//------------------------------// // Bombing Raid on the Port City // Story: Nearing the Edge // by Eagle //------------------------------// June 18th, 2006 1034 Hours Fifty miles Southeast of Baltimare Source “AWACS Black Wand to Rainbow, we’re on course to rendezvous with Belt. We should be on the same channel soon, over.” “Ok, copy, we’ll be ready, Rainbow out,” the pegasus sighed in a painfully detached way. To Dash, few of the things she said sounded like they were from her anymore, or at least what Rainbow Dash was, or used to be, what Rainbow thought she was supposed to be. It had been like that for years, ever since arriving on Earth. She had gotten better, she recognized it, her friends saw it as well, but things still felt different. In her own private moments she longed for the days before, to somehow revert, but that could not be counted on.  It was unnaturally quiet in the sky today, almost uncomfortably so for Rainbow and her team, having adapted to being at the front for so long. They were based much farther east now, but there was nothing but empty skies for the moment. It would not last forever, they were supposed to rendezvous with a bomber formation and escort them on a strike on occupied Baltimare. The city had recently been taken over by Bloc forces just days earlier after a sharp fight by the British expeditionary units in Equestria; largely left by the scurrying allies and eventually cut off, the British had managed to parry off the attacks and deal some painful losses to their enemy before the retreat, with most being evacuated by sea and some others breaking out. The British were in good standing and order, though they would need to be relocated, but the harbor facilities were left intact. Equestria's only Lancer unit was to attack the recently-occupied port to ensure the enemy navies could not easily utilize the port facilities; having a naval base so far east, so much closer to allied territory, it needed curtailment.  In the meantime the sky stretched on, a light, warm blue today, with few clouds, eventually merging with the dusty green and yellow of the ground at the horizon’s divider line. Nopony on her team was talking, there was no need to, just waiting until the meet up and beginning combat again. The firmament was vast and empty with a serenity that was both welcoming in its peace and frustrating in its testing of patience before the deadly event. “Rainbow, this is Belt. We can see you now, coming up from the southwest at your eight o’clock,” Jetstream, the leader of the B-1b flight announced. “Can you see us from there?” “Yeah, I can see you. Black Wand, Rainbow, we’ve met up with the bombers. We’re ready here.” “Affirmative Rainbow. Rainbow, Belt, turn heading two-nine-zero towards the target,” the Equestrian AWACS ordered.  The formation complied, and as before the radio went silent. There was not much to go over at the time, and regardless of radio procedure nopony felt like chatting anyways. It was almost disturbing how routine combat like this had become for the Equestrians, a somewhat depressing realization that they would all come to eventually. “Black Wand to Rainbow be advised, bogies, but… unlikely bandits, coming from two-five-zero, from allied territory. They’re flashing allied IFF.” “We were told not to expect any other aircraft,” Lightning Dust reminded them. “Yeah, but things are so crazy now we can’t expect everything at the briefing to be accurate,” Rainbow added. “Wait one, we’ll confirm and get back with you, Black Wand out,” the AWACS stated, returning minutes later. “Uh, Rainbow, Belt, confirm allied fighters-, uh chicks. Two inbound F-15s, arriving to help with the escort. You should have a visual soon. They’re not here under any higher orders but, uh-” “Good morning team Rainbow. This is Eagles One and Two at your service.” Dash’s almost jumped from her seat, had she not been secured in it, responding once she collected her breath. “Cole!?” “Hey kid, how’s it hanging!” “You’re alive… and ok! You are ok right? You’re really here!” “Yeah I’m still going Rainbow, it’s great to see you too. I knew in the back of my head you were still going too. Bad guys couldn’t have killed the best flier in Equestria yet,” he proclaimed. “Hah.. haha, yeah! They can’t touch me, I kind of knew they wouldn’t get you either. But why are you here? We weren’t told to expect anypony.” “Well, we were overdue for a reunion. We saw on the strategic update that some Equestrian bombers were going to be hitting a target and that Rainbow team was escorting them. Since our own squadron was taking some time to rest and refit, and most of the stuff around the base was dealt with, me and Runner took some initiative and decided to fly over and offer some help.” The ebullient radio chatter was tinged by an honest kind of solace, a connection between the members of the two teams. The war and its many reversals had layered brick after brick of stresses upon all of them one day after another. Deep down within all of them there was a painful personal fear for the fates of the closest friends both squadrons had made in the new world, especially between the two leads. Now, with a single meeting, that great fear evaporated like a mid-day’s Spring shower, and with it went all the other worries that pressed in on them.  “I’m so glad you’re ok, sometimes I was afraid we lost you all,” Rainbow admitted. “All of you are there though right? All of the guys in the squadron I mean, are they ok?” “Almost all of them. We lost Bursa on the first day of the war, the guy from Alpha Flight.” “Oh… I was hoping- I’m sorry.” “It’s, well… it’s not ok. It’s just how things are. Come to think of it, we're pretty lucky, it’s more than just skill. So many squadrons have lost a lot of guys,” Cole remembered, going back to the men lost during the defense of the old airfield, and in the retreat. “What about you? How’s the Rainbow crowd doing? “Not as… good. Two of mine, Lilypad and Nectar, they died on the first night of the bombing… and a few others since, but most of us are still here.” “I guess we both know the feeling then. It’s hard knowing they’re gone, but you have to keep going. We’ve still got a lot of friends with us,” the American advised her. “For now, I’m just happy you’re here Rainbow. Having you on my wing again takes all the worries off my mind.” “Black Wand here, hate to interrupt but we’re getting a lot of radio activity from the target. I think it’s safe to assume they’ll be ready for us. With any luck they won’t have moved many fighters into the area yet.” “No problem, combat mission comes first, not the reunion,” Cole admitted. “Guess the chatter needs to slacken off.” “Nopony’s gotten into their frequencies yet have they?” Jetstream asked. “Negative, not that we’ve heard from back at base.” “No eavesdropping today,” Runner commented. The allies were interrupted by a new voice on the radio, unfamiliar to all but one of them. “Attention Equestrian Air Force planes, can you hear this? We have you on radar.”  “Who’s broadcasting in the open?” Lightning Dust asked. “Equestrian aircraft, this is the Boreal Fighter Squadron of the Griffonian Air Force. If it isn’t obvious we’re here to intercept you. Rainbow, we figured out you would be here.” “Gilda!?” “Turn around and leave Dash. Old friends or not, things have changed. We’ve got our own duty, and if I have to I’ll hunt you down until you crash. So save me the guilt and turn around.” This was a scenario Rainbow had dreaded over her time. She had hoped the vast scale of the war would have kept the two of them apart since last time, but it seems Gilda had sought her out. Her childhood friend knew her better than she gave credit for. “Broadcasting a surrender request in the open? I knew the crows run on their egos but this girl really takes the cake,” Cole noted. “I… I don’t think… I can fight her,” Rainbow stuttered. “I can’t kill her, I don’t want her-” “Gilda? That’s the one you told me about way back in Ponyville? “Yes.” “Hm, I understand. Rainbow, don’t worry, me and Runner will deal with them.” “Huh!? No, I don’t… I-” “Your mission is to take care of the bombers, we can deal with these gasbags.” “You’re going to kill her?” “It is war Dash, but looking at the odds, that’s not really in the cards for me right now. I think it’s best to just waste their time,” Cole affirmed, remarkably comfortable and confident even for his own sake compared to the previous months. “We’ll keep them tied up, you don’t have to do this.” “Thank you, Cole,” the pegasus said earnestly.  “Boreal, thank you for the preemptive warning. It’s good to see someone in the Griffon Empire likes a good old honor-bound duel.” “What-who is this?” “Eagle Team, U.S. Air Force, First Tactical. I guess it’s bad manners not to follow up on the introductions you started,” Cole announced with a notable air of confidence. “Reputation may precede us though.” “You!  “That’s right, you’re Dash’s oldest friend right? I’m her newest one, and she told me about you and your temper.” “Get out of here you freak! I’m here to make sure Rainbow… understands what’s happening. You can annoy those crazy Night ponies or those other stupid humans you have a problem with, but you had better stay out of our way before we swat you down! Just let Dash run off and you won’t get killed for being stupid.” “No you don’t, you’re not bullying her off today. Not while I’m here. The Eagles are going to be moving in on this dance. You ready to tango with us crow?” The two F-15s dropped their altitude, gaining speed rapidly before leveling out roughly even with the four Fulcrums. Their AMRAAMS still had a minor range advantage over the MiG’s improved radar missiles, but with the high speed both were closing in at, it would not last long. This was not a concern for Cole, it was not his planned tactic to begin with. Ducking in and out and firing off his missiles at extreme range would be a good way to waste them all; he was looking for something more extreme, to completely break up and occupy the attention of the formation, enacting total chaos to tie them up and burn their fuel and possibly ammunition. Actual kills could wait for another day. “I’m with you, lead!” Runner announced as his wingman engaged. “You’re going to get me killed one of these days Cole!” “Maddog, Fox Three!” Cole loosed off the first AMRAAM without waiting for a lock, diving lower towards the Earth without paying much attention to the shot as Runner went up higher, slower than his lead. “Missile!” Gene yelled in warning. “Break away!” “Who’s it locked to!?” Bright Hook asked. The four planes broke and immediately dropped countermeasures. Between the floating metal and the MiG’s jammers, the missile’s tracker had no real chance of homing in. It briefly locked onto Gilda’s plane before being tricked again and veering off, crashing into some far-off hillside.  “Get back together now! Where is that little prick!?” “Low! Low straight ahead of us! He’s coming up!” Hook warned suddenly. The MiGs were caught off-guard by this maneuver. Usually an F-15 would either fight from long range or try and drag them up to very high altitudes, where their superior power and airframe gave them a decisive edge in any dogfight. They expected such a widely-discussed F-15 pilot would have mastered these rules to fight by, charging in at such a low altitude and high speed to attack from below was something very different, something that seemed outright stupid. “Up again, Fox Three! Maddog!” Cole shouted, pitching up and turning to fire a quick snap-shot.  “There he is! Firing- wait, breaking again!” Shiv, the fourth Griffon in Boreal Flight, barely had time to fire his own missile before breaking to avoid Cole’s. The sudden jink had broken the plane’s lock and the advanced Alamo derivative had been fired at a poor angle, meaning there was no real hope of a hit as it turned. The Eagle flew right past the wildly veering aggressor, heading right at the scrambling MiGs. “Scatter! Break away!” Gilda ordered as the Eagle broke up their formation and blew through the altitude, close enough for her to get a glimpse of the livery while it rocketed past. “He passed us!” “He’s turning over, on his back, he’s coming around!” Hook warned. “Breaking right, I can get him from here!” Gene jumped, heeling his Fulcrum around. “I think he’ll turn after you lead! I should be able to get behind him when-” Rather than turn over and go after the most logical prey, the Eagle dove before pitching up again and passing Gene’s MiG at a similar altitude.  “Woah, what!? Boreal Three, break left! Dive! He’s firing again!” “What? He’s barely got an angle on me!” “Four, above you, dive!” Gilda warned as Runner hounded them from a higher altitude, forcing another Fulcrum  With all of the hard breaks the planes were doing, the energy of every plane was bled off at an alarming speed, and the fight became very sluggish as a result. The two F-15s kept their throttles high enough to counteract this somewhat, having to dump more power into the engines with the more sudden moves to prevent a stall. At times a Fulcrum would try to pull away from the battle to build it up again, only to be assailed by an enemy and dodge again, being dragged back in with nothing to show for it. The Eagle’s countermeasure dispensers were set to automatic, constantly dropping chaff and flares every few seconds at an interval. It was a strange spectacle, with bright flares and clouds of metal strips being tossed about the sky, fuddling the already overworked sensors of the aircraft in the area, mixing with the occasional missile shot. It was keeping them alive for now, but the strategy was burning through their resources quickly trying to fight a bizarre battle in which the F-15 was not particularly built for. “You two are acting like amateurs. You know you’re just wasting all your resources,” Shiv taunted. “We’ll wear you out and put you down. That’s how natural predators like us work!” “Jesus, do you birds ever listen to yourself talk?” Runner asked. “Fat chance birdie, you caught me on a good day! I can keep this fight up as long as I need to!” Cole retorted back. Cole nudged his plane into a slight roll, as if to chase down Shiv’s banking Fulcrum. Both dived, building up energy as they went. Gene once again, by virtue of chance and his position, saw an opportunity and dived not long after, trying to tail the enemy Eagle. As Shiv turned, rather than bank with him, Cole used the energy and a burst of engine thrust to pull up again, seeing the Fulcrum starting to come after him, and giving a slight left turn as he did so. Gene’s MiG could not keep up and failed to get a good firing solution, though that did not stop him from shooting off a heat-seeker that failed to follow appropriately. He leveled himself to regain his energy as Cole harassed Boreal’s lead plane again. “These are the guys who have been giving our side so much trouble? I didn’t expect them to fly like this! Boreal One!” “We can’t try and predict in a fight like this! Surround and destroy!”  “I’m trying!” Hook yelled. “Got you, don’t think you can run away crow!” Runner said, saddling behind the fourth Fulcrum as it tried to climb away as per the leader’s orders, and herding him back into the mess like stray cattle. “The more you annoy us the worse it’s going to be for you I catch you!” warned Shiv.  “You two humans already made me angry enough, getting between me and Dash!” Gilda snarled as the other aircraft danced around her. “You want to keep being stupid huh? How long do you want to drag this out!? When do you want to give up! I’m going to enjoy beating you into the dirt you sniveling freak!” “‘Till kingdom come if I need to,” Cole grunted, pulling into another high-g turn. “I was born for moments like this Gilda. You don’t get it but you can’t touch me! Not here, not now! Come on, try me!” As the odd furball played out, the bombers were approaching their target, preparing to wreck the docks and shorefront as per their orders.  “Rainbow, Black Wand, bogies, three, fast over point lemon,” the AWACS warned, detecting the aircraft over Baltimare. “Likely bandits, if they are, they'll probably be hostile. At angels six and climbing fast, they’re turning, may be forming up. They’re a threat to the bombers, can you engage, over?” “Yeah we’ll go after them!” The F-16s broke away to go after the few scattered aircraft near the city to swat them away before they posed a threat. In the meantime, Belt Squadron was preparing for its run, stabilizing at a proper speed and altitude, making small corrections for a proper bombing run. However, the initial intelligence hope that the bombing raid would be executed before significant defenses could be moved in was another mistake. Long streams of anti-aircraft fire from every caliber of gun started to lash out, bracketing the low-flying bombers as they approached, becoming wilder and angry as they closed in. Warning alerts started to sound in the the crew’s headsets, and the bombers began letting out long, timed streams of flares and chaff, while their jamming operators worked with their controls to improve ECM and confuse any missile launches. In the lead Lancer, Jetstream’s usual confidence was being shaken along with the plane by the anti-aircraft fire. The four B-1bs were flying in basic finger formation for the bombing, as one cell, rather than moving fast and individually. They were low, too, very low for the kind of bombing they were doing. The requirements of the mission meant they had to fly in this manner to deliver maximum destruction over an area while avoiding damage to the civilian areas; with the massively destructive power of a strategic bomber like the Lancer, the Equestrians were cagey about using it against their own city. Belt had to enact a proper area bombing What this meant in turn was that the bombers were at a much higher, undue risk of fire from the ground. Anti-aircraft artillery began to burst, long streams of tracers curved out from autocannons, it seemed like even small arms were being fired but she could not tell. She was mesmerized by the spectacle of it all, so much so that she did not realize when the bombing had actually started. All she could do now was fly her course, holding steady as best she could. That was not an issue, in fact she was virtually frozen in place, not turning her head, not hearing the calls from her crew, only her eyes darting around, to the ground, the mass of fire, the other bombers, the sky, the cockpit controls, then minor adjustments to keep on the line with the course. She was seizing up, there was nothing to do, and thus nothing she could do, her heart racing, muscles tense, as if some primal instinct of fear had taken over and she dare not think or move more than a few inches to fly the massive weapon.  When looking back at the bombers again she noticed a consistent light at the edge of her perception. It was not from the AA fire, it stayed in place. She forced her head over and saw one of the other bombers had been hit in the left side, between the wing and the engine. It was burning badly, but made no call, as if there was nothing wrong. Then it began descending, gliding almost peacefully, turning downwards more and more like a sinking ship, into a nose-down descent. Its crash finally shook the pegasus loose, and she could hear the crash of AA fire, the shouting of the crew, even the low rumble of the line of bombs, and she started to yell into the radio. “Rainbow, Belt! Rainbow One! Bomber unit to Black Wand! We’ve suffered a major hit! Get us out of here now!” The F-16s were in the process of chasing down the final enemy aircraft over the city, but there was very little they could do against ground fire. Rainbow formed up near the bombers, adding the Falcon’s countermeasures and jamming power to their formation. It was a minor uptick considering the massive amounts being put out by the bombers, but it was something. There was very little Rainbow could do against indirect ground fire other than draw the attention of some of it. The bombers still held their course, the bombs falling and exploding in long lines, the shells exploding around them, testing their luck in each burst that bracketed them. While the port was being razed, the fight between the Americans and Griffons continued. The battle had devolved into this strange, unhinged, fumbling action, almost like a drunken brawl with every punch missing, with no real plan to follow. Every time the Griffons tried to get in position to fire at their aggressor, they would have to turn to keep up or turn to avoid another plane. Only an occasional, ambitious snapshot was made when one pilot would jump the gun and fire at the closest angle. The two Eagles weaving about were enough to keep the Fulcrums off-balance, though constantly pressing their luck like this would have dire consequences; it was not a strategy that could last for very long. “How are you able to keep up this stupid game!? Aren’t you afraid to die!?” Hook questioned him. “Not right now! You have to catch me before you can kill me!”  Gene tried to break away from the furball to gain some distance, only for Runner to follow immediately after and force him to break again before building up power while Gilda once again tried and failed to turn into the Eagle’s path as it rocketed away. “Stop wasting our time you annoying fly!” she yelled angrily, putting on more Gs in a vain attempt to follow him again in a hard turn. “Just… stay… still!” “Fox Two! Damn it, trashed! Lead, I’m running low on, Hell everything!” Runner warned him. “Alright, be ready to bug out! Think we can pull off that Seesaw Thatch?” “That’s your escape plan Cole?! Alright sure, no problem! We’d better pull it off!”  The two Eagles now made their sudden breaks to separate from the fight entirely, with one shooting up to gain altitude and the other diving, both on a rough vertical axis parallel on a heading of 100 degrees. The enterprising Griffons, seeing their opportunity with their blood running hot, immediately tried to charge after them. Gene latched onto Runner, who was climbing, and came close to getting a lock before his target suddenly pitched down and dived. Gene followed, thinking it just a basic maneuver at first, before suddenly receiving a call from his lead to break away and hearing a radar warning tone in his cockpit as Cole’s Eagle charged at him from above to cover his wingman. Hook, who had followed Cole a bit later than Gene, saw this maneuver. His own lock was close, though still muffled by the Eagle’s few remaining flares and the jammer, but as Cole climbed he elected to break away himself and cover Gene. He had recognized the weaving defensive maneuver the Americans had developed, a simple and effective one, but usually used on a horizontal plane with the two defenders at roughly the same altitude. He had not seen it done this way before, and were it not for Cole’s lack of missiles, the MiG’s upgraded defensives, and the pilot’s good training and reaction, it could easily have led to Gene’s death. “Boreal, reform now!” their leader sternly ordered them.  The Fulcrum flight gingerly eased back into formation. In a testament to the carelessness that seemed to pervade the American’s firing, none of their aircraft had been hit. At most some of them sported a bit of shrapnel damage from close detonations, all the wounds being superficial, nothing that could interfere with their operations. They tracked the two Eagles on their radar as they pulled away, still apart, and took in an update from their own control on the greater situation. “Come on, let's get after them while we still can!” Shiv called. “They wasted all their ammunition, we can run them down until they’re out of fuel!” “Update says the port’s already been bombed. Enemy forces are turning away,” Gilda bitterly reported.  “That was our mission right there,” Gene lamented before his mood changed. “I’m with Shiv, let's go get some revenge.” “I don’t think that we should,” Hook suggested. “Captain, things don’t look as good as they seem. We have much more ammunition and fuel than those two Eagles, but we still used up a lot of it. There’s bound to be more escorts with the bombers and probably even more on the way to guide them home.” “Hook, are you serious,” Shiv whined. “Yes, if we follow them we can get dragged into a fight at a disadvantage. We could lose some of our own. For what? For no reason other than to catch some empty bombers. Captain, orders?” “Come on Hook.” “Boreal Squadron, retreat and return to base.”  “What!?”  “Rainbow, I know you can hear me even if we’re this far away. You and your scrawny friends,” Gilda called out over the open radio. “They’re good. I can see how they trained you to be such an excellent pilot. But they used up all their luck with us today. Next time I’ll be gunning for them, and they won’t get away. I’ll make sure of it, that’s a promise Dash. From one old wingpony to another.” The last message sent another cold shock through Rainbow, but within a second was replaced with relief, as it meant her friends had survived. The F-15s joined into formation with the Falcons and surviving bombers as they slowly plodded for home. All said, it was a successful mission, in spite of the damage sustained, and for Rainbow it felt like overcoming a difficult time, like leaping over a large stormcloud front, and diving into a cresting horizon. She had her friend back, and she would not let him go again, for any reason. “Cole, I just got you back today. You two better not die now,” Rainbow nagged him. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be pulling something like that anytime soon. Sorry to scare you.” “Hah, scare me? I know you, you can’t scare the Rainbow Dash that easily.” “Aha… yeah, yeah shame on me. Should’ve known better,” Cole agreed with a light cough, his exasperated voice giving away the exhaustion from the high-intensity fight.  “Belt, Rainbow. Were you able to hit the target?” In the B-1’s cockpit, Jetstream was still thawing from her freeze-up. She was on autopilot, barely operating the plane, and only glanced at the dashboard and again out the window at the escorting fighters without answering, looking confused. Her copilot stared back at her, waiting for her to respond, before taking the comm himself. “Rainbow, Eagle, this is Belt. Target destroyed, mission accomplished. We greatly appreciate your company!”