Hello, all, welcome to my story. This story will be written in the same fashion as my last story, but it will be cool this time because it has fighters. Enjoy! Solowing106 (talk) 14:45, November 18, 2014 (UTC)
Background
The year is 2033. Ustio is, once again, at war. The Sapinish Air Force has launched an invasion, in the hopes of taking over the country and annexing it. The Ustian Air Force turns to mercenary pilots again.
The protagonist's aircraft is based of what little experience I have with an F-18.
Mission 1: January 18, 2033 12:04:57 hrs
"Argos 4, cleared to detatch." The tanker pilot aays to the number four plane. We're all done refueling. The number four plane detatches and rejoins the formation.
We are the 27th Fighter Bomber squadron, Argos. We are comprised of four aircraft, two fighters and two bombers. I fly a fighter, in the lead position. My number two is also a fighter, and the rest are bombers. We have a diverse squadron. Then again, the Ustian Air Force has always been. I'm not sure whether it was worse in '95 or now, but I'm sure now. The generals just decided to hire anyone who had a plane and let them form their own squadrons. I don't know how well it works, but it must work.
I've been sitting in this cockpit for four hours, on patrol.
"Mailman, how much longer is the patrol?" the number three bomber, Malcom, asks. I bring the rubber oxygen mask from hanging on my helmet to my face.
"Don't really recall." I say.
"Great. We'll be stuck up in these mountains forever," The other fighter complains. "I wouldn't mind sitting up here for so long if we could just run in to someone. All we've seen is the tanker!"
"I know! I wanna shoot someting!" The third plane says.
"All right. Let's just fly to the northern boundary, then we'll turn back." I say. The squadron approves.
Since the Ustian Air Force recruited mercs, they recruited planes as well. It's sort of cool, in that it's almost as if no two planes are exactly alike. The downside is that we are our own mechanics as well.
Our squadron is comprised of four different planes altogether. I fly an older fighter, developed in 2019. It doesn't have an AI that I have to be talking to like a copilot, and it's not one of the more modern planes that come equipped with a COFFIN system. Just good old LCDs. The outside resembles one of those Su-47's they used in the Belkan War, but with sharper features and a white paint scheme. Below the canopy is a marking of a small plane and a large one. My kill tally.
The number two pilot, Mayhem, flies a white YR-99, built during the Aurelian war. Malcom flies a YR-302, and Leo, the fourth, flies an FZ-23.
I put the mask to my face again. "AWACS, Argos lead. We've been up here 4 hours and still no joy. Requesting return to base."
"Argos flight, stand by." The voice says.
"Standing by." I say. The AWACS is probably calling the base, asking if we can come home.
"Argos flight, cleared to return to base."
"Argos flight, returning to base." I pause. "Ok fellas," I say, directing my attention towards my squadron, "You all heard him." I end with that, and then I turn my plane to the south. The thing about my plane is that the joystick is different. While most other planes have the joystick as just a stick protruding from the ground, my joystick is side mounted, and actually is turned 90 degrees to the left in the same manner as the throttle. Only for right-handed pilots, of course.
We are heading home now, at an altitude of 4000 ft, bearing 160, and are 25 miles from base.
"Argos lead, AWACS. We have tally ho on a bogey thirty miles to the East at 27 angels. Turn to a vector of 090, cleared to intercept. Do not engage until ordered or unless there are friendly lives in danger."
"Argos flight copies all. Thanks." I am excited, but then remember one thing. "Uh, AWACS! Argos lead! Tell base to cancel our landing!"
"On it. Thanks." They say.
"Tally ho, you all heard him! Let's go!" I say to my squadron.
"Finally!" Mayhem says.
"Gonna get some kills, gonna get some kills." Mayhem says.
I lock my mask to my helmet, pull back on the joystick, and ram the throttle. The engines have been slowly working, but now they roar to life as the afterburners light up.
We climb to the target altitude of 27000 ft and are at the intercept area in four minutes.
I look around, but I can't see any planes. Checking my radar in the bottom center of my panel, I can't see anything either. Weird.
"Mailman here. No joy." I say.
"Mayhem. I'm no joy, too," I hear.
"Leo here. I have radar contact...they're small...there are at least five of them." The bomber says.
"Five? Wow!" Mayhem says. He is interrupted by Leo's voice again.
"Tally ho. Ten o'clock low. There's a lot of them. They look like drones!"
"Argos lead to AWACS," I say, "we have visual on the enemy. They are drones. Request permission to engage."
"Argos squadron, weapons free." I hear through my headset.
"Roger." I pause. "Argos flight, cleared to engage. Weapons free."
"Roger. Mayhem, checking left...engaging." I hear. Mayhem's going in first. The guy has no kills.
The rest of the squadron turns left to engage. I stay for just a bit, to check my plane. The radios are ok, surfaces, lights, and information panels are ok. I need to change my transponder code, which I do. I also access my left information panel and arm up the missile on my left wing. I'm ready.
"Mailman, engaging!" I say. I bank the plane left and pull back on the joystick. I'm lying on the side of my cockpit, and am pushed into the ejection seat. The rest of my squadron hasn't started firing yet.
A single missile flies from one of the eleven planes, and hits another. A brilliant explosion follows.
"Malcom here. That's a kill!"
I would congratulate him, but I am in targeting range. I line up the HUD with the general furball, and I see seven computerized diamonds on the HUD. Payday. I hear a beeping, which is a sign that the missile is looking for a target. A red light just below the HUD is blinking. Suddenly, the light is steady and the tone in my headset is screaming. A diamond on the HUD turns red. I press the black button on the joystick with my thumb.
The missile releases from my left wing with a thud, and streaks toward the unfortunate drone. An explosion sounds as the drone dies.
"Mailman," I say, "splash one."
"Leo here, guns going hot." I hear. Looking to the left of my HUD, I see a stream of tracers flying at the drones. Two explosions follow. "Leo, splash two!"
"This is easy for you guys," Malcom says. "How about letting me shoot some?"
"Just shoot; don't ask." I say.
We clean up, and pull back home.
"Argos flight, remain in the area, another target's coming." The AWACS says.
"What?" I ask. "Where?"
"Same place. Argos flight, cleared to engage. Vulcan flight target is two BM-335s north of you. Scepter flight, move to intercept..."
His voice trails off. Sounds like some fight's coming. I check my squadron.
"Argos flight, check in. Give fuel and ammo status."
"Mayhem checking in. Two missiles and half an hour of fuel left."
"Malcom checking in, one missile and half an hour."
"Leo checking in. Two missiles, half an hour, and eight hundred rounds left."
"Ok. Argos flight, return to combat area and engage at will." I say. I push the throttle forward, and turn the plane to a, eastward heading again. I also pull back on the joystick to climb. A thought hits me, and I push the button on my left panel to arm the missile on my right wing.
Looking at my radar, I actually see two contacts ten miles in front of me. They look like bombers.
"Argos flight, tally-ho on the radar. Ten miles, looks like two bombers." I say.
"I see the same." Mayhem says, but after a shot pause, he surprises me with "Fox three."
A long-range missile flies from his wing. It turns, and looking at my radar, I can see it contact a target. Both objects disappear.
"MAYHEM, SPLASH ONE!" The yelling comes in through my helmet followed by praise from the bombers.
Suddenly, my missile starts tracking. I separate from the squadron and fly ahead a bit. The missile tone goes steady.
"Mailman, fox three." I say while pushing the launch button. The missile screams ahead, and I follow it on my radar. It flies past the target without effect. "Miss."
As I hit 27000 ft, I see three targets. One large bomber and two escorts. Two escorts that have broken off and are headed for me.
"All Ustian aircraft in the vicinity of Rock Hollow AFB, the Sapanish Air Force has launched an airstrike." The AWACS says. "Ground forces are being scrambled. Any aircraft running low on fuel or ammo can return to resupply. You are all cleared to engage."