One tiny pre-chapter authors' note: I don't care what anybody on the /r/acecombat discord says, I still find it very dumb that Mage and Golem are flying in all the way from Fort Grays in official canon at this point, by my estimate about 3000ish miles from Gunther Bay (leaving aside the ridiculously tiny size of Usea in Ace Combat 04 that was swiftly dumpstered), putting a strain on logistics and tiring out the pilots. As it's my damn story, I'm forward basing them a little bit.

Another tiiiiny thing to handwave: the ridiculous ability of pilots to fly multiple aircraft of varying types with no prior experience in them. I'm going the huge payloads route and just ignoring it because fuck if I'm gonna explain that away. We'll be taking the AC5 route and applying that proficiency to everyone.

Also, would you believe we don't know the names of literally any of Trigger's squadronmates, except that Jaeger's callsign is just his last name? To borrow from a certain chairbound prankster, I'm unfucking this posthaste. (Also also! Gamermarine, yes, that was me. I do have an alt account. Thank you again for that review.)



/

For this reason, We made it a law for the children of Israel that the killing of a person for reasons other than legal retaliation or for stopping corruption in the land is as great a sin as murdering all of mankind. However, to save a life would be as great a virtue as to save all of mankind.

The Quran, Surah al-Ma'ida 32, as translated by Shaykh Muhammad Sarwar

/

May 30, 2019

1947 hours

UNAS Comberth

Andrea Geir, Golem 2 Brownie

What the shit.

Sky Keeper told us after our escape that with the losses the IUN-PKF suffered, there were no tankers were available, so we were forced to stop off at the Scofield base for fuel on the way to our current base of operations at Comberth Harbor.

We left our damaged planes at Scofield. The mechanics took one look at our birds and told us in no uncertain terms that they'd all have to get shipped back to the factory, if they could even be salvaged at all. As such, the wingless pilots - like me - all got loaded onto an Air Force Learjet for the last leg. The Air Force was going to ferry us some fresh rides overnight, but until then we were firmly in the care of the personnel service.

Which unfortunately left me with a lot of time to think.

Trigger was always kind of a weird one, nothing new about that, but the way he was weird was hard to put a finger on. Wade was an outgoing person, big into baseball, physically average in just about every way, had the usual movie posters in his room, standard guy stuff. Almost a walking stereotype, except that he definitely wasn't dumb muscle - big into books, especially alt history stuff, and Shakespeare too for some reason. Even had one of those skulls on his shelf, because he loved being a walking cliche. "I was a theatre kid," he always said. Probably explains why he's such a good improviser.

But there was always a kind of… I don't know how to describe it. Just a sense that something was off about him in some strange way that was always right outside in your peripheral vision. Don't get me wrong, Wade was a good friend, and I was glad I knew him. But there was always this feeling that there was more to him than meets the eye, a few layers down.

The little confrontation I had with him after we took the Scofield airbase felt like… like a gut punch while getting a bag ripped off your head at the same time. He knew the future somehow. I wouldn't have believed it if he didn't literally call play-by-play on the ball game seconds in advance the whole time as it happened, and messed up maybe twice in two hours.

It was amazing, but holy shit was it also terrifying. I mean… that shit's not possible. It's one of those things your parents drilled into you, that nobody knows the future (though I don't think any of them meant it in this context, I guess). And yet here was Jeff's - Clown's - number 2, reading it right in front of you like something out of a damn book.

The thing that stopped me from running straight off to the MPs right then and there was the way he'd started acting right before the war started. Trigger was always reckless while he was learning the ropes with Jeff. Like, reckless to the point that I didn't understand how the guy let him join the squadron or how he even got into the front seat of a trainer.

And then… when the shooting started… he was still gung-ho, but something changed. Trigger turned into the biggest papa bear you ever met in the skies and on the ground. Like a total mom friend, except this one had a modern fighter at his fingertips loaded with enough explosives to sink a fleet. Mind you he still flew off on his own constantly, but he was right when he told me that he always made sure he was in just the right place at the right time. Nobody was ever on my tail or Jeff's or Lucian's for more than about five seconds before they went down in a fireball. It was like having our own personal, watchful, terrifying guardian angel.

Speaking of Lucian, I don't think my lead knew what to make of him either. He was never Trigger's biggest fan, said he was way too hotheaded, but then he'd turn around and say, "Then again, knowing my wingmate, I don't think I can complain too much if Clown wants to put up with it, I guess," with a wink and a nod. Was he wrong? No, but it was still rude. Anyway, at the same time, he would tell us, never when Trigger was around though, that the guy had more potential than the rest of us put together if Jeff could tame him.

From the looks of it, Clown was better off not taming him. The rest of us just slowed Trigger down more often than not.

All of that was fine and good. And I listened to him and agreed to wait with any more questions until after our next sortie - today.

But I'll be honest. If that chat after the Scofield op left me shaken up, the events of today had me terrified and questioning my sanity.

Trigger knew too much, for one thing. About everything.

For another, what the hell was that plane he was flying? It didn't match up with any bird I knew of, and I studied the recognition manual pretty thoroughly. Including paging through it on the Learjet flight back.

Where the actual fuck did he learn to fly like that? Osea hasn't had a pilot like that since at least the Sand Island Squadron, and Trigger was maybe a year out of the academy. Yet here he was, flinging a fighter around the sky like physics was his bitch, and fighting the King of the Skies to a standstill! That's so beyond impossible I don't even have words for it.

And… I think the biggest question I had was… why me? It was obvious from the get-go that, while he was trying to save everyone, for whatever reason he was focused on getting me out alive. The way he immediately objected to not being sent off to escort us home, the way he'd insisted I trust him after Scofield and then… directly invoked it today at just the critical moment. He was protecting me. Why? That, I think, was messing with me more than anything else.

I needed answers. Before I had a mental breakdown.

So, when the Learjet landed at Comberth, I did the only thing I could think of. I beelined straight for Trigger's quarters and pounded on the door.

"Wade! You open this door and you open it right the hell now!"

The door swung open an instant later, inside it standing Trigger, looking more tired than I'd ever seen him.

I slammed it shut behind me, locking it on the way, and got directly in his face. It took all my self-control not to grab his neck and throw him against a wall. Yeah, I was not feeling put-together at the moment.

"Kid, you are going to tell me everything and you are going to tell me now. Understood?!"

Trigger just nodded, then backed off and reached for his fridge, pulling out a bottle of what looked like Stoli fresh out of Yuktobania, some round ice, and a pair of shot glasses. "Drink. You're going to need it," he said simply, pouring a shot each. I obeyed. Three quick shots in, he started talking.

"It goes without saying, but you can't tell a soul about this."

I nodded, and he continued.

"Andrea… I've done this before."

"You what."

"This. The entire Lighthouse War. We won. I was there for the whole thing from day one. Shot down both Arsenal Birds personally - well, the first one was an alley-oop with Stonehenge. Led us all the way to Farbanti, and then to the Space Elevator. I ended it myself."

"Bullshit," I said simply.

"Part of me wishes it was. The war was over. I was living life after it. Good life too. They treated me like a hero for months, and then they put me to work training the next generation. And then one morning on leave, I woke up, and it wasn't 2020 any more."

"You do realize that's impossible, right?"

"And yet here I am. Here you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, a little more angrily than I actually felt.

A pause, then his voice dropped to a whisper and I saw tears forming. "You died, Brownie."

"I… what?"

"Mihaly killed you," he said, his voice dead and haunted. "First your escort, then you. I watched it happen. I heard it happen. You begged for support over the radio, but I was too far away and the others were dropping to the drones too. You died alone and terrified and whimpering and screaming. 'He's a predator,'" Trigger said, imitating my voice a little too well. "'The weak get eaten.…'"

I'd never seen a real thousand-yard stare before. God willing, I'll never see one like that again.

"Is… is that really…?"

"I saw it in my dreams for the rest of my life, Andrea. I can recount every second of it perfectly."

There's no real way to describe the feeling of knowing that you absolutely should not be alive. It's simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. A feeling of relief and joy, combined with a feeling of total wrongness. Like you can feel a timeline splitting, somehow, and that's the best I can give it. To this day I still have no idea how to talk about it properly.

"So that's why…"

"Yes," he said firmly. "Mihaly wasn't going to take you today, no matter what."

Trigger risked his life to save me.

"But… if you've seen this all before, and I died, but now I'm alive… isn't that going to change what happens?" I thought out loud.

"Maybe, maybe not. I don't know. But I have to try. Too many good men and women died in the Lighthouse War. Good people who didn't deserve to die, whose faces I see every night, whose families I met after the war. I'm going to save as many as I can. You. Wiseman. Tabloid. Full Band. High Roller. Champ, even. General Labarthe. The Belkan families on Tyler Island." He took a deep breath. "Harling."

"Harling?" I asked, a little fearfully.

"He's a hostage at the Space Elevator right now. Next week, they'll send us in to rescue him. The mission will fail, and I'll be framed for his death and sent to a penal squadron in Zapland."

"Where I assume you'll meet all of the other people you just named."

"Yeah. Well, most of them. And also my wife."

"Oh," I said, not really knowing what else to say to that.

"Which… presents kind of a problem."

"Because Harling has to die for you to meet her," I replied, putting it together. "The rest of the squadron might not get into trouble without you, but you will absolutely not meet her if you don't."

"Right. But I can't just sit back and let Harling die, or worse just shoot him myself. That'd be wrong on so many ethical levels…"

"Maybe there's some other way for you to get to Zapland?" I mused.

"I doubt it, 'cause it's not like they're exactly advertising there's a penal squadron out there, but I'll keep trying to come up with something. If I can't, though, then… well, there are other girls out there too. I love Avril, but… I wouldn't kill Vincent Harling to be with her. I couldn't live with myself like that. Sacrificing someone else's life for my own happiness? I'd eat a gun sooner or later."

"Ugh," I groaned. Ethics made my head hurt. Trying to get through the subject in college was a horrendous experience. I Kan't believe I'm actually using this right now.

Oh. There was one other issue…

"That plane. What is it, and how in the world did you get it?"

Trigger just shrugged. "What do you get when you cross an elephant and a rhino?"

"...what?"

"Elefino."

"Huh?" I sounded it out. "El if I… hell if I know. Very funny, Wade. I'm serious."

"I am too. I have no idea. I literally just walked up to the hangar thinking about how I needed a jammer and there it was. It's got the Grunder Industries logo all over it and I think it said something about being called 'Morgan' and that's all I know about it."

"Oh, so you're just a casual reality bender too?" I said, through my rapidly increasing headache.

"Apparently."

"Fuck me, I'm not half drunk enough for this shit," I moaned, reaching for more Stoli.

He poured himself a shot, too. "And I thought it was bad the first time around. Welcome to my life."

/

May 30, 2019

1959 hours

Erusean Air and Space Agency, Whiskey Flats Facility

Somewhere along the Amber Mountains on the southwest edge of the Whiskey Corridor

Wolfgang Schroeder, Ph.D., RRA (3. Klasse mit Schleife)

Much to my surprise, Mihaly did not return home in his Su-30 that day. Instead, he was ferried to the desert, an hour behind schedule, in an Erusean government C-1. I had begun to worry about my subject, as had his granddaughters, whose emotions had gone from annoyance to worry to fear to outright panic, but in the chaos of the outbreak of war...

Communications systems were no less vulnerable than any other to having their needs under stress vastly underestimated. Even Belka was not immune to this problem, our systems straining under the pressure of the War of Osean Betrayal; Erusea's network had simply collapsed under the strain of coordinating a continent-spanning offensive. As a result, only high-priority dispatches could filter through, and, much to my chagrin, I was not such a person with that sort of pull. I took a moment to squash that thought. I could brood about taking offense later. Mihaly had returned, looking very much worse for wear.

"Papa!" Alma shouted as he stumbled out of the plane. The girl took off in a full sprint towards her grandfather. One of the guards escorting him tensed, clearly unfamiliar with this base and his family, but Mihaly waved him off and shakily got down to a knee to embrace her. Something very untoward happened to him in the skies, I'm sure of it.

"It's alright, gyermekem. I'm here, I'm okay. I'm sorry I worried you."

"I was so scared," she sobbed into his shoulder. I had to admit I was a little touched by the display. The whole family was usually somewhat stoic and elegant, but here was genuine emotion. Likely, there was some excess stress added from my getting uncharacteristically flustered trying and failing to get in contact with Erusean command about Mihaly's whereabouts. The children must have picked up on that.

"Grandfather," Ionela said, strolling up more calmly. Visibly, anyway. I had been observing her long enough to tell her true emotions, of course. "What on earth happened? Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, Ionela, I am sure. I met a… most interesting Osean pilot today." Mihaly chose his words carefully, darting his eyes over to me for long enough to give me a message - We will need to discuss this immediately. "He fought harder than any I've encountered so far, and kept me from accomplishing the mission the Eruseans gave me - but I am quite sure Doctor Schroeder will be interested in all the data I gathered for him today. I may explain more after I have a talk with the Doctor."

A pilot able to fight off Mihaly? Surely none of the aces of the past wars are still in Osean service, are they? The Ribbon has refused to return for a fourth term, Wardog Squadron is still enjoying their own retirement - except the one in space - and no one knows where the blasted Demon is…

This is a new development.

"When you're done with your granddaughters, Archange, come see me. You know where to find me. Did they manage to salvage your flight data?"

He just motioned over his shoulder, where a pair of soldiers were offloading a large crate of some sort. Good. The flight recorder survived.

/

May 31, 2019

940 hours

UNAS Comberth

Golem 2 "Brownie"

Colonel Wainaina brought the pilots all together into the briefing room the next morning - the largest room available to us on base.

"Good morning, ladies and gents. As you know, yesterday was a tough one. As such, we're doing a little bit of reshuffling. This, along with another announcement I'll be making shortly, means we'll be seeing some changes in our flights and elements from here on out. I'll get to those in a moment, but that's what's affecting everybody."

He took a breath, then continued. "But first, Trigger, if you could come up here, please?"

I looked over at Trigger, who took a breath of his own before standing and joining the CO.

"As you may know, Second Lieutenant Francis' quick thinking and decisive actions yesterday were instrumental in bringing the overwhelming majority of our engaged planes home despite overwhelming odds over Chopinburg. He then went on to successfully hold off, by himself, and critically damage an aircraft that we've since confirmed belonged to Colonel Mihaly Shilage of the Erusean Air Force, who you may know better as the so-called 'King of the Skies,' a task that put him directly in harm's way in an exceptional manner. Trigger's actions merit some very high praise indeed. To that end - you were due for it anyway, but I've secured your promotion to First Lieutenant, Trigger." Wainaina reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver bar to replace the butter bar on Trigger's collar.

Everyone around me started clapping. There was at least one shout of "That's it?"

The Colonel just chuckled and said, "Settle down, everyone. If it were up to me, Trigger'd be leaving this room with a Silver Star too, not to mention an Outstanding Unit ribbon for everyone else, but that's outta my hands. Have a seat, Trigger. But now, for the rest of you."

The reorganization means we'll be shuffling around our flights a little bit. Since Trigger now rates his own section, we'll be expanding Mage to two flights, moving one of our own over at Knocker's suggestion, and bringing in a fresh face from outside. That leaves us with Mage 1 Clown, Mage 2 Faun, Mage 3 Trigger, and Mage 4 Brownie. Golem Squadron will also be temporarily reorganized. In the short term, Boggard will be flying as Knocker's number two. Faun will arrive on base in two days, as will another fresh face, Redcap, and we'll get you guys up in the air to fly with them as soon as possible. Their arrival was originally meant to expand Mage to two flights, but with the events of yesterday, we've had to adjust accordingly."

I just stared, shellshocked.

"In the meantime, we all know that no man gets left behind. Those of you capable of basic math might notice that doesn't neatly add up to four flights, and that's because we've picked up a distress signal from Skeleton 4. We have reason to believe that our own man Footpad has linked up with him and Gargoyle 3 somewhere in the Chopinburg Rainforest below the combat site, and they are currently evading Erusean search teams."

A projection of the area with the estimated location of our downed guys came up on the screen. It showed two jets, two attack helicopters (Comanches by the look of them), a pair of rescue choppers (stealth Blackhawks?), and a few red markers for Erusean ground forces and search helicopters.

"As such, command has quickly laid on an operation to get them back, and the assets are already on schedule, just waiting for us. Given the sensitive area of operations, we'll be sending in a limited, low-profile package in low-observable aircraft at nap-of-the-earth altitudes to buy as much time before detection as possible. This is where you come in. Trigger, I'll be sending you and Brownie right back into the fire today. You'll be up in the air at 1015, so you'll be gearing up and heading for the flight line immediately."

The flight plan is simple - provide any and all necessary support for Air Force Pararescue to locate and retrieve our pilots from the Chopinburg AO. If all goes according to plan, resistance should be fairly minimal, mostly eliminating Erusean ground teams and their support, but be ready for anything. Try and stay below angels one at all times, but the safety of the rescue unit takes priority. In the AO, the JTACs are the very voice of God. You know the deal." Wainana paused for a brief moment. "I'd tell you more, but we laid this one on fast. More details and precise coordinates will be provided via data link en route. The two of you will find a pair of Raptors waiting for you in the hangar; the ground crews have already prepped them to go. Any quick questions? No? Then get moving and bring our people back. Dismissed, both of you. That doesn't mean the rest get to slack off, though. HQ has another assignment for us..."

Trigger and I hustled off to the locker rooms to suit up as Wainana continued his briefing, and found ourselves in the cockpits of a pair of shiny new Raptors minutes later.

/

May 31, 2019

1300 hours

Approaching the area of operations above the Chopinburg Rainforest

Mage 4 "Brownie"

"So, Trigger," I said over the tightbeam laser comms, "what do you think about all this?"

"This?"

"You know, all of this. Did this happen before?"

"Oh," he said. "No, no it didn't. I guess they think the aerial situation isn't quite as bad here as they did then, or else they wouldn't have dared sending us in for this op. And of course there wasn't you being put on my wing for obvious reasons. Can't say I'm upset with this turn of events, though."

"Yeah, I like being alive," I laughed. "But you have no idea what's going to happen now."

"Absolutely none. Guesses, at best. We've got a solid plan though. I've been mulling it over and I'm having a hard time seeing where it goes bad, unless Big Bird is hanging out a hundred klicks away or something."

"Please don't say that," I groaned.

"If you think I believe in luck after finding out everything I knew about time is wrong, Brownie…"

"Right. Fair."

As it turned out, he wasn't wrong. For once, everything actually went according to plan. Small Erusean ground teams were quickly dispatched by Trigger's small-diameter bombs and the escorting Comanches, and I easily blew their accompanying choppers to bits with AMRAAMs without warning. Erusean interceptors didn't appear until the rescue helicopter was already out of harm's way with our boys safely on board.

Granted, we did still have to hold them back to prevent pursuit. Eight Erusean fighters entered the airspace...

"Brownie, got one on my tail. Clear it for me, I don't want to break off this guy."

"On it, boss." The Flanker was stuck to Trigger's tail something fierce, but he didn't have a chance when I swung in behind and got tone while his attention was on Trigger's plane. "Aaaaand… fox three! You're mine. You're clear, Trigger."

"Quick and efficient. You're good, 4."

Coming from my lead, that was high praise. I actually blushed a little, despite myself.

"It's nothing. Bandit trying to slip past at treetop. I'm on him, fox two, fox two!" I said, lazily split-Sing onto their tail and blowing them out of the sky.

Eight Erusean fighters entered the airspace. Trigger and I left that same airspace with five kills on him and three for me.

Plus four helicopters for him and three by me - and then there's the Erusean ground forces he leveled pretty much by himself. Figures, all he had was heat-seekers and bombs and he still made me look slow. But, I have to say, not quite as slow as I was expecting. Apparently, we worked well together.

"Sky Keeper, Mage 3," Trigger called. "Verify, but AO appears sanitized, rescue unit is in the clear and home free. Let the Colonel know the boys are back in town."

...When I didn't want to strangle him. He and Clown should have switched callsigns.

/

May 30th, 2019

2018 hours / 1515 hours

EASA Whiskey Flats / Chopinburg Rainforest

Mihaly Dumitru Margareta Corneliu Leopold Blanca Karol Aeon Ignatius Raphael Maria Niketas A. Shilage

Sol 1 "Archange"

Go ahead, Mihaly.

I was, as you know, assigned to the Chopinburg area to operate alongside the Arsenal Bird, where we had intelligence that Osea was planning an aerial offensive. I wasn't expecting to get the call. The Arsenal Bird could handle itself. But then the AWACS - Tarasque today - informed me that a single Osean fighter had wiped out all of our aircraft in the area. I was… intrigued. Tarasque ordered me into the area in case the pilot proved to be a threat to the carrier.

In the end, it wasn't necessary, since the Arsenal Bird forced the Oseans on the defensive and made them withdraw, but I took the opportunity to go hunting for stragglers. I wasn't about to leave empty-handed. I felt the need to test myself against the new generation of pilots.

It was about then that the situation became… strange.

A lone Osean pilot interposed himself between the withdrawing bandits and my formation. This was not unexpected, but his movements had a purposefulness and a style that intrigued me. Then a voice came over the radio on our frequency. He said, "Turn back and go home. This is your only warning."

On our own frequencies? That's interesting...

I am unsure how this man had access to our radio channels.

I interrogated him, and he identified himself as "Mage 2 Trigger" and declared he would defend his allies to the death. More interestingly, he called me out by name, despite not being in visual range of my squadron.

That is quite irregular. Continue, Archange.

Naturally, I accepted his challenge to test us both.

When I got close, I couldn't help but notice - I had never seen that aircraft before. It had two large, widely spaced engine nacelles with a large gap, twin inward-canted vertical stabilizers with no horizontals, forward-swept wings, and upward-angled canards. It also had some sort of jamming array, but the Arsenal Bird's radar had long since burned through it, and I shared the datalink, so it was not a factor.

Mihaly, I will be right back. I need to have a look at your flight data immediately. … ...Archange, there is no mistaking it. That was a Morgan - a prototype Belkan aircraft from the end of the last war against Osea. What we are looking at is flatly impossible. All such aircraft and all technical specifications were destroyed by Grunder Industries to prevent their capture, and the preproduction model was destroyed in combat by the Demon Lord; I know for a fact that there was not enough left for the Coalition to salvage. I need to know absolutely everything you can tell me about this Osean. We are looking at an unprecedented - no, possibly world-changing enigma.

Very well, Doctor.

/

June 6th, 2019

1000 hours

UNAS Comberth

Mage 4 "Brownie"

On paper, the plan was, again, pretty simple - according to the Colonel and his adjutant, anyway.

Trigger would infiltrate under the Erusean radar net, destroy the Space Elevator's makeshift ADN, and then Sea Goblin would swoop in and extract Harling in the confusion. All eight of us in the Grays squadron would provide backup, so there was no way anything could stop us.

Of course, I knew it wasn't going to turn out like that.

I mean, I didn't need to know the future to tell you that, but it sure helped.

/

June 6th, 2019

1801 hours

Gunther Bay

Mage 3 "Trigger"

"Entering operation area. Imposing radio silence. We'll radio you, but you are not permitted to make contact."

I toggled my mic in acknowledgement of the AWACS controller's guidance, then went dark. I was back in the seat of my preferred Su-35 loaded for bear with R-77s for this one. The jammer on the Morgan was nice, no doubt, but I needed the raw killing power of my familiar, faithful steed from… Goddammit, from the last time around, if I was going to pull Harling out of this alive.

A pre-plotted detection range overlay appeared on my screens.

"If you're spotted, the mission is lost. Stay out of enemy radar. Use of weaponry, obviously, is also strictly forbidden."

I quickly turned to the south - speed being of the essence here - and beelined for what I knew to be the shortest route through the net.

"You're heading up the Harling rescue mission. The success of this mission depends on you. Good luck."

I pushed into full military and kept my speed just under supersonic to avoid sonic booms as I motored for the gap in the radar at the lowest altitude I could safely manage. The ice buildup would be a problem, so I couldn't go too low, but I was still firmly in nap-of-the-earth territory.

Sky Keeper shifted into silence as I slipped through the coverage at a firm 650kts almost effortlessly through the hole to the south, then pivoted north around the southern bend of the middle band of coverage. A gentle turn through a gap in the final band, and I punched into a full burn at the elevator…

"Trigger, the first stage of the mission is clear. Don't celebrate yet, the real fight's about to get started." A pause, and then: "Radio silence is now lifted. The auxiliary craft will arrive shortly."

"On it, Sky Keeper. Clearing the LZ with extreme prejudice."

A whirlwind of death swirled around the Lighthouse as I annihilated the defenders. In no time at all, the Grays detachment arrived to find a clean sweep.

"Trigger! Sorry 'bout the wait. Cavalry's here!" came Clown's friendly voice.

"Moving to your six, Boss," Brownie called coolly. She was flying an Su-35 of her own - "You really like that bird, don't you? I'll give it a go and see how I feel about it."

"Golem squadron! Trigger jumped through the fire! Now it's our turn." Never change, Knocker.

Before the reinforcements even made it to my position, Sky Keeper made the call.

"The landing zone is secure. Sea Goblin, you're clear to land."

Dammit, I remembered. Sea Goblin. None of them have designators. I can't help. They're still gonna fucking die… fuckfuckfuck.

I tuned out their response - and their future communications in general. PTSD much, kiddo?

"Sky Keeper here. Multiple bogeys detected over Selatapura Harbor. Assumed to be enemy container-launched UAVs, tagged as bandits, you're clear to engage. Rescue craft is defenseless."

"Copy, Sky Keeper," I replied, punching the afterburners and rocketing north. "Brownie, on me. I'm moving to intercept over the launch point. Clown, think you can pick up anything I miss?"

"Sure thing, Commander," Clown teased. "No, good idea, Trigger. I'll hang back and let you do your thing."

Two Aphids into containers on the ground, then I rotated up and around behind one of the already-launched UAVs as I easily dodged a poorly-targeted shot from the other. I knew this drill already. Another drone launched, and I took the time to splash both with quick R-60s before easily wiping up the rest of the launch containers. And then I heard Sea Goblin's last transmission - the charnel sounds of their explosive demise.

I simply hung my head in sorrow and mouthed a silent prayer for their souls.

"This is Colonel Johnson. Do you copy? Rescue unit down, along with the soldier who had this radio. I will get Mr. Harling out of here."

"Sir, this is Sky Keeper. We feel the same way. We'll get you out of there," AWACS reassured.

A pause, then:

"Be advised, we found an Erusean transport craft. Engines still on. Don't shoot."

"Affirm, Colonel. All callsigns, transmitting via datalink now. Be advised, callsign is Mother Goose One."

This time around, I was listening for it, and I could swear I heard President Harling chuckle in the background as Johnson's indignant "That the best you can do?!" filtered back to us.

Meanwhile I loitered over the coast, picking off the occasional truck that attempted to perform a sneaky launch under me. Not sure why they even bothered. They were signing their own death warrants, really.

"All aircraft, Harling's aircraft is ready to take off," Sky Keeper advised. "Mother Goose One, you're cleared."

"Affirmative. Mother Goose One taking off. Mister Harling wants to extend his thanks to you beforehand."

"Let's wait 'til we're home safe, Colonel," AWACS cautioned.

I chose that moment to speak up. "Sir, Mage 3, TAC Trigger. We appreciate it immensely. We're not safe yet, but we'll get you both out of here if it's the last damn thing we do."

"Trigger..." Sky Keeper sounded unamused at best.

"You're both right. Let's just get out of here," the Colonel replied.

"Affirmative. All squadrons provide support for Mother Goose One as it withdraws to the south. Estimate five minutes until it makes it out of the airspace."

All seemed fine, but I knew what was coming…

"Sky Keeper, picking up bogeys, a ton of 'em, bearing two-two-zero!" Knocker sounded panicked.

The AWACS checked his scopes and clearly did not like what he saw. "Shit. Confirmed MQ-101s. The Arsenal Bird is coming."

/

June 6th, 2019

1811 hours

Mage 4 "Brownie"

The loud priority comms tone went off. Trigger's set, of course. "Everyone stay calm and keep your cool. We can do this. We literally did this last week, and it doesn't look like the big bird's coming into the sector itself. All we have to do is keep the drones off the Goose. We don't need to be scared of that monster."

"Yes, sir!" I acknowledged, as enthusiastically as I could. And definitely a lot more than I was feeling.

"Trigger's right. We can do this. Mage, fly out to intercept. Golem, screen behind them. Keep the drones away from Harling's transport," ordered Sky Keeper, his calm demeanor returning.

"Golem 1, wilco. That last fight taught me a lot about those assholes. Golem 2, form up on me. We're going Thach weaving again." And there's Knocker's command voice. God, what a guy. I'm gonna miss him.

Golem 2 acknowledged him and formed up tight as Trigger and I dove into the incoming swarms. The two of us unleashed barrages of Adders at them, scything through them like… something you'd compare a couple of forces of nature to, really. Trigger's kill count was far higher than mine, but I'd noticed I was doing far better than I was previously now that I was flying under him. Maybe his style is rubbing off on me?

"Gargoyle squadron, where's the signal?" I heard one of the Tomcat boys asking. What signal? Nobody told us about any signal…

"But without the lighthouse… I mean, the harbor… how are they going to get home?" Wait, what? I thought, dodging an errant heatseeker almost without a care.

I wasn't going to find out the answer, as they abruptly switched frequency, but I had a bad feeling. Still, the four Mage birds continued to rip big, oily holes in the incoming drones. And then I saw a huge line of explosions heading towards the elevator, as literally dozens of Erusean drones exploded. Some sort of massed attack? Wow, those Gargoyles are doing a… oh. Oh no.

An explosion rocked the space elevator as what looked like a Phoenix struck it directly, and then I knew.

Those fuckers tried to destroy the elevator rather than let the Eruseans capture it.

What the fuck?

I tried to process it as Trigger and Knocker both went off, for different reasons - Knocker for the lack of coordination, Trigger over the total stupidity he'd just witnessed, even as the latter continued knocking down drone after drone after drone.

The chatter came to a halt as one slipped past us, and I saw the missile impact the cockpit of the President's Osprey… and then it righted itself and began to fly right back towards the space elevator.

"Mr. President!" Trigger practically screamed over the radio.

"Trigger, calm down," Clown tried to say, but Trigger cut him off.

"Mr. President, it's Trigger again. I know what you just saw. I can't believe it either. But we have to get you out of here. You can't do this. You can't. You need to come home. We need you. The people need you. We have to get this war under control and you're the only one who can. I'm with you to the end. Please. There's no guarantee about what happens to the space elevator, but there are plenty about what happens if we don't have you home..."

A deafening few seconds of silence, even Knocker and the AWACS stunned speechless, stretched to feel like ten minutes as the rest of us continued to protect the craft.

And then…

"...You're right, Mage 3," Harling's voice came faintly over an audibly heavily damaged radio. "I… you're just right. I'll try and get this thing out of here. Thank you. I was… about to do something foolish."

Mother Goose One managed to turn again, back towards the south.

Holy shit.

"All aircraft, Harling's craft has returned to a proper escape vector. We just need to hold out a little bit longer," AWACS called, trying to restore order. Acknowledgements flooded in on all channels and we set up for a last stand as an actual horde of MQ-101s appeared on the scopes, heading right for us.

The drones closed in, moving less like machines and more like sharks following a scent of blood as they stalked Harling's wounded craft. All of the other pilots fought hard to clear the little birds, but there were just too many…

I swallowed deeply, my heart racing, and I made my decision, one I'd been agonizing over for a week. This is for you, Trigger.

And then my heatseekers, as intended, struck the Osprey cleanly at the wing root, and the craft exploded.

/

And on that bombshell...