Nearing the Edge

by Eagle

Brass Royal

May 20th, 2006
0830 Hours
Guam

Clark ‘Sunny’ Scott, the commander of VF-33, hailed from Goldsmith, Texas, a small town on the outskirts of Odessa. Though he loved Goldsmith itself in its quiet demeanor, the absorption into Odessa was something he despised. He found nothing to be proud of in the city itself.

Odessa was large with a population of over one-hundred thousand, but it was a large city few outside of the state itself knew of. In the open land of Western Texas, Scott found nothing there he liked, being nothing but a big city in the middle of nowhere; no distinction, no identity, no prospects. He hated Odessa, and his abhorrence towards it only grew alongside his own maturity.

Finally, as soon as he could, he left the blank metropolis behind, not caring of the claims of the folk living there. When he would mention it, they would argue, of course, make their unconvincing claims, before moving to the argument that he was impatient, glory-seeking, missing the ‘beauty’, or simply a bad person. He never understood, never cared, and subsequently never looked back, continuing his vocal disapproval in return for many years.

He moved to Oklahoma for his College years, and never cared much about it being a smaller town. He soon discovered flying, a natural staple among the citizens of the state. For him it offered the greatest movement, the greatest freedom, the ability to escape wherever he was and go wherever he wished.

Living his early days jailed in Odessa had given him a deep desire to travel, to not get stuck in one place. Home was not a permanent location to him as it was to normal people. He was a wanderer, a rambler in the sky. This type of character in him made a natural fit for the Navy, where the ever-sailing ships were home, and an even better fit for flying for them.

His career went well, if uneventful; uneventful until the arrival of Arcaia. From the beginning, the Pegasi held an interesting, revolutionary place to Scott. With their natural wings and given instinct of flight they were a league closer to the idea of an aerial vagabond he wondered about. He never hid his mild jealousy of them and their gift.

Flying one of the two Tomcat squadrons off the America had left him with little to do compared to other squadrons. Guarding Hawaii was one thing but lacked any real satisfaction as the proper war in Arcaia continued. However, after a short meeting with Admiral Jay, that changed. He and his team were temporarily transferred to Andersen Air Force Base in Guam, under great secrecy, for a unique mission. He and the others pondered in length about the nature of the mission, and as he was crowded into a large auditorium for the briefing with several other pilots from different squadrons, it felt exciting to begin his first action of the war.

“Everyone here? Alright, let’s start the briefing for Operation Brass Royal,” the Air Force Lieutenant Colonel stated. “I know you all haven’t heard anything about just what this is or why you’re here. It’s been kept secret until now, and for good reason. Brass Royal is a rescue mission, a big one.

“Over the past few weeks, our spy plane and satellite fly-overs have gathered a lot of intelligence on Bloc forces. Some of these pictures include what look to be development sights for superweapons, a lot of them; orbital bombers, satellite weapons, all sorts of bad stuff. More importantly, our Blackbirds have brought back photographs of the movement of a large number of prisoners of war from their camps. After some follow-up U-2 flights, we found that they’re all being transported to the same city, the port of Onda Cálida on the Shadow Empire’s east coast. In addition to this, our radio intercept was able to pick up the following message transmitted from the city: ‘Barter Line is set and will commence in eighteen days.’

“The last piece of the puzzle came when the USS Greenville sank a small Chinese transport ship on its way from Arcaia back to China, and picked up a couple of survivors as prisoners. One of them had a written order that read ‘Barter Line confirmed, essential trade personnel to be transported to Shanghai at the agreed-upon date’, a more detailed version of the radio transmission. With that, and a few other bits of information, we figured out what they were planning.”

The Lieutenant Colonel took a minute to take a drink of water and breath before continuing, flipping to the next slide. It was good to give the pilots a moment to think, it was a lot to take in even for a military briefing. Though this was far from a standard military briefing, and far from a standard combat operation.

“We have determined that a large number of the human POWs that the Bloc has captured during the early days of the war, probably a majority of them, are to be secretly transferred from Arcaia to China. The handing-over of the prisoners looks like some kind of deal between the two factions. What the details are, and what China is sending in return are unknown, but that’s not what matters right now. What matters is that this is our chance to try and rescue them.

“Now, this is where our actual operation comes into play,” he noted for the fliers, taking a long drag from a cigarette before shoving it into an ashtray. “This is all about your job, so listen closely. Got it?

“We will have one chance to launch a rescue mission and save the POWs. They were already near-impossible to rescue in Bloc custody, but if they make it to China they’ll be out of our reach for good, and in for a far worse time. The Bloc nations seem to vary but in general they don’t seem to treat the prisoners too badly, but we all know what the commies will do to them. So, we’re going to bail them out. There’s a specific point in the journey that offers a clear window.

“We believe the Bloc will be attempting to transport them in secret aboard a cruise ship, the Vesper Star, and under this guise they will only have a single small escort. We will coordinate a pincer attack with our air power between Guam and Japan, where the window is best for us.”

The officer flipped the slide to a new picture, a map with drawings detailing the plan, along with the participating units’ emblems along the side.

“For Brass Royal to start off at all, we’ll need to take the enemy by surprise to give us as much time as possible to rescue our men before they can mount a big response. The beginning of the operation will rely on two squadrons from the Tactical Corps of USAF squadrons, Mage and Golem. They will send in a single fighter at low altitude, hugging the water to get in under the radar, and will use air-to-surface missiles to eliminate the escort ship in a surprise attack. Mage and Golem will then secure the airspace over the Vesper Star. AWACS Sky Keeper will oversee this area.

“The two other areas will be the large fighter waves coming from Guam and Japan, who will form a CAP and guard the flanks against the initial emergency response by both the Bloc and Chinese. Out of Kadena, there will be the 44th and 67th Squadrons under AWACS Timeline, ‘Vampire’ and ‘Rooster’ respectively. From here at Andersen, the 525th and 53rd under AWACS Stagecoach.

“Now once the airspace is secure, we will then mount the rescue effort. A large team of SEALs and Pararescuemen will be brought in by helicopter and seize control of the ship. Because of the large number of POWs, and the fuel limitations on the helos, and the increasing enemy pressure by this time, we won’t be able to evac via helicopter. Instead the Navy will be handling the evacuation.

“This last part is where the Tomcat teams come in, so you all listen closely. We do know that the Chinese combined aviation fleet with their multiple carriers are somewhere in the area. Because of their proximity, it’s highly likely they’ll launch a large-scale air attack before we can complete the mission and bug out. But because our carriers are stuck elsewhere they won’t be expecting you. Starfighter and Gunfighter will be on emergency response for this, and when the armada of Chinese aircraft arrives, you will use volleys of your Phoenix missiles at long range to drive them back. You’ll refer to Stagecoach and a little to Sky Keeper but they could come from anywhere to the West, so keep your heads on a swivel. Once the evac is complete we’ll bug out, questions?”

“Sir, you said the Navy is going to be handling the evacuation. How are they going to be doing that?” one of the pilots asked.

“Ah… unfortunately I can’t tell you. Because of the… sensitive and complex nature of the mission we’ve had to keep this half of the mission a secret in order to assure our own cover. Don’t worry, they will be able to handle it. Just make sure to focus on your own mission.”

“Well shit that’s not good,” Scott thought. “We don’t need to be kept in the dark on our own mission.”
He was wary of the mission, of it’s strange complexity, something that could easily doom an operation in the planning stages before it even began. Keeping parts of it confidential only exacerbated the problems. On paper it seemed any number of things could go wrong, but they would undertake it all the same. ‘Rescue’, that word stuck to every man in the room, it was arguably the most important of any they would get. Those on the ship would not be abandoned so long as there was a chance, and now that one had presented itself, regardless of the difficulty, it had to be seized.

---

The large collection of Tomcats were orbiting over a patch of water, one that was not any different from the rest of the Pacific. Vast and simple and with no visual guides, the ocean stretched on. This specific latitude and longitude was their holding position, outside the small radar coverage of the escort. They sat here, waiting for the call for their part in the operation to initiate, biding their time until then.

“How do you think the war is going on this side of the ocean anyways?” Sunny asked his RIO, ‘Grip’, only now noting that they had kept the carrier wing in deep secret and rather uninformed on Guam.

“You’re just now wondering that?” Grip replied.

“Yeah?”

“Oh… well… I don’t know.”

“Figures, you never keep up with the news.”

Scott continued to ponder the state of the conflict in this half of the Pacific. It felt like an uneasy, low-intensity sideshow compared to the main front in eastern Arcaia. The two sides had launched piddling, inconsistent strikes at each-other from aircraft at the various bases and from the few warships in the area, yet neither side had conducted any major offensives. The Bloc home countries were far too well defended to attack without serious loss, defenses which were growing by the day. Yet due to the other active conflict zones, and more so due to politics, neither they nor China dared enter allied airspace.

None had tried to attack Japan directly, which was holding its own as a neutral country and a major eastern base for the U.S., and despite having an official state of war with the Bloc did not wish to invade American territory; perhaps they believed that if they seized Arcaia proper and drove the allies off the continent entirely America would sue for peace. China, despite having it’s armed forces directly clashing with the allied nations, would not invade other lands officially either. No direct state of war meant no attacks from either side on Chinese territory or vice-versa, for the most part at least.

Scott pondered this as he anxiously waited for the operation to commence. None of this would last, this bizarre standoff was unnatural for a war of this size. Japan, China, Guam, western Arcaia, it would all eventually get swept up in this expanding conflict. There was no getting around it, the real question was when, and then the question of whether or not the forces here would be enough to ensure a victory.

“Hey did you know my cousin’s on the Ringgold?” his RIO asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Well his destroyer’s been prowling around Japan. The news said they already popped a couple Chinese aircraft that closed in.”

“Did he say if there was a major increase in activity there?”

“No, but I can ask him next time I talk to him.”

“Jesus Christ Grip,” Sunny moaned.

As the main force loitered, the operation was finally beginning to the north of them. The initial lone aircraft was pushing ahead, waiting for the signal. The ABMs checked and coordinated from their stations on the massive AWACS planes. Everything was in position, the clock ticking down slowly, wearing out every agonizing second. When the minute finally turned, the call went out like a war horn, signalling the beginning of Brass Royal.

“Stagecoach to all units, Repunzal. Repeat, Repunzal,” the AWACS announced, passing the code phrase from high command to begin the operation. “Sky Keeper, did you copy that?”

“Affirmative. Mage Two, do you read? Commence. Remember you are forbidden from making any contact with us. We need to achieve total surprise so keep silent.”

The F-16 went in low and alone, his allies far away and unable to help. A large collection of broken, low-flying clouds crowded the distance between it and the target, complicating the mission further but giving another layer of cover to him. The Falcon flew low, as close to the water as it dared to get, as much as it could to further decrease the time and chance of detection by the radar of the enemy escort ship.

It was a tense few minutes, with no one knowing what was happening. The crew of Shadows on the escort would be the first to find out. The Grisha corvette’s radar reported a single contact, very low, and fast. Initially, for a few seconds, it was thought to be a mistake, some kind of glitch in the electronics. Then it was seen as a very real contact.

The initial response aboard was slow, they were expecting the voyage to be kept in total secret. That was the plan, the entire point of only having a single escort. Even if the Shadows did encounter an enemy they expected it to be a patrolling submarine. As the crew scrambled about, they did not think an American fighter, especially one on an attack course, would be this far out in the western Pacific.

The Falcon released two AGM-84s, giving the crew of the corvette very little time to react. Both missiles streaked in at high speed while the small vessel increased it’s run to flank speed and heeled away from the Vesper Star, trying to bring it’s guns up for defense. It was too late, as the weapons flew in too quick, even as the guns were being turned the first missile rammed into the top superstructure and exploded, blasting away most of it.

So little was left that the second missile actually missed and passed just over the boat, turning into the ocean. Miraculously the hull of the Grisha was mostly intact, but everything on the top deck and above had been totally obliterated by the explosion. She was left as a careening wreck, no longer a decisive factor in the battle.

“Enemy corvette down, looks disabled at least,” AWACS Sky Keeper reported, giving a relaxed sigh. “Trigger the first stage of the mission is clear.”

“Stagecoach to all units, hawk, hawk, hawk!”

“Alright Starfighter team, move to the rendezvous point!” Scott ordered.

“Fight’s on now baby!” his wingman Wolf jumped.

The various squadrons of fighters all fanned out, heading towards their various guard points. The primary attack force of helicopters, carrying the rescue force of SEALs, Air Force Pararescue, and a handful of miscellaneous others increased their altitude and speed to move in. The Vesper Star down below was frantically trying to send a radio message for help, only to be jammed by the American aircraft. This all took time however, time that was now of vital importance, as every second passing the enemy could discover the operation.

“Stagecoach to Bulldog, we have contacts, do you copy?”

“Bulldog copies, send it,” the Raptor pilot of the 525th answered.

“Two bogies, altitude angels twenty, speed one-thousand. They’re heading directly for your guard station at Point Delta. ID and engage if hostile, out.”

“Bulldog Three-One, take Charlie Flight ahead and get to work!”

“Couldn’t they be civilian airliners?” another F-22 pilot asked.

“Two civilians, out here at that altitude? No chance. But we have to ID to be sure. Paco?”

“I heard ya lead, Charlie is moving!”

The collection of Tomcats rendezvoused with the two Tactical teams from the north over the target ship itself. The helicopter team arrived sixteen minutes later, Chinooks moving in at their maximum range to deliver the rescue team. The vessel had begun to speed up and was now moving in an awkward, wide zig-zag, though there was little that it could do to defend itself without any weaponry.

“There’s no way those helicopters can transport the prisoners off. There’s not nearly enough,” Wolf noticed, a worried tone in his voice.

“No, they couldn’t even try. They don’t have enough juice to loiter around. That’s what they told us, remember? Got to pay attention in briefing Wolf.”

“What are the SEALs going to do? Sail the damn ship all the way to Guam?”

“We’ll have to assume so for now.”

“These guys know we can’t cover them the whole time right?” Scott’s RIO asked.

“We’ll stay out here as long as we need to.”

“Yeah but that’s not going to be long enough. Unless we just keep refueling over and over till we get the ship all the way back. And I don’t think I want to stay up here for that long.”

“This is Pine. Sky Keeper, we’re beginning our attack on the target. We’ll offload Hammer soon,” the helicopter lead reported.

The helicopters broke away to their various offloading points around the vessel. The crew of Vesper Star, knowing full well they were under attack and now about to be boarded, had already armed themselves and were on alert. There was nothing more for them to use than AKs, though this could still prove deadly if they got lucky, with some of them opening fire on the helicopters as they closed in. The gunners on the Chinooks responded to the sudden aggression instantly, returning fire with their own miniguns if they were able.

“Mac, cease fire!” the pilot of the leading chopper yelled. “That ship’s full of our guys! No shooting unless you’ve got a confirmed kill shot!”

“Shit, shit alright!”

“Pine Lead to all Pine units, watch your fire! Stray rounds could kill our men!” he warned the other helicopters. “We’re going to have to get in real close! Only fire if you’ve got a good clear shot on a tango, and then only short bursts! Everyone got that, over!?”

The process of suppressing resistance became much more surgical, with the Chinooks flying cautiously closer, giving their gunners some chances to pick off the crewmembers that stuck out. Rifle rounds impacted on the sides of the choppers, doing little damage but each held the small possibility that one would strike a critical system, or penetrate and hit one of the passengers. Still, it was with the unique, cool discipline the pilots had that allowed them to carry through with their assault mission. The SEALs boarded from multiple areas around the ship, using rope or direct landing where possible, and finally they could get about the mission of pacifying and seizing the Vesper Star and her priceless cargo.

“Hammer is onboard and in play!”

“Stagecoach this is Bulldog, we splashed those bandits but it looks like there’s a lot more coming! We’re going to move in and cut ‘em up, over!”

“Copy that, Stagecoach to all units, be advised I’m seeing a spike in bogie count, over.”

“This is Sky Keeper, confirmed. We’ve got twelve contacts nearing Bulldog. More than thirty contacts massing to the northeast and another ten about five miles south of that. They know exactly what we’re planning to do, all units prepare to intercept!”

“Stagecoach to Bengal, there’s another group of bogies to the southeast. Bearing one-three-three, altitude forty thousand. We need you to engage ASAP, how copy over?”

“Solid copy Stagecoach, we’ll engage!” the 53rd Squadron lead complied, heading the group of F-15s out to fight.

“CAP is getting spread out,” Wolf mentioned to his lead.

“Remember our mission, keep looking west. They’ll call us if they need help,” Scott reminded him.

The battle continued for some time, with the F-14s and the handful of planes from the two tactical squadrons orbiting protectively over the ship. They could only keep track of the air battle mentally through the various radio communications. All four of the assisting fighter squadrons were engaged; the combat was broken but noticeably intensifying. They knew it could not be kept up for long, as the fuel would be drained and even with tankers the enemy’s pressure would only increase.

The reports streamed in steadily. The 525th shot down eight enemy MiG-23s, but lost one Raptor in the process. Then the 44th called in, three more Floggers were shot down and an enemy squadron turned away with the loss of one of the ‘Vampires’. Then the ‘Bengals’ defeated their group, claiming three MiG-29s in a close dogfight while losing two of their own. The 525th again, turning back a huge formation of Flankers; six of them shot down, two F-22s lost and running out of fuel and ammunition. Again, the 53rd, another ‘Bengal’ lost for two Flankers, still holding the line. The 67th Squadron reporting from the north with a huge melee in the clouds, four more American planes lost for nine Shadow Fulcrums. It could only continue for so long.

“Sky Keeper to Golem One, we have a flight of bogies inbound towards you from a hole to the northeast. Are you available to engage?”

“Affirmative, we’re good to go, just give us the bearing and details. Mage Team, stick with the ship, keep the Navy guys out of trouble would you?”

Four F-18s broke off on an intercept course, leaving the two Falcons with the Tomcat teams. Down below, the SEALs thoroughly cleared the ship of hostiles, moving through each deck, breaching each room, cutting down any crew that tried to resist. One was lost in the process, taking an AK round to the head, and another two wounded, but the Vesper Star was secured. The intelligence team’s hunch was perfectly accurate, as the ship was loaded with human POWs belonging to various branches, and some to allied nations, all in rather good condition as well. Even as the ship was reported clean, it was clear time was running out; the 44th reported two more losses for one Flanker kill.

“Hammer to Sky Keeper, objective has been captured! Check the clock, are we on time?”

“Affirmative Hammer we are on schedule. Let’s hope the other half of the rescue is ready too. If not, this operation is doomed.”

“You don’t need to remind me Sky Keeper!”

“Golem here, we’ve turned back that hostile flight but there’s another on its way. We’re engaging now.”

The airborne battles continued, with the lines of the CAP slowly contracting as planes were lost or forced to retire. The defense was pushed in but by bit, but the Tomcats were held back for a specific retaliation the commanders expected, much to their chagrin. All they could do was circle the ship, constantly worrying, wondering what the SEALs planned to do to get the ship, and the prisoners, to safety. They would have to be covered for as long as possible, but even the longest the F-14s could provide was not long enough. One anti-ship missile and the unprotected vessel, and the souls aboard, would be lost. The operation seemed more and more shortsighted as the pilots waited.

“Hey look down! At the target!” one of the VF-124 pilots shouted excitedly.

“Sunny, down at our ten, at the water!” Grip jumped. “Look at the water, something’s breaking the surface!”

Down along the ocean, not far from the ship, a disturbance in the waves instantly changed as something broke through the top like a whale breaching, carrying a geyser of water upwards. It took another second for the shocked onlookers to realize that it was a submarine enacting an emergency surface at a high angle and speed. It shot upwards before falling down onto the sea again, obscuring itself with a splash and a wall of seawater and foam. It lasted no more than a few seconds but the sub had come to a rest, the long, pitch-black ship only identifiable from it’s sail and the diving fins on it.

“Christ, that’s a submarine! Where’d it-”

“Sunny that’s ours!” Grip interrupted. “That’s one of ours! It’s an LA!”

“That’s a Los Angeles! So that’s how they’re planning to get our boys out!”

“Those brave crazy sardines!” Wolf howled in delight. “Haha I should’ve known! Wooo boy!”

A garbled radio began to pierce over the airways before coming in more clearly.

“Testing, anyone reading this? This is the U.S.S. Louisville, can anyone read us!? Come in!”

“Louisville, this is AWACS Sky Keeper, it’s a relief to finally see you! The target has been secured, are you ready to start the transfer, over?”

“Affirmative, we’re ready! Can you give us the frequency of the unit on the ship that’s conducting the transfer, over?”

“Copy, one second.”

The operators and prisoners on board the Vesper Star had all turned their eyes to the submarine when it arrived, and finally they made contact after a tense waiting period.

“Hammer One, this is the Louisville, your taxi is here! Have you got our guests ready to move, over?”

“We’re ready, thank God you guys made it! We’ll have to work fast, we’re sitting ducks out here. We’ve got a lot of people, do you have enough room onboard?”

“Don’t worry Hammer One, we’re going to bring everyone home!”

The evacuation could now finally get underway, utilizing whatever boats that were available to move the prisoners to the submarine as quickly as possible. However, they only had so much time to do so; the American fighters were still trying to fend off the Bloc aircraft and should any enemies slip through it would quickly lead to massive casualties, even the sinking of the cruise ship, or worse, the Louisville, sitting out exposed on the ocean’s waves. Despite the exuberance and relief at being rescued, there was still a worry for this. The now-evening sun casting it’s golden light over the sky and water colored the scene beautifully from above as Scott watched, masking the tense anxiety that was buried in each man both above and below. They waited as the sailors worked, each minute going by painfully slow, waiting for any call, the time dragging on but allowing their rescue to continue without interruption. At last there was a call from the AWACS, and to the joy of the Tomcat crews, the call for them; for the exact mission that they were here for.

“Sky Keeper this is Timeline, I’m seeing a massive wave of bogies coming in from the west bearing two-eight-zero, heading for the ship! Are you picking them up?”

“We are, that’s what we’ve been waiting for. Starfighter, Gunfighter, set course to intercept.”

“That’s them, the Chinese Naval Air Arm,” Scott noted.

“Finally! Time to spring the trap!” Wolf lavished in the opportunity to fight. “No way they’ll be expecting us!”

“Bet their carrier fleet isn’t far off,” Scott’s RIO commented. “Too bad we can’t go after them huh Sunny?”

“One day brother, they’re going to burn and drown.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Yeah, now get to locking up those bogies! No way they’re civilians!”

The two squadrons of Tomcats adjusted their course, heading for the horde of Chinese fighters. They stabilized, flying straight and level together at a comfortable pace, aiming to intercept. The American’s hunch was accurate; because no American carriers were in the area the enemy did not expect any Tomcats, or their long range missiles.

“Starfighter to Gunfighter, volley launch on the Phoenix, are you ready?”

“We’re coming into range now and locking targets. They’ll probably notice.”

“Everyone pick out targets but hold fire, get in a little closer. We’ll volley launch and break them up, the surprise should be enough to drive them back.”

The two formations closed in like two packs of ravenous wolves, desperate to wipe each-other out. Slowly the Tomcats slipped into range for their long-range Phoenix missiles, still out of range for even the largest AAM the Chinese carried. The distance closed, the F-14s holding their fire, locking on to individual targets, though the fire-control radar warning told the Chinese that something was wrong, but they refused to break formation.

“Starfighter here, mark! Mark!” Scott shouted. “Fire! All planes fire now! Launch!”

A chorus of replies ran over each other; ‘firing!’, ‘launch!’, ‘Fox Three!’. Dozens of the giant missiles fell from the underbellies of the jets in seconds. Their rocket motors ignited, sending the mass of ordinance out towards the various targets. The sky ahead of Scott was dotted and streamed by the lights of the rockets and the long lines of smoke trails in a mesmerizing modern version of a mass volley of arrows from a company of bowmen.

The Chinese, in their horror, heard the missile warnings and realized what was happening. Instantly, instinctively, the call to break and evade went out. The long lack of real wartime experience and their awkward training and command took their toll, as the break was done at random in various directions. Some broke left or right, some dove, some climbed, some turned around to try and outrun them, some commanders ordered them to keep formation and keep flying forward, which a number of the underlings complied to. The sudden maneuvers created an airspace ripe for mid-air collision, causing further chaos, and the carefully crafted, rigid command and coordination the Chinese emphasized fell apart, scattering them in every direction to the four winds.

Then the missiles arrived. The large Phoenix, the giant that it was, sacrificed maneuverability for it’s legendary range and power, meaning it was easier to dodge than other American missiles, but it was by no means inaccurate. This was proven when the first enemy jet fell, flying straight on and struck head on in it’s nose, the heavy missile tearing it apart. Then two more, then three, then several in succession. With the cover broken one of the Tomcats of VF-124 made a wise and lucky shot and struck the sole Chinese AWACS that led the group, sending it falling into the Pacific. In total, eighteen Chinese fighters, along with their lumbering AWACS, were lost to the massive saturation attack, but there were still twenty left, and should they regroup they could still pose a threat. With the F-14s now reduced to only short-range attacks with their Sidewinders, Scott made a quick decision to press the attack.

“Starfighter One to all Starfighters, press in and wipe them out! Max power, move quick! Gunfighter you want to help us?”

“Affirmative Sunny, we’re going to have the short end of the stick though, getting into a dogfight like that. They could have the upper hand.”

“That’s why we need to get in there now! Take them out while they’re still scattered!”

“Ah, I got you, good call! We’ll move in and engage! Sky Keeper, do you read? Gunfighter and Starfighter and pushing in to finish off the bandits at close range. You copy that?”

“Affirmative, just be careful, we’ll have support on standby if you need it.”

The evacuation of the prisoners to the Louisville was progressing smoothly, but at a slower rate than the operators wanted. Using the various boats on the Vesper Star, and those available on the submarine, to ferry the men over was an arduous process, prolonged further by the difficulty of getting so many through the sub’s few openings. The boat operators began to simply ferry the men to the deck of the rescuer and let them wait there for their turn to go below while they left to get their next load. The deck of the Louisville was soon being crammed with the POWs; most of those from the Army and Air Force had never been on a submarine before, and standing there on the slick deck of one, crowded and with the waves kicking up, instilled a very real sense of vertigo and worry.

Finding space inside the submarine was also a hassle, with the crew having removed everything they could to make space, but it was clear they would still have to stand shoulder-to-shoulder in most of the compartments. Worry slowly began to evolve to panic as the fighter’s CAP cover to the operation dwindled and the battle homed in on them, shaking the discipline of the various service members. Some of the POWs, particularly the handful from the Navy and Marine Corps, elected to swim the short distance between the two ships rather than wait; the SEALs preferred the safer method, though that did not stop some of them from attempting, and accomplishing, the feat.

“Sky Keeper this is Starfighter, do you read? We’re in some trouble here, over.”

“What’s happening Starfighter?”

“These Flankers are turning the tables on us, we got a few more of them but most of us are Winchester! We need some help!”

“Mage Team, move in and get our guys out of there, help the F-14 teams disengage.”

“Trigger we’re going to have to work fast to bail these Navy guys out,” said Mage One to his wingman. “Let’s make sure none of them get shot down. We came here to rescue our guys, not lose more of them.”

The two Falcons headed out towards the spacious dogfight out west. At this time though, the extended CAP covering the operation had to finally give way. Most of the fighters had run out of weapons with which to fight and retreated, while those remaining were exhausted and left out alone over the vast emptiness of the ocean. Having fought the Bloc fighters to a standstill, for the time being, most of the fighters were given the order to return to base.

“Golem One to Sky Keeper, we’re winchester and have to pull out now! There’s still two bandits coming in low towards the ship, we can’t get to them!”

“Copy Golem One. Hammer, do you copy? This is Sky Keeper, we have two bandits inbound to the ship and we don’t have anyone who can get to them in time. Expedite your evacuation!”

By now most of the prisoners had been transferred over, and some of the rescue team were beginning to head over as well, but there was precious little time to do so. With the quickened pace everyone soon realized they would come under attack soon, and desperation began to take hold. Still, the move was preceding well, just not fast enough. Bit by bit, boatloads of prisoners or their rescuers were brought over to the submarine, but it was not fast enough. More people began to take to the water out of fear, or to allow others to take their place in the boats.

“Sky Keeper to Hammer we’re tracking the bandits, they’re moving in closer now and they’ll be able to- shit! One of them’s fired a missile! Hammer get everyone off the ship! Now!”

Now the order was done away with in hopes of getting everyone off and away from the ship. As such the men clambered down ropes and netting to the ocean, which now presented itself as relative safety. The missile itself was an updated copy of the Kh-31 anti-ship missile, which an unarmored cruise ship built for luxury rather than war had little real chance of surviving. The missile streaked in, it’s computer selecting the largest, closest target, and adjusted the flight path until it final impacted. The weapon struck the Vesper Star on it’s starboard side, near the aft, tearing into the ship’s hull and exploding.

The ship instantly rocked and began to list, the only thankful part being that since the evacuation was taking place on the port side there were few people in the impact zone. Sadly this would not be the case for one of the SEALs and a Pararescueman, as well as three of the prisoners who were still there helping to search. Regardless, the few men left aboard made for the water and would have to swim for it. There was now a general collection of them paddling about in the open waters of the Pacific, leaving it up to the various boat crews in charge of transporting to rescue them, launching a frantic new operation. Despite this the submarine officers were relieved; the missile had impacted the mostly-empty cruise ship rather than their own vessel. Had the Louisville been hit, all would have been lost and several hundreds of men would be left to drown alone in the vast ocean, but all they had to do now was enact a pickup of those left in the sea.

“Sky Keeper, Louisville. The Vesper’s been hit and it looks like she’ll be going down. Most of the rescue boys and POWs are off though, looks like light casualties. We’re going to pick up the last of the guys in the water and get out of here, over.”

“Stagecoach, Timeline, this is Sky Keeper. Initiate the retreat the operation is wrapping up. Pull back your aircraft, this place is only going to get hotter the longer we stay here.”

“Copy that Sky Keeper,” Stagecoach answered. “Starfighter, Gunfighter, have you been able to disengage?”

“Negative not yet, these last few fighters are trying to wear us down. Can’t run without getting shot down.”

“Mage Team, are you able to engage?”

“We’re almost there, we’ll take care of it!” Mage One answered. “Trigger we need to work fast with this. And remember we came here to rescue our people not lose more of them. None of these guys can go down.”

The two Falcons broke from their formation to engage the handful of Chinese fighters that were harassing the Tomcats. Though there were more of the F-14s, their low fuel, altitude, and speed meant their enemies held an advantage. It was through their numbers that they had warded off the enemy for now, and most did not think they would be able to get out of the situation without losses.

The lead Falcon moved in and focused on the closest Flanker trailing after a pair of Tomcats. The sudden warning forced the enemy fighter to break off and defend, and an initial AMRAAM shot missed. A second shot a moment later, this time by a Sidewinder, connected and destroyed the target, freeing up the two F-14s.

Mage Two, at the same time, focused on another bandit which was chasing down a Tomcat at low level that was attempting desperately to ward him off with a long sort of zig-zag weave. The pilot opted for a gun shot due to the low speed and predictable movement, and as such snuck up on the Flanker without any warning given to the Chinese pilot. A long burst of cannon fire at the next turn riddled the Chinese jet and rescued another Tomcat. It had only been twenty seconds and Mage Team had already shot down two enemy jets.

“Starfighter Lead, looks like Mage Team is here. All Tomcats that are winchester or low on gas start to RTB, clear up some space.”

One of the Gunfighters who still had a hostile on his tail attempted to dive, with Trigger latching on to the six of the Flanker as well. Likewise, one of the Chinese pilots nearby that was initially chasing Gunfighter One noticed this and shifted to try and dive at the F-16. The initial lock by an AIM-9 on the Falcon was noticed by the first of the Chinese pilots and he instinctively fired off countermeasures when he heard the warning, only to find that the Falcon pilot had noticed this and waited until after the flares had fallen, giving him another guaranteed kill. The second Flanker was diving on the F-16 from his ten at a high angle and the pilot made a sharp pitch and speed adjustment to meet him. In a split second shot, Mage Two locked and fired his second and last missile while the Flanker fired one of his radar-guided weapons. In another second the Sidewinder struck the nose of the J-15 and sent it careening towards the ocean while the Chinese missile just missed due to the poor angle of the shot.

“Damn did you see that!?” one of the Navy pilots shouted. “That guy in the Falcon just killed two of them in like five seconds! Holy shit that was lucky!”

“Gunfighter Lead to Starfighter, looks like Mage cleared most of my Team. Sorry but I’m using this opportunity to break off.”

“Copy that Gunfighter!”

“Gunfighters Three and Four break off that engagement and follow me.”

Mage Lead targeted the second to last Flanker that was going after Starfighter Two, and in turn followed by another F-14 that had only gun rounds left. He locked on with one of his AIM-9s and fired but a burst of flares and a hard break caused a premature detonation of the missile. Another shot with his last missile also detonated early but close enough for the shrapnel to riddle the tail of the jet. A line of black smoke belched from the fighter, pitching about wildly before the pilot ejected from his plane.

“Sunny, Wolf. I’m clear, you need me to give you a hand?”

“Yeah, if you can. I’ve still got one behind me, just leading him in loops. Don’t burn up your fuel because of me though.”

Scott pulled his big plane around again, trying to use energy tactics and superior speed and power to keep the J-15 off of his tail. After another break, he looked back and noticed that his aggressor was absent, setting off a slight panic as he was afraid he had lost sight of him. Grip spoke up directing him to their own three o’clock, with the second Mage aircraft chasing after him. The sole surviving Flanker was chased down closer and closer, constantly firing off countermeasures in advance, until the F-16 caught him at a good angle and fired his gun into the body of the jet.

“Starfighter Lead, breaking off. Stagecoach, was that the last contact?”

“The last one in your area, but there’s more coming. You all need to get out of there now.”

“Understood, all Starfighter units RTB at once.”

“That’s six kills for Mage Team in less than twelve minutes! Six!” Wolf congratulated loudly. “Four of them just from the number two plane alone! Hot damn!”
“That the same one that hit the corvette at the start of the mission?” one of the other Starfighter pilots asked.

“Yeah, that’s him,” another confirmed.

“How the Hell did he do all that? What kind of pilot is in that plane?”

“Gunfighter, Starfighter. Can you give us an estimate of your losses, over?”

“Starfighter, everyone sounded off. No losses in our squadron, over.”

“None? Copy that. Starfighter Team, sound off.”

One by one the members of VF-33 responded, confirming the near-miracle that no F-14s had been lost in the engagement.

“Not one loss, how’d we manage that… that Falcon pair, must have pulled some real magic flying. Christ I’ll have to buy them some real top-shelf liquor for this.”

“Stagecoach to all units, if you’re low on fuel we’ve got a couple tankers ready for you. Only take what you need to get back to base, we don’t need anyone running out of fuel. Mage Squadron, you guys are first in line.

---

Mage Team followed the Tomcats and headed to Guam. The chaotic nature of the return of the aircraft made it difficult for the air controllers to organize everything. The runways were in a constant state of use in the scramble to land the aircraft in appropriate order, fast enough so that none would run out of fuel. The fighters, the AWACS aircraft, the tankers, all of them took time to land and taxi. Bit by bit the planes landed safely, the weary pilots and aircrew staggering out, totally exhausted from their mission.

Scott watched as the Falcon landed on the runway in the last of the failing daylight, tracking it from final to touchdown to end. Once both F-16s had taxied back and shut down, the sun had finally set, the last rays of light barely careening over the horizon’s edge. He walked over to the two pilots, personally thanked them for their help in the operation and in saving his wingmen, promising them any gift he could give in return, and started heading inside to debrief.

Most of the airmen, while happy they had successfully accomplished, were far too tired to celebrate, with most finding somewhere to rest or going to get a drink before passing out. He met with the Lieutenant Colonel who had given the briefing for a general debrief, and as the latter had already met with the other squadron commanders there was not as much to go over.

“So how’d it go? Did the sub have any trouble?”
“No, everything seems to have gone fine. They surfaced a short while ago to send a message before diving again. It’s pretty cramped, even for a submarine, but everyone’s alright. They’ll keep their heads underwater and make the trip back to Japan.”

“Losses?”

“Aircraft wise? Four Raptors, five Eagles from our sector. Don’t know about the flights out of Japan. From the rescue team, two SEALs and one PJ, and five prisoners they think. But everything went according to plan. Somehow, everything went right.”

“Sounds like we did good today.”

“Yeah you did, more than you realize too. You remember during the briefing we talked about Bloc superweapons?” the Lieutenant Colonel reminded him. “The prisoners we picked up are starting to corroborate some of that. SEALs found some papers on board too talking about it. Not a lot of details but the bad guys are definitely up to some real evil shit.”

“How evil are we talking? Like biological weapons? Chemical?”

“No this is some… real weird magic engineering.... superweapon stuff from what we’re looking at. Nothing like that but it looks like there’s a variety of WMDs. Orbital weaponry, mass explosive… I don’t really know how to describe some of this. There’s still a lot of details missing. We’ll have to wait for a proper debrief from the POWs and for more recon flights and intelligence to come along.”

“Sir shouldn’t you be keeping some of this stuff classified?”

“Honestly no, I don’t think so. They’re beyond just theorizing with some of this stuff. We’re going to have to deal with it, and we need all of our guys to know about it.”

“Alright, but it’s not my fault if this leads to trouble.”

“Just go get a drink and something to eat, and then go try and get some sleep. Those weapons are something to worry about for tomorrow, for tonight we can rest. You all did excellent, real heroes tonight. A victory like this is good news for our people on mainland Arcaia, they need something to boost morale.”

“Yeah, tomorrow, sure Sir.”

Author's Note:

Had a very brief break from a busy schedule to write this out and publish it. I hope it doesn't seem to rushed. At any rate thank you again for reading and for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed it.

Happy Halloween!

Comments

[damnaion]

yes yes yes yes sweeeet

[Earthpatriot117]

Another AWESOME chapter dude! 👍

[Kitsune_Kenshi]

Is it like in the 21st century

[Giftmak3r]

10517663
No, I have insulted the people's Liberation Army and the CCP. China is beautiful and its people have a rich history. It's such a shame you're ruled by tyrants, however the dynasty of the corrupt evil communist is going to come to an end soon. Their army is weak and the infrastructure is collapsing. It will only be a matter of time before you break the chains of your oppressors and become a great and powerful people once more

[AcerSpacer]

I'm having a real hard time believing that four of the most advanced air superiority fighters ever built could be shot down by floggers and fulcrums. They'd just engage BVR and ice all of them and wouldn't even be picked up by their old radars.

[Eagle]

10548652
Yeah that's how the fight went for the start of the battle, I didn't mean as a one on one fresh kind of engagement. To be honest there's a lot of additional details I left out of the outward CAP dogfights, I thought about going deeper into them rather than just giving some base descriptions and numbers but it felt like too much additional fat to an already long chapter.

[Eagle]

10717726
Yeah, that tends to happen unfortunately, usually when things get out of control.