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 17:04:57 hrs
"Argos 4, cleared to detach." The tanker pilot says to the number four plane. We're all done refueling. The number four plane detaches 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, Malcolm, 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 something!" 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. Malcolm 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."
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 my bottom center 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 combined eleven planes, and hits another. A brilliant explosion follows.
"Malcolm 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," Mayhem 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," he says, addressing another squadron, "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."
"Malcolm checking in, one missile and half an hour."
"Leo checking in. Two missiles, half an hour, and eight hundred rounds left."
"Ok. Mailman has half an hour and one missile. Argos flight, return to combat area and engage at will." I say. I push the throttle forward, and turn the plane to an 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 long range 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 short 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. It disappears.
"MAYHEM, SPLASH ONE!" The yelling comes in through my helmet followed by praise from the others.
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 Sapinish Air Force has launched an airstrike." The AWACS says. "Aircrafts are being scrambled. Any aircraft running low on fuel or ammo can return to resupply. You are all cleared to engage."
"Cleared to engage!" I say. I don't give any commands; I am in fight mode. I push the throttle forward and meet the bomber. It's also a Bm-335. Perfect.
Unfortunately, I also meet their escorts: two naval launched, high performance, stealth multiroles. Crap. They are rushing towards me when I hear Mayhem.
"Mayhem, I see two targets closing at high speed behind the bombers. Splitting to engage. Leo, follow me."
I turn in the opposite direction of the enemy bomber to try to swing around and shoot it. The enemy fighters have followed me. I slam the throttle and do a couple of rolls to try to shake them. After the fourth roll, I pull up and change strategies to diving on the bomber from behind.
Tracers whizz past my plane.
Without even waiting anymore, I turn the plane left to face the bomber. I pull the trigger on the joystick, and the mounted cannon on my nose opens fire. I step on the rudder with my right foot a little, so the rounds can impact the engines.
They do. The enemy bomber's two right engines explode and the plane immediately rolls to the right. I pull up at 650 miles per hour and climb to escape my attackers. I strain against the turn force.
"Mailman, I confirm your kill." Malcolm says.
"Malcolm! How many missiles do you have left? Kill one of these guys for me!" I say.
"Got it." He replies. I pull the joystick back, and pitch so that I point myself at the ground. The enemies are still on me. I roll around as I dive, and I am thrown around in the cockpit.
"Malcolm, fox three." He sounds so relaxed. He's not the one being chased though. "Miss, no effect."
"Ok, regroup on me, we'll shake these guys." I say. He follows. The enemies do as well.
Malcolm forms on my right and I tell him to follow me. With that, I turn towards the base. The fighters seem like they are about to catch up to us. A missile warning lights up the lights next to my missile arm light.
The SAM defense system at Rock Hollow AFB is activated, and the fighters are shot down.
"That takes care of that. Malcolm, after you for the landing." I say, and actually gesture to his plane with my hand. I doubt anyone but me saw that.
"Yeah. AWACS, Argos 3, RTB." He says. I circle the base at three angels until he lands and exits the runway. Then it's my turn.
I put the flaps down, then the gear. I throw the throttle all the way back, because this plane does not take landings at my speed. I line up with the runway. At the last minute, I pull the nose back up and point skyward.
At 129 mph, the rear wheels hit the ground, and the nose wheel hits the ground with moderate force. Definitely not one of my best landings. I exit the runway as quick as possible, then taxi to my squadron's hangar. I leave the engines running.
I pull the canopy handle, and leave with the ladder that was pushed to the cockpit by the ground crew.
"Ok guys, I'll need four air to air missiles." I quickly say to them. I need to get back up as quick as possible.
"Yeah, we'll get that." The chief engineer says. His helper drives the truck to the ammo hangar, and in seven minutes he is back with eight missiles, four for me and four for Malcolm. The chief helps Malcolm load his missiles, while the helper and I load mine. We lift the heavy missiles to the hardpoints, then close them. I now regret having an older plane that does not "grab" the missiles. I climb the ladder and make the cockpit checks quick.
In a minute, I am airborne, and Malcolm follows.
"AWACS, Argos one and three are back in the fight." I say to the AWACS. Then I radio Mayhem. "Mayhem, where are you?"
"Southeast of Rock Hollow." he replies.
"Roger. Be there in a few." I say. Malcolm and I rush to his aid. We arrive and join him at 24,000 ft.
"Mailman, you missed the AWACS Sitrep. Their bomber contingent has mostly been downed, and we need to sanitize the place. Party's almost over."
"Ok, what are you doing?" Malcolm asks.
"Leo and I have been tailing these guys for five minutes. It's two fighters following an ECM plane."
"Leave the fighters to me," I say. "I've got a score to settle."
"I've got the other one." Malcolm says.
"I'll get the ECM. Mayhem, cover us." Leo says.
"Let me do it." he says, "I'm feeling good today."
"Ok." Leo says. After a brief pause, he asks, "Gentlemen, shall we?"
"Let's." I say. "Mailman, going down." I roll the plane 75 degrees to the left, then pitch down and level out. I look up, but at my angle, that's just looking level to the horizon. I can see the enemies in level flight, with the ECM plane between the fighter. Perfect. They don't know we're here. This'll be a silent kill.
I can also see the same fighter type that engaged me earlier. The one on the left wing of the ECM will be mine. I will steal his wings.
I pull the trigger a bit, just to warm up the guns. Four seconds later, I pull the trigger to fire while announcing my fire to my squadron. They, too, have begun to let loose.
My bullets fill the fighter with bullets. The enemy doesn't crumple and fall, but actually just explodes. That's my third kill today. Plus the two I already have...
I am overcome with pride and am reaching for my radio when the other enemies die. "Argos squadron, Mailman here. That's my fifth kill!"
They congratulate me. I've done it. I am now not just a fighter pilot, but a deadly one.
"AWACS here. Rock Hollow airspace is secure. Good shooting guys. RTB, closest to base will land first."
It's all over. We've won. I've won.
Mission 2: January 29, 2033 15:28:27 hrs
There's activity around the halls of Rock Hollow AFB today. I've noticed a lot more people in the hallways, congregations in the barracks, break rooms, and the mechanics (ones that were stationed here to begin with, since pilots service their planes a lot) are all over the place. Guess a fight's coming up.
Perfect.
I, from departing breakfast in the mess hall, start around the halls in search of my flight. After touring the facility, I decide that they're not here. I suppose I should mention that Rock Hollow is unofficially divided into two parts: the airfield and aviation services, and the residence, offices, and training courses, etc. I haven't checked the field, so I go there.
After walking to my hangar for twenty minutes, our chief engineer drives up in a jeep.
"Mailman, want a ride?" he asks.
"Sure," I reply, and jump (literally) onto the back of his jeep. After a short ride, we reach the hangar. I climb out of the car and find my flight, standing in a circle with the engineers and in a conversation. Let's find out what's going on.
"Gentlemen," I begin, "what's up with the hubbub?"
Mayhem fills me in. "Mailman. All right, here's what's going on. As you'll see on the bulletin board, they've posted some new information, that we're going to cripple their navy at Gran Rugido."
"Wow!" I say. "Hitting the enemy's heart! This'll be the strike of a lifetime!"
"Yeah, I know. They haven't told us anything else, only that there'll be four flight briefings. It's on the board. The rest of us are going to be in briefing C, but you're in briefing C and D," he finishes.
I walk to our bulletin board. Everything he said is up there. I am stationed in briefing C and D.
Briefing C 16:00:00 hrs
I take a seat with my wingmen near the front of the briefing room. It's not exactly a clean room, or a well-ventilated one either. Must be because so many people have been in here today. There's about forty pilots in here now, waiting for the show to get started.
The General takes the podium. We stand to salute, and he puts us at ease.
"Good afternoon, pilots. I'm sure after the other day's encounter, you all are raring for the chance at revenge, right?"
Shouts and whoops erupt from the pilots.
"Calm down...you'll get your chance." The General continues. "At 22:00 hours tonight, we are going to strike Gran Rugido. The main objective is to cripple their navy, and deal major damage to their air force wherever possible. To do this, we're using air power from three bases. One airbase will attack an enemy airbase, and the other will cover allied invasion of Gran Rugido. We're going to attack their port."
He pauses, to make sure that we have that in our notes.
"We're putting a lot on the line here. This next battle will be a highly strategic victory, and the end will not be far off. Now, to attack the port, we have four separate flights, which are named Alpha through Delta. Alpha's objective will be to sink any enemy naval vessels. Bravo's objective will be to destroy port facilities. Charlie flight, which is all of you, will be to maintain air superiority. In all three flights, pilots are ordered to exercise discretion. We don't want any war crimes."
He pauses again. Wow. Seems like we're going to destroy Sapin. I almost feel sorry for them.
"Delta flight will attack first. Their objective is to maintain silence and sink the Salvacion aircraft carrier."
So I'm going to hit them first, and stay behind to shoot stuff down. This is wonderful. I'm gonna make a name for myself.
Briefing D 16:45:00 hrs
I didn't leave the last briefing. Just sat. Five other pilots enter the room. I recognize two of them, Mack and Nord. They came from my hometown, so we roll together.
The General hasn't left either. We are briefed, and I learn the location of the carrier in the port, our attack angle, enemy defenses, everything. The carrier needs to be sunk by three torpedoes, for ensured effect. Within our flight, we've decided the three that will sink it, based on our other flight.