Nearing the Edge

by Eagle

Dual Impetuousness

April 21st, 2006
0945 Hours
Baltimare, Equestria

After the Enterprise and her contingent arrived safely in Baltimare, the actual scope of the attack became clear. In the confusion, a number of allied ships had retreated to the port as the closest safe haven following the aftermath. Captain Murray watched the boats trickle in from the carrier’s bridge, some in groups, others alone.

First to arrive was the cruiser Midway from the Gerald R. Ford’s group, undamaged but void of long-range weaponry. Next to come were the twin cruisers Cape Esperance and Santa Cruz, which had been stationed farther east at Bostrot and sent out to help when news of the war breaking out reached the port. Then came the damaged battleship Colorado, followed shortly by the frigates McClusky and Thach an hour later.

These were not the last, but the number of ships retreating to the port overwhelmed the dock workers. The facilities were not enough to rearm and repair all of the ships that needed it, and as such many were left waiting for their turn as the damaged ships took priority. Under better circumstances having such a large number of ships would make the area safer, but Murray only saw it as making the city a bigger target.

The one bit of truly good news came with the arrival of a number of refugee naval aircraft from Brumbay Field as a replacement for those jets lost in the battle. Chief among them was VF-31 acting as a replacement for VF-12, which had suffered heavily during the battle and would have to be rebuilt stateside. The other newly arriving aircraft, largely Hornets and Growlers, would be folded into the other squadrons already on board.

This brought the carrier’s wing back to more comfortable numbers, an important thing to Murray as he saw the pilots and planes as being just as important as the ship itself. It also helped that the pilots were survivors of the Carl Vinson and were said to have performed admirably. With an experienced air wing, the carrier could still act as a truly dangerous force.

“Captain?”

Murray turned back to greet his guest.

“I’m Commander Oscar, VF-31.”

“Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Commander,” Murray said.

“I’m very happy to finally make it here, Sir. I’ve heard a lot about her. And you; really good work keeping her safe during that attack.”

“I suppose I’ve kept her in one piece, but it takes more to win battles. Especially ones that matter,” the Captain replied. “You though, I’ve heard about you as well. Apparently you all turned back an invasion force trying to land near Brumbay.”

“We did, with some help for the Air Force guys stationed there.”

“Good. I’m glad to be taking in such excellent pilots. You’ve met the other squadron leaders?”

“Only the skippers of the Hornet squadrons, Commanders Greenberg and Smith. I haven’t met the other Tomcat squad Commander. They said he was just heading out on a patrol.”

“That would be Commander Taylor. I’m sure you two will get along well.”

Closer to the mouth of the harbor lay the Bastogne, her delirious Captain trying to regain his footing after a hectic few hours. With things being relatively peaceful he grew jittery again. The sudden start of combat during the initial surprise attack was jarring enough, and the shift back only added to the strange feeling.

“We got anymore coffee brewed up?” Harrison asked Commander Thomas.

“I don’t think another cup will help you settle down, Sir.”

“I don’t think I want to settle down. I don’t want to just crash when something important happens.”

“You shouldn’t burn yourself out, either. It will affect your decisions.”

“I’ve got enough to worry about without second guessing,” Harrison replied. “The coffee?”

“Just set another pot,” Thomas answered.

Harrison removed his cap, letting his short hazelnut hair take in some of the morning sunlight. He ran both his hands over it, rubbing his scalp some before looking up again. Maybe a haircut from the ship’s barber would help calm him, he always did find them relaxing.

“We’re still good on fuel, huh?”

“Yes Captain.”

“And we did get ammunition replenished for all our guns, right? Not just the missile cells?”

“Affirmative, Sir.”

“Well, I’m glad I can still cover the basics.”

Harrison took a long, lingering breath through his nose. The scents of the sea and the brewing coffee made for an odd combination, but one he had grown accustomed to. A call came up from the radar to disrupt him, surprising him with the urgency of the operator.

“Captain we’ve got a number of bogies coming in over the ocean towards us. They’re showing up on our radar and we’re getting similar reports from some land-based units as well. Number is around thirty but it’s growing.”

“Are there any allied squadrons operating in the area that we don’t know about?”

“Not that we know of but things have been pretty hectic the past few hours. There’s been a few friendlies popping up but nothing as big as this.”

“Hell they couldn’t be enemies could they?” he asked his Commander. “No way they could get this close without someone else noticing.”

“After the last battle, I wouldn’t say it's impossible,” Thomas reminded him.

“Shit, you’re right. Okay Thomas, get a call out to the rest of the fleet quick! Tell them about our contacts and see if any other ships have registered.”

“Jamey!”

“Sir?”

“Send out a call to the airbases near us, ask them if they’ve got any large formations of birds in the area that are feet wet.”

“Aye!”

---

Well inland from the port of Baltimare sat Goldenray Royal Air Base, tucked away amongst a quiet set of plains. Unlike many other bases, Goldenray was almost entirely Equestrian in units and staff. It was also fortunate in that it had not come under attack since the war started.

The latter, though fortune, had the lesser negative effect of leaving most in the base with a sense of security and a lack of urgency concerning the dire situations at the front. The squadrons stationed there had begun their wartime patrols dutifully, but they had yet to see combat at all. The atmosphere of the base would have seemed otherworldly to those farther west.

“Captain Blossomforth? Ma’am?”

The light-coated mare looked up from her papers detailing the status of various aircraft in her squadron.

“What is it?” she asked softly, expecting another minor and unimportant issue.

“I got a radio message from an American Navy ship in Baltimare. They wanted to know if we had any aircraft over the ocean right now,” the younger unicorn informed her.

“Um… no, not from my squadron. Hang on,” she said, picking up a phone near her. “Hey Chaser, does your squadron have any planes over the ocean? Can you check? Well just come over here then and find yours, and round up the others on your way here. Okay.”

“Nothing?”

“Captain Chaser is on her way here with the other squadron leaders to check up on theirs. Was there anything else they told you? Any other information?”

“Uh… not really. Just that they had some contacts near them approaching from the water.”
“And what ship was this?”

“The USS Bastogne ma’am, a cruiser. A lot of Navy ships are gathering in Baltimare after the attacks,” the unicorn explained. "Do you think they could be hostile aircraft?"

"Maybe, the Griffon and Shadow Navies and Air Forces have been running across the northern Pacific since the war started."

"You think the local forces can handle things if they are?"

"I'm not sure. They hurt the American Navy pretty badly but they know the war is on now. Still, to have hostile aircraft this far east... it's a little worrying."

"You think this base can handle an attack?"

"Well they've ignored us so far, and we've had time to prepare. And it's not like-"

The door to the office opened again, disrupting their conversation, letting in Cloud Chaser and some of the other squadron leaders. All of them confirmed that they had no aircraft over the ocean, leaving them to ponder. Orange Swirl followed them shortly with an answer to the problem.

“What’s wrong, Swirl?” Chaser asked.

“Baltimare is getting bombed by Griffon naval aircraft,” the pegasus answered simply, as if it were nothing more than another common report.

“I was worried that was the problem,” Blossomforth said. “Hey, shouldn’t we go help them?”

“Hey yeah, we should! Great idea!” Cloud Kicker jumped, seeming far too excited for such an event. “Finally we can get to the action!”

“Yeah, which means I can finally beat you!” Chaser shot back. “We’ll see who comes back with the better record!”

“Alright, alright. Well if we’re going to help them we’ll need to get going so we don’t miss the battle,” Orange Swirl pointed out. “Blossomforth why don’t you take Kicker, Chaser, and Blue Snow with a flight each and head out. I’ll try to get my squad together and work backup. Your jets are faster than my Skyhawks anyways.”

“Sounds good,” Blossomforth smiled. “Alright everypony, let's get some planes together and get going.”

The flight from the base to the coast was short, taking a little over twenty minutes. The large formation of aircraft took its time cruising in formation, spending most of the time trying to get in contact with the naval forces. As at the base, the rest of the country showed little signs of being at war, and the large formation gave off a rather impressive, even fun sight to see. The ground below and the air above were calm, without any disturbances; there even a few civilian pegasi enjoying a natural flight.

Still, as they closed in with Baltimare, there was an anxiousness that pervaded among all the Equestrian pilots. They continued attempts to contact over the radio, but response was short in coming, and each began to feel a twist in their stomach and a shake in their legs as they realized something was indeed wrong, most probably of the Griffon's doing. Eventually they were greeted by an American cruiser that had been tracking them over the radar in a much more anxious attitude than theirs.

“This is the USS Yorktown to aircraft approaching from the south! Identify yourselves immediately or you will be intercepted!”

“Hey, calm down!” Blossom retorted, unhappy about the hostile greeting. “We’re from the Royal Equestrian Air Force. Is your IFF working?”

“What’s your callsign?”

“Blossom, Kicker, Chaser, and Snow; eighteen aircraft in four teams. We're flying from inland, from Goldenray.”

“We’ve already come under attack from naval aircraft. Heavy casualties and several ships disabled or lost in harbor. We’re trying to put to sea but the second wave will be arriving overhead soon,” the Yorktown’s radioman explained with no hint of apology. “Camelot One is near you’ll, they’ll guide you in. Don’t waste any time!”

“Okay, let’s see about escorting the ships out of the harbor,” Blossom said to the other Equestrian squadrons.

“My team can head out and intercept them early outside the bay,” Kicker suggested.

“Hey! If you’re going there we’re coming too!” Chaser demanded. “We’re not going to let you take the spotlight in our first mission!”

“Feel free to tag along, maybe you can watch us.”

“You wish!”

“Cut the chatter and get your asses moving!” Taylor’s voice resonated through the radio.

Before any of the ponies could reply, the fast-moving Tomcat shot over the formation and back towards the harbor, greatly rattling the Equestrian pilots.

“Hey, watch where you’re flying!” Blossom answered.

“Quit screwing around! This is war! The enemy’s all over they’re gonna eat you alive!” the American snapped back. “Now get your shit together and get over here! The Crows are already overhead!”

“Uh… I guess we should stick to the back on this one instead. The competition can wait, huh Chaser?” Kicker suggested.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Switch to frequency one-one-seven-four-three, we’re trying to coordinate on that network,” Camelot One ordered. “Camelot to Enterprise, our reinforcements are here! Are the rest of the planes up yet!?”

“Affirmative. This is Felix One, callsign Coin. Engaging next enemy formation.”

The ominous smoke of the bombardment fires came into view before the city itself. Shortly after the harbor came into view, giving the Equestrians a far worse sight than they imagined. Several ships, some military and many others civilian, lay burning or listing. Smoke plumes from the harbor and from the city itself. All ships in the harbor were desperate to escape, and the consequent chaos badly muddled the process for them all, particularly the larger military vessels.

“This is Screwtop. We’re going to be setting up interception lines to try and stop the Griffon planes from closing in any further,” the AWACS notified. “Kicker and Chaser squadrons are to advance twenty-five miles past the bay bridge as the first interception line. Blossom and Snow are directed to hold ten miles out from the bridge while all remaining American squadrons defend the airspace over the bay itself. Do not abandon your assigned sectors. Additional SITREPs on naval functions may be issued through Enterprise. Out.”

The fighter squadrons broke off to their assignments, some faster than others. Being directly over the bay, Blossomforth was greeted to the attack in all its carnage. It proved difficult to pick out the scattered Griffon naval jets in the area, but she did pick out a pair of fighters running at a low level, strafing the piers and the stationary ships docked there.

The two MiGs completed their pass and pulled up together into the sky, unintentionally making themselves easier targets. The Equestrian pulled her Tornado off to her right to ensure a good firing position and, as soon as the lock was achieved, fired two missiles at the closest target. The Fulcrum began dropping flares but the countermeasures failed, with both shots striking within a second and tearing the plane apart. The other Fulcrum banked away over the harbor, dragging the chase over the fleet as one of the many dogfights filling the sky.

The fleet below had lost most of its cohesion, with each individual ship attempting to get underway and escape the bay. Many were already firing away at what aircraft they could lock on to through the continuous jamming and ECM. Still, their computers tracked any Griffon plane that flew over them, with the Thach securing her first kill on one while many of the cruisers fired their missiles at the random waves of ASMs flying towards them.

Such fire in a chaotic situation, however, immediately led to problems. The Griffon naval pilots became fond of flying low to the ground or close to the allied fighters, causing a serious danger of friendly fire. Two missiles launched from the Santa Cruz at a pair of diving MiGs struck the city, and none of the ships could rely on their CIWS working automatically as several attempts by the guns to shoot down the jets resulted in several rounds being fired into the city. The worst came when another missile from the Thach, after exploding at the tail of a Flanker, also showered a friendly Hornet in shrapnel and forcing the pilot to eject.

“Kestrel Two-Two to Enterprise! Kestrel Three-One just got shot down by friendly fire! Tell the ships to watch their fire!”

The carrier’s CIC passed the information on to Captain Murray, who in turn gave the order for the ships to take greater care in their firing. He watched from the carrier’s island as the massive vessel pulled out of the bay proper and increased speed to begin the escape. Most of the ships still in the harbor, civilian and military alike, were dashing to escape to sea rather than to be bottled up, and in turn caused a panicked clog. The dangers of collision rose, particularly between the two as there was little direct communication. Many of the larger warships came close to ramming the smaller civilian ones.

“Send out a message to the fleet,” he ordered. “This is the Captain of the carrier Enterprise. All ships that are able to must escape the port. Once you pass the bridge, enter the ocean and begin maneuvers but do not abandon the rest of the fleet. Send out a notification once you’ve exited the harbor.”

Since arriving at the port, there had been no unifying command or orders for all of the naval vessels, but they could not wait on that in such a situation.

“This is the Mahan, we read you. We’re closest to the exit and will be passing under the bridge momentarily. Once we’re out to sea we’ll focus fire on any incoming hostile missiles, out.”

Far off from the fires and mayhem around Baltimare proper, Commander Taylor was coordinating with the two squadrons of Equestrian Typhoons. Following them shortly after was VF-31, assembled and arriving from the carrier. With most of the attacks on the fleet being anti-ship missiles launched from far-off, it would be their job to form an aerial barrier to stop some of them from getting through.

“Screwtop, what’s the status of the ships in the harbor?”

“The Thach and Hawkins got out, so did the Equestrian strike cruiser Mustangia. There’s still a lot of them in there though,” the AWACS warned.

“Alright here’s what we’ll do. The Tomcats will attack from long range, any that get past need to be killed by the Typhoons,” Taylor explained. “Sound like something you ponies can do?”

“Yeah, no sweat!” Cloud Kicker affirmed.

“Then get to it! There’s a flight coming in at three-forty, get after them!” Taylor commanded. “Felix One, you ready to engage?”

“Affirmative, I don’t plan on losing another one of my carriers,” Oscar replied.

The F-14s began to fire their large Phoenix missiles at the oncoming flight as the Typhoons moved away to close in themselves. Three of the six planes in the Griffon flight were shot down, while the rest broke away to avoid the powerful attacks. Even with the Phoenix attack over, the encroaching Typhoons moved in to wipe away those that survived. Carrying the heavy ASMs, the planes could not maneuver as effectively, with two falling to Typhoons in Kicker’s team and the final being shot down by Chaser herself. Even so, the Griffons began sending more of their aircraft to flank and attack from over the land to the sides of the harbor, providing more cover than approaching from the sea.

Using anti-ship missiles on the overland approach proved frustrating for the Griffons, as the low-flying ordinance would usually strike a hill or a building in town. At the same time, these hills provided the other aircraft with some luxury of cover on their approach, allowing some of the MiGs to fly low, pull up sharply upon reaching the city, and drop their bombs where needed.

The frigate Boone was struck by two bombs in her center that blackened it and left her listing at the pier, being disabled before many of her crew could even re-board their ship. Similarly lost was the Equestrian strike cruiser Coltlumbia; lying on the outer pier facing the sea, she was struck by an anti-ship missile amidship and two torpedoes shortly after, leaving her to roll onto her side.

For the Bastogne, it took some time to get underway, but eventually she got moving in good order. On the request of a fellow Captain, the cruiser formed up ahead of her sister ship Midway, her cells still empty, and began to escort her out of the harbor. They would stand by her until the attack subsided, and the cruiser could be rearmed properly.

“Have we gotten any info on where the carriers they launched from are?” Harrison asked.

“Nothing yet, Captain. Still have incoming though, including additional ASMs. None of the contacts were strategic bombers so far.”

“That’s good. Focus on the missiles first. That incoming flight to the southwest is alone, give them a volley too. Helm! Bring us right and around that tugboat!”

Three of the Bastogne’s missiles rose to the sky, passing the bridge before leveling out over the water to intercept a wave of incoming missiles. Two more SM-2s were fired at a pair of arriving Flankers, shooting them down with little difficulty. The cruiser increased speed as it passed the tugboat, now having a clear route as the CIC stood by to service further target requests and guide the warships out.

“USS McClusky has exited the harbor.”

“This is Kestrel Three-One. Bastogne I’m coming in high from the south with two bandits on my six. Can you shoot them off me, over?”

“Affirmative Three-One, adjust your course and pass ahead of us so we can get a clear shot.”

The Hornet banked over the city and passed the cruiser’s bow at a high speed, dropping countermeasures as he went and followed closely by two more Flankers. Once the trailing planes had passed, the Bastogne fired an additional two missiles at the tails of the enemy jets. Receiving the warning, the two Griffon pilots broke away and ran back towards the hills, dragging the SAMs with them and causing them to crash into the sides of the earth. No kills were made this time, but the F-18 has been saved.

Blossomforth was dealing with her own protective mission at the same time. She had just downed her second enemy when a more immediate need arose. Over the radio, a call came in from another of the cruisers for assistance.

“Blossom, this is the Yorktown. We’re moving along the west coast but are tracking two flights of hostiles moving in overland along with another wave of ASMs. We need you to engage those fighters, we think they have bombs or torpedoes and will be gunning for us. How copy?”

“Roger that Yorktown, we’ll get rid of them and take care of you!” she promised. “Blossoms Two and Three, follow me and we’ll take care of the farthest flight. Blossoms everypony else go after the closest one.”

Passing over the cruiser and the damaged city to the more rural area at high speed, the Equestrian Tornadoes picked out their targets, flying back and forth over the trees. Blossomforth and her team engaged their flight first, attacking from above and firing all their remaining missiles in a wave. The torpedo-toting Fulcrums broke upwards to maneuver, avoiding some but not all, and three more Griffon aircraft fell.

Her other team did not have such luck. Already low on missiles, they only managed to destroy one of the four bomb-carrying jets, while forcing another to break off with their cannons. The remaining two MiGs reached the coast and pulled up sharply, very close to their target. The Yorktown, already firing at the incoming anti-ship missiles, was still able to track them. The aft missile launcher fired at the two, striking the tail of the wingman and setting his plane afire. The Fulcrum dove towards the ship, close enough for the CIWS to engage, and a several rounds later the attacker exploded in a great eruption that tore the plane apart. The second Griffon, his run already disrupted by the shot, released his bombs at a haphazard angle, dropping them harmlessly into the water while dropping flares and making his escape.

Blossomforth watched now as the cruiser reached the bridge. One of the surviving ASMs, a Kh-31, raced in its direction as the cruiser fired masses of metal chaff into the air. The countermeasures caused a small change in course of the missile, and the pony watched as it slammed into the side of the bridge, causing a small piece of it to collapse into the ocean.

“USS Yorktown is now exiting the harbor. Thanks for the escort, Blossom.”

Blossomforth could not feel a sense of satisfaction. She was focused on the smoking hole in the bridge. Its damage had shaken the realization into her. What if there was somepony on that bridge, or even in that spot? Had they been killed? She could see nothing from up in the sky and tore her eyes from it, pulling away to continue the mission but unable to completely remove the idea from her head.

Aboard the Enterprise, Murray watched as the carrier churned along through the water. He heard the report of the Bastogne and Midway successfully escaping; each ship that got out raised his hopes of retaining a potent force to keep the carrier alive and continue waging the war. Still, they had to survive the day first.

“Captain, the Colorado’s gotten underway off to our port stern,” a report came in. “They say they’ll move behind us and keep us covered while we exit the harbor.”

“Good, tell Captain Green he has my thanks,” Murray responded, never losing his composure as usual.

The battleship acted as the aft guard of the carrier, watching for any attackers that would slip around to the rear. Between the proximity of allied aircraft and the closed-in space of the port with the town and friendly ships, there was little safe way for the vessel to use its full armament. Still, the eyes of its crew were keen and they were quick to fire on any target deemed safe enough, destroying a Flanker that had wandered high and alone over an uninhabited rural area.

The Enterprise herself still had to keep watch herself, and everyone on her knew she was the primary target. Two enemy planes raced in low over the water from the bow, flying under the bridge in a near-suicidal drive to ensure any missiles they fired would hit. A SAM came first, followed not long after by the Phalanx, and even as they tried to pull away the two were struck by a deluge of fire from multiple ships.

Two others followed close behind, carrying torpedoes and following the same path. Three of the carrier’s F-18s dived on them, with the Hornets sending the leader cartwheeling into the sea. The wingman lasted only a half a second longer before a missile from the carrier struck his nose and tore the plane apart.

“This is the Santa Cruz, we’ll be exiting the bay shortly. Expect the Cape Esperance to follow shortly.”

“This is the Equestrian frigate Alder, we’re leaving with the destroyers Foxglove and Marigold. The Blue Rose is following right behind us, it's been damaged by a missile hit. Please don’t leave us behind!”

“Who else is left?” Murray asked.

“A few other ships, Captain.”

As the carrier continued on its way, a lone Flanker popped up from behind the city’s buildings. Unhindered by any of the escorting fighters, it readied it’s ASM and fired from a rather high angle. The pilot did not wait to see if it impacted, dropping flares and escaping back the way he came once his pop-up attack was completed.

The Phalanx targeted the lone missile and quickly opened fire, following a trail all the way down as it adjusted. The number of rounds missing still impacted somewhere, and as they trailed down they began to land among the city and eventually the piers and docks. Once the missile leveled out, the 20mm rounds finally made contact and destroyed it, but not before several more from the cannon missed and impacted the shipyards.

“No! Stop! You’re firing on the docks!”

Another Flanker followed shortly behind, hoping to imitate his predecessor with better success. Drawn by the attack of the first Sukhoi, Blossomforth caught the new aggressor as he was climbing. With her final missile she dispatched the attacker, with the Griffon pilot bailing out at low altitude just before the plane struck the water.

She began to wish her eyes had not followed the dying jet. Near the crash site, floating about the waves, were a number of dots. She realized they were people, not ponies but American sailors from a nearby stricken ship. They bobbed about helplessly in the waves, seeming to call out for help from some of the other passing warships. The dead Sukhoi mere feet from them, sinking into the bay, struck another fear into her heart.

“Dear Celestia did that fall on them?” she thought to herself. “Did the plane… I shot down… did it fall on some of them?”

She shifted her eyes away, hoping to save the worries for later, but only found a new terror. The Griffon pilot, for some reason, had not flown away and had landed in the water. Perhaps from fear of being too close to the warship’s guns? It did not matter now, for he could not escape.

That portion of the water was covered in a thick oil slick which cling to the Griffon’s wings like a tar. A portion of burning debris from his own jet had landed near him, and the fire soon spread over the oily ripples. The fire seemed to surround him quickly as he floated there helplessly. There was no escape for him, nor any escape for her, transfixed to her doomed adversary. None deserved such a fate, enemy or otherwise. It could not continue, it had to stop. Somepony had to stop it. Until Blossomforth tore her eyes away, all she could think of was a repetitive begging for it, all of it, to stop.

In contrast to the pony, most of the crew of the carrier was now buoyant. Though the attack continued, the Enterprise was still safe and, with some maneuvering, finally had a straight shot to freedom. Murray himself noticed quite a few more hopeful smiles breaking out among the sailors.

“We have a clear route out of the harbor now. Helm, go to flank speed and link us up with the rest of the fleet.”

“Aye Captain!”

“All ships be advised, the USS Enterprise is passing the bridge,” the radio operator aboard notified. “The carrier’s in open waters. Bon voyage guys!”

The nuclear reactors powered the carrier forward as it charged under the bridge and out into the open ocean, where most of the other ships were gathering. The Colorado followed shortly after, kicking up some significant waves as she left. With their exit, the attack began to truly subside.

The Griffons, already badly uncoordinated, realized their chances of actually sinking anymore ships when they were able to maneuver freely and in proper formation were low. As they retreated to their own far-off carriers, Murray looked out over his own forces as the ships began to form up protectively around the Enterprise. Most were low on ammunition for their weapons, and many showed varying degrees of damage, but they were all still floating.

With the combat easing up, the Tomcats and Typhoons in the outer CAP barrier finally found some relaxation. The AWACS has requested they remain on station as some additional bogies looked to be closing in. The reprieve gave the pilots time to gather themselves, and for Oscar and his backseat driver to discuss their first day on the Enterprise’s CAW.

“I sure hope we didn’t cause this,” Lighter spoke up.

“What do you mean?” the Commander asked.

“We know they’re on the hunt for another carrier after their attack on Brumbay failed. We might have led them here,” Oscar’s WSO theorized to his pilot.

“Maybe, this clearly wasn’t planned. It looks too rushed, too disorganized. Their planes aren’t coordinated and weren’t coming in at the same time.”

“I mean at least we stopped them this time, right?”

“Yeah, we did well today Lighter. Don’t worry yourself.”

“Warning, new formation of bandits approaching! They’re moving fast, it looks like they’re going to engage you!” The AWACS alerted.

“Looks like we really pissed them off,” Oscar observed over the open channel.

“Fine by me, Felix! I’m ready to really hurt these bastards!” Taylor jumped. “Camelot to Kicker and Chaser, enemy formation is moving to engage us. They sent some real hunters after us. It’s time for a real fight!”

Over the ocean, miles away from the allied fighters, a flight of six Fulcrums raced forward in search of the enemy. The very paint on their crafts denoted a unique unit, being mostly shades of dark blue to camouflage against the sea and sky, with two lines running up from their tail fins to intersect near the canopy. The lines themselves were golden, with the edges colored a slim silver on both sides running parallel along the borders.

“Reports are saying the strike aircraft are being intercepted by Tomcats far off from the harbor,” one of the Griffon pilots informed.

“Then the carrier is there! The one that got away!” another commented.

“Looks like we get another chance,” the leader noted. “Vermeil squadron, we can’t let the Enterprise escape. Destroy their fighter cover and clear the way for the strike aircraft.”

“Understood, Vermeil lead!”

“Break and engage them, hunt down every last survivor!”

The Tomcats had expanded their Phoenix missiles early against the previous waves, but they still retained their other weapons for close-range fighting. The Typhoons also retained a fair amount of weaponry, and the numerical odds were highly in their favor. Even so, when the Griffon pilots moved in closely and destroyed two of the outlying Typhoons with little effort, it was clear they would be more difficult to deal with.

“F-14s ahead, lead, just like you said,” the second position pilot notified.

“Typhoons too, the Equestrians are here!” the fourth place Griffon added.

“Good, there’ll be enough for all of us.”

“Deal with the Arrowheads first, the Americans are more dangerous,” Vermeil One ordered. “Remember how to deal with F-14s, they’re big. Try to slow them down and fight them closer to the water. Destroy them the same way we did the others in the first attack.”

The merging of aircraft into a single giant dogfight caused a great deal of chaos. The Griffon Fulcrums did their best to lure the Tomcats into a favorable position while fending off the Typhoons. It was no easy task, considering the hefty disadvantage.

“Boston, you see them? They’ve got some golden lines on their backs,” Oscar observed. “They’re trying to drag us down, stay high.”

“I don’t plan on it! Camelots Two and Three, get ready to follow me down; I’ll catch some for you guys to kill!”

Taylor dove his F-14, passing two of the Equestrians dueling with one Fulcrum on the way. At a high speed, he leveled out one of the Fulcrums did follow him, in turn being followed by the other aircraft. They, however, were soon tailed by another Griffon Fulcrum.

Taylor pulled back up in an instant, dragging the long line of fighters with him. The last fighter in the train, the Griffon Fulcrum, eyed the training Tomcat and began taking aim. With a sound lock a moment later, a missile flew out to hit the unfortunate F-14’s right engine, sending the body falling to the sea.

Rather than break to evade further fire, Camelot Two continued on. ‘Vice’ refused to abandon his Commander, still tracking his target in the maneuvering twists and turns in the sky. Achieving his own lock, he launched a Sidewinder at his target, striking the Griffon jet and setting it aflame as it glided down.

“Shit, Camelot Three is down!”

“I got him off you lead, but that guy’s still on me!” Vice yelled.

“Camelot Two, break right and dive again. Bring him across my bow!” Oscar ordered.

The American fighter responded, pulling his fighter off sharply and barely avoiding another lock-on at the same time. The Griffon followed greedily, firing another missile but having it chase away from the Tomcat and after a long line of flares. Before he could fire again, his MiG ran across the front of Oscar’s F-14, which turned to tail him. A second later, an AIM-9 and a dozen cannon rounds had torn the plane and pilot to shreds, the beautiful blue paint and gold-silver lines being torn apart and burned before hitting the ocean.

“Five and Six are down!” one of the MiG drivers announced.

“Stay aggressive and hungry, keep to the offensive and break them!”

“I’ve got another pony in my sights, he’s mine now!”

Another Equestrian jet fell victim to the Fulcrums, out-turned by its opponent. The same Fulcrum attempted to continue to tail another Typhoon but failed to keep up. In another instant of fateful placement, both Kicker and Chaser found themselves targeting the MiG from different angles. Both fired several missiles at once; it was unknown who’s actually hit, but the expert Griffon pilot was overwhelmed by the barrage.

Despite half the squad being lost, the remainder continued fighting as they had been. The MiGs maneuvered sharply and largely stayed at low altitudes, making them difficult to kill. At the same time, the Fulcrums were having an increasingly difficult time staying offensive as there was constantly one plane or another trailing them.

The battle dragged on with each side barely escaping the other. Another break came when the third-position Fulcrum, attempting a rollaway on a Tomcat, inadvertently leveled out ahead of one of the Felix team’s aircraft. After a long burst of fire from the Vulcan, the fourth Griffon jet went down, the pilot desperately bailing out before the plane dragged him to an untimely doom.

“Lead, Three just went down,” the remaining Griffon wingman panicked. “What do-what… what happened?”

“We… just bit off too much this time,” Vermeil One answered grimly.

Commander Taylor began to chase down the leader, eager to enact an as-yet unknown vengeance on the Griffon squadron that had crippled VF-12 days ago. From the corner of his eye he saw the second Griffon plane coming towards him from the side. Before it could reach him, a missile from Oscar’s wingman, ‘France’, plowed headlong into the nose of the assailer.

The sole remaining Griffon fighter continued to resist, though only through maneuvers. He seemed to make no further attempts to attack the allied fighters, in sharp contrast to the squadron’s previous behavior. After a couple more minutes and a wasted missile shot later, Boston’s final missile finally pressed through to earn the final kill of the battle. He noticed the Griffon pilot eject before the shot had even struck his craft, running and flying northwest. Thrilled but exhausted, Taylor elected not to kill him as well; beyond any sentimental reasoning, his Tomcat was starting to run dangerously low on fuel and he, as well as everyone else, shared a feeling that the battle should be terminated.

“Screwtop, Camelot… any more bogies, over?”

“Negative, bandits are down, all remaining contacts withdrawing. The skies are clear, nice job.”

“Coin, you did damn fine today. Let me welcome you to the Big E’s family. You’ll fit in perfect,” Taylor acknowledged after regaining his breath.

“Thanks Camelot lead… feels good to have a new home.”

“Let’s get back to it. I’m running out of fuel. Screwtop, can we get landing clearance from the ship?”

“Camelot, you’re requested to shift to the open frequency.”

“Fine, I’ll ask them there,” he groaned. “Enterprise this is Camelot, request landing clearance over.”

There was a period of silence before the Captain’s voice took over from the usual operator.

“This is the Captain of the carrier Enterprise, my congratulations to all ships that escaped the harbor. Many thanks to our brave heroes in the sea, and in the air.”

“Always with the happy words this guy,” Taylor groaned to himself as the usual radioman came back. “Enterprise, Camelot.”

“We’re reading you Camelot. Send, over.”

“Can we please get landing clearance so your brave heroes don’t run out of gas and crash into the ocean?”

“Affirmative Camelot, you’re first in line so take your time with it.”

“Smartass,” he thought as he brought the heavy fighter around to return home.

---

The Equestrian fighters returned home at the same time, their mission finally complete. It was a difficult first battle for them, losing six aircraft in total, including three of the pilots. Upon reaching the ground, Kicker and Chaser began discussing their individual outcomes, though with a marked lack of enthusiasm that had swelled them forward when they first launched, while Blue Snow returned virtually unchanged. The Tornado pilot was much more quiet, heading inside in search of some silence and solitude.

Blossomforth tried to toss away the images in her mind, shaking her head back and forth. The picture of sailors bobbing in the waves, and of Griffon pilot floating in a sea of fire stuck hard.

“That American Captain said we were heroes. What kind of hero kills her own allies?”

She resolved to speak with one of the humans about it, as the nearby city had a fair number of American soldiers there. She knew their military had chaplains, attendants of their religions, that helped their soldiers cope with the mental stress and anguish. She herself did not belong to any of their beliefs, but had been assured that she did not need to be.

The pony resolved to pay them a visit when she could. Her head may not clear up otherwise, and the war had only just started. Still, she was hopeful the base would return to the calm inaction they had before today. Though she was happy about it before, she had come to appreciate it now.

Author's Note:

Comments

[KeePony]

She has to learn about friendly fire. And how it is not friendly. Sometimes you accidently kill your allies

[Blackhawk2130]

9462800
Murphy's laws of combat state
"Friendly fire,isn't"