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The brunette had expected to have a few heartbeats to at least compliment Dex on his skills at keeping them alive, but the... entirely unexpected side effect of the file upload had put that thought to the farthest recesses of her mind. For the moment, she had a lot of more pressing thoughts on her mind.
The first she certainly had was just how someone had found these IFF codes, and why they would've given it to her. Her next thought though, was realizing with this IFF switch the Reds would probably completely overlook her... but then her next immediate thought was anyone who was relying on their sensors for targeting and not visual - which is to say, essentially everyone - was going to notice a new red blip in the center of the Aquila flight, and certainly try to blow her out of the sky. Being killed in a friendly fire incident would certainly not be the best way to go.
"Don't ask me how, but it seems we did. Just... don't kill anyone on our side, let me make sure our own allies don't kill us and we'll deal with this one step at a time." replied Judith coolly, quickly switching her comms back to the flight and - hopefully - the AWAC. "Don't ask me how, but my IFF just switched, do not fire upon the new blip in the center of the flight. If there's no objections, I'm going to take advantage of this to finish the primary mission objective before the Reds catch on. Just don't kill us in the meantime."
Nero cursed as the fighting around him got fierce. His craft was banking and diving to shake a pair of missiles as the IFF's all around him changed.
"Cipher! What the hell just happened?" Nero asked to his ACE copilot. He now had a new problem, friendly missiles were firing at him.
"Unknown sir, attempting to fix it. Don't get us shot down." The AI replied.
"Easier said than done Cipher!" Nero protested as he corkscrewed away from another pair of missiles. "Virus! Can you do something about this?" He asked over comms. Hopefully their cyberwarfare expert could get them out of this mess.
Sterling sat staring toward the warning panel in his craft, that and the constant tone of, "Warning, you have been locked onto." from his AI. Then all the sudden, his sensors blinking had stopped with his AI's voice.
"Please do not be as loud, I had heard you the first few times..." he mumbled annoyed, possibly as annoyed as the squad, and more specifically the ace that was most likely about to over pass his craft. "And please, fire at what ever is trying to kill me... I know you don't mind it as much as I but... well I like living."
He pressed his button on his comms, "If any other bombers are about, I am beginning my run in E.T.A. two minutes. If there is anyone else who can hear me, please keep me covered." He looked at a small picture of his orders getting ready on another panel to begin looking for his targets. His plan was to hit the airstrip at least three times near the center of it, then go for the fuel storage and armory. Logistics is what drove an army, or navy, and if there are no weapons to get shot back with, well, his life would be easier in the future.
His eyes closed as he relaxed for a moment, the turret that was supposed to keep him covered began to fire at what was behind, or at least very close to him. Which took him out of his relaxed state and brought him back to the mistake of a clerical error made before he became a pilot. "Send the desk jockey to flight school, lets throw the desk jockey into this and watch him fly..." he mumbled waiting for his target to come into missile range.
Larry's flight arrived just in the nick of time as the numerical advantage of the red flight had offered to easily put two if not more craft on each of their aquila targets. A tricky situation even for some of the aces of the veteran flight that had been offset by its newer members.
Like wise the bombers of said flight where having the best luck. Plasma chaingun turrets whizzed and shot deadly hellfire into anything that got too close or tried a lucky potshot and their shields tanked usually insufferable damage to their bulky airframes as the battle expanded in ever growing size as each pocket of dogfighting sought more and more room to maneuver without the risk of colliding with their own or enemy craft.
Such it was that the very target of the militia and NSN had become incredibly close by and even loomed directly under some pockets of fighting. Anti-Air missile batteries and great guns tracked what might be potential targets and took careful shots at only the most confirmable of kills that even with their lethargic fire rate struck down militia craft at an alarming rate.
What could be seen for all the gunners, And many took careful potshots with variable timed fused flak bursts and high velocity canister rounds was the silhouette of Seaweed in its brutal duel with its counterpart. Plasma and laser arrays still danced and every single armament committed from point defence batteries linding their flan to small from both leviathans and licked across shields and hull alike as each of the massive AWACs craft had been consumed by flame and smoke enough that under normal circumstances would cripple or kill any other craft.
So bright was the flames even in the swirling snowstorm that both massive craft where lit up as massive warnings gouting flame for all to steer clear, Lest even a single one of their occupied point defense turrets swat them effortlessly from the skies as well.
So distracted from the display of sheer nepleslian might that none of them noticed the massive hornet bomber level out at the end of the runway.
A devastating salvo erupted from the bays of the hornet as pufferfish missiles screamed down range and into an exposed aircraft bunker still open and exposed from the hastily deployed counter raid as the hornets secondary plasma armaments licked out at exposed gun emplacements, Air control towers, Exposed fueling vehicles, And anyone and anything unlucky enough to be before the frightening bomber as it eventually pulled away and began to orbit its victim to appraise additional targets.
And then the hammerhead followed suit... eels and pufferfish missiles crippled first missed targets as the more amiable hammerhead lowered its drag to fire plasmic fury into open hangars and setting off volatile fuel sifting into what few lucky red pilots craft that had managed to land to re-arm.
As the guns went down across he field and its remnants of movement on the ground ceased, Seaweed exploded in a rain of hellfire as a massive bright red lance finally pierced its forward shield and cut through the AWACs craft from front to back. So massive and super volatile was the explosion that the pure heav given off blew away the storm, Melting snow and changing the winds with its heat to show the death of the militia command and control element to every player on the field before mother nature double down its efforts and the falling wreck plummeted down towards the ground, Obscured by the snowstorms whiteout.
Even with the loss of their airfield the reds had gained a signifigant advantage and pushed the militia and navy craft with desperation as militia radio channels one by one where isolated by the reds EWAR advantage and cut off, Leaving entire flights in the dark without communications or the ability to confirm missile locks.
Just as well the massive red AWACs craft had begun to lick its wounds as fires where extinguished and dead or wounded crew where replaced and began a slow and lazy turn back into the fray. From within the blinding snow, Though many of the militia pilots couldnt hear the screams, They could see the blue and purple lances of plasma glowing in the snowstorm as the apex predator of the fight asserted its dominance over a dwindling militia numerical advantage.
Aquila flight with its powerful naval communications packages and advanced AI had found themselves immune to the EWAR so far. But had their own problems as their attackers doubled their attack, And even more reds now free after their kills to engage more targets as the flight was pushed to dire straights.
Even judith in her IFF mask had been noticed as craft came close enough to visually identify her non-pattern bomber and banked to push onto her tail...
"Shit," Larry muttered. Seaweed was down, which meant that the Reds now had an advantage on the electronic battlefield. This meant a number of things; Seaweed could no longer provide coordination for comms systems and battle management for allied fighters. It also meant that it could no longer try to counter EWAR from the Reds, meaning that militia fighters with less advanced electronic warfare suites would fall prey to sensor and radar jamming, and potentially even spoofing.
Aquila and Lancer flights were likely to be unaffected by that, but there did remain the possibility of communications signals being intercepted, now that the reds had the advantage. He keyed up laser communications and sent out a message to Aquila One. "Aquila One, this is Lancer One. Seaweed is down, switch your flight to laser comms to prevent interception, will advise militia forces to do the same, over."
After telling his own flight to do the same, Larry he sent the same message to the other militia flight leads, one by one, trying to help restore some semblance of order over the chaotic battlefield. Laser communications were more limited than radios in some ways, being point-to-point they relied on knowing the receiver's coordinates, though with modern sensors that was less of a problem. It also relied on there being nothing in between the sender and receiver. Nevertheless, they were much harder to intercept, meaning that switching over would offset at least one of the advantages that the Reds had just gained.
"Lancer flight, let's try to clean up some of this mayhem." He said simply, as Lancer flight then began to move to take down the fighters threatening Aquila, keeping a tight formation and boxing enemies in with gunfire before firing a single missile for each enemy, each member of the flight taking turns firing the missiles so as to ensure that each member had the same amount of ordinance.
Sterling took a deep sigh as the fighters previously being of nuisance to him were dealing with an entirely new bout of fun from his turret and another pilot far behind him.
He watched as a bomber in front of him fired its salvo before continuing it's course, he continued into the dive as he took a hand upon his other screen as he marked targets for his missiles to find, the airstrip in several places, the fuel depots, anything that looked like an ammo depot, barracks, and finally something that resembled a comm tower. And as soon as he came into range he set the missiles into their locked targets and waited till he was closer, feeling the bursts of fire coming from behind him, as well at pings and scrapes from things that came at him.
Thankful he was in a heavier craft then most, he pressed the button on his side consoles as the tubes of the missiles left their cradles and burst past the craft towards what seems to be their intended targets marked for them, keeping the wires attached for as long as possible as he awaited the nearest target to be hit.
Nero's craft dipped and corkscrewed to avoid incoming plasma fire and missiles. "Ugh. Let's see how you like this." The Captain said gritting his teeth. He cut power to the engines and pulled his plane upward. The post stall manuever brought him directly behind the enemy.
"Get some you bastards!" He yelled, unleashing his own salvo of plasma fire and pufferfish missiles. "Incoming pufferfish salvo!" He warned his flight as the missiles split apart to reveal the multitude of mini missiles which were now seeking enemy targets.
Nero dove heading lower into the snow storm, seeing if he could bait a few to chase him down into the thick of it.
The operation had quickly devolved into a SNAFU from the outset, but with the destruction of the Seaweed, the operation had been firmly 'upgraded' to an old fashion FUBAR. While the primary mission objective had now been completed, the Reds now held a pretty commanding advantage over the disorganized friendly forces. While it seemed Aquila's superior craft had thus far avoided the hostile effects of the Red's AWAC, the rest of the friendlies were a different story entirely...
At the outset of the operation the busty officer's choice of craft had been picked based on the mission, but with the drastic change in situation, she wasn't in exactly the best dogfighting craft. Even with the unexpected IFF masking on her craft, it wouldn't do anything at the visual range she was currently at... and she'd have little choice but to try and engage her pursuers now.
"Well, you're going to have your work cut out today... keep us alive, and I'll line 'em up, alright?" the brunette then toggled her comms towards the rest of her flight, "So what's the plan? While our primary objective I'd say is nice and done now, I doubt the Reds are just going to let us leave..."
Nero pulled out of his dive and heard the lead of Lancer. "Understood." He then switched to his squadron channel. "Aquila flight, switch comm settings to laser only." He toggled his comms and then heard the Aquila 2.
"The plan is we need to evac ASAP. Our main objective is complete but we need to provide top cover as the squadrons pull out. The most damaged leave first and we will sort it from there. Let's make a hole people!" He ordered.
The airfield was savaged and nothing more remained but a pock-marked former airstrip and the still burning husks of once prominent bunkers and building whose infernos not even the sleet storm could sate.
Above that the bloodiest knife fight in the worlds young history was taking place as pilots on both sides simply threw tactics and training to the wayside and fought on in simple blind instinct, Screaming and swearing until either no more sound came out one way or the other. Some pilots simply passed out from a lack of oxygen as they micro-managed their every function to focus wholly on staying in the air. Some passed out from the sheer G-forces as they banked and turned so hard the oxygen was pulled from reaching their brains.
Some simply died...
Through all of this the red AWACs element limped through with a temporary silence to its guns as the dog-fighting was simply too hectic to fire safely without harming its own dwindling fighters. It fought its own death however as brave, bold, and even stupid militia pilots broke from the fight long enough to throw a single strafe its way before the fight consumed them again. The massive shuttle like ship was listing slightly and even as it fought to stay afloat in the skies was visibly losing altitude as it slowly succumbed to its own injuries, But still stood its ground defiantly to face on all comers.
While each and every flight fought for desperate survival however, Aquila was in a slightly more favorable situation all things considered. Lancers arrival had added some much needed support to the cornered flight as more than one of the reds where blind-sided by their target fixation and simply couldnt react in time.
Their request however was met with varying degrees of success however. Some if any of the militia where able to switch over to the secondary functions on laser based comms. But most where so invested they had lost themselves to any and all outside interference that wasnt their own target fixation. Even the flight leaders that still stood and had any control left over their flights where so busy micro-managing each pilot while they themselves banked and strafed that to take a single hand off the stick meant death for them.
Aquila was essentially on its own. And pulling out would be no easy feat as even with the eight remaining red craft still harassing them, dozens more where all around them and would for better or worse finish their engagements.
And above all of those, In the direct path of the only possible route they could take the reds AWACs element stood to prevent anyone from escaping and would need to be overcome if any of the militia or its allies held and chance at victory or escape...
Things had gone from bad to worse. Aquila and Lancer flights were on their own, and likely to come under attack again soon by the enemies still tailing them. The militia pilots were either barely holding their own or outright being shot down, and to top it all off the only way out of this mess was through the Reds' AWACS. Well, Larry thought, That thing was going to have to go at one point or another.
Currently, it appeared that the best course of action would be to attempt to take down the AWACs and try to level the playing field for the Militia pilots. He radioed Aquila flight's leader. "Do you think you could take out that ship?" He asked, "Lancer can provide you with cover. If you all stick to a tight formation your point defense should help keep the enemy off your back."
Nero pulled up from his dive and skimmed along close to the ground, before he pulled up in a steep climb. "Understood. That AWACs is mine." He replied over the comms as he altimeter climbed rapidly.
His craft came bursting through the cloud cover at high speed. As it did, chaff flew from his craft attempting to throw off any locks the enemy tried to aquire.
"Come on... come on..." Nero thought, mentally urging his computer to get a lock on the enemy AWACs. Finally after several tense seconds the computer a firing solution. "Aquila 1, Fox 3!" He called as he let fly his remaining pufferfish missiles, which he followed up with a long burst from his cannons.
"Another one!" the voice shouted as the breaking storm turned casual snow flurry broke around a flaming comet, hurtling towards the frozen ground to erupts in a slow to consume fireball in the distance. Ten such instances had occurred the past twenty minutes alone as the final craft still able to fight to stay aloft in the skies finally returned to gravity's embrace.
The pilots of the Bernese Red Rebellion had fought tooth and nail on the winning side of the war for some time, And even two hours before had been on the grasp of victory. But had bared their throats as a fatal mistake that cost them everything. Cascading failures in both command, and on a personal level had slowly seen the desperate attackers turned defenders turning the tide on the overwhelming Red fighters.
Some still clung on, Succumbing to a fighter pilots oldest enemy; The path of hate. Losing their mind and refusing any semblance of reason they had fought like feral beasts in the sky even when the militia breakthrough had reached the airfield. Even when the NSMC forces on ground had taken the airfields command tower and dashed the final string of red communications. Now they flew in random patterns in the skies, Broken and lost as once friendly ground batteries now under militia control turned their ire towards craft empty of munitions and even soon to be fuel.
Next to the shouting militiaman, A red-jumpsuit clad pilot helped unbuckle one of his comrades from the ejector seat and offered him a hand back on his feet. Nearby, Weary militiamen from the New Bernese government forces stood ready as they had a dozen fallen pilots before. Carefully, The pilot; once the greatest the Red Rebellion had to its name unholstered his comrades sidearm and tossed it into fuel and grease stained snow.
Confused, The freshly earth bound pilot looked up at Boots and let the question die on his lips when an offered cigarette took presidence as he was lead towards one of the least destroyed hangars where a dozen of his comrades where huddled around a barrel fire, Some equally in shock as him. Though many where just content to have kept their lives and made it groundside once more.
Boots left his junior in the care of the militia who offered the coat looted from a BRR soldier to the man and huddled him inside. The ace had run his craft ragged in the fight and a lucky shot from one of the NSN bombers had clipped his wings and sent him down early. Managing to land on the pock-marked landing strip he had almost made it to an intact fighter when the militia had blitzed onto the battlefield and overtaken the BRR defenders swiftly. Sensing the end, The Ace Of Aces had surrendered and offered what support he could to ensure the lives of the inevitable pilots that would return to the ground sooner or later.
Technically the senior commander on the ground, Boots was given more slack after giving his parole to the NSMC lieutenant in the tank that now dominated the center of the airstrip. He wasn't trusted. But he was given enough authority to take a semblance of command over his surrendered forces to ensure there was a chain of command to represent them and ensure no other officers got ideas about breakouts.
He watched, As a parachute connected chair started falling offsides to the airstrip and called over for the militia with a pointed finger as they started jogging towards another precious life of a dying government now that their prime airbase and ability to project force lay strewn and broken.
Nearby
Much of the Aquila Flight, like their red adversaries had fought valiantly. A couple had been forced to land once the militia had turned the tide as damage and a lack of fuel kept them from even returning to friendly lines and kept the flight together and groundside.
What craft remained, A couple sabers, A hornet, A hammerhead, And what once resembled a scythe. Where all covered over with tarps by surviving red ground crews under militia supervision and the oversight of NSN crew-chiefs who had recently arrived via Zatchnik shuttles from orbit. Like the reds in the hangar next to them, The NSN pilots huddled over a warming fire with their comrades out of the freezing snow. Not by any miracle but through rigorous training and adept technology had all the pilots survived to see the end of the fight, Though few unscathed as wounds ached and mental trauma from the sheer awe of the fight saw most of them barely on their feet as one by one more surviving militia pilots where hurried out of the snow and into the hangar as they too found they wherent in any shape to make the trip back home.
They looked in awe and respect at the NSN's finest and offered jeers, jabs, smokes, cigars, and pats on the back as they found their own fires to keep to. They wouldn't stay long. More and more shuttles arrived to ferry the wounded and misplaced as reds, militia, and pilots alike where ferried west. Those in too bad shape being brought into a makeshift trauma center in one of the bunkers lead by a wiry corporal and lead surgeon of the 309ths element treating wounded on both sides with the same care and dedication doctors reserve for any and all wounded regardless of their side of the war.
And then, Finally, A shuttle had arrived for the pilots of the Aquila Flight to take them back to orbit. Breaking though atmosphere, From the windows of the shuttle an amazing light-show was taking place as the elements of the 1st assault fleet, 3rd assault fleet, And 1st Expeditionary slowly opened holes in the reds battle lines from orbit without endangering their population centers in the proximity. opening avenues of attack for passing by where other shuttles carrying the markings of the 309th as other parts of their force, Arriving in system, where deployed planetside to end the fight once and for all.
And above all of that, Four ships stood apart from the rest and welcomed the shuttle and its precious cargo home.
The war would carry on for several more weeks. Slowly pushing the reds back to their most desperate points, The militia and the NSMC with its NSN cohorts forced the reds back to its furthest point in the planets history until the great mountains the reds housed their main forces, cloning labs, and manufactorums in where in view.
Reluctantly a stalemate was forced when long buried ships from the civil war, Hidden in the mountains threatened to devastate all who approached until, Days later, A fragile cease-fire was called by the reds leadership sensing a long drawn out end to a war they had long since fled almost a decade before.
Peace-talks had begun for the first time in the planets history, And the war on new Bernese was finally ending...
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