//------------------------------// // Red Flag Part Two // Story: Nearing the Edge // by Eagle //------------------------------// February 7th, 2006 Nellis Air Force Base, Nevada 1200 Hours Dash did not see or speak with Cole since the incident, mainly because there was little time for either of them to do so. Even when there was, she was reluctant to put in the effort to try and find him, preferring to spend time with what few other ponies were about the base. Seeing him so angry proved to be an ugly and painful experience, and one she was not able to shake as of yet. To her, Dust had made a huge mistake, but Cole had too in trying to discipline her in such a brutal manner. Dash was responsible for Lightning not only as a wingpony but, as Twilight suggested before they left, making a friendly pony out of her. She could not allow her to be attacked even if it was from another friend. She was not angry with Cole, but felt some time keeping the two apart would be best, as well as keeping away herself to think. Cole had been right in addressing the dangers of Dust’s mishap, but it did not mean he could speak to her in such an overly-aggressive manner. Dash was torn internally over the subject, as she had to admit to herself that she did not know a better way to get Lightning to listen. She spoke with Spitfire over the worries she held as the squad leader, but little actually came of it. Spitfire suggested to Dash that, after a short period, try to mend the affairs between the two by acting as a bridge and arbiter for them. That would still take time, and the more pressing matters of Red Flag took precedent. The operations today proved more complex than a simple mass air-to-air engagement, encompassing multiple different factors. All the layers of air combat were represented; air interception, bombing, air-defense suppression, search and rescue, and so on. The Equestrians were given the mission of escorting a flight of B-52 Stratofortress bombers on a mock attack run. Thankfully this meant that Rainbow would be operation with the Wonderbolts again, and it would be comforting to fly with some more familiar faces. “How are you doing back there, Rainbow Two?” she asked Dust as the squadron retained its formation off to the nine o’clock of the bomber flights. “I’m okay lead, just trying to focus,” Lightning replied. “You sure? You’re a little wobbly today.” “Yea, I’ll be fine. I just need to focus.” Rainbow and her flight of seven fighters held their position alongside the bomber formation, which itself contained ten bombers in two flights of five. The group maintained a holding pattern, which was little more than flying in a wide circle, until the Bolts arrived. Nine Super Hornets took up a position on the opposite side of the bombers and the entire group then corrected their bearing to the target. “Morning Rainbow lead, how are things looking over there?” Spitfire called in. “We’re doing okay, Bolt One, a little jittery but we’ll be fine once the action starts,” Rainbow answered. “I said I’m okay!” Dust jumped in, sounding slightly annoyed. “I hope so, Rainbow Two,” Spitfire responded. “I am, I just… I just don’t want you all to worry about me,” Dust admitted. “There’s more important stuff to worry about than me.” “This is Spur lead, is there any trouble with you guys?” the leading B-52 chimed in, sounding somewhat annoyed. “I got enough to worry about already with the SEAD not killing all the AA around the target.” “Hey, you’ve got nothing to worry about with us protecting you,” Dash assured the bomber pilot. “You won’t see a single enemy fighter with us around. Maybe if you finish the bombing quick enough we’ll have time to show you some tricks on the way back!” “Oh great, a little daredevil. Can you just distract any bandits that fly our way and leave the heavy lifting to us?” As with most missions it took time to fly to the target, and much of that time was spent doing nothing more than keeping up a watch for incoming bandits. There were engagements going on elsewhere but none close enough to be a threat to the bombers. Considering how important of a target the bombers were to the opposing force, it was worrying how few attacks were being made against them, and a good deal of anxiety rose from that. The interjection of the AWACS operator’s voice after a rather long period of silence caused Dash to jump. “Bolt, Lincoln. Bogies inbound at two-four-two. Adjust course to intercept.” “Understood, Lincoln,” Spitfire acknowledged. “Take care of the bombers, Rainbow Squadron. We’ll be back as soon as we can.” “We will, Bolt.” Rainbow watched as the Super Hornets broke away in their new direction, and before long they were out of sight. “You think they’ll be able to handle it?” Lightning Dust wondered aloud. “Yea, I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Rainbow assured her. Around eight minutes passed as Rainbow and the planes of her squadron were left alone with the bombers. There was no further discussion over the radio, causing time to slow to a crawl as Dash observed the sky and ground. The simple appearance of the desert below added to this effect, with the red and brown earth far below blending together, punctuated only by the random rock formations. Seconds ticked by one by one, and as they did so Dash continued scanning the area, looking for anything standing out from the usual scenery. A flash of light caught her eye as she watched over the desert floor, appearing from behind one of the taller rock formations. It was followed in quick succession by several more flashes, indicating that it was an aircraft, one that did not seem to be of friendly nature. Clearly the pilots of the opposing force did not think the ponies had learned their lesson from last time, perhaps thinking, reasonably, that if it worked before it would work again. The baiting aircraft below was a MiG-29, though not one of a hostile nationality. It belonged to the Indian Air Force, one of the few nations the U.S. was allied to that operated such equipment. To call them an ‘ally’ was a bit of a stretch, but they were friendlier to America than most other nations that used such equipment. Considering their belligerent history with China, they did not mind becoming more sympathetic to the U.S. themselves. “Hey Rainbow lead, you see that?” Lighting Dust asked, having spotted the same MiG. “Looks like a Fulcrum down below us.” “I see it. It looks like it’s alone.” “Should we go after it? I-it’s your call, I mean.” “No, we can’t. It’s probably a trap like last time,” Rainbow reminded her. “We were told to stay with the bombers and keep them safe, so that’s what we’re going to do. We call it in and stay where we are.” “You sure? I mean… I hate to just let a target get away like that.” “I know Dust, but we can’t be stupid.” “Yea, I hear you… we’ll stay here lead.” “Lincoln, Rainbow. One Fulcrum spotted below our formation. Looks like it’s tracking us, out.” The MiG followed them from below for some time before breaking away. The remainder of the flight proved uneventful, with the only apparent bomber ‘loss’ coming from an anti-aircraft missile launcher near the target. The remainder of the B-52s successfully dropped their simulated payload on the target, destroying it and accomplishing the objective with little drama or fanfare. The return flight was quiet and simple as well. The Wonderbolts did not rejoin them on their way back, and it was not until after they landed that Dash learned of their experience, which proved much more exciting. Apparently they had engaged and driven off the flight of aircraft they were detached to engage from long range in a relatively quick time. While returning, they spotted and ambushed another flight of fighters that looked as though they were preparing to attack the bomber formation, scattering them and defeating a number of them. They were also MiG-29s, which gave Dash an answer as to the Indian’s tactics and where the rest of the bait Fulcrum’s wingmen were. It proved to be a rather simple and unexciting mission for Dash squadron altogether, and Dust was slightly dissatisfied with not having directly contributed to defeating the enemy. Rainbow was happy though, as the mission had been complete and without major missteps by her squadron. As she had learned, and as Cole and many others had told her, the mission’s completion came before most else, and was only surpassed at times by the well being of the unit. At the end of the day, on the grand scale, that mattered far more than glory or a personal record. “You sure there’s no way my battle group can take part in the exercise?” the Rear Admiral asked. “I’m sorry Allen, but you guys are going to be staying here,” the Vice Admiral replied. “The America is forty years old, and she’s the youngest.” “They all still work fine though,” Allen Jay argued. “The oldest is the Sara at fifty, and she still turns like a top. There are some problems here and there but we’re keeping these carriers in shape.” “I know, Admiral Jay, and I’m grateful for that,” Vice Admiral Benson stated. “Most people in this reserve position would just let the old ships rot. I admire you trying to keep your ships in their best fighting order, but you’re still in reserve; very deep in reserve. Even if war were to break out I don’t know if we’d call your ships up.” “Yes Sir, could we at least hold our own small exercise?” Jay suggested. “Not in the near future; we have enough work coming up with the Exercise Marshal and that’s enough work on its own. It doesn’t need to get more crowded,” Benson explained. “Once it’s over I can arrange something, but not at the same time.” “I understand, Sir,” Allen relented. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” “No Sir… was there anything you had for me?” “No, that will be all.” Jay stood and left his commander’s office, moving through the rest of the building at a slow pace. He exited the command building of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, being greeted by his driver and the warm Hawaiian sun. He returned the greeting and asked to be driven back to his ships, a short drive away from the headquarters. After a few minutes of a quiet ride the vessels came into view, resting peacefully in the waters of Pearl Harbor. He was in command of the reserve carrier force for the Pacific Fleet, stationed in Pearl. This consisted of four old carriers, with his flagship being the U.S.S. America of the Kitty Hawk class. The other three were the Saratoga, Independence, and Ranger, which belonged to the older Forrestal class, all resting in line in the loch. These four elderly warships were the backup power of the fleet should anything happen to the main carrier force. However, with the sheer number of them in the Pacific, they were unlikely to need it. These carriers had been sent here from a quick decision from a more panicked time, and there was little chance they would sail in major operations ever again. The car came to a halt next to the ramp leading up to the grey hull of the America. Jay thanked the driver and began the long walk back up to the old, dutiful warship. It was disappointing that they were to be left out, but he had expected as much. For now he would focus his work on the same efforts he had been performing, in keeping the carriers in safe and operable condition; old ships like these required constant attention.