share if they wanted to keep the allied Flanker airborne.

Bannik spoke up soon enough.

<< Bannik: Proceed on current course for Vostok Air Force Base. Be aware that enemy interceptors are on fast approach, six o'clock, distance one hundred and thirty-five kilometers. Protect the bomber at all costs. Snowcat will rendezvous momentarily. >>

<< Understood. Morena, we hit those interceptors before they get close. I'm taking point. Ranger and his new friend could use an escort, so any volunteers should form a defensive line. >>

In short order the mercenaries were breaking formation, most turning to engage the inbound interceptors with several others staying behind to protect Ranger and Paladin. Snowcat would assist as needed once they arrived on scene. Null was leading the offensive against the enemy aircraft, intending to breaking their ranks so that they could wear them down individually as heavy interceptors would find a close-ranged battle difficult to maintain, an advantage that Morena would use well. Ranger and his escorts only had to make it out of weapon's range. It was only a matter of keeping the interceptors preoccupied.

The aircraft were showing on radar now. More than a dozen but less than twenty. Numbers wouldn't be too skewed in any one way.

<< Cavalier: Enemy is turning to engage. Looks like your old friends. >>

<< Enki: Just some stray dogs. Hey Null, can you here me? It's nothing personal but you seem to be in our way. Don't make this harder than it has to be. >>

<< Angel: Is that...? >>

Null felt his grip tighten as the voice of Joel Zeeger came across the radio. The traitor. The murderer. The man he had trusted.

Seventeen aircraft were moving to intercept. Most were heavy interceptors: eight MiG-25's and six MiG-31's. Leading them were two unmarked F-4 Phantom II's and a familiar F-14D. All armed for aerial interception. The enemy planes quickly moved to engage, fanning out with wings bristling at the ready with missiles. Bomber or not they intended to win.

This would not be an easy fight.

Mission Theme: Get It By Your Hands

[Ubaria]

Captain Noel 'Aguila' Silva & Maria 'Outlaw' Ferrerio
Koga AFB, Seian

Interception was no longer the name of the game, not in the original sense anyhow for their target was no longer valid. Ranger, now at the helm of a Beiarusian long range strategic bomber, after whatever uncertain events had transpired to put him in such a predicament, needed escorting back to Dorusian territory and indeed protecting from the squadron of pursuers which happened to be closing in at a rate and a half, they would be upon Ranger, Paladin and Morena within minutes at their current speed and vector. Maria had made the necessary radar adjustments to clear the TU-95 and the Sukhoi from being targeted and had began setting scan range for the horizon, anticipating the arrival of the enemy who wouldn't be too happy that one of their largest weapons in their aerial arsenal had just been stolen by a bunch of war prisoners, but at least Morena wasn't alone, for wherever they currently were, Snowcat were joining the fight.

<< Bannik: Proceed on current course for Vostok Air Force Base. Be aware that enemy interceptors are on fast approach, six o'clock, distance one hundred and thirty-five kilometers. Protect the bomber at all costs. Snowcat will rendezvous momentarily. >>

<< Understood. Morena, we hit those interceptors before they get close. I'm taking point. Ranger and his new friend could use an escort, so any volunteers should form a defensive line. >>

<<Copy. I have bandit contacts on radar>>

The F-16 completed the one hundred and eighty degree turn to bring them more or less on a direct intercept with the approaching Beiaruisan force. The green blips drifted onto the scope from twelve 'o-clock, numbering a dozen or so in total, they moved with haste towards the center of the screen with each pass, inch by inch, kilometer by kilometer, somewhere out in that vast depth of midnight lingered the enemy, clamoring for a fight.

"You see them yet?"

Maria asked, too busy reading the instruments to look up from them.

Noel took a quick glance out past the nose of the Falcon, nothing but the black glass of the antarctic ocean stretched out beneath them, broken up only by the silver shimmering of the moon and it's vast presence in the skies, that and the white sheets of ice off to their south, the scene itself had a certain captivating beauty to it, but behind the picturesque desertscape there was a glaring hostility to such a place, to get shot down here would surely spell ones end, you would freeze to death within minutes if the paralyzing shock of the icy waters didn't kill you first.

"No. Just green, green and some more shades of green" Noel replied rather dryly, even though the moon did illuminate a great portion of the sky, it was still plenty dark enough for the human eye to have trouble picking out shapes beyond the black, the NVG's relieved this some despite how uncomfortable they may have been to wear, the narrow field of vision coupled with the grainy picture was enough to give anybody a headache.

"Contacts are closing within range of our One-Twenties" Maira informed with a hint of quiver in her voice, either from the cold or nervousness was beginning to take a hold.

"Copy. Let's see their first move before we make ours, no need to waste a missile they can easily outmaneuver at this range" Noel responded, steady cranking the throttle up on the F-16 causing the whole craft to lurch forward with acceleration, drawing close to Null in the F-18.

<< I have visual ID on bandits. Aguila, engaging. >>

The F-16 bobbed and swept upwards, aiming to engage the enemy with a marginal altitude advantage, hopefully forcing the opposing craft to bleed energy and speed in the engagement to come, hopefully luring the interceptors into a turning battle.

<< Vamonos! >>


Like a silver bullet, the Fighting Falcon burst forth with a burst of pent up chemical energy being released into the frosty night, the blots of the enemy Foxhounds and Foxbats soon took notice and parted their own ways in a bid to spread their formation to cover a wider area as possible, they aimed to break that formation.

" Foxbat! Breaking off hard starboard " Maria had a sharp eye and spotted the lone interceptor hoping to sneak in a flanking strike by turning early, something they couldn't have. On a dime the F-16 turned and rolled, the craft quickly finding it's way through the darkness toward the target and soon, the missile.

<< Fox Three! >>

The rightmost AMRAAM dropped from the rail when the electronic signal was sent, the small white arrow punched through the air with a roaring leap of orange flame when the rocket booster kicked in, the missile banked on an intercept course and soon found purpose.

" Missile has enemy in the basket! "

Once the missile could actively seek the target by it's own means, Noel peeled the F-16 the opposite way to prevent being drawn into a spiral, however he could still see the Foxbat desperately trying to get away by pumping chaff. The Beiarusian pilot held for as long as he could but eventually, caught between the decision of bailing out to freeze in the dark seas, or burn alive in his own plane, he inadvertently chose the latter when the missile detonated well within effective range, igniting everything onboard in one sweeping wave to turn the Foxhound into a shooting star.

<< Scratch one! >>

Each side had already enveloped one another, like the medieval knights of old, clad in steel and bristling with lances, the soldiers passed one another in a display of twisting turns and pivoting loops, each one trying to wrest control of sky and machine, unlike medieval knights however, the stakes here were much, much higher.

" We're being spiked! On our six, up high! "

A Foxhound circled above, testing the mettle of the F-16 pilot with a few bouts of 23mm cannon fire that lit the immediate vicinity outside the cockpit of the plane, the rounds whistled past with perhaps a few meters to spare, too close for comfort when talking about gunfire. The bullets served as nothing but a decoy whilst a separate FoxHound deployed from the side, a couple of kilometers off but in combat, that was close enough to be turned into slag.

" Coming around on him ". Noel cranked the Falcon hard to the side, staying more or less parallel with the horizon. The intention being that the Foxhound would give chase so Noel could lead him towards the furball.

<< I've got a Foxhound hard on my Six, could appreciate a hand >>

---

Kills:
1x F-3 (MiG-25 "Foxbat")

Ordinance:
Vulcan Cannon - 511x 20mm API rounds
1x AiM-120 (Mid Wing Pylons)
4x AiM-9 (Wingtip & Outer Wing Pylons)
2x 370gal Drop Tanks (Inner Wing Pylons)

[Prosorusiya]

Before Intercepting The Bomber

For a few minuets, there was only silence. Nonna pounded once more on Nicky's door, but there was no response. Again, the sirens screeched their ominous warning, sending flocks of birds scattering skyward. Nonna swore silently beneath her breath, and dug through the breast pocket of her flight suit. She produced a small aluminum flask, and took a swig from it. The warmness of kvass caressed her, stealing her against the cold night. She surveyed the situation once more. Clearly, waiting for Nicky was a lost cause, he was probably already at the pre-flight briefing. Sighing, Nonna replaced the flask, and about faced. Slamming the weatherbeaten door of her Trabant, she departed in a cloud of dust towards the base headquarters.

~~~

The MiG-23P stood just as Nonna had left it, weapons training dummies still in place on it's pylons. The briefing had been a quick affair, and she hadn't had enough time to talk to Nicky, just to gulp down a Coke while Null lectured as usual. Her Trabant has proved useful for making briefings on time, if it wasn't for the car she never would have maneged to link up with the rest of the squadron. Now, it stood next to the hanger, heat from its over taxed engine sending heat waves into the cold air.

Nonna shouted for the weapons handlers, and a gaggle appeared from behind a pile of crate, sake bottle in hand. A language barrier stood between them, as firm as the Great Wall. But a few excited gestures and copious frantic shouting seemed to work just as well, and soon the MiG's pylons were equipped with the proper weapons. Not waiting for anyone's approval, Nonna clambered up the ladder and leapt into the cockpit. Shooing the hanger's night shift aside, she gently brought the engine online, and began to taxi the fighter across to the runway. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. The MiG was still new to her, and in some ways she missed her old Flagon, with it's second engine and eye watering climb. She brought the engine to full power, and swept the wings foreward. The runway began to rush past her cockpit at a blistering speed, and the MiG began to climb, hesitantly, skyward. Nonna swept the wings back as she rose above the airbase, sweat making her flight suit stick to her like glue. The afterburner sent a mass of flame shooting out across the night sky, as it rocketed past the speed of sound. As soon as the aircraft had finished battering it's way past the sound barrier, Nonna switched on her headset.

<<Dash: Scarecrow 6, joining up.>>

[Kyraina]

1st Lt Jax "Ranger" Bradford
Ranger and everyone let a sigh of relief out as every one called for weapons tight.

<< Jesus, you almost got yourself toasted Ranger. What the hell are you doing in a Beiarusian Tupolev all the way out here?>>

Ranger: <<Well Aguila, we just decided to give the Beiarusians the Slip, steal a plane, which this lovely and slow hunk of junk just happened to be the closes to us, bomb the runway we took off from, and take a lovely flight path over this beautiful and desolate piece of land by moonlight, we were even thinking about breaking out some flares to use as candles and have a romantic flare lit ration dinner on the bomber as we admire the beauty of the land.>>

Ranger smiled at his comment, while the others on the Bomber laughed. Ranger shook his head and listened to the other Remarks. He shook his head a bit angrily at Hound's remark, but to his Surprise, it was Paladin 1-1 that spoke up and not Paladin 1-2,you could tell since Paladin 1-1 was a male with deep voice. Paladin had hooked up to Tombstone to Refuel, and was then again back to the side of the Bomber.

<<Hound to Null. How much are you willing to bet that Paladin is bait, and we are about to reel in a shark?>>

Paladin 1-1: <<This is Paladin 1-1. We are not bait, if it wasn't for us, everyone on board that bomber would have been executed for crimes that didn't have any evidence to back it up, Between that and the rotten core, plus some of the things i had heard done by Beiarusian Troops was enough to drive both me and my WSO to defect. Now there will be guys coming after The POWs and Us to shoot us down.


Ranger shook his head again, while Paladin 1-2 was berating Paladin 1-1 for his attitude.

Ranger's head then snapped up at what Bannik said, and then grew angry at the sound of Zeeger's voice.

Ranger: <<Null, Ranger here. I would turn this damn thing around and ram that son of a bitch but i am not going to put these other peoples' lives at risk for a personal matter, so do me a massive favor, and just don't shoot down the guy, but kill the bastard too, even if he ejects out of that plane>>

Ranger and Skull Kid then pushed the throttles as far forward as they could go and fled at the Bomber's max speed.

[Rupudska]

Mig-25s and their MiG-31 derivatives are, despite their technologically complex appearances, very simple aircraft to fly. Their massive engines grant them incredible speed and their powerful radars enable them to detect enemies at incredible ranges.

Unfortunately for them, that's about all they're good at. They are interceptors of the old laws of aerial combat, meant to boom and zoom. They can zoom, and they can boom, but they are easily and swiftly outclassed in a dogfight by anything capable of a little more.

It wouldn't be easy, though. For now, their radars were pointed forward, and that left Hound at a slight disadvantage.

Slight.

Mashing the throttles, she soared to high altitude, almost 10,000 feet above the MiGs. They were fast, but they needed time to turn in any direction, and up was a direction.

The Acrid carried by the MiG-25 has a range of a maximum of 80 kilometers.

The AMRAAM-C has a maximum range of over 105 kilometers.

<<Hound, Fox Three!>> she called out as she started her dive, screaming down from the heavens at Mach 1.8, almost too fast to pull up. The MiG-25 was fast and had a big radar, but the Gripen was nimble and had a much more advanced one. The Acrid was fired at its maximum range, but it was simply too slow to score a decent hit. It exploded well behind Hound, doing only minimal damage to her tail.

---

1x MiG-25

4x AIM-9 Sidewinders
3x AIM-120C AMRAAMs

[Prosorusiya]

The Present Battle

Nonna spotted the MiG-25, bit this was no great accomplishment, the large plane stuck out like a sore thumb on her radar screen. Jamming her stick sideways and swinging the fighters wings foreword to a 45 degree sweep, Nonna's Flogger sliced through the air. The Foxbat's massive afterburners glowed on the horizon of the night as its desperate pilot struggled to avoid the fate of it's wingman. Nonna mashed the fire button on her stick as the tone of her heat seeking AA-7 screamed in her headset.

<<Dash: Fox Two! Fox One!>>

The large heat seeker left from its post beneath the Floggers wing, followed closely by its radar guided equivalent, and rocketed off into the moonlight darkness. Soon, it was a star amount the many stars twinkling in the night. Then, it merged with the twin red dots of the Foxbat's burners, growing into a meteor, before disappearing into the waters below. Behind it fell as second glimmering flame which disappeared quickly, the dud missile exploding harmlessly somewhere in the evening sky.

<<Dash: Splash One Bandit!>>

It had been a long time since a Nonna had said those words, and they filled her with a kind of pride that she had missed as an instructor. Those were the words that meant, perhaps, one more of her friends would come back safe tonight. They were the words that made the cold, the sleep deprivation, the aches and pains disappear. Nonna smiled. She'd have to add a new kill mark to her plane when she got back to base.

[Tayner]

Second Lieutenant Dan
Over the South Atlantic Coast
Gunny

Gunny: << Moving to engage the hostiles. Over. >>

Gunny plotted an intercept course towards the enemy formation, and built up speed and altitude gradually. He looked at his radar, and saw that one of the interceptors were heading to meet him. If Gunny tried to out-climb him, there was a good chance they would zoom under, and if Gunny tried to turn back to try and find a more favorable angle of attack, the interceptor would just close the distance and boom and zoom.

"Arm the AMRAAMs, let's see if we can't knock this fucker before he gets to us first." Gunny said to Joker, and leveled out. Soon after he watched the interceptor, which he now identified as a MiG-31, do the same. "Fire once we hit 100 kilometers." Gunny ordered.

"Aye." Joker said, arming the weapons and targeting the enemy interceptor. The MiG was 150 lilometer away, and closing. Seconds later, as Gunny pushed the throttle, it was 125 kilometers. It didn't take long for the range to drop to 100 kilometers.

"Now!" Dan nearly shouted, and Joker instantly firing a pair of missiles. They watched as they soared off into the darkness, and waited for the impact.

Instead, they watched as the missiles soared past their mark on the radar, as the ace Cavalier pulled off an impressive double barrel roll in a craft of that size and nature an deployed countermeasures. "What the?" Dan asked, but was soon answered.

Cavalier: << Didn't think it would be that easy did you? >>

It wasn't long before the enemy ace locked the Super Hornet, and fired it's own duo of missiles. Dan immediately started climbing, until the missiles were too close, and dumped countermeasures, tipped the plane into a dive, and rolled as hard as he could to the right. The two pilots watched as the first missile soared pas, missing by a wide range, but as the other passed way to close, detonating too late to inflict damage onto it's target.

Cavalier: << Impressive, for a merc. >>

Gunny listened to the ace give a comment in a more sarcastic tone, before he could realize the mistake he made. The MiG-31 now had the altitude advantage, and it bore down onto the unsuspecting pilots, firing a hail of cannon rounds down at the Hornet. "Fuck!" Gunny yelled as he tried to roll out of the line of fire, but he was too late, nearly a dozen rounds tore into the body of the aircraft, and the right wing.

"Shit! You alright?" Had shouted back to Joker.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me." Joker responded.

It didn't take long for Gunny to get out of the interceptor's way, and he checked over his systems while the MiG-31 was heading back to make a second run. The landing gear was bent, and most of the munitions on the right wing were disabled. To add onto the list of growing problems, the jet was responding slowly and sluggishly. If it weren't pitch black out, he could also see some black smoke puffing out of the jet.

Gunny: << My plane's taken a hit, it's hurting bad. Over. >>

Cavalier: << That's about what I expected from a merc. >>

---

412x Cannon Rounds
2x AIM-9 Sidewinders

[Relikai]

Second Lieutenant Kanzaki Yuria, 'Reppu'
South Atlantic

They came in fast, they came in hard, the drop tank of the Gripen falling off as soon as a fight was expected to grant the plane maximum speed and agility. Reppu noted their approach on radar, as her Gripen flew towards an interceptor coming at her at altitude. Haruna had briefed Reppu on the new Yuktobanian missiles being exported to a number of countries around the world, competing with the Osean AMRAAM of which two hung from the underside of the Gripen. There was a temptation to use the extreme range of the AMRAAM at the targets, but even if a missile could hit something at long range, it doesn't mean it would.

Pilots trained in air-combat maneuvers would love to have an enemy fire at them from the extreme, for it would give them more time to evade, and the enemy would be short of a missile in combat. Extreme range firing reminded Reppu of her first combat encounter, the encounter which made her an Ace.

80km.

Cavalier Six: << Cavalier-Six. Got ourselves a lonely Griffin. >>

The warning tone came on as her Gripen was painted by the MiG-31's powerful radar. They were not letting her ambush them, they would not get caught off guard. Reppu released her breath, mentally telling herself to keep calm, to keep steady. The Beiarusian plane continued to close the distance with the Gripen, both pilots willing for the other to shoot. Shoot first, when the distance was still wide, or shoot first, and claim the kill.

60km.

The shrill warning tone in her headset rang, and Reppu sensed the knight waver. The lance became visible with the ignition of a rocket booster, streaking towards the enemy in a joust in which only could leave alive. A joust not dealing in honor or glory, but one dealing in the cold hard business of war and death. Two riders in their steeds riding at one another, visors locked and weapons ready. At this distance, the first shooter would not allow his opponent the luxury of easy evasion.

If they were not using a plane as nimble and unstable as the Gripen, that is.

The plane pulled up, bringing Reppu close to the plane's maximum service ceiling as she eyed the missile on her radar. The R-33 Amos was a good missile, a big projectile best for engaging big targets. However, being in high altitude meant that missiles had a further range, and were easier to maneuver than they would at the denser air below. Reppu took this into consideration as she brought the missile for a ride, jamming her stick to the side as she inverted the plane before diving, releasing several tubes of chaff on the way, releasing clouds of shimmering particles reflected by the moonlight. It was a sight to behold, but ignored by those not dealing in their business at that very moment.

All but one.

The Amos flew right into the cloud, its tracking radar messed by Reppu's trail and countermeasure placement. Missing the Gripen by a distance, the missile soon fizzled off, unable to acquire a track as the Gripen broke off from an S-split, its single engine now pushing the fighter forward towards the heavy interceptor. She could see the plane react, pulling upwards as it sought to escape the Gripen. Reppu wasn't about to let it off so quickly, as she could sense another MiG heading for her...

Reppu: << Reppu, Fox Two! Splash one! >>

Fired at near minimum range, the Sidewinder could not miss. Forced to break to another direction, the MiG lost precious speed in the night sky, its engines torn apart by the explosion as the missile sought the source of heat over the Atlantic Ocean.

<< I've got a Foxhound hard on my Six, could appreciate a hand >>

Aguila.

Reppu recognised the voice immediately, and picking out the F-16 in the night sky was hard, but her goggles soon identified the small place being chased by a larger plane. There was another nearby, trying to box in the nimble Falcon while one of them prepares for the kill.

Her pipper shifted to the signature right behind the F-16, Reppu timing the shot as she pushed her Gripen forward, afterburners on as she sought to eat up distance. She found a good lock, just as the growl on her headset turn into shrill warning, of incoming missiles.

Reppu : << Scarecrow Five, Fox Three, Fox Three! >>

Two missiles fell from the Gripen, Reppu pulling up as they remained suspended in the air for a moment. As if waiting for their presence to be acknowledged, the AMRAAMs kicked off their boosters as they streaked off towards the Foxhound. Reppu knew they were Fire-and-Forget, but nothing was assured in actual combat. As she dove towards the sea, the Archer missile hot on her tail, Reppu could only hope that she did enough as flares shot out towards the side of the fighter, the Seianese ace pushing her plane to its limits.

Reppu: << Scarecrow Five, Reppu here. Got a bandit on my tail. >>

---

Kills - MiG-31 Foxhound

Weapons -

3x Sidewinders
2x MICA
27mm Revolver Cannon, 120 rounds.

[Parcia]

Second Lieutenant Nikolai Stroika
Dragon
South Atlantic

The op turned from a rather quiet looking interception to a utter cluster fuck in about the time it took him to finish climbing. The F-16 was a nimble bird, but the drop tank, a rather large one, strapped to the underside of his bird impaired her majestic agility to a large degree.

<<Dragon: God, I hate drop tank->>

His radar suddenly lit up as a burst of 30mm cannon fire lanced out at him. Slamming down on the left pedal, he rolled the bird and dove in the inverted, barely missing the rounds.

<<Foxbat: Stop moving.>> He grimaced as he leveled the bird out and searched in vain for the Mig. <<Dragon: Make me, Cyka>>

As he uttered the curse over the radio, his radar lit up as the Mig slotted in on his tail and the missile lock droned in his ear. This was perfect, a chance to test out a move he had only heard about: Pugachev's Cobra.

Giving the Mig the slightest of moments to gain the lock, he suddenly closed the throttle, yanked the stick back yet dared not to touch his flaps. The point of the maneuver was to preserve thrust while forcing your enemy to over shoot, and that was Dragon's intention. The sudden G rush was not something he was expecting though, and he barely remained awake as the sudden rush of blood from his head occurred, the only thing saving him being his breathing exorcises and a hell of a head ache.

But the move worked, some what, as the Mig shot by Dragon pitched forward and slammed the throttle all the way forward. The Foxbat was smart enough to see he had the Agility, but not the speed and so tried to open up the distance on Nicky as the battle raged below them. <<Dragon: The fuck you think your going?>>

The left most heat seeker lit up the mig with a lock. <<Dragon: Dragon, fox 2!>> He called out as the side winder left the wing mount and lanced out towards the Mig as it gained a lead. The missile was faster though, and the Foxbat knew that, it banked left and popped counter measures. This cost the Mig the speed it needed to outpace him though, and Dragon closed in fast, choosing to finish this one off with his gun.

The Foxbat banked right hard, then left, trying to shake Dragon as he tailed him. To give him credit,t he man was clearly an experienced pilot, but he made really only one mistake: He tried to out maneuver a Viper. Dragon kept with him, more or less, on every bank and turn, getting more then a few missile locks but never a good gun shot.

He pulled back on the throttle, just enough to let the Mig get a few hundred meters in front of him. Finally. As the Mig tried to pitch up and muster a burst climb, it began to stall, even with his engines pushed to it's max. Dragon did the same, slowing his bird down past it's own stall speed. As he did so, he pitched the bird upward, leading the Mig just enough....

<<Dragon: Guns Guns Guns!>> He pressed the trigger and the gun spun and fired, sending a burst of 20mm HEFRAG at the Mig aimed center mass. It turned out he was leading a bit too much, as the rounds mostly missed, but a few did impact the cockpit, tearing it to shreds and bursting to flame.

<<Foxbat: Fuck!Arghh!>> His face went from a smirk to a solemn grimace as the cry screeched over the radio, but it didn't faze him, this was war after all. <<Dragon: Splash a foxbat, one away from Ace!>>

<<Reppu: Scarecrow Five, Reppu here. Got a bandit on my tail. >>


He brought the plane down in the inverted as it finally stalled and searched the sky. Seeing the rather bright display as the Grippon dumped flairs like they were going out of fashion. He almost noted the smoky trail the was closing in on her. <<Dragon: Defensive roll, Reppue, messes with its targeting!>>

He slammed forward on the throttle, nose pointed at the craft that was tailing Reppue. He switched over the the Sparrows and kept steady, trying to get a lock on the Mig tailing his friend. As the lock went solid, he thumbed the fire button...only to have the Sparrow simply fall off the rail, its booster faltering.

<<Dragon: Fucking Osean piece of shit, I got a dud, closing for a better lock!>>


Summery:

Kill - 1x Mig-25 Foxbat
Ammo:

3x AIM-9 Side winders
1x AIM-7 Osean Piece of shit Sparrow
492x 20mm HEFRAG