Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

24 days into the Oceanian Conflict

Federation Air Base Brown

417 After Calamity

“Your name is Katrina Wade, right?” The officer peered up from his papers, eyeing the woman in front of him. The woman was built normally, with peppermint-colored hair that fell down to her shoulders. She had violet eyes that burned with intensity every time she spoke. Her chestnut skin was tan enough that she didn’t need the sunglasses that were perched on her head. Her flight suit bore many patches. One of the patches was a blue flag overlaid with a star emblem. The flag of the Federation. 

“Yep,” Katrina said, her eyes glinting. “I have been assigned here by the commander of the regional defense forces to take over a squadron that is short on a squadron leader. I heard he went down covering a retreat.”

“Correct,” the officer said, passing the papers back to her. “Right this way.” He led her down a corridor and led her to the mess hall. It was empty except for two men. One had blonde hair that was slicked back so much that it stuck up in various places. His skin was moderately tan, and his charcoal black eyes swept the room, taking up everything in sight. The other man had icy blue hair and acid-green eyes. He looked adorable if it wasn’t for his gaze at her. Sharp and mistrustful. And perhaps even worried.

“Gentlemen, this is your new squadron leader. Katrina Wade, callsign Comet,” the officer said. He turned to Katrina. “This Vanguard 2, Hector Corsevsky, callsign Twister.” He pointed to the man with the slicked-back blonde hair. “And this is Vanguard 3, Rudolph Bentri, callsign Peppermint.” He gestured to the man with the icy blue hair. “I expect much of you three in the days to come. As I remind you, the country of Oceania is declaring withdrawal from us because of their claims that we are putting stress on their geothermal deposits. The news isn’t public, of course. We had to cite internal and security threats to allow the Federation to stage the invasion. As you may have heard, the Mercenary Cabal is responsible for orchestrating the conflict, and they have sided with the Oceanians and are pushing us back on multiple fronts. We need a game-changer soon, otherwise, we’ll be forced off of the continent.” 

The officer glanced at the three of them. “This is where you three come in.” He glanced at Katrina. “Ms. Wade, you have proven yourself an excellent fighter so far, becoming an ace in less than 48 hours, which is remarkable. We were about to assign you to Peacekeeping Squadron Skeleton when something unfortunate happened, and we were forced to change your posting.” He looked back at her new squadmates. 

“You are to lead Vanguard Squadron in combat. Not much to say, other than that the entire operation rests on your shoulders.” He then suddenly spoke in a more urgent voice. 

“Your first operation begins tomorrow at 0700 hours. I would suggest that you get some rest until then.” He gave Katrina a nod before turning and left. 

“Well,” Katrina said, turning to face her squadmates. “That was an interesting first meeting.”

“Yeah,” Peppermint said, leveling his gaze at her. “We hope you live up to the hype.”

“Really?” Katrina said. “What happened to your previous squad leader?” 

Rudolph sighed before speaking. “It was during a regular patrol mission. We had just taken off from here when the AWACS called out 4 targets on the radar. We moved to engage them. They were a flight of F/C-16s, and pretty old ones, in fact. But then, Icicle, that was our leader, told us to hold back while he engaged the fighters.” He sighed again before continuing. “Apparently, these had to be modified Vipers, because the next thing I knew, he was calling for help. We raced back to help, but then it was too late. We barely managed to repel them.” He looked at Katrina. “You see why I was nervous?” Katrina nodded. 

“Apparently, these have to be some high-caliber mercs,” she said. 

“Damn right,” Twister said. “They managed to put up one hell of a fight with us, even though we were flying F/S-15s.” 

“It’s just like the saying: Just because it is old, doesn’t mean it can kill,” Katrina said. Then she frowned. “I hope you have some spare planes for me.”

“Why?” Twister asked. 

“My old Sk.27 got shot up by those pesky mercs while out on some previous engagement.” She pulled up a seat next to Rudolph- er, Peppermint. She would have to get used to calling him by his callsign. “Ironically, that led to me being reassigned here.” She blew a stray piece of hair out of her way. “What do you have here?”

Twister smiled. “You are in luck, Ms. Comet,” he said. “Apparently, Icicle was obsessed about being ready for anything, and he convinced Commander Mckay to buy a spare F/S-15 for him, in case his old one got too banged up to fly. Well, he won’t be needing that anytime soon.” 

Katrina smiled. She felt sad when she had to part with her old Sk.27 after a sortie clipped the aircraft’s right wing and damaged both its engines. It was beyond saving anyway. Hearing that there was a spare F/S-15 lying around this base made her the luckiest woman. 

“Show me,” she said, getting up. 

They led her to the hangar and Twister opened the door and presented her with her new prize. 

There, the F/S-15 sat. A killing machine. Twin canards stuck out from the intakes, granting it extra maneuverability. A small gun pod hung from underneath the aircraft. The hardpoints were all empty for now. But Katrina knew she could turn this unused spare aircraft into a lethal killing machine. 

The paint scheme of the aircraft was stylish in her opinion. A dark turquoise color covered the aircraft, with some orange stripes running down the body. She reached out and touched the radome with her hand. Already, she could feel the potential in this aircraft. 

She turned to her two new squadronmates. “I’m ready,” she said. “I’m ready for any challenge those damn mercs throw at us.”

“Really?” Peppermint said. “You haven’t been out on one combat sortie, and now you are confident that you are able to take on a huge swarm of mercs?”

“Yes,” Katrina said, turning to face Peppermint. “We are the vanguard.” 

Chapter Text

“Everyone here? Good,” Commander Mckay said, starting up the briefing software. He was not too shabby for being well over 40 years old. A pair of reading glasses were perched on his nose, and he had the distinct air of a commander who had been through multiple wars. 

The screen overhead finished syncing with the satellite data and the map of Oceania was shown, with the territories occupied by Federation, Oceanian and Mercenary forces were outlined in dark blue and red. 

“As you can see, we have been on the defensive for far too long,” Mckay said, outlining the Federation territory, which was mostly restricted to the far western coast. “Federation forces have taken a beating ever since we tried to launch a counteroffensive. Fortunately, we have some good news.” 

Several blue arrows appeared on the screen and were heading towards them. “The Federation has dispatched an airship battlegroup and the First Naval Battlegroup that will rendezvous with us a few days from now. However, until then, we are entirely on our own.” 

He rubbed his eyes and then continued. “Vanguard, your mission today is to take out a squadron of bombers and ground troops heading to one of our airbases. We have only recently commandeered this base for our usage, and it is imperative that this base remains in operation, otherwise we lose the front.” 

“Sir, consider it done,” Katrina said. 

Mckay smiled. “That is just the easy part, Vanguard.” 

“Sir, I never said that this would be easy,” Katrina said. 

“I was just about to get to that,” Mckay said. “We have confirmed intel that there are at least 2 squadrons of mercenary pilots that are going to be escorting these bombers. That’s where you guys come in. Protect this base from the bombers, and we can finally be on the offensive.”

X

“Vanguard Squadron, you are on point,” Mckay said. It was an hour into their flight, and they had yet to find a single bomber. 

“Copy that,” Katrina said. “We are ready to go.”

“Excellent,” Mckay said. “I’ll let the AWACS take over from here.” He closed the channel. 

“This is AWACS Alamo. Vanguard Squadron, you are now under my command,” a new voice said over the comms. Out of the corner of her eye, Katrina saw an FC-8 slide into position beside the rest of Vanguard Squadron. Like the Agile Eagles, this aircraft was colored similarly, with a turquoise hull and orange stripes running the length of the aircraft. 

“Roger, Alamo,” Katrina said. “This is Vanguard 1, ready to receive orders.” 

“Heh,” Alamo said. “Let’s see if you live up to the hype.” Several targeting icons appeared on her HUD. “Multiple I/A-52s and escort fighters detected on radar. Terminate them with extreme prejudice.”

“Roger,” Katrina said, arming her weapons. “Vanguard Squadron, engage. Let’s make some scratch.” 

She hit the afterburners, and the Eagles soared away from the AWACS and on towards the slow-moving bombers. As soon as the first targeting box was highlighted in red by the AWACS, her fingers were already on the trigger. 

“Vanguard 1, Fox 2!” she cried. Two standard missiles rocketed out from under the Eagle and soared towards the bomber. The bomber deployed flares, but it wasn’t enough to counter the missiles, which slammed into the right-wing of the aircraft, dislodging it. The bomber plummeted towards the ground like a stone, smoke trailing from its wound. 

“Vanguard 1, splash one,” Alamo said. “But don’t get cocky. The show has just started.”

“Quit your bitching, Alamo,” Twister said, as he popped off two missiles at an approaching F/C-15. “We’re going, we’re going.”

“Roger that, Vanguard 2,” Alamo said. “Just a heads-up that I’m the one who determines if you show up on the radar as hostile or not.”

“Oh, please,” Twister said, dashing away from an MG-21 that had charged at him head-on in revenge for the loss of the F/C-15, which was spiraling down to Earth in a haze of flame, the pilot having long since ejected. “Send the whole Federation at me! I can take those suckers on!”

“Vanguard Squadron, focus,” Katrina interrupted. “The sooner we get rid of these bombers, the sooner the offensive opens.”

“Roger, dodger, Comet,” Twister said, shredding the Fishbed in half and turning to focus on another I/A-52. Peppermint also had his fair share of kills: First taking out an I/A-52 with guns, then swerving back to take out an escort and another bomber. Within moments, he locked on to another Eagle and decimated it with a quick but precise gun burst to the engines. 

“Smooth work, Peppermint,” Katrina said, turning back to face an F/E-18 and blowing it apart with two taps from her wing-mounted gunpods. 

“Whoa, Peppermint,” Alamo said. “You sure have a fair number of kills today. You gunning for Twister’s spot?”

“Nah, you know how he is,” Twister said, blowing apart another I/A-52 with a quick missile shot. “Damned overachiever. You know how many kills Icicle got before he got shot down, did ya?”

“I know that,” Peppermint said, blowing apart another escort fighter. “He was in a different squadron when this first started. But then, his squadron got massacred, and he was the only survivor. Thus, we came in, just out of the Academy, and assigned to the Vanguard Squadron.”

“A question,” Katrina said, demolishing another bomber with a tap of her guns. “Why is the squadron called Vanguard?”

“It wasn’t called Vanguard in the beginning,” Twister said, taking out another escort, an Sk.27. “It was called Orion or some shit, but then we earned that nickname because we always led multiple squadrons from the brink of defeat to victory.” 

Huh, Katrina thought. Very subtle . 

The resistance from the enemy escort fighters was dwindling rapidly. After a while, the only fighter left was an old F/C-16. Katrina locked onto the aircraft with one of her MLAAs and fired, only for the radar-guided missile to miss the fighter. Twister and Peppermint attempted to shoot it down with their munitions, but the fighter dodged these expertly. 

“Argh,” Peppermint grumbled as he maneuvered behind the fighter to take a shot. “This guy is an ace.” 

“Of course,” Katrina said. “It’s like I said: A good pilot can make good use out of an old or new aircraft.” She rolled her fighter on its back and fired a missile. This time, the missile connected, but the fighter pulled away, smoking from its engine. 

“Damn,” Katrina said, rolling upright and firing her guns at the Viper. This time, the fighter exploded into a cloud of smoke and flaming shrapnel. She barrel-rolled to avoid the debris and formed up with the rest of her squadron. 

“Whew. That was a close one, Comet,” Twister said, breaking away from the smoking carcass of the last bomber.

“Yeah, but I made it in the end,” Katrina said. “AWACS, are we looking clear?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Alamo said. “The picture is clean. Vanguard Squadron, return to base.”

X   

“Good job, Vanguard,” Mckay said. “Thanks to your efforts, the base and our front were prevented from collapsing into a war of attrition. Two days from now, we will begin preparations for an offensive that will capture and establish a forward operations base so that we can push the Mercenary Cabal off of this continent once and for all. We are reporting similar successes across the fronts today as we are breaking through the lines of the Oceanian Royal Guard and the Cabal. Until then, get some rest. Dismissed.” 

Chapter Text

“Vanguard, stand by for your in-flight briefing,” AWACS Alamo said. 

“Roger, Alamo,” Katrina said. 

“That would explain why we are up so early,” Twister said, stifling a yawn. 

“Yeah,” Peppermint said. “Mckay just said to be up at 0300 for our next sortie. What a break.” 

“All Vanguard elements, quiet,” Alamo said. “Now, as you know, the operation to establish a forward airbase will take place tomorrow. However, in order to maintain it, we need to fly some construction crews and supplies out so that we have the base up to operational status.”

“Great,” Peppermint said. “Just yesterday, I was glad to be up in the sky again, shooting down bombers. Now I gotta escort some construction workers? Lame.”

“Double lame,” Twister said. 

“Can it, you two,” Katrina snapped. “Continue, Alamo.”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Alamo said, “there was a change in schedule. We were supposed to fly the crews out yesterday, however, the base came under attack by bombers. Thanks to your efforts, you repelled the attackers successfully.”

“Ah, you hear that, Comet?” Peppermint said. “You are a celebrity of sorts among them.”

“Oh, shut up,” Katrina said. “It was only one sortie. In fact, we all should be congratulated for saving their asses.”

“Ugh. Vanguard, do I have to remind you to shut up and pay attention to the briefing?” Alamo said, the impatience and annoyance in his voice evident. They quieted down. Alamo sighed and continued. 

“Anyway, they are flying towards us as we speak, so we are to escort them to their destination: Air Base Sigma, where we will conduct our operation. Oh, speak of the devil.”

A formation of eight C/T-17 Globemasters appeared on her radar. “8 transports?” Twister said. “Even with our skills, we can’t cover them!”

“I thought you might ask,” Alamo said. “That is why, for this mission, we are joining Aquila Squadron on this mission. They should be entering the AO…right about now.” 

Suddenly, 8 new contacts appeared on her radar, and in a minute they came into visual range: 8 Sk.37s with an alternating gold and brown color scheme.  

“This is Aquila 1, callsign Meteor,” a new voice joined them over the radio. “Glad to be up with you again, Vanguard. Hey, new kid, the one with the stupid shooting star emblem. You’re the rookie, correct?”

Katrina sighed. Rookie. Peppermint-Hair. Shooting Star. She had to endure many nicknames over the past few years, from signing up at the Federation Air Academy to flying her first jet, a measly underpowered F/T-16. 

She shook herself back to the present and opened a comm. “Yes, I am the new one, and my squadron took down an entire bomber formation that would have compromised our mission, if you don’t remember.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Meteor said, the annoyance in his voice evident. “Let’s see what you have against us.” He clicked off. 

“All fighters form up around the transports,” Alamo ordered. “Vanguard, move up front. Aquila, move to the back. That should maximize radar coverage.”

“Roger,” Katrina said. The three F/S-15s moved to the front and the Sk.37s tagged behind. “All set, Alamo,” she reported. 

“Good work, Comet,” Alamo said. “This should keep things working for a while.”

 They flew in silence for a while, occasionally making small talk with each other. After an hour, AWACS Alamo decided to break the silence, but the news he gave them wasn’t pretty. 

“Attention, all fighter squadrons. We have an inbound group of bandits, bearing 180 from the transports. All of them are flashing mercenary IFFs. Cleared to engage.”

“Finally,” Twister said, shaking off his sleepy stupor. “I was about to die from boredom.” 

“You are not the only one,” Katrina said. “Let’s go get these bastards. Aquila 5, 6, 7, and 8, protect the transports. The rest of us, you are with us.”

“I don’t take orders from another squadron leader,” Meteor grumbled, but he and half of Aquila split off with Vanguard all the same. 

“Alamo, how many are there?” Katrina asked. 

“Shit. At least 5 squadrons. Make that 4 fighters per group,” Alamo grimaced. 

“That’s it!” Aquila 4, Dodger, said. “We’re screwed! They have more planes than us!”

“Can it!” Katrina snapped. “They may have more fighters, but we have the skills to match them.” 

The mercenary fighters soon came into view: A motley collection of aircraft ranging from Sk.37s, F/C-16s, F/C-15s, F/F-18s, down to a pair of lowly MG-21s and T-21s. 

“Ha! Those merc fools are sending in trainers?” Meteor said. “They must be getting desperate.”

“They must be,” Katrina said, arming her MLAAs. “But be careful. Even an old trainer can make good use of its armament.” 

“Heh,” Meteor said. “You wouldn’t say.” Just then, he broke off sharply, unleashing a salvo of four of his MLAAs, which forced the group to scatter, but not before nailing a T/F-4 and an F/C-16. 

“Not too shabby,” Katrina said to herself. “Vanguard Squadron, engage.” 

“Righto,” Twister said, before going guns on an F/C-15 and shredding it to pieces. 

“Vanguard 3, engaging,” Peppermint said, peeling away to engage a pair of F/F-18s. 

Katrina took a deep breath to help soothe her nerves. It helped her during her previous sorties. “Vanguard 1, engaging,” she said. She then unleashed a pair of MLAAs from the underside of her Eagle. 

“Vanguard 1, Fox 3,” Alamo reported. The missiles soared ahead and impacted into a pair of F/E-4s. “Splash two, splash two,” Alamo reported. 

Katrina then banked her plane and engaged an Sk.27 that was maneuvering out of her reach, but the pilot appeared to barely notice her, judging by the way they were maneuvering. She blew that helpless Flanker out of the sky with her guns.

“Alright, nothing too hard here,” Dodger said, blowing a pair of F/C-15s out of the sky. “Just a couple of stragglers around here.” 

“Does he really talk like that?” Twister asked, blowing up an T/F-4 with his guns. 

“Heh. He always says that when he’s not shitting himself and running away,” Meteor said.  

“Hey!” Dodger cried, blowing up another Sk.27. “It was an issued tactical retreat!” 

“You didn’t just get your nickname by dodging practice shots and actual live warheads in combat, y’know,” Aquila 2, Nectar, said, blowing up an F/C-16 foolish enough to tangle with her. 

Ironic , Katrina thought, as she dodged some 20mm rounds from an F/E-4. Then, her heart leapt when an emergency communication came from Vanguard 3. 

“Uh, guys?” he said, worry clear in his voice. “Can someone get this guy off of my ass?” 

Katrina swiveled her head and saw an F/C-15 in desert camo on the tail of his Agile Eagle. 

“I’ve got him,” she said, maneuvering into position just behind from the Eagle and locking it up using her STDMs. She fired, and the Eagle was forced to deploy flares and bank hard to the right. She tailed the fighter and managed to get another solid lock. But before she could fire, the fighter turned away as well. 

“Damn,” she grunted, throwing the Agile Eagle left and right in an attempt to counter the adversary’s moves. “This is a tough one.”

Her hand instinctively reached for the switch labeled “AOA Limiter.” With a push of the button, her aircraft’s fly-by-wire system disconnected from the fighter. Now, she had no one to limit the moves she was going to make. She threw the fighter in the tightest turn she could have imagined, and thanks to the canards, the fighter was in position for a gun kill. She didn’t waste time, filling the Eagle full of lead. 

“Whew,” she sighed, disabling the Angle Of Attack Limiter. “That was awesome.” She could feel the blood pounding in her head, but she had been in tighter turns before. “How are we looking, Alamo?” 

“One bandit remains,” Alamo said, clearly surprised how they managed to fend off an entire wave of mercenaries. “Nevermind. Aquila One got them.” Katrina noticed the smoking carcass of the F/D-14 tumble to the ground as Meteor’s Sk.37 flew out of the smoke. 

“What about the transports?” Nectar asked. 

“You would be pleased to hear that the transports have made it inside the base’s air defense network,” Alamo said, relief in his voice evident. “And they arrived without a hitch.” 

“Yeehaw!” Dodger cried out. “I knew we could do it!” 

“Save your enthusiasm for the upcoming battles ahead, Aquila 4,” Alamo said. “All flights, you are cleared to proceed with the landing.” 

X

“Everyone here?” the commander of the base, a young man named Tillmin said. “Good.” 

The briefing software finished syncing up, and Tillman began to address the two squadrons. 

“Thanks to your collective efforts, the transports arrived here safely with the manpower and the equipment necessary to capture our new forward operating base. Operations to extend our frontline will commence tomorrow, so in the meantime, get some rest. You all have earned it, especially Vanguard.” 

Katrina shot a smug look at Meteor across the room. The squadron leader only glared back, determined to get Katrina back. 

Chapter Text

“Vanguard, Aquila, I cannot stress how important this mission is going to be,” Tillmin said, activating the briefing software. “Today is the day we go on the offensive.” 

The map zoomed in near the frontlines. “As you can see here, this is the only base closest to the frontlines is currently occupied by the Cabal and the Oceanic Royal Guard. Drive them off from the base, and we’ll open up the frontlines. To compensate for your low numbers, we’ll have two additional squadrons join us for the push. The transport group, Panther, will drop our troops to seize the base once the AA defenses are cleared out. Take care of any fighters that impede our progress, and we’ll have our opening. Wheels up in the hour.” 

As the pilots moved toward the hangars, Meteor couldn’t pass up the opportunity to let out a boast. “I bet that Aquila takes that shiny crown from Vanguard today. I mean, eagles always get their kills because of their keen eyesight.”

“Yeah, bet that one had a couple of surgeries before being stuffed in a Flanker,” muttered Peppermint, resulting in a few “oohs” from the others.

“You just wait and see!” snapped Nectar. “We’ll trump over you guys eventually.” 

Once Vanguard reached their hangar, Katrina pulled them aside. 

“Listen,” she said. “Aquila may have bigger mouths than us, but we have the better skill.”

“Right,” Twister said, as the roar of jet engines sounded from outside. “Better make this quick, Comet, otherwise we are going to be left behind.”

“In short,” Katrina said, “we gotta rack up more kills than them, otherwise it’s gonna impact my bottom line, and thus, yours.”  

X

“All squadrons, the base is in sight. You are all cleared to engage,” Alamo said. 

“Roger that, Alamo,” Katrina said. “White Squadron, you guys are on anti-ground duty. Sweep out any AA, SAMs, and anything else obstructing the ground forces.”

“Roger that,” White 1 said, and the squadron of five Accipiters split off and dove towards the base, shelling the AA defenses with rockets. 

“Camaro Squadron, you guys are also on anti-ground duty,” Katrina said. “Draw fire for White Squadron to continue their runs.”

“Roger, Vanguard,” Camaro 1 said, splitting off with his squadron of four MG-29s towards the base.

“Vanguard, Aquila, we are multi-role,” Katrina said. “Cover the ground attack fighters while we dish out some damage of our own.”

“Righto,” Twister said, peeling off and shooting down an F/F-18 that had attempted to get on the tail of White 2. 

“Engaging,” Peppermint said, turning to engage the ground targets. 

Katrina selected an MG-21 that had just taken off and gunned it down in an instant. “Vanguard 1, splash one,” she reported. 

“Damn, Comet,” Alamo said. “You’re working quick today.”

“Always a pleasure to help out,” Katrina said. She then engaged a pair of F/C-16s and dispatched them with ease. The rest of the squadrons made quick work out of the base’s defenses, though a few SAMs were able to work their way past the bombers and towards Vanguard’s aircraft. Luckily, they were able to dodge them fairly easily, thanks to a combination of AOA pulls and flares. 

“ALCON, the base’s operational capabilities are down to 10%,” Alamo said. “Keep hammering them, and we’ll be finished here.”

“This is Panther 1,” a new voice joined them. “We are coming in for the drop!” 

“All squadrons, clear the way and give Panther the red carpet,” Katrina said. The fighters broke off as the C/T-17s passed overhead, dropping out their payloads of MBTs and LAVs. 

“Alamo, this is Vanguard,” Katrina said. “The ground forces are moving in to secure the base.”

“Excellent work, everyone,” Alamo said. “Keep hammering away until all resistance is no factor.”

“This is Major Tom,” one of the ground troops said. “All forces have made groundfall, but there is some heavy resistance blocking our way. We’ll be sending information to AWACS for CAS.” 

“Roger all,” Katrina said as new targets appeared on her HUD. She then dove back into the fray, using her MLAGs and gunpods to clear away a column of tanks and APCs blocking the assault. 

“Thanks for the help, Vanguard,” Tom said, as gunfire erupted in the background. “We’ll be moving in shortly to help secure the command center. Going dark.” 

The resistance from the ground troops weakened as multiple bombing runs forced them to scatter. After a while of radio silence, Tom reported back in. 

“This is Tom! We have secured the base!” There was joy in his voice that Katrina had never heard before. 

“Roger all,” Alamo said. “All forces, you cleared for landing an- Hold it,” he said suddenly. “I am detecting a group of mercenary pilots inbound, callsign Rourke. Must be the patrol squadron.” 

“How many are there?” Twister asked. 

“8 of them, all of them flying CR.105s,” Alamo said.  “Cleared to engage.”

“Vanguard, we’ll take them on,” Katrina said. “Show us a fight.”

The flight of CR.105s soon appeared. It was an excellent craft: A supersonic capable interceptor, massive delta wings visible for miles, painted in a woodland camo. Katrina didn’t think twice about pushing the trigger and letting her 4 MLAAs fly. The HUD display flashed with a message, showing that she was out of radar-guided missiles. All four of the missiles connected, blowing apart the interceptors. The rest broke apart and attempted to scatter. 

“I’ve got this one,” Twister said, flying up behind one and filling it with lead. It plummeted towards the ground below, the pilot having not ejected. He turned his attention to the other one and blew it apart with two standard missiles. “Patrol squadron?” he mused. “These guys are a joke!”

“They sure are,” Peppermint said, blowing one apart with his guns. Katrina then set her sights on the last fighter. A headlong pass with guns proved worthless as it was still flying. However, it went down after it ate the explosive tips of her two standards. 

“ALCON, the picture is clean,” Alamo said. “Panther and all other squadrons, you are cleared to land. But I think the MVPs here today are the Vanguard Squadron. You guys get first pick for hangar space and bunks, you lucky bastards. Begin your descent.”

X

“Good hunting today, Comet? I bet. Come on in,” the ATC said. Katrina lined the fighter with the runway and lowered her gear. 

“Vanguard 1, lower your altitude. “You’re coming in too steep,” the ATC said. Katrina did so and managed to get the rear wheels on the ground safely. Her nose gear followed shortly. 

“Nicely done,” the ATC said before signing off. 

She taxied to the hangar where her squadron was in and shut off the engines. After popping the canopy, she descended the ladder and was met with her squadmates.

“That was some fine work today, Comet,” Peppermint said, walking up to her. 

“Thanks,” Katrina, smiling at him. He looked cute, smiling at her, his hair sparkling in the sunset. “But I think Vanguard deserves some of the credit.” 

“Hey!” Meteor called from across the hangar. “What about us?”

“You heard the AWACS,” Katrina said. “We’re the MVPs. You lost that bet you made earlier. You guys get the smaller hangars, though it is better than wanting those shiny Flankers destroyed on the runway.”

With a smirk, Vanguard marched out of the hangar, leaving Meteor and his stunned look behind.  

Chapter Text

Forward Operations Base “Catalina”

“Thanks to your efforts, the frontline has been reopened,” Commander Mckay said, having just flown in. “However, the mercenary forces and the Oceanians didn’t take this lightly. About a few hours ago, they ambushed the 9th Infantry Regiment as they were attempting to regroup and reconsolidate an offensive along the Northeastern Corridor, which we need to capture the capital of Sydney. We need to have this regiment survive, as this consists of the majority of our manpower needed to conduct our offensive. Vanguard and Aquila, break our troops out of this deadlock, and we’ll finally have the manpower to end this conflict once and for all.” 

X

“Ah, desert sands as far as the eye can see,” Meteor said, as the eleven flight formation slid into place. Below them, the desert landscape toiled on for miles. The only indication that there was a battle raging on were the pillars of smoke visible on the horizon. 

“Thank God I choose to live in Sawakii rather than this dustball,” Peppermint said. 

“Whoa,” Meteor said. “Did you really get into the Academy by surfing? I didn’t know the Federation needed a surfer in their navy, or that they accepted people like that.” 

“Well, they sort of do,” Twister said. “I have been chopping wood for years in Cascadia before joining the Air Force.”

Meteor whistled. “Well, we have a woodchopper and a surfer in this group. What about you, Comet? Did you get in by staring at stars all night?”

“No,” Katrina said. “I joined because I loved flying, and that Dad had just retired and wanted me to continue his legacy. Now, if you are done flapping your lips, we have to focus on the mission.”

“Easy for you to say,” Nectar said, “once we rack up more kills than you do in your sorry asses.”

“Alamo to Vanguard and Aquila,” Alamo said, thankfully interrupting their conversation. “I’m patching you guys into the ground troop’s comm frequency. Things are starting to get hectic down there. You are free to engage any hostile signatures starting now.” 

“This is General Morgan Elizabeth of the Wild Boar Regiment,” a new voice joined them. “We were expecting reinforcements at this moment to bail us out of this shitstorm.” 

“Wild Boar Actual, this is AWACS Alamo. Aquila and Vanguard squadrons are on standby and ready to assist,” Alamo said. 

“Roger that, Alamo,” Elizabeth said. “We’ll laze targets as necessary for CAS. Wild Boar Actual out.” The comms clicked off, and the targets highlighted by Elizabeth appeared on their HUDs. 

“Aquila, Vanguard, we are free-range,” Katrina said. “Let’s make some scratch.”

“Copy, leader,” Peppermint said, banking away and unleashing a salvo of MLAGs on a battalion of armored vehicles. 

“Aquila Flight, let’s go,” Meteor said. “Time to show those Vanguard bastards who they are dealing with.” The eight-ship flight of Sk.37s peeled off and spread out over a wide area. 

“Vanguard 2, I’m with you,” Twister said, forming up on Katrina’s left. Unlike Vanguard 3, he hadn’t bothered to split apart. 

“Twister, what is your game-plan?” Katrina asked. 

“Overwhelming force,” Twister said. “I plan to rush each column as quickly as we can. Heh. Good thing I brought gunpods instead of missiles. You run out of those way too quickly.” 

“Good thinking,” Katrina said, rolling around to avoid a missile. “So, where do we start?” 

“There. That tank column next to the artillery,” Twister said. “Take them out in one pass.” 

“Roger,” Katrina said. 

They lined up and dove in on the unsuspecting troops. Katrina let her gunpods fly, shredding them all in one pass, like Twister had said. 

“Whoo!” Katrina said, pulling away from the smoking debris. “Excellent work, Twister!” 

“Hah! Same to you, Comet!” Twister said. 

They dove in on several more formations, shredding tanks, APCs and the like with each pass. 

“I’m out of MLAGs,” Peppermint said after a while. “How are you guys doing?” 

“We are racking up the score,” Meteor said, pulling away from an armored column he just decimated, his URBM pods smoking. “How’s your going, Vanguard?”

“Twister and I have knocked out about a dozen columns, for your convenient information,” Katrina said, smirking at imagining Meteor’s reaction. 

“A dozen?” Dodger said. “How is that possible with your non-explosive ammunition?”

“Maybe bringing these gunpods wasn’t such a bad idea after all,” Katrina said, smirking. “Maybe you can try them out if your ego wasn’t so far up your ass.” She clicked off the comm before Meteor had a chance to respond. 

“Crap,” Peppermint said, pulling into formation beside them. “Maybe I should have brought them.”

“What’s your ammo state?” Katrina asked, nailing a C-RAM with her guns. 

“6 MLAAs, my two standards, and a handful of bullets.” Peppermint sighed. “I wish I could put these guys to good usage.”

“Well, you are about to,” Alamo said. “I have detected 10 bogeys on radar. They appear to be bombers trying to hammer our regrouped forces. I have sent their ID data. Shoot these bastards down.” 

10 additional contacts appeared on Katrina’s HUD. Identifying six I/A-52s among them, Katrina also highlighted a quartet of F/E-15 Strike Eagles inbound. 

“Heads up, everyone,” Katrina said, punching her afterburner. “They brought multiroles to the mix.” 

“Aw, hell,” Dodger said. “A little Strike Eagle is like a fly to me. Why should this be any different?” 

“Because multiroles can still kick your ass if they have air-to-air ordinance,” Peppermint said. “And if you get too cocky.” 

“Hey! Who said anything about being cocky?” Dodger huffed. “Fine, fine. Aquila 4, engaging.” 

“Oh no, you don’t!” Katrina said, mashing her finger down on the trigger. Two MLAAs detached from her plane and flew towards two I/A-52s. They both hit, and the two bombers spiraled down to Earth in flames. A second later, Twister took down a pair of Strike Eagles with his standards. Aquila claimed similar numbers, with them taking down two I/A-52s and a Strike Eagle. 

“Nice work, Vanguard,” Alamo said. “And Aquila.” Katrina could clearly hear him bite back a smirk. 

“Really?” Nectar said as she evaded a missile launched by the remaining Strike Eagle. “You are siding with Vanguard? I thought you were a Federation AWACS, not a one-sider!”

“Well, technically, I’m Vanguard’s AWACS, and I was assigned to this squadron by a superior. So you better watch your mouth, Aquila 2, before I switch your IFF to hostile,” Alamo said smoothly. 

Katrina looped behind one of the last I/A-52s and filled it full of lead. Two of the engines popped, and the wing broke from under the intense stress of being rocked with bullets. The bomber plummeted down as Katrina took aim at the last F/E-15 and fired her two standard missiles. The Strike Eagle tried to evade by popping flares, but one of the missiles hit the Eagle right in the engines. As the Eagle spiraled down to the ground, the canopy shot off and the pilots ejected. Katrina flew past the parachutes, locking on to the remaining bombers and firing another pair of MLAAs. They impacted the 2 remaining I/A-52s and sent them down to Earth in smoke. 

“All bombers down,” Alamo said. “Good work, Aquila and Vanguard.” 

“Thank God,” Elizabeth said. “We’re alive.” Katrina heard someone in the background cheering. “Thanks, Vanguard. You saved our asses up there.”

“No need to thank us, General,” Alamo said. “You are welcome. It was our duty, afterall.” 

“Hey!” Meteor said. “What about us?” 

“Don’t worry, Meteor,” Alamo said. “I’m sure your contribution will be acknowledged sometime soon.” 

“Copy that,” Meteor said, barely concealing his rage. “How are we looking, Alamo?”

“The picture is clean across the board, and… Hold it. One additional contact on radar.” A blip appeared on Katrina’s radar and was gradually approaching them at high speed. 

“What is it?” she asked, pulling her fighter on an intercept vector. However, before she could get within range to fire, a missile alert rang out in her headset. 

“Vanguard 1, missile!” Alamo called. “Missile!” 

Katrina pulled her fighter up and popped the AOA Limiter and the flares simultaneously. The pair of long-range missiles vanished from sight, and so did the missile alert. 

“Alamo, what the hell are we dealing with?” Peppermint said, diving to avoid the bandit as it blew past him all of a sudden. “This guy is unlike the others that we have encountered!” 

“I’m trying to access this guy’s records, hold on!” Alamo said. Katrina could hear frantic typing as Alamo attempted to pull whatever record he had out of his data storage bins. “Aha!” he finally said. “I’ve got this guy’s records. Let’s have a look-see…” 

Katrina dodged a pair of missiles fired by the unknown craft as it came into view: An Sk.30, with a blue and white woodland camouflage arranged in swirling patterns and with gray stripes that ran the length of the aircraft. 

“The guy that you are fighting is a person on dispatch from the Mercenary Cabal. An ace. Whew, and I thought yesterday was interesting already.”

“On dispatch?” Meteor said, as he launched a pair of missiles at the fighter, only for it to deploy flares and zip away. “I didn’t know the Cabal had such elite pilots on tap.”

“Only the good pilots had survived this long,” Katrina said. “Do you have any air-to-air ordnance left?”

“If that guy hadn’t used flares, I would have hit him,” Meteor grumbled. “Shit, looks like those were my last missiles as well.” 

“All fighters with low ordnance, withdraw,” Katrina ordered. “Anyone who still has missiles, stay with me. We’re taking this bastard down.”

Most of Aquila Squadron and Peppermint separated and turned out of the airspace. Only Nectar, Katrina, and Twister remained. 

“What is your ammo state?” Katrina asked, as they closed in on the Sk.30. 

“I only have 1 standard left,” Nectar said, jettisoning her empty URBM pods. 

“2 MLAAS and 2 standards,” Twister said. 

Katrina looked at her display. She fared a little better compared to the rest. A pair of standards and three MLAAS remained, alongside her smoking gunpods. She nodded. This will have to do. 

“Alright then,” she said. “Let’s take him down.”

The distance shrunk until they were right on top of each other. Katrina made the first draw, by firing all of her gunpods in quick bursts to preserve her ammo. Several shots made contact, but most of them went wide by incredibly thin margins. 

Next up was Twister. He attempted a similar gun run, but managed to get one hit in before the pilot sensed danger and jerked the Sk.30 away from them and dove. Nectar was quick on the draw with her last missile, which flew toward the pilot, but it was decoyed with flares. 

“Jeez, just who is this guy?” Alamo said. “I’ve heard about elite mercenary pilots before, but this one’s fighting really hard. It’s almost like he’s…different somehow.” 

“Don’t worry,” Twister said. “We’re gonna kick his ass soon.” Suddenly, the tables turned rapidly. Twister got behind the plane and was about to fire when the aircraft sharply pulled upwards, courtesy of its AOA Limiter and fired a missile at Nectar. She didn’t see it coming and took it head-on, only looking up at the last moment. A surprised gasp escaped her lips. 

Katrina barely had time to shout a warning before an explosion consumed the Sk.37. A few moments later, a smoking wreck tumbled toward the ground. There wasn’t a parachute.

“NO!” Alamo shouted. “Aquila 2! Aquila 2 do you copy?!” 

“She’s gone!” Twister said. “There isn’t a chute, goddamnit!” 

Katrina gritted her teeth, letting her rage seep through. That merc had just killed one of her squadmates, even though they were in different squadrons. All for a paycheck. 

“Comet! What the hell are gonna do about this bastard?!” Twister asked angrily, getting on the tail of the fighter and spraying it with lead. 

“We’ll make him burn in hell with the rest of that mercenary scum!” Katrina roared, uncaging her missile and getting a solid lock. She mashed the trigger angrily and the missile flew out from under her wing. 

“Vanguard 1, Fox 2!” Alamo shouted. This time, the damn merc didn’t see it coming. The missile impacted the engines of the Flanker in a massive fireball. The craft was still aloft, however, so Katrina came in close to finish it off with guns. She lined up the piper with the cockpit, hoping to put the pilot through the same painful experience like he delivered to Nectar. 

“Vanguard 1, cease fire!” 

The order came so suddenly. Katrina felt like she was having inner turmoil as she lined the piper up with the aircraft. 

“What?!” she barked. “I’m about to get that damn mercenary for what he did to Aquila 2!”

“I repeat, cease fire and withdraw from the combat space! That is an order, Vanguard 1!” Alamo repeated, a layer of danger and hesitation in his voice. “If you go any further, you’ll run out of fuel and end up like her!”

Katrina turned her head back to the damn Sk.30 that was causing her so much trouble, bug off into the distance. 

“Fuck!” she spat, slamming her fist into the side of the cockpit, leaving a small dent. When she finally calmed down, she checked her fuel gauge. It was not looking good. It was ticking closer and closer towards the small E with every passing second. 

“Do we have any tankers on standby?” she asked, her voice deadly calm. 

“Y-yeah, we do,” Alamo said, apparently still fazed by her sudden outburst. “Giving you the vector now.”

As she pulled away from the battle that had raged over the sands a while ago, she couldn't help but feel guilty of the death of Aquila 2. She wondered what fury she would face by Meteor when he found out that his squadmate was dead. She pushed those thoughts aside and scanned the exterior of Twister’s aircraft. Aside from a few pockmarks that came from the Sk.30, there was no damage whatsoever. 

“Hey. Are you alright?” Twister asked. Apparently, he was trying to help her out of her stupor. 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” she replied, rubbing her eyes. It had been a long battle, and an even longer day.

“You didn’t sound alright,” Twister said. “I mean, when you freaked out, whew , that must be some real nightmare fuel you are packing there.” 

“Yeah,” Katrina said, chuckling. “Nightmare fuel.” She shut off the comms and watched the desert landscape below fly past the two Eagles as they headed home, relieved that they could, like the troops below, live to fight another day.  

Chapter Text

Forward Operations Base “Catalina”

“Vanguard 1, this is the tower. You guys are cleared to land…wait.” There was some clicking in the background, and Katrina knew that the radar operator was checking for signs of Aquila 2. “Where is Aquila 2?”

“She didn’t make it,” Katrina said, sighing deeply. She lined up her approach and lowered her landing gear. The control tower choose not to respond, which was good because she was lost in her thoughts. Thankfully, the sound of the wheels hitting the tarmac and the jolt of the impact pulled her head into the situation. She taxied over to the hangar and shut down her engines. 

After ripping off her oxygen with a little difficulty, she popped the canopy and hurried down the ladder rungs, her legs shaking all the while.

As soon as her foot hit the floor, Peppermint came up to her. “I heard what had happened,” he said, running his hand through his hair. It looked mattered in some places as if he had been pulling it to calm himself down when he heard that Aquila 2 had gone down. “It’s not looking pretty.” he glanced at her fighter. 

“No shit it isn’t,” Katrina said, as she inspected her fighter. The centerline gunpod was still smoking as if it had been overtuned when she fired at that mysterious Flanker. The other gunpods had some small hairline fractures on them, and a missile rail had been bent. Well, machines could be replaced, but humans couldn’t. “When a mysterious plane comes out of fucking nowhere and obliterates your wingman, that is.” 

She turned to look at Peppermint and saw movement behind him. “Uh-oh,” she muttered. “Here comes the guard dog.” Meteor was storming up to them, with a look of disgust on his face. Katrina noticed that he was by himself as if he wanted to settle the score personally with her and that he wasn’t in the mood for talking. His blonde hair was ruffed in several places, and his eyes had a dangerous leer to them. Peppermint seemed to have noticed her glance and grimaced when he saw Meteor come towards them. 

“As soon as I landed, he had got the news that Nectar was down,” he said, rubbing his head. “Doxxed me for it, said it was my fault that I led her into that death trap and that I should have been there with the rest of Vanguard.”

Katrina took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m going to settle this.” She walked up to Meteor and almost immediately, he swung his fist at her. Katrina saw it coming and ducked, but Meteor had pinned her against her fighter before she could respond. 

“You,” he snarled. “This is entirely your fault!”

“Meteor,” Peppermint said, trying to defuse the tension. “She didn’t do it. She-”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Meteor said. “Nectar is dead because of you!” he said, as he suddenly reached into his flight suit and pulled out a crooked dagger. “You got my squadmate killed in that suicide attack against that damn merc! You led her to her death! I’ll kill you!” He raised the dagger and at the same instant, Peppermint tried to pull the arm away from her, but Meteor shook him off. He raised the arm and pressed the dagger to her throat…

“STOP IT RIGHT THERE, METEOR!” a booming voice echoes from across the tarmac. Commander Mckay and a man Katrina assumed to be Alamo came charging across and forcefully removed Meteor from her, the dagger falling to the ground with a clink. 

“Let go of me!” Meteor shouted, attempting to shake off Commander Mckay and failing. “She got my squadmate killed! I’ll make sure she never flies again in these skies!”

“Enough!” Alamo said, and Katrina could detect a hint of a Cascadian accent in his voice. “That will be enough from you. Get your head in the game, Meteor. We should be fighting the mercs, not ourselves. Besides, you are dreaming if I will ever let you do something like that again. Otherwise, it is the brig and a court-martial for you.”

That seemed to do the trick. Meteor finally calmed down and Mckay let go of him. He then shot a glare at Katrina and marched off, not even bothering to reclaim his dagger. Katrina reached for her throat and rubbed it, all the while thinking. This wasn’t the first time Meteor had done something like this? Then why didn’t the Federation Military give him a court-martial or anything like that? While she was pondering her thoughts, Mckay spotted the knife and picked it up. 

“This is dangerous,” he said, eyeing the crooked blade. “Better lock this up so that he doesn’t get it back.”

“Honestly, where else could he have gotten the knife?” Alamo said. “It’s not like he could have smuggled it in.”

“He got it from the survival kit,” Peppermint said. “Just peeked inside of his plane and found that he ripped the satchel open, and he looks like he did it in a hurry.” He tossed a ripped brown canvas bag to Mckay, who took one look at it and groaned. 

“Really?” he said. “That bastard just cost us a day’s worth of medical supplies just for some cynical revenge.” He sighed. “I’ll put out a call to HQ. Tell them to check on the latest medical shipment.” He looked at Peppermint and Katrina. “You two, report to the briefing room for a debrief. I’ll be with you shortly.” He turned and walked off towards the base. Alamo nodded at the both of them and followed Mckay in. 

“Well, that was something,” a voice cut in. They both turned and saw Twister come towards them, his flight helmet in his arms. Now that it was up close, Katrina could see that he had a small tornado sticker on it, coupled with multiple vector drawings of the same tornado.

“Where were you?” Katrina asked, rubbing her throat from where Meteor had clenched it. “You really had the balls to watch me get pounded, did you?”

“I couldn’t risk escalating the tension further,” Twister said matter-of-factly. “Besides, he would have gone for it had Mckay and Alamo didn’t show up.” He smiled. “C’mon. Let’s get to the briefing room. See what Mckay has to say.” 

They trotted through the base and entered the briefing room, where the rest of Aquila Squadron was gathered. Meteor, having recovered from his violent outburst, sat at the very back, ignoring Vanguard as they sat down along the front row.  

“Everone here?” Mckay said, entering at last and closing the door behind him. “Good.” He started up the briefing software. Katrina noticed that the blue area of Oceania was far greater than the red. She smiled. At least Nectar’s death wasn’t in vain. 

“You would be pleased to note that the ground forces we rescued launched an operation deep into Cabal territory and carved a significant corridor towards Sydney. However, the offensive isn’t over yet, and we still need to get rid of the Cabal’s air superiority over the capital, as well as eliminating their navy, if you can call it a navy.” 

He paused to wipe his glasses. “Federation High Command sent me a message regarding the position of Task Force 1 and the First Battle Group, and here is the good part.” He cleared his throat. “They are only a couple of hours due now. Soon, we shall wipe this pathetic cabal and their pathetic mercenary state off of the face of the Earth!” There were cheers throughout the briefing room.  

“Until then,” Mckay continued, “we gotta kick up the pressure on these damn lowlives if they want to play rough. But all you deserve some rest until we can kick up the pressure.” 

Another round of cheers ensued, and the pilots all headed towards the exit. Meteor, however, blew past everyone else and was the first to leave, followed closely by Aquila Squadron. 

“Someone’s in a hurry,” Twister said, as Vanguard filed out.

“Relax,” Peppermint said. “He just needs to blow off some steam.” 

“You think they’ll just shove the rest of them up the ranks?” asked Twister, as they walked towards the mess. 

“Of course,” Peppermint said. “Now that Nectar is gone, the squadron will probably have to do some rearranging, and that's if the pilots are experienced enough to keep up the pace.” 

Katrina ignored them both and watched the squadron leader disappear into the hallways. If she was going to get Meteor or even Aquila on their side again, she had to do it sooner rather than later, before they both ended up tearing themselves apart. 

Chapter Text

“Y’know, when I said this was going to be a solo mission, I didn’t had this in mind,” Twister said as they filed into the empty briefing room. 

“Yeah,” Peppermint said as they sat down. “Wonder what mission could be so important that they have to bring Vanguard of all squadrons to it.”

Katrina ignored them and sat down. For the first time, Aquila Squadron wasn’t here. Probably they were at the frontlines, where things were the hottest, or probably someone at base heard the fight on the tarmac and had reassigned Aquila somewhere else. At least she didn’t have to contend with Meteor’s massive ego filling up the sky. That gave her a small smile at least.

“Vanguard, we didn’t expect a mission like this, but in the midst of war, the unexpected is likely to come up,” Commander McKay said, starting up the briefing software. “Originally, we were going to be pushing through the corridor and towards Sydney, but the offensive has slowed to a halt. Until now.” He rubbed his eyes. “Two hours ago, we received a transmission from a lone mercenary fighter heading in our direction. Said they wanted to defect and aid our cause with valuable intel.” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Katrina said. “We are at war with these low-lives, and now we are going to be escorting one of those dogs here? I thought we had the war in the bag with these fools.” 

“Apparently not,” McKay said. “We have appeared to underestimate the caliber of these mercenaries. Just a few hours ago, an attempt to clear out an air defense corridor in the Marshall Valley failed. We had to pull out of there with our tails between our legs.” He rubbed his eyes again. 

“Sir, how can we confirm that this mercenary is willing to defect?” Katrina asked Mckay. 

“We drilled them with questions, and they were transmitting on our frequency. They haven’t engaged any of our patrols, which is fortunate,” Mckay said. “However, they have stated they are vulnerable and without munitions. That’s where you come in. You will escort them here, and we will dig up any intel that they have.”

“And?” Twister said. “I doubt they will lead the other mercenary forces here to drive us back to where we all started.”

“We’ll have precautions to make sure that they won't,” Mckay said. 

X

“Vanguard, you are on station,” Alamo said. “Contact with the mercenary defector in t-minus 5 minutes.” 

“Roger that,” Katrina said. “Vanguard, establish a perimeter.” 

“Roger that,” Twister said. 

“Roger,” Peppermint said. 

Katrina clicked off and sighed heavily. Just yesterday, Vanguard and Aquila were working together, coordinating a rescue effort for the troops that were so desperately needed. Then that mercenary bitch came and took the life of a fellow squadmate, even though they were in different squadrons. Now they were escorting a defecting mercenary for what? A bunch of captured intel? She sighed again. She hoped that the intel the mercenary gave them was worth it. 

A buzz on her comm.

“Vanguard, we have a situation update. The mercenary aircraft is about to cross into this area in 10 seconds. Stand by for a positive ID.” 

“Roger,” Katrina said. Then to her squad, she said, “Alright, Vanguard. Let’s go meet our guest.” 

“3 seconds to contact,” Alamo said. “You should be getting a visual ID on the fighter now.” 

On Katrina’s radar, a small radar blip gradually got bigger, until she saw a flash. Then a streak of metal. A small, distinct gray blob became an F/C-16, armed with two heatseekers and strapped down with a pair of conformal fuel tanks. Katrina noticed that the orange and gray swirl camouflage was weathered and looked almost like it belonged in the scrapyard. But that was clever. Disguising a new or rather well-used aircraft as a derelict would attract much less attention from the mercenaries. The mercenary roundel was blotted out with thick white paint. Apparently, the pilot had painted blobs across the tail and wings as if they were in a hurry. 

“Alamo, we have contact,” Katrina said, swinging her fighter around. “One F/C-16.” 

“Copy, Vanguard. The bogey has been identified,” Alamo said. “Establishing radio contact now.” 

There was a crackle of static. 

“About time,” a thickly accented female voice came over the comms. “This intel took me a long time to extract. I hope you are the escort that I had requested.” 

“Right you are, miss,” Twister said. “So just stay with us and keep the vodka safe, will you?”

“That’s more like champagne for you, lover boy,” the female replied, and Katrina could hear a tinge of a French accent in her voice now. “The name’s Frost, by the way.”

“Frost?” Peppermint said. “Ha! That’s coming from someone who is flying a souped-up Viper colored in orange, gray, and white.”

“Watch your tongue,” Frost said. “I can dogfight like the rest of you. They don’t call me the Cold Wind for nothing.” 

“Pff. Really,” scoffed Twister. “The Cold Wind? Kinda ironic for a person flying a jet that spews hot wind. Or should I say afterburner plumes?”

“Don’t try me,” Frost said, a dangerous leer in her voice. 

“Vanguard, focus on the mission,” Katrina cut in. “We don’t want to strike up a confrontation with the defector so soon.” 

“Listen to your number 1,” Frost said. “She has a point.”  

“Bless you,” snapped Twister. Katrina just chuckled to herself. 

They flew in silence for a while, occasionally making small talk with each other. Katrina was starting to think that this was a boring escort mission when a transmission from Alamo made her jump. 

“Vanguard, we’ve got a situation,” he said. “I have detected a whole squadron of mercenary fighters inbound, and they are coming in hot.” Katrina looked at her long-range radar and saw that Alamo wasn’t lying. A large swarm of dots like a massive locust storm was heading in their direction. 

“Holy shit,” she said. “Vanguard, Frost, we better step on the gas.”

“Not advisable,” Frost said. “You are talking about Dragur and Vulture Squadrons. The elite of the elite of mercenaries.” 

“Alamo, are there any reinforcements in the area?” Twister asked. 

“Negative,” Alamo said. “The closest reinforcements are 2 mikes out.”

“Two mikes?” Peppermint cried. “We’d be dead by then! These guys are elite!” 

“Let’s see how elite they are when we take them on in combat,” Katrina said. “Twister, can you protect Frost?” 

“Sure thing, Comet,” Twister said. “Here’s hoping I don’t get shot down.” 

Katrina smiled. “Peppermint, let’s go get these queef cakes.” 

“Roger,” Peppermint said. 

They both split off from Twister and plowed toward the mercenary forces. 

“Alamo, what type of fighters do they have?” Katrina asked, switching on her targeting computers and turning on the Master Arm. 

“4 F/C-16s and 6 MG-31s, nothing super-advanced if that’s what you are concerned about,” Alamo said. “Wait, what is this?”

There was a crackle of static and then a gruff voice game over the radio, which came from the lead F/C-16. “Ah, it's Icicle. Come back to claim your vengeance? I doubt you survived your ejection.”

“Wait,” Peppermint said. “Is that-” 

“Ah. It's the number 3,” Dragur 1 said. “Come back for vengeance as well?”

“Peppermint, don’t tell me that this is the bastard who-”

“Killed is flight lead?” Dragur 1 said, cackling.  “Whoever Icicle was, I hope he was the sad little bitch that he was. And I hope the last thought that went through his pathetic little mind was that his squadron stood there like pathetic little bitches and watched their mentor go down.” 

“You are one to talk,” Katrina said, “considering that you are breaching Federation military channels and establishing a little fantasy kingdom on sovereign Federation soil!”

“Exactly. How did you expect us to gain control of your precious little Feddie territory real quick?” Dragur 1 said. 

Curses , Katrina thought. No wonder they are more experienced than we thought . 

“Then, what do you want?” Katrina asked. 

“Give Frost a safe passage back to us, and we will let you go on your merry way out of this continent. Let us establish a mercenary haven, one free from Federation shits like you.” 

They were very close now. 

“No,” Katrina said. “Unless you are willing to die for it.”

“Then have it your way,” Dragur said, disconnecting. 

As soon as the targeting box around Dragur 1’s F/C-16 was highlighted in red, Katrina mashed down on the trigger and let a pair of standard missiles loose and rolled violently to the right to avoid a gun burst from Dragur 1. The two missiles she fired were decoyed by Dragur 1’s flares. Meanwhile, Peppermint had fired two standards at one of the MG-31s of Vulture Squadron. They didn’t doge in time and took the full blast. The remains of the interceptor fell down to the ground as the rest of the fighters broke formation. 

“No!” Dragur 1 cried. “You are gonna pay for that, you Federation bastard!”

“Bring it on!” Katrina called. She then activated the AOA Limiter and pulled a sharp 180, getting on the tail of Dragur 1. She then obtained a lock and fired a pair of MLAAs. However, the quick reaction of Dragur 1 surprised her, as he executed a tight turn while he ignited his afterburner, firing flares and chaff into the sky. The missiles streaked past, and Katrina ignited her own afterburners and chased after the F/C-16. Once she had a lock, her missile warning started going off. She looked around for the source of the warning and found out that one of the other F/C-16s had snuck up on her and fired a standard missile. Katrina activated her flares and decoyed the missile. However, the F/C-16 stayed on her tail. 

“Uh, Peppermint,” she called out. “A little help here, please?” 

“COMET, NO!” Peppermint yelled. “Break off! BREAK OFF NOW!” 

As soon as he said that, the F/C-16 launched another standard missile. Katrina’s eyes widened and imminently popped the AOA Limiter. She soared over the missile and the F/C-16, which had a swirly desert camouflage of various shades of tan. Once she was on the tail, she didn’t waste any time mashing down the trigger. Her gunpods roared to life and shredded the Viper, and all that was left was a husk of the aircraft that dropped to earth. 

“No wonder that Icicle fell into my trap so easily,” Dragur 1 said, and even then Katrina could hear him grinding his teeth. “So obsessed with mercenary kills that he forgot to watch his back.” 

“Shut up,” Katrina said. “Peppermint, Twister, change our frequency. This guy has been using Federation radio calls to spy on us.”  

“No wonder,” Twister muttered. He sounded bored. There was a whine from the radio as her radio frequency changed. “Done. Now the dumbfuck can’t spy on us.” 

“Right,” Katrina sounds. “Now let’s end this party.” 

The fighting dragged on, as Katrina managed to get kills on Vulture Squadron. One MG-31 tried to launch its salvo of MLAAs at her, but she took advantage of the aircraft’s clumsy maneuverability and climbed up, forcing the aircraft to stall and drop, which she took advantage of and put the aircraft out of its misery with a gun burst. Peppermint on the other hand managed to dispatch two more members of Dragur Squadron with his guns and missiles and managed to cripple one aircraft of Vulture Squadron, forcing it to flee from the battlefield. He then used an MLAA salvo to take out the three other MGs. Now, it was just them and Dragur 1. 

Katrina lined up behind the F/C-16 and obtained a lock, snapping off a pair of standard missiles. Those were decoyed by flares, so she went for the guns. Unfortunately, the pilot had to be some superhuman because he managed to shake off some hits. 

What’s with this guy? Katrina thought as she attempted to get on Dragur 1’s six. This guy isn’t unlike the other guys I’ve fought before! I gotta focus! 

The fight dragged on for a while until a transmission came through from Alamo. 

“Vanguard Flight, disengage. Frost is safely back at base.” 

Katrina smirked and opened a radio frequency to Dragur 1. “Checkmate, you dumb fuck. Your precious little mercenary is in our custody. You can piss off now.” 

“Fine,” Dragur 1 said, firing off one last salvo with his remaining MLAAs, which Katrina easily dodged. “You win. Next time, you won’t come off as lucky.” The F/C-16 righted itself and fled, afterburner blazing. 

“Thanks, Peppermint,” Katrina said, righting her fighter and moving forward to rejoin Twister and Frost. 

“You’re welcome,” Peppermint said. “That’s what a team is for, right?”

“Right,” Katrina said, still breathing heavily. 

“Whew,” Alamo said. “That was quite the show.”

“And they didn’t invite me,” Twister said. “How rude.” 

“Hmm. I am impressed,” Frost said. “I just have one complaint.”

“Anything,” Peppermint said. “This whole war has been nothing but complaints.” 

“Next time, bring some champagne up here so that flyboy escort lover boy can shut up.” 

That was the single most satisfying thing Katrina had heard all day. 

Chapter Text

Forward Operations Base “Catalina”

“Vanguard 1, you are cleared to make your final approach,” the tower said. Katrina lined up her fighter on the approach and tentatively lowered her landing gear. The thud followed by the squeal of the tires as she eased her fighter was always a satisfying feeling, from an F/C-16 to an Sk.27, and now an F/S-15. It never changed, unlike so many things in the world, which could change in a heartbeat. That was why she loved flying. 

She taxied over to the hangar and shut down her engines. She popped the canopy and was greeted with the roar of the jet engines as she saw Peppermint’s Agile Eagle touch down. She gracefully climbed out of the cockpit and lowered herself to the ground as she approached the F/C-16 that was Frost’s. There was a whine from the engines as the Viper shut down, and the canopy opened to reveal the pilot. 

Frost was an average-built woman, with icy blue eyes and a golden flock of hair that reached down towards her shoulders. Her helmet wasn’t decorated. Probably she hadn’t bothered to decorate it in her time as a mercenary. She then spotted her and smiled. 

“Thanks for the save,” she said. “As promised, here is the intel.” She reached into her flight suit and pulled out a small USB stick. 

“I hope that was worth it, miss,” a voice interrupted her. Frost turned around and saw Twister approach them. “All that for a small stick of gum? You must be really brave.” Frost just glared at him. 

“I told you to watch your tongue,” she said, flashing the USB stick at him. “I hope your base commander has the decency that you don’t.”

“Miss Frost?” 

They turned around to the source of the new voice. Commander Mckay had come over to them. 

“Ah,” Frost said. “You must be the base commander.”

“That’s correct,” Mckay said. “Welcome to the Federation. I assume you have our intel?”

“Right here,” Frost said, handing the USB to him, and pulled out a smaller laminated card. “Codes to access the firewalls and security measures I have put in place.”  

“Good,” Mckay said, taking both the USB and the laminated card. “Now, I know this might come as a surprise, but you are to remain in our custody while we dig through the intel. We can’t have you lead the Cabal to us.”

“I expected that,” Frost said, as two MPs came over to her. She didn’t even flinch as they slapped a pair of restraints on her.  “But you might find things on there that are surprising even to you.” 

X

“I wonder what is taking Mckay and the others so long,” Katrina said. It was a while after they had landed. They were gathered in the lounge of the base, kicking back after the mission. Katrina took a gulp of coffee from her cheap cup. To conserve supplies during wartime situations, the Federation bared personnel from bringing in personal items like coffee mugs, but they all knew that it was to preserve Federation morale by only allowing pilots to buy things that originated in the Federation. Even things like paper plates had to be bought in the convenience store at the base. 

All just to keep the war going , Katrina thought, finishing her coffee and throwing the cup in the trash. 

“I imagine that USB must be heavily encrypted,” Peppermint said. “To prevent mercenaries from accessing from whatever documents that are inside it.”

“Why?” Twister said. “If she was shot down, the USB would have been destroyed on impact. And even if she ejected, it would only be a matter of time before the mercenaries scooped her up.” 

“Like I said, she claimed that she was a good pilot,” Peppermint said, opening a small candy and popping it in his mouth. “I guess that claim was true.” 

“She just flew in a straight line with me!” Twister said. “She didn’t pull any maneuvers or something!”

“She was trying to flee from the mercenaries,” Peppermint said. “Of course, she had to fly fast. No wonder, she was lightly armed and strapped down with fuel. Speed was her first priority.”

“Tch. And her nickname. The Cold Wind.” Twister chucked his empty cup towards the trash can, but it bounced off. Katrina picked it up and put it in. “She was flying a souped-up Viper, not pulling any dogfight maneuvers. I know that she was lightly armed to preserve fuel, but at least pull some defensive maneuvers in case something came up, like a missile lock.” 

“Wait till we put her in an actual fighter like an F/C-15 or an Sk.,” Peppermint said. “Then she can really do some damage.” 

Katrina sighed. It was barely noon and she already felt weary. If only this place had some decent beer, then she would be wide awake. 

Coming out of the Academy wasn’t an easy task for her in her later years. Work piles gave way to a rampant alcohol addiction fueled by late work nights and stress that saw her in the hospital wing quite a number of times because of intoxication. Eventually, she was banned from buying any sort of alcohol on base, but she visited the local bars almost every night in the city to get a feel of drinking. She kicked the habit to the metaphorical curb once exam season rolled around, and ended up lower than expected, which led to her flying that rugged F/C-16 for years before being deployed here. 

Still, under the pretense of critical intel in that USB, she didn’t feel like breaking out the moonshine cases yet.

Just then, they perked at the sound of footsteps coming towards them, and soon enough, Commander Mckay poked his head in. 

“Vanguard, we have just finished decoding the intel on the USB, and it is not looking good. Come.” He beckoned to them. They followed him to the computer room, where they saw Alamo and Tillmin hunched over one of the monitors, where a window full of schematics and battle plans, possibly swiped from the mercenaries before Frost fled. A separate window was filled with code as the firewalls to the USB were penetrated. 

“For a merc, she is a very good hacker,” Alamo said, typing the last of the access codes into place. “There are firewalls I couldn’t have breached without her access codes.” 

“Yeah,” Tillmin said, bending over to analyze the screen. “Better keep her away from here, or otherwise she could leak our military secrets to the Cabal.” 

“Well, thanks to the commander’s security protocols, that is unlikely to happen,” Peppermint said. 

“So, what’s on that thing?” Katrina asked, eager to hear something for once. 

Tillmin and Alamo shifted uncomfortably before Alamo spoke up. “The files that Frost claimed to have on the USB contain the reason why we have been losing the war during the initial stages.” He pulled up a window, and Katrina saw multiple lines that suggested a radio frequency. “Like what Dragur 1 told you during your dogfight, the mercenaries have been getting people to hack into the Federation channels and expose our movements with one another, even on the most secure channels.”

“So they have been listening to us the whole time?” Twister said. “Jeez. No wonder they could read our minds.” 

“It only gets worse,” Tillmin said. “The mercenaries have been receiving support for members of the Royal Oceania Guard, and according to this dossier, they now appear to be operating a quartet of airships.”

“What?” Katrina cried. She couldn’t believe that the mercenaries were being supplied with airships. That was about worse as a tribal warrior armed with an RPG. “How the hell are they getting these things?”

“Possible intel points towards the Oceanians supplying them with ships from their aerial fleet,” Tillmin said, watching Alamo navigate through more windows. “Their aerial fleet hasn’t been up to scratch this whole conflict. I’ve seen several squadrons carve up their airships like it's nothing.”

“You also had to contend with civilian traffic,” Alamo said, navigating through more windows. “If even one of their ships got damaged, now we have to contend with international responses. Our territories will secede faster than water evaporating in the sun.” He finally finished typing and slammed the enter key. The final contents of the USB were shown: Schematics of the ships currently in the mercenary fleet, mercenary formations from the start of the war up until the day Katrina and Vanguard shot down those bombers heading to the forward operations base, and more importantly, a date on when the next operation was going to be taking place. 

“That’s…tomorrow,” Katrina realized. 

“Yup,” Alamo said, cradling his stomach like he had a bad stomachache. “And the worst part is, they are bringing in the entire welcome wagon. Every single mercenary fighter not assigned to Sydney is coming to wipe out the Federation is a mass air attack.”

“Well, we better get ready then,” Mckay said. “I’ll alert regional command.” He left the room, leaving Vanguard, Tillmin, and Alamo to stare at the impending doomsday counter. 

Chapter Text

“Vanguard, I cannot stress how important this operation is,” Commander Mckay said. “Today is the day we start making preparations for the end of this blasted and bloody conflict.” The briefing software behind him finished loading and the progression of both sides still remained the same. “Based on what Frost has told us, the mercenaries have gathered their air power and are attempting to push us out in a massive air offensive. We cannot let them hinder our plans. So, here’s the mission.” 

He cleared his throat. “Vanguard is to provide escort for the Federation airship battlegroup Task Force 1 in preparation for an all-out assault on the mercenary air power. By clearing out this stopgap, we can finally make for Sydney.” 

“Pardon me, sir,” Katrina said. “I get that Vanguard is capable of handling the mercenary airpower, but wouldn’t that  be a little too much?” 

“Indeed,” Twister said. “We’d be running dry of ammunition in just the opening moments.” 

“That’s why Vanguard isn’t going alone,” Mckay said. The door to the briefing room opened, and a familiar figure walked through. 

“Meteor?!” Katrina cried upon seeing the man who had doxxed her on the runway. “What are you doing here?” 

“What does it look like?” Meteor said, his voice much calmer than the time they had fought on the runway. “Heard some massive offensive was finally happening, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to join in.” 

“Does that mean you won’t go around and slit throats with a medical knife?” Peppermint asked suspiciously. 

“No,” Meteor said, his voice calm. “I had one of my latest anger spikes.” 

Katrina nodded slowly. Mckay cleared his throat, and they turned to face him again. 

“As I previously mentioned, Aquila and several other squadrons will be joining you on this mission. We also have several defecting squadrons from the Oceania Royal Guard joining us. We expect you to cut the head off of the mercenary war machine so that we have a straight shot at the capital. Good luck.” 

X

“Whoa!” Twister cried. “I’ve never seen Littoria-class up close before!” 

“You mean the Gladeus,” Katrina said. “I bet you have never seen the Zetec before.” She glanced at the 205-class battleship flying off the Gladeus’s starboard. 

Compared to the elegant diamond-shaped biplane wings of the Gladeus, the Zetec was a true battle vessel: A twin-boom design, 4 cordium powered engines to keep its weight airborne and massive wingspan. It made the Zetec look like a vulture compared to the other ships in the fleet. Apart from a couple of 205-class battleships and Littoria-class battlecruisers, there were a couple of Anura-class and Arcion-class cruisers, all of them flanked by heavy escort. Katrina smiled. They were going to show the mercs who they were going up against. 

“Alamo to all units,” Alamo said. “Today, we show the Mercenary Cabal who they are dealing with. Today, we reclaim sovereign Federation territory in the name of the Federation itself. And now, I give you this order: Follow the Vanguard! Go!” 

“All squadrons, prepare to engage,” Katrina said, pushing the afterburners on her F/S-15, Twister and Peppermint following close behind. “Remember, you can claim your kills and glory, but protect the airships. They are valuable assets.” 

“Roger,” Twister said.

“Righto,” Peppermint said. 

There were several other confirming radio calls, and then suddenly, there were several hostile contacts on her radar. “There they are,” Katrina said. “All lines up and pretty.” Suddenly, her radio crackled to life. 

“Attention Federation forces,” the voice of a man with a heavy Russian accent said. “You have illegally taken one of our fellow mercenaries into your custody. We have had enough of the Federation invading our mercenary haven. This will end here now.” 

“So be it,” Katrina said. Her targeting computer locked onto a small squadron of the mercenary fighters and pressed the trigger. 4 MLAAs detached from her fighter and soared towards the fighters. Almost instantly, the other Federation fighters launched their missiles and took out several scores of other mercenary fighters. 

“All squadrons, engage!” Katrina ordered, and the fighters broker off and chose their own targets. Katrina tailed an F/C-15 as its pilot tried to evade her missile lock. She eventually got close enough and fired her gunpods into the engines of the Eagle. Dead, the Eagle tumbled towards the Earth in a streak of fire like a meteor. The canopy blew and the pilot ejected. 

Katrina then looked around and saw an F/E-18 come in and fire its gun at her. Bullets pinged off the hull of the Eagle as she tried to avoid the Hornet. Eventually, after a number of intense twists and turns, she managed to find an opening and gun down the Hornet. However, this provided an opening for a tiny formation of F/C-15 Eagles and MG-29s to slip through and head for the airships. 

“Shit,” she muttered. “Someone go for the fighters heading for the airships.”

“No need,” a new voice joined them over the comms. “This is Admiral Mathieu Bonin of the Zetec. All SAM batteries, prepare to fire on my mark.” Several plumes of smoke erupted from the Zetec like a geothermal whale’s blowhole, but instead of oxygen, several missiles erupted and shot toward the fighters. Some of them evaded the missiles, but the vast majority couldn’t evade in time and took the full force of the blast. The fighters that did evade were taken out by the other airships. 

“All hostiles eliminated,” Admiral Bonin said. “All stations, prepare for anti-air combat.” The other airships maneuvered forward and started to unleash their CIWS and missiles on the mercenary fighters, destroying a bunch of them. Katrina and the rest of the Federation squadrons kept the mercenary squadrons away from the airships and prevented them from grouping up and launching swarm attacks against the airships, for Katrina knew that they wouldn’t survive an MLAA swarm. The fighting dragged on, with some mercenaries even scoring kills against the Federation forces. But their sheer numbers couldn’t make up for the superior skill of the Federation aces, who began to wear down their numbers. 

Katrina locked on to an MG-21 that was desperately trying to evade Meteor and Dodger’s grasp. Once the targeting icon turned red, she mashed her finger down on the trigger and let loose 2 MLAAs. They streaked forward and struck the MG, sending it spiraling down to Earth and sending a surprising shock down Meteor’s face, if she could see it.  

“Hey!” he cried. “That was mine!”

“Sorry,” Katrina said, swiveling back and nailing an F/D-14 with her guns. “Looks like being friends again comes with some friendly competition, eh, Meteor?” 

“You’re gonna wish this mission never ended,” Meteor said with a sigh, breaking off with Dodger and nailing an F/C-16 with a burst from his guns. 

Katrina smiled and shot down two more aircraft in quick succession with an MLAA salvo. Before she could turn to engage an Accipiter, a transmission came in from Alamo. 

“We've got a situation,” he said. “The mercenaries have regrouped for a push, and by God, it is a hell of a push. They are bringing in an Arcion!”

“What?” one of the Federation pilots cried. “Where the hell did they get one of those?” 

Katrina grimaced. Even though she had intel that the mercs that were being supplied by the Oceanians, she still had to grasp the idea of mercs at the helm of an air cruiser. She pushed her fighter away from the spiraling wreckage of a mercenary F/C-15 and pushed toward the radar contacts. “Vanguard, let’s take care of the Arcion. Be wary of its escort.” 

Once the contacts came into view, she highlighted the defenses on the airship and fired her missiles. They soared by and managed to eliminate some of the defenses on the cruiser. However, a CIWS turret that managed to evade her barrage turned its turret and fired. Her fighter buckled as bullets ricocheted off her hull. She pulled a sharp 180-degree turn and shredded the CIWS with her cannons. Defenseless, the Arcion plowed onward, vulnerable as Katrina prepared to finish it off with a final gun burst. 

Just as she was about to finish the Arcion off, a missile warning in her headset forced her to break off as one of the Sk.37 escorts fired a semi-active missile at her. She evaded the missile using the AOA Limiter and tore the fighter apart with several well-placed bursts. Meanwhile, Peppermint and Twister finished off the escorts with a quick MLAA salvo. However, the Arcion was well beyond her reach now. 

“Somebody go deal with that Arcion!” Katrina called. “It’s vulnerable, so don’t waste your chance!”

“Roger,” Admiral Bonin said. “All stations, prepare for anti-ship combat!” The Zetec surged forward, opening up on the Arcion with SAMs and CIWS fire. However, a handful of mercenary fighters shielded the Arcion from the Zetec’s fire, though these were destroyed. 

“Zetec, this is the Gladeus,” the captain of the Galdeus said. “We’ll deal with these pests.” Several missiles were launched toward the mercenary fighters, who didn’t see them coming in time and were quickly wiped out. A lone MG-29 that survived was quickly shredded by the bow-mounted CIWS. 

“Holy shit,” Twister said. “Comet, are you seeing this?” 

“Yup,” Katrina said, watching as the Zetec fired a powerful salvo of missiles and CIWS fire that shredded the Arcion. Fire spread across its elegant wings, and cracks appeared across its fuselage as the cordium inside it’s reactor fractured and reduced the Arcion to a fiery wreck and sent it toward the ground. 

“Holy shit!” Alamo said. “We’ve chased them off!” There were cheers in the background as the crews of the airships and the Federation squadrons celebrated their victory. 

“See? What did I tell ya?” Meteor said, sliding into place beside Katrina. “Stick with the Vanguard, and you’ll make it.” 

“I guess you were right, boss,” the new Aquila 2, callsign Tabloid, said. “These guys do really live up to the hype.” 

“No, thanks to you, of course,” Katrina said. “Now, is this all a class act, or are you really in control of your emotions now?” 

“I am,” Meteor said, sighing a little. “You’re right. We shouldn’t be fighting ourselves, let alone fellow squadrons.” 

“Great,” Peppermint said, sliding into place beside them. “Does this mean that your temper tantrums are over?” 

“Yes,” Meteor said. “I think it's time we work together to resolve this tension between us and focus on the true enemy.” With that, he broke off with Tabloid and rejoined Aquila Squadron. 

“You should really become a diplomat for the Federation once this shitstorm is over,” Katrina said. 

“Nah,” Peppermint said, as he maintained formation with Katrina. “Too many political brush fires. Sometimes, you just wanna see the skies with your wingman, even during wartime.”

“Hey! What about me?” Twister said, forming up with them.

“Yes, Twister,” Katrina said, smiling and rolling her eyes. “We could never forget about you.”

Twister just checked. “Come on now. We’ll be late for the celebrations.”  

X

Forward Operations Base “Regal”

“Vanguard, everyone, I cannot express how excited the Federation High Command is now that we have broken the back of the mercenary air power,” Commander Mckay said. “However, we are still pretty far from the end of this conflict. We have intel that the mercenaries plan to shore up their navy and their remaining forces and meet us head-on in Sydney. We are still working on a counter to this strategy. Until then, enjoy a well-deserved rest.”  

The briefing software clicked off and cheers erupted as they filed out. 

“Good job, Vanguard,” Katrina said, grabbing a bottle of beer and cracking it open on the table. “Tonight is finally the night we got some proper rest.” 

“Hear ye, hear ye,” Peppermint said, grabbing a beer and cracking it open so hard that the cap blew off like a rocket and flew across the room. “Oops,” he muttered, taking a swig. 

Katrina chuckled and took another light swig. The fresh Federation beverage tasted great. The wheaty taste with a moderate chocolate finish left a great taste in her mouth.

“Taste good?” She jerked up at Peppermint’s voice. His beer bottle was half empty, unlike hers, which was almost empty. 

“Not a drinker?” Katrina said, ditching her empty bottle and fetching a new one from the case. 

“Yeah,” Peppermint said, as he set his bottle down on the counter. “Don’t like wine that much either. You?”

“Drank way too much back in my Academy days,” Katrina said. “Couldn’t go up for a few days because of that. I hate that I have such a high alcohol tolerance.” 

Peppermint suddenly reached for her. Katrina momentarily lost her composure and allowed Peppermint’s embrace to envelop her. 

“Then let me help you,” he said, plucking the beer bottle from her hands. He took a quick swig from the bottle that surprised her.   

“I thought that you didn’t like alcohol,” Katrina said. 

“I don’t like an unhealthy flight lead,” Peppermint said, flashing a smile at her.

Katrina smiled, and leaned in, their lips touching. Once they separated, she giggled at Peppermint’s surprised look. 

“W-what was that for?” Peppermint said. 

“That was for saving my life yesterday,” Katrina said. 

“You already thanked me,” Peppermint said, ditching her empty bottle in another pile of discarded bottles. 

“I didn’t get to thank you properly,” Katrina said. Peppermint smiled. 

“Well, now you did,” he said, leaning in for another kiss. A throat clearing, however, interrupted him. 

“Having your time, Prince Charming?” Twister said. He then broke into a grin. “Nah, you're fine, Peppermint. Looks like you have caught your tail.” 

“Look who’s talking,” Katrina said. “Any luck chasing tail yourself?” 

“Yeah, I tried,” Twister said, sighing a little. “I was interested in the leader of Feral Squadron, but she was interested in one of the pilots from Breakback Squadron, who is a real asshole himself.” He let out a sigh again. “Well, you win some, you lose some.” With that, he wandered off towards the barracks. 

Katrina glanced back at Peppermint, who just shrugged. 

Chapter Text

“Everyone, the time is nearly upon us, and Sydney is on the horizon,” Commander Mckay said. “The Mercenary Cabal is holed up in Sydney, cornered like a rat. This is their final beast, and they are trying desperately to keep it fed.” 

The briefing software zoomed in on the southeastern tip of Australia, near Sydney. “We originally intended for us to strike the Mercenary Cabal Navy when it was at port in Sydney, however that has changed. In an effort to cover up its moments, the Cabal has decided to split its naval forces in two in order to evade our detection. However, thanks to the efforts of Ms. Frost and a naval patrol an hour ago, we know where they will attempt to make the trail run cold.” 

The map zoomed in and focused on a small sea next to a great outcropping of rocks. 

“Based on the intel, we believe the second Mercenary fleet will split up again at the Spring Sea, where thermal interference from latent cordium is at its highest. Naturally, we cannot allow this to happen. We have to eliminate the fleet before they make it there.” He then broke a smile. 

“But to ensure that will never happen, we will be deploying the First Naval Battlegroup alongside 2 airship escorts and a fighter screen. See to it that these pirates are wiped out once and for all.” 

X

“All squadrons, contact with the enemy fleet has been sighted,” AWACS Alamo said. “You are cleared to engage.” 

“Roger,” Katrina said, weaving through the massive swarm of Federation aircraft. The mercenary fleet appeared on her HUD, a motley collection of destroyers, cruisers, and even lowly ships like corvettes and patrol boats, to a small screen of escort fighters ranging from multi-roles to attack craft. 

“Ha! These won’t put up much of a fight,” Twister said, swinging by them. 

“Remember, these mercenaries might be low-lives, but they sure as hell can put up a fight,” Katrina said, remembering her encounter with Dragur 1. 

A new voice joined them over the comm. 

It was the captain of the battleship that was leading the Federation charge against the mercenary fleet. 

“This is Captain Matais Torres of the Federation battleship Dejanus. The thermal interference from the Spring Sea is too high for our ASM launchers. We’ve got to cross the T with these fools, but I know this ship’s armor can take a few hits.” 

“What does that old fool think he’s doing?” Twister said. “What does he mean by crossing the T?” 

“He’s going all guns on the enemy,” Katrina said. “He’s going to completely broadside them.” 

“Ah, that makes sense,” Twister said. 

“All forward batteries, prepare to fire!” Torres said. The forward turrets of the Dejanus swung forward, and Katrina saw for the first time that the Dejanus was armed with three railgun turrets, two in the front and one in the rear. All three turrets had three individual railguns cannons on them. 

An orange-ish glow came from the muzzle from each cannon and three railguns shells erupted from them, a massive sonic boom following them. 

The mercenaries had no chance of dodging or intercepting them because a few moments after the Dejanus fired the first shots of the battle, 5 mercenary ships exploded into burning husks. 

“Woo!” Twister yelled. “Now that is a fireworks show!” 

Katrina smiled. “Vanguard, all squadrons, let’s get in there and help the Dejanus out!” 

She hit the afterburners as the rest of the Federation fighters soared forward. 

She locked up a cruiser and the moment the targeting boxes turned red, she fired 2 standard missiles, following it up with a storm of bullets that bloomed a massive explosion from the ship that split it in half. Dead in the water, the ship began its descent to the bottom. Peppermint shredding a cruiser with a well-placed gun run and Twister dodging anti-aircraft fire to put a few patrol boats and a destroyer out of commission. 

The Federation Navy was also catching up. The Dejanus was tearing multiple mercenary ships to slag with well-timed and well-placed bursts from its railguns. A few mercenary fighters tried to slip past the destroyer screen to try and hit the Dejanus with bombs, but the AA system shot them to slag before they could attempt their run. The two Anura-class cruisers, the Koteng and the Ameria, were also collectively pitching in with their missiles and ventrally mounted railguns, clearing up the mercenary air cover as well as the naval vessels. 

As Katrina soared away from the wreck of a mercenary destroyer, a frantic transmission from Alamo came in. 

“ALCON, be advised. I have detected a task group from the Oceanian Royal Navy inbound, consisting of the carrier Geofon and the battleship Tanager.” 

“Oh shit!” one of the Federation pilots exclaimed. “It’s the Invincible Fleet! They’ve been hammering the Federation Navy for months!” 

“Let’s see how invincible they are once we send them to the bottom,” Katrina declared. “Dejanus, soften them up for us!” 

“Roger, Vanguard,” Torres said. “All batteries, prep for fire on the Aegir Fleet on my mark!” The Dejanus repositioned itself and swung all three turrets to face the Oceanian Fleet. “Mark!” All turrets on the Dejanus fired, unleashing a deadly salvo of shells that soared through the air and knocked out a considerable amount of the Aegir Fleet’s vessels. The other Federation ships unleashed a salvo of torpedoes and followed the Dejanus in, claiming kills on the Oceanian Fleet. 

“Destroyer Tische sunk,” Alamo said. Katrina saw Peppermint soar away from the wreck of an Oceanian destroyer. She picked out a nearby cruiser and put bullets in it until it sank. 

“Cruiser Fenris sunk,” Alamo said, confirming the kill. Katrina looped around a SAM warning and caught a glimpse of the Geofon launching a pair of F/D-14s. 

“Alamo, be advised. The carrier is launching fighters.” She then maneuvered behind the Tomcats and locked them up, launching a pair of MLAAs as soon as the targets were highlighted. They struck the Tomcats, and they were out of the fight before they could join it. 

“I got it!” Meteor yelled, diving on the Geofon, weaving through CIWS fire to put his URBMs on it. A massive fireball bloomed from the island and reduced it to a smoking husk. 

“Carrier Geofon sunk,” Alamo said. “Damn Meteor, you are making a name for yourself.”

Katrina chuckled and dove in on another destroyer and shredded it with gunfire. Then, she set her eyes on the Tanager. It was almost the same as the Dejanus, with those three railgun turrets and massive imposing frame, but now it was vulnerable, barely firing back because a shell had lodged itself in one of its turrets, and it was damaged by a torpedo run from an allied destroyer. “I’ve got the Tanager,” she said. Then, her cockpit lit up with missile alerts as she dove in on the Tanager. The missiles streaked past her, and she put two missiles and a lot of bullets into the battleship before it erupted in flames. 

“Battleship Tanager sunk,” Alamo said. “All ships, move in and finish them off!” 

“Roger,” Captain Torres said. “All stations, send these mercenaries to Davy Jones!” The guns on the Dejanus and on the Federation ships pounded on the remaining mercenary and Oceanian vessels until there will no vessels left afloat except for burning husks. The Federation ships suffered little if no damage at all. The only exception was the cruiser Torrance, which was struck by a shell from the Tanager, and it was now belching smoke, but it was still afloat. 

“All forces of the Federation,” Captain Torres said. “The Mercenary Cabal had their chance to leave. Form up on us and begin the blockade. Let’s start tying the noose.” 

“Ha! We are back in business!” Twister laughed. 

“Aren’t we all?” Katrina said, forming up with the rest of Vanguard.

X

“Thanks to your efforts, the so-called Invincible Mercenary and Oceanian fleet has been sunk,” Commander Mckay said. “With this setback in their hands, the mercenaries are now completely vulnerable now that our path to Sydney is clear. Standby for the call.” 

Chapter Text

Sydney, Australia

4 months into the Oceanic War

11:11 A.M. Local Time

“All actuals, report in,” Alamo ordered. 

Katrina looked out at the massive formation out of her canopy and at the rapidly approaching city of Sydney. 

“Copy you clear, Alamo,” she said. “This is Vanguard Squadron, standing by.” 

“This is the Wild Boar Regiment standing by,” General Elizabeth said.

“Admiral Bonin here. We are sealing off the airspace in and out of Sydney.” 

“Captain Torres here. We have the waterways blocked.” 

“This is Aquila Squadron standing by,” Meteor said. 

“Command, this is AWACS Alamo. We are ready to commence the operation,” Alamo said. 

“All callsigns, commence the operation,” Federation Command said. “Show those mercenaries who the true rulers of Oceania are.”

“All squadrons, engage,” Katrina ordered. “Divide and conquer these mercenary fools.” She then set her sights on a lone mercenary F/E-4 and blew it apart with a well-placed gun blast. The other Federation fighters then split off and began picking apart the mercenary fighters. The airships began to move forward and began to pick apart the fighters at an increased rate. 

As Katrina used her AOA Limiter to accelerate away from the burning wreckage of an Accipiter that she shot down, a transmission came through from Alamo.

“All Federation forces be advised: The remaining mercenary airpower is inbound. 3 airships and heavy escort.” 

“All stations, target those airships. Clear the way for Vanguard and the other squadrons,” Admiral Bonin said. 

The Zetec and the other airships launched their missiles at the remaining airships: A pair of Arcion-class heavy cruisers and a Littoria-class battlecruiser. They impacted the defenses of the airship and left smoking craters in their place, which left them vulnerable as Katrina came in and finished them off with a quick gun and MLAA burst. 

“Woohoo!” Katrina cried as the wrecks of the airships made landfall and exploded. 

“Ohh,” Twister said, pulled out of a dogfight with an F/C-15. “That’s not gonna be good for property values. Is the opera house intact? I kinda wanna visit it later.” 

“Settle down,” Alamo ordered. “You are even lucky that thing crashed in an open field.” 

“Thank goodness,” General Elizabeth said, “because we are up to our necks here with the mercenary ground forces! Care to lend us a hand?!” 

“Roger that,” Alamo said. “Vanguard and all available squadron, support the Wild Boar Regiment as they secure a path to the Capital Building.”

“Wilco, Alamo,” Katrina said. She then selected an LAV out of boredom and shredded it with a missile. She then selected a pair of tanks and put them out of their misery with a gun pass. But as she pulled out of her attack dive, she noticed she wasn't going to make it without clipping her vertical stabilizers on the overpass. She fought down a scream and rolled the Agile Eagle on its backs, and her fighter shot under the overpass and out into the cityscapes. She then had to barrel-roll in order to avoid a neighboring skyscraper, and then ascended to a safe altitude.

“Holy shit, Comet!” Peppermint cried. “How the hell did you pull off something like that?” 

“Instinctual behavior,” Katrina said, dodging fire from an enemy SPAA. Though truth be told, she couldn’t believe that she had pulled off a maneuver like that as well. “Continue to engage the enemy, Vanguard 3.” 

“Roger,” Peppermint said. His fighter turned and vanished into the cityscapes, the sun glowing off its canopy. 

Katrina popped flares and the AOA Limiter as she avoided an enemy SAM before destroying an enemy tank. 

“Thank God,” Elizabeth said. “That was the last hostile for now. We’re continuing the advance. Thanks for the support, Vanguard!” 

“Our pleasure, General,” Katrina said, circling around and watching the sunrise over the battlefield. She was admiring the Federation fighters soaring around the capital, taking care of the last of the mercenary air power and the Wild Boar Regiment as they steamrolled through the mercenary opposition and gained a foothold with each step, until a transmission from Alamo reinstated her attention.

“ALCON, be advised: The last of the mercenary naval power is now moving out of port. All squadrons, support the First Battlegroup pronto!” 

“Roger,” Katrina said, diving in on the naval vessels and tearing a cruiser to pieces. The Dejanus and the other vessels, on the other hand, were tearing the vessels to shreds with well-placed railgun bursts and torpedo salvos. 

“All of our ammo, all of our weaponry!” Torres ordered. “Don’t let the Cabal live! Cut the head off of the snake here!” 

Katrina soared away from the wreck of a destroyer and watched as Meteor and Peppermint took on a destroyer and a cruiser separately. Finally, Twister came in and finished off a cruiser with a quick burst of gunfire.          

“ALCON, this is it!” Alamo said. “The final remnants of the Cabal have withdrawn to the Port Authority building! Prepare to eliminate that scum once and for all!” 

“Roger,” Captain Torres said. “All batteries, prepare to fire on my mark!” 

The barrels of the Dejanus swung and trained on the lowly building, preparing to reduce it to rubble. A menacingly orange glow emitted from the barrels as the railgun capacitors charged up. 

“Wait, hold it!” Alamo said, suddenly. “We are receiving a transmission from the Cabal! All units, stand down!” 

“Copy,” Torres said. “All stations, stand down!” The orange glow from the barrels of the Dejanus faded as the ship held its fire. A transmission came through on an open frequency, for which Katrina was thankful. 

“This is Commander Alston of the Mercenary Cabal,” a tough and tired voice came through on the comms. “We surrender.” 

“Just like that?” Katrina asked. “Is that it?” 

“Woohoo!” one of the pilots said. “The war is over!” 

“Did we really win?” another pilot cried. “Yeah, we did it!”

“Hold it!” Alamo cried. “We have a bogey inbound from the north, one Sk.30!”

Katrina then heard her headset light up with missile warnings. She pulled her fighter into a tight roll as the missiles soared under her fighter. She then looked up and saw the fighter: The same Sk.30 that had shot down Nectar a few months before. 

“It’s that bastard merc again!” Peppermint cried.

“Here for a rematch at last,” Katrina said, cycling through her remaining armaments: 2 standard missiles, 4 MLAAs, and a sufficient amount of bullets. 

The Sk.30 didn’t fire but stayed on a forward heading towards Katrina. 

Suddenly, a transmission came in, and a familiar voice came through. 

“Miss me, you Federation scum?” Dragur 1 said.  

Chapter Text

“You?” Katrina cried out in surprise. 

“Me,” Dragur 1 replied. Katrina could practically hear the sneer in his voice. “I’m not about to let you have your victory without a price.”

"Why do you want this?" Katrina cried. "The war is already over!"

"Yes, the war may be over, but MY war isn't," Dragur 1 said. "My battle, for which MY SQUADRON fought for before you Federation fucks SLAUGHTERED them! I don't know what ideas you are having, but peacekeeping ain't one of them." With that, he turned and let two missiles loose. 

“Peppermint, evade!” Katrina cried, seeing the missiles track towards Peppermint’s fighter.

“I see ‘em!” Peppermint said, pitching his fighter up and popping flares. The two missiles soared past him, giving Katrina the opportunity to lock to Dragur 1’s fighter and launch 2 missiles at him. However, both missed as Dragur 1 decoyed them with flares. 

“You are quite the entertainer,” Dragur 1 said, “but the show is over with this next shot.” Both fighters blew past each other, but Dragur 1 decided to play dirty. He fired another pair of missiles and his gun at the same time, forcing Katrina to immediately hit the AOA Limiter and flares, which allowed her to quickly fixate a lock on Dragur 1’s aircraft. But she didn’t fire, only waiting until she was up close and then fired. Her last pair of standard missiles rocketed off the rails and at the same time, she switched to her guns and fired. The F/S-15 rattled as thousands of bullets escaped its gun. The bullets didn’t miss and impacted the Sk.30 in many places. One missile missed, while the other impacted the right engine and shattered it into an empty husk. 

“No!” Dragur 1 cried, as he broke off, smoke trailing from the various bullet holes and the shattered engine. 

“It’s over, Dragur,” Katrina said, bringing her fighter alongside the smoking Sk.30. “Land and surrender already. Or better yet, eject. That fighter ain’t gonna last for long.” 

A dark chuckle escaped Dragur 1. “You think I would be foolish enough to surrender myself to power-hungry tyrants like you? No, for as long as I have my squadron with me, everything is possible, including the total annihilation of pathetic Federation scum like you!” Suddenly, he snapped his fighter downward towards the city. 

“After him!” Katrina cried, slamming her fighter in the same tight downward spiral and following Dragur 1 through the cityscape. 

“Wait, Comet!” Peppermint called. “He’s baiting you into a chase!”

“I know!” Katrina called as she followed Dragur 1’s fighter as it slammed this way and that through the skyscrapers, constantly checking over her shoulder as she looked out for the telltale sign of the squadron’s F/C-16s. “Just focus on finding his squadron!” 

“Uh, hate to interrupt here,” Alamo said, “but I am detecting no more inbound mercenary fighters.” 

“So we are dealing with a schizophrenic psycho of a pilot?” Katrina grunted as she slammed her fighter around another building. “Great.”  

“Come on now, Dragur 2!” Dragur 1 yelled, oblivious to the fact that he was talking on an open radio channel. “Come on now and get the bastard!” 

Katrina ignored the mad rants of the delusional mercenary pilot and attempted to line the crosshairs on the Sk.30 as it frantically maneuvered between the buildings at breakneck speed. Finally, she got her piper beneath the plane and fired her guns. They carved a path through the air and struck the Flanker, impacting it everywhere, and managed to take out the remaining engine, which forced Dragur 1 to pull out and ascend outwards towards the sea.

“It’s over, Dragur 1,” Katrina said, “Surrender already.” She pulled beside the smoking and heavily damaged aircraft, its paint scheme smeared everywhere, the Mercenary Roundel not even visible. It was now a shell of its former self.

“You think that I am going to go down that easily?” Dragur 1 said. Katrina could hear various alarms going off in the background. 

“Yes, you are,” Katrina said. “Look around you. The Federation has you surrounded.” 

“No!” Dragur 1 cried. “Not just yet!” Without warning, the Flanker suddenly nosedived toward the ocean. 

Katrina hit the AOA Limiter and followed him in. The waves rushed up towards them as the distance shrunk. “Dragur 1, stand down!” she ordered, queuing up her guns and remaining MLAAs. 

“Dragur 2! Where the hell are you?! Hurry up and shoot this bitch down!” Dragur 1 cried.  

Katrina locked the Sk.30 up, but didn’t fire if the fighter decided to make use of its AOA Limiter and evade her gun and missile shots. 

With a final scream, Dragur 1 tried to pull up as the PULL-UP warning began to blare in Katrina’s headset, but by then, it was already too late. His fighter slammed into the ocean and vanished from sight. 

Katrina used her AOA Limiter and pulled up, narrowly avoiding the same fate. 

“Holy hell,” she muttered to herself, glancing back at the remains of Dragur 1’s Sk.30. There was nothing left other than a few fragments of his fighter. 

“You okay, Katrina?” Peppermint said, forming up with her, Twister following behind. 

“Yeah,” Katrina said, panting loudly. “Still breathing.” 

“Good,” Alamo said. “Because we can confirm that the Capital Building has been captured, which means Oceania is ours once again!” There were cheers in the background as Katrina and Vanguard circled the city. 

Katrina ripped off her air mask and took in a gasp of fresh air. The fight with Dragur 1 had almost drained her energy. Her heavy breaths were louder than the radio chatter through her headset. 

“Comet, are you fine?” Peppermint asked, pulling up beside her fighter and sliding into position. 

“Yeah,” Katrina said. “Just a little tired. That guy was a tough nut to crack.” 

“You can say that again,” Twister said, sliding into place beside him. “Though that bastard deserves it for trying to mess with the Federation.” 

Katrina didn’t say anything, but just flew in silence around the capital, watching the scores of other Federation aircraft circle around their newly reclaimed territory. 

“On the plus side,” she said, trying to break the tense atmosphere, “the Opera House is intact.” She glanced at the unique structure as they flew over it, thankful that the Calamity that had engulfed the world avoided this particular spot. 

“Whew,” Twister said, a sigh of relief in his voice. “You know, there is also a bar I am keen to try out. The locals say that it makes some of the meanest margaritas and cocktails down here, along with some steak that’ll make your mouth water. Race you.” With that, he lit the afterburners of his Eagle and soared towards the airport. 

“Hey!” Katrina cried. “Get back here, Vanguard 2!” She lit her own afterburners and chased after him, Peppermint following close behind. 

Chapter Text

4 years later

AC 431 

Solana Communications Array, Aitor Desert 

“Vanguard 1, this is Solana Control. You are cleared to land,” the control tower said. 

“Roger control,” Katrina said, lining up for the approach. Beneath her, the vast communications array stood, its large bandwidth antennas pointing to the horizon. From this angle, the Solona Communications Array truly deserved its title “The Pillars of Communication,” meant to serve as a router for long-range communication regardless of the rampant geothermal interference that traditionally plagued long-range communications. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the wheels of the F/S-15 hitting the pavement and the squeal of the breaks. Behind her, Peppermint and Twister touched down in perfect synch, their wings barely touching. Katrina taxied over to her parking space and shut her engines off. 

As soon as she popped the canopy, the blinding desert light and heat slammed into her. Even though she had been stationed here for years following the end of the Oceanic War, she still wasn’t used to the desert heat. A consequence of growing up in Cascadia, perhaps. 

She wrenched her helmet off, and the sound of jet engines reached her ears. She glanced up to see 8 Sk.37s flying together in a tight formation. 

“No one told me Aquila would be coming,” Katrina said, as soon as she disembarked her fighter. 

“Probably just as a reserve patrol squadron,” Peppermint said, as the first Aquila fighter touched down on the runway. “Gives us a vote of confidence.” He tapped her on the shoulder. “C’mon. Mckay probably knows what these guys are up to.” 

Katrina followed him into the blissful cool of the briefing room, where Commander Mckay waiting. 

“Ah, Vanguard,” he said, running a hand through his graying hair. He had considerably aged since Oceania. In terms of age, Katrina still looked young for a woman pushing 35.

The rest of the squadron wasn’t that different: Twister still had his slicked-back hair and chiseled expression, and Peppermint still had his flamboyant colored hair through his shoulders were broader.  

“You wanted to see us, sir?” Katrina asked, taking a seat, the rest of her squadron doing the same. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Mckay said, turning on the briefing software, which zoomed in on the Scarred Sea to reveal a complex and detailed industrial facility. “Vanguard, you have been called by High Command to escort prototypes of our next-generation fighter program to the Harkema Industrial Park for testing by Icarus Armories.” A logo of the defense conglomerate appeared in the upper right corner. “A convoy of transports are departing tomorrow toward our coastal forward operations base, where the cargo will be transferred onto the cargo ship Meylinx and transferred to the area.” A 3-D schematic of the Meylinx appeared on the screen. 

“Sir, what kind of cargo would require the most elite squadron in the Federation to fly top cover?” Katrina asked. 

Mckay flashed a smile. “I was getting to that,” he said. He clicked his remote and a schematic of an unfamiliar aircraft appeared on the screen. It has a distinct sharp profile, having long swept-back wings. Two thrust-vectoring engines made up its power plant and finally, a long black bar was mounted on its centerline as it balanced on top of a stubby set of wheels. It made this aircraft look like a dog with a pair of stubby legs. 

“May I introduce you to the SP-34R, or Spear,” Mckay said, with a distinct tone of disgust that someone had to name this craft by using leetspeak. “The first-ever all-gun prototype. As you can see, there are no hardpoints on its wings to preserve aerodynamic stability, or should I say, instability, because of its quick recharging AOA Limiter.” It was then Katrina noticed that the Spear had no missile hardpoints on its wings. 

“What about the barcode beneath its centerline?” Peppermint asked. 

“You are looking at the first-ever railgun mounted on an aircraft,” Mckay said. “The AX-01 railgun, or the Arclight.” 

Katrina couldn’t believe what she was hearing. A railgun mounted to an aircraft sounded almost science fiction to her. 

“That’s not all,” Mckay said, clicking over to the next aircraft schematic. This one had an elongated fuselage with delta wings that had distinct kite-shaped wings, canards, no canopy, and slanted air intakes and outer canted tails, which suggested that this aircraft was optimized for high-performance.

“Might I introduce you to the X-PF,” Mckay said, gesturing to the odd aircraft. “A unique multirole aircraft designed for high performance in almost any situation. Notice it doesn’t have any weaponry showing. That’s because it is tucked away in concealed weapon bays.” An animation played, showing a slit along the aircraft’s spine opening to reveal a burst missile launcher. 

“Besides that,” Mckay said, “the X-PF is armed with 2 standard missiles and twin autocannons, making for a fierce platform in every aspect. However, this pales in comparison to our final prototype.” The slide changed, showing a more streamlined prototype of the 2 planes. Unlike the previous 2 aircraft, this one appeared to be a combination of the three, with twin burst missile launchers, a heavy cannon in place of an auto machine gun, and a pair of standard missiles. However, the engines weren’t afterburners, ending in a pair of nozzles instead of the engine cowling.

“May I introduce the Project Wingman Mk. I,” Commander Mckay said. “The culmination of our hard work. You may notice the oddly shaped engines, and that is because this fighter is powered by cordium.” 

“How is that possible?” Twister asked. Katrina had the same thought. How could a fighter be powered by the same substance that restarted humanity all those centuries ago? 

“Well, here is the thing,” Mckay said. “We had taken the cordium and shaped it into rods, and then we insert them into a reactor in the heart of the craft. To prevent a cordium explosion from happening along the way, which would be tragic, the craft is only going to be filled with coridum once it arrives at its destination.” He paused for a moment. “That is all,” he said. “The transports will be departing at 1700 hours, and we expect you to deliver these three prototypes safely to the industrial park for testing. To compensate for your absence from here, Aquila will be covering for you guys. Wheels up at 1645 hours. Dismissed.” 

Katrina silently nodded and glanced at the 3 superplanes, wondering if the Federation was making strides toward a greater future. 

X

Hours later

“Vanguard, you are on station,” Alamo said. “Contact with the transport squad in t-minus 10 seconds.”

“Don’t sweat it, Alamo,” Katrina said, sighting the formation of C/T-17s and Accipiters on the horizon. “We see ‘em.” 

“Ah, at last,” a familiar voice said. “Finally, my true royal escort is here.” 

“Frost!” Twister said. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m the test pilot for these shiny toys,” Frost said. “Who do you think is going to be the one? One of these merc jockeys?” 

“Wait, mercs?” Katrina cried. “I thought we had purged the Mercenary Cabal after Oceania.”

“Yeah, but some mercenaries were wise to turn the other way,” Alamo said. “These folks are part of Conrad Security, a local PMC specializing in aerial ops. Squadron name: Pelican.” 

“This is Pelican 1, callsign Vulture,” the lead pilot in the Accipiter said. “Glad to be flying with you, Vanguard.” 

“Yeah, right,” Katrina said, her voice and senses on edge. “Just don’t go shooting down our transports for a bonus on your paycheck.” 

“Heh,” Vulture said, his voice not betraying anything roguish. “If we did try, you would have already blown us to shreds already. Plus, the Cabal was inefficient for us already, full of corruption and backstabbing fools.” 

“Fair point,” Katrina said, scanning the formation. Oddly enough, there was a fourth C/T-17 that she had failed to notice. 

“Why is there a fourth transport?” she said. “Additional supplies?” 

“I doubt,” Peppermint said. “It might be another prototype that Mckay failed to bring up? Hey Alamo, you know anything in that fourth sardine can?” 

“Unfortunately, that is above my pay grade,” Alamo said. “I tried accessing the records earlier and was locked out.” 

“So we are flying blind with no record,” Katrina said, swinging by to check on the formation. “Great. Just the last thing we expected from High Command.” 

They took turns guarding the transports and scouting ahead for threats, though Alamo assured them that there were no threats, even with his eyes stretched for miles thanks to his radars. 

Eventually, they made it to a forward operations base bordering the Scarred Sea. They settled down for lunch (Fish and Chips with a cup of fresh lemonade, the custom in this town), and then it was back in the air for the final part of the mission. 

“Vanguard, this is the Meylinx,” a voice joined them over the comm as they settled back into formation. “We are glad to have you guys as our air cover today.” A moment of silence. “Oh, and also Conrad.” 

“Our pleasure,” Peppermint said. 

“Hey, did you intentionally forget about us?” Vulture said, annoyed. 

“Relax, Vulture,” Katrina said. “We would never forget you and your squadron.” 

“Heh. This guy reminds me of Meteor,” Twister said, barely stifling a laugh. “Does he, Comet?” 

“You’re goddamn right,” Katrina said, chucking to herself. Vulture chose not to retaliate, instead, he mumbled something to himself as he flew beside them. 

They flew along in silence as the Meylinx silently cruised down below, as Alamo filled them in on useless trivia on the Scarred Sea. Only one point caught her attention, as the Scarred Sea was actually warm due to all of the latent cordium on the ocean floor. In fact, this place was one of the most dangerous places for divers because of all the thermal interference that built up as the distance to the bottom shrank. 

However, as Alamo was approaching the lore behind the lore of the Harkema Industrial Park and the recent Scandal of ‘29 (Which Katrina had to unfortunately witness), he was interrupted by someone calling something out. Seconds later, he returned. 

“ALCON, be advised. There is an unregistered ship in front of us, and they are not responding to any f our hails. I’m gonna force their hand.” There was some frantic typing as Alamo attempted to open a frequency to the mysterious ship. Seconds later, a beeping noise on the intercom suggested that he was successful. “Alright, Meylinx. You handle this.” 

“This is the Federation cargo vessel Meylix tailing you unidentified vessel,” the captain said. “To obscure this passage is treason against the Federation and is in violation of international law! Turn 180 degrees and leave this waterway. Thank you for your cooperation.” 

No response.

“I don’t think they are interested in talking,” Katrina said, eyeing something on the ship she immediately recognized as a 5-inch gun. 

“Unidentified vessel, turn 180 degrees and exit the waterway,” Alamo ordered. “This is your final warning, otherwise-” 

He didn’t finish, as the hidden ports on the ship were revealed to be 5-inch gun mounts swung forward to face the Meylinx and opened up with a salvo of five-inch shells. Some of them missed, but one struck the Meylinx and set the deck on fire. A split second later, Katrina’s finger was on the trigger, launching a pair of missiles and a lot of bullets at the ship, causing it to go up in a massive explosion that split it in half. 

“Meylinx! Respond!” Alamo cried. “Arrgh! Meylinx respond, dammit!” 

A crackle of static, and the captain was back on the comms. 

“This is the Meylix,” a voice, thankfully, came from the other end. 

“Oh, thank God,” Alamo said, with a relieved sigh in his voice. “Anything damaged? Is the cargo safe?” 

“The cargo is fine,” the captain said. “We have suffered damage to the keel and our engines. Our speed is cut in half, so we’ll need your full support.” 

“Yeah, they are going to need that,” Alamo said, “because there are two more destroyers inbound. Vanguard, Pelican, engage.” 

Two radar blips on Katrina’s HUD quickly became two more ships as she readied herself for an attack. As soon as tracers started spewing from one of the ships. She dove on it and launched a pair of standard missiles at it and circled back to put it out of its misery with a lot of bullets. Peppermint and Vulture took out the second ship with the same attack strategy, with Peppermint firing two missiles at it, and Vulture unleashing his URBMs at it. Before long, both ships were reduced to flaming husks and slipped to the bottom.

“Alamo here. All hostile vessels have been sun,” the AWACS told them. “Meylinx, how are you holding up?” 

“We got our engines repaired and are now back up to our optimal cruising speed,” the captain said. “Send our thanks to Vanguard and Pelican up there.” 

“You got it,” Alamo said. “Hear that? You guys are celebrities now.” 

“Don’t sweat it, Alamo,” Katrina said. “We were just doing our jobs up here.” She banked her fighter above the Meylinx ad it plowed beneath them.     

“Speaking of which,” Twister said, “where did these ships come from? It’s not like anyone can purchase a naval ship and raid a Federation supply convoy.” 

“I’ve combed through their records and these guys appeared to have come from another mercenary faction,” Alamo said. “But, these guys were attached to the Cabal in Oceania at some point.” 

“Wait,” Peppermint said. “I thought the Mercenary Cabal encompassed all of the mercenaries under one banner.”

“True,” Vulture said. “But the Cabal also makes the rules for which we mercenaries operate under.” 

“Huh. So there is more to you mercenaries than just shooting everything for a paycheck,” Twister. 

“Not that it matters,” Vulture said, and Katrina was surprised how well he took the insult. “Mercenaries also have feuds every now and then with each other.” 

“Then why did you leave the Cabal?” Katrina asked. 

“There was something more than shooting up everything for money to live off on,” Vulture said. “We had a purpose. We wanted to soar through the skies and sustain ourselves other than serving the ambitions of a corrupt Cabal. We were not about to become tools of this corrupt organization. What about you?” 

“I wanted to fly because of my dad,” Katrina said. “Growing up, he being a pilot was inspiring to me. He also used to tell me stories about pilots in previous generations. We would also go out on little trips in his own private seaplane. There was something different about seeing the world from above. And when he signed me up for the Academy, he never felt more proud in his life.” Saying this brought memories back: She crafting her first airplane model. Her dad at the stick in their BC-4S while the islands of the Caribbean floated lazily below them. Her dad telling her stories about a pilot known as the “Demon Lord of the Round Table,” who fought for the Cascadians during the Long Night and conquered the battlefield in their name. Her dad watching her filling out her application form for the Academy. Graduation. She getting assigned to her first jet, her old Sk.27. A chuckle from Vulture brought her back, back to the present, back to the cockpit of her F/S-15 Agile Eagle she had got from a long-dead ace.     

“Flying because of your old man, eh?” he said. “Now there’s a pilot worth his wings.” 

They flew in silence for a few more minutes until the Harkema Industrial Park came into view. Several dots were hovering around the rig that were quickly identified as P-28 attack helicopters that belonged to the private military group. The Meylinx pulled up beside the rig and nestled into place beside the dock. Several cranes swung into place and began to unload the cargo, all the while Katrina and Pelican Squadron circled the rig. 

“Vanguard, Pelican, the landing strip is open,” the ATC said. 

“Copy,” Katrina said, circling back for the landing approach. Twister and Peppermint followed close behind. When her approach was lined up, she lowered her gear and eased her fighter onto the platform, with a satisfying squeal from the wheels and brakes. 

X

“The cargo has been delivered safely thanks to your and the PMC’s efforts,” Commander Sato, the superintendent on the rig, said. Katrina shared a look with a squadron and shot them both a smile. “We can now begin testing the future of the Federation Air Force, and with that, I believe that you guys deserve some rest. Dismissed.” 

Chapter Text

Federation Air Force Base “Eglin”

1 year later

January 9th, AC 432

“Vanguard, we have a special sortie for you,” Commander Mckay said, powering up the briefing software. “There are some unnatural times, and these times call for unnatural circumstances.” The map zoomed in on Cascadia, now sporting some light turquoise hues. 

“As you heard from a couple of hours ago, Cascadia has officially declared its succession from the Pacific Federation because of alleged claims of us using Cascadian resources like cordium to expand our war machine, which is false. They used the same claim that Oceania used when we went to war years ago. Now, it is time for the Federation to stay fully united in this time of crisis. We cannot let this insurgent rebellion get out of hand. We managed to retaliate and push them back, but now they have locked us in a stalemate thanks to their air force. We need to push the Casdianas back. So here is the mission for you.” He paused to clear his throat. “Vanguard, you are to ambush a contingent of the Cascadian Air Force at one of their airbases near the border. We are not commandeering this base since it is too remote to serve our purpose. You are to annihilate this base’s air defenses and pave the way for a bomber squadron to crater the runway to that it remains inoperable and that it doesn't interfere with our operations. Be aware of their pilots. They may seem like rookies, but they are not to be underestimated.” Katrina nodded and got up to leave with Twister and Peppermint.

“Oh, and one last thing,” Mckay said. “Your AWACS is away with other squadrons that are conducting another operation to open up a second front into Cascadia, so for the time being, you are stuck with AWACS Argonaut. We expect much of you in this trying time. Dismissed.”

X

“Vanguard 1 to Base Command, we are on station and ready to begin,” Katrina said, powering on her weapons. This time, in place of the two gunpods on her outer wing pylons, there lay a stack of UGBS-3s (Unguided Bomb, Small, Triple Volley). Twister and peppermint were also similarly armed. 

“Copy that, Vanguard,” Mckay said. “I’ll let Argonaut take over from here.” There was a crackle of static as the radio frequency changed. 

“This is AWACS Argonaut,” a gaunt and serious voice said. “You are now under my command.” Katrina caught a glimpse of an FC-8 slide into position. Unlike AWACS Alamo, this aircraft was in standard Federation colors, with a white body, Federation markings, and the words “Federation Command” printed in bold lettering.

“Roger, Argonaut,” Katrina said. “Vanguard, fall into position.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Twister said as they slid into a diamond formation with Twister and Peppermint flanking Katrina, with Argonaut behind them. “Just make sure Pappy Bird behind us doesn’t fall victim to a Cascadian ambush.” When Argonaut didn’t respond, he said “Jeez, this guy is a tough nut, don’t you think, flight lead?” 

“Yeah,” Katrina said, as they flew over the mountains acting as a natural border between the Federation and Cascadia. “But tighten up, 2. Just because this isn’t another Alamo doesn’t mean you can go shoot your mouth off.” 

“Touche,” Twister said, chuckling. They flew in silence for a few more hours until Argonaut interrupted the silence. 

“Vanguard, we are coming up on the base. They haven’t seen us yet, so use this opportunity to strike.”

“Copy that, Argonaut,” Katrina said, sliding the visor over her eyes and initiating the HMID. “Vanguard Squadron, engage!” 

They peeled off and shot toward the base. Katrina highlighted a row of parked planes and loosened a couple of bombs. They impacted the poor souls below and reduced them to scrap. The air raid alarm sounded soon afterward and reacting to the surprise attack, a pair of Cascadian F/C-16s shot down the runway and into the sky, the glow of the sun bouncing off of their missiles and their dark green paint scheme and white nose cones. They turned to engage them, the one in the lead loosening a standard missile. Katrina’s finger was on the flare dispense button even as the cockpit and Peppermint ordered her to evade. Once the missile had been dealt with, she activated the gunpods and shredded the F/C-16 to dust with a quick gun burst, narrowly avoiding the stray debris. 

“Holy hell, Comet!” Peppermint cried as he pulled out of a gun run, leaving behind smoking hangars and fighters in their wake. “That was too close!” 

“Yeah, but I evaded the missile, so who cares?” Katrina said, as she narrowly avoided a burst of anti-aircraft fire as the base’s defenses came online. “I’m going back for another pass. Take out that triple-a for me, will you?”

“Copy that, flight lead,” Peppermint said, rolling back using his AOA Limiter and taking out a few AA guns with a gun and bomb pass. He then looped behind the remaining F/C-16 which had tried to take a potshot at him and gunned it down. 

“Vanguard, this is Argonaut.” The sudden transmission from the AWACS almost wrecked her concentration as she pulled out of a dive on an AA gun. 

“Go ahead, Argonaut,” she said, looping back and strafing an F/D-14 that was taxiing and the control tower.  

“The bomber squadron, callsign Romeo, is 5 mikes out. Take out any AA and interceptors before they arrive.”

“Like we haven’t been doing that already, dingus,” Twister said, firing a missile at another AA tank and blowing it clean open. “That was the whole point of this mission in the first place.”

To her surprise, Argonaut didn’t appear fazed by this rebuttal. “Continue with the mission, Vanguard 2, and I might not include this in the mission report.”

“Seriously?!” Twister cried, now to Katrina. “This guy sounds like he is dead inside! And bribing me to shut up during the mission?! How low can you get?” He broke off and dumped flares to avoid a missile. 

“Just shut the hell up and continue with the mission, Vanguard 2,” Katrina said, smiling from behind her mask. She selected her last two bombs and dropped them over the main complex, reducing it to worthless rubble. 

“Argonaut, this is Vanguard 1,” Katrina said, pulling away from the smoking base. “The base has been destroyed. The runway is vulnerable. Send the bombers in.” 

“Roger that, Vanguard,” Argonaut said. “Romeo Squadron, you are cleared to proceed. Make sure that nothing is left standing.” There was a dangerous leer to his voice as he said that. “Copy all, Katrina said, taking out the last AA gun with a quick burst from her cannons. “Vanguard, exfiltrate. Clear the way for Romeo.” 

They soared away from the smoking base as the 4 ship fight of F/E-15 Strike Eagles flew over them and dropped their self-fragmentation bombs onto the runway, rendering it useless. Even if there was a slim chance that a fighter survived, they wouldn’t be able to use the runway now that it had pockmarks and anti-personnel mines scattered all over it. 

“Yeehaw!” Twister cried, seeing the massive explosions that were blooming from the runway. “Now that is a fireworks show!” 

Katrina laughed, seeing the pathetic base being reduced to slag. “Good job, Vanguard,” she said. “Dinner’s on me tonight, them. All aircraft, RTB.”

X

“Thanks to your efforts, the base has been reduced to slag, and so has the Cascadian response,” Commander Mckay said. “Vanguard, again, we expect much of you in this time, but until then, get some rest. We have an equally important sortie for you guys soon. Dismissed.” 

Chapter Text

February 1, 432 AC

“Vanguard, I want you in the air as soon as this briefing is over,” Commander Mckay said, “so I’ll make this quick.” 

The briefing software powered on and zoomed in on the air corridor between the Cascadian and Federation mainland border. 

“You are to patrol an area around the Cascadian border and divert all incoming civilian flights away from Federation airspace,” Mckay said. “We cannot allow civilian or PMC interference from the outside, and a strong Federation needs to stand together.” He rubbed his eyes. “To combat the flow of misinformation, the Solana Communications Array is now in Federation control and is now being used to jam any outgoing communications or anything not on Federation frequencies, civilian or military.” He sighed before continuing. “Also, in an apparent mishap, the Federation cargo freighter the Meylinx had been captured by a band of pirates known as the Burlok Privateers.”  

“Did we get anyone scrambled to deal with that scum?” Katrina said, eyeing her boot like someone had coated it with mud. 

“No, unfortunately,” Mckay said. “The rest of the Federation airpower is heavily occupied with the encroaching Cascadian forces and local militia fighters. We, do, however, have an alternative method: We had reached out to a private mercenary group called Sicario who is, up until recently, operating in the Creole Republic, and they specialize in aerial warfare. They got the job done pretty easily.” 

“But why mercs?” Twister asked. 

“We couldn’t spare any forces to deal with the pirates, and we can’t risk international fallout,” Mckay said simply. Katrina nodded and sat back in his seat. 

Mckay cleared his throat and continued. “We’ll have tankers spaced out on the way to the patrol zone, so don’t worry about long loitering times. Other than that, do not engage any civilian aircraft unless explicitly told to. We cannot have our image ruined on the international stage. Dismissed.” 

X

“Vanguard, this is Argonaut,” came the AWACS operator through the comm. “You’re on station. Start the patrol now.”

“Roger, Argonaut,” Katrina said, powering on her radar and IFF systems. For this mission, she was back to her usual loadout, with her 4 gunpods occupying each of the 4 wing pylons, alongside an accompaniment of MLAAs and standard missiles. “Alright, Vanguard. Let’s go make some scratch.”

“Copy all,” Twister said. “I have a playlist ready in case this damn thing gets boring.” Earsplitting rock music blasted through the comms, and Katrina winced and put a hand to her headset. 

“Ow, my ears!” Peppermint cried. “What the fuck, Twister! You actually listen to this shit?!” 

Katrina choose not to respond, instead of shutting off the comms as the first round of lyrics kicked in. It was painful enough to listen to her missile warnings, but it was grating enough to listen to rock music through her headsets. It felt like someone shoving nails in her ears. 

They flew back and forth for a while, picking up nothing of interest, until a transmission from Argonaut interrupted them. 

“Vanguard, we have a C-8 breached the airspace. Intercept and divert them away from the airspace immediately!” 

“Roger, Argonaut,” Katrina said. “Vanguard, let’s move.” 

“You got it, chief,” Twister said. He had thankfully turned off his rock music. 

The C-8 quickly came into view: A dark green stripe ran across the spine of the white fuselage, and it had a Cascadian flag on the tail. The thing that imminently had Katrina’s suspicions was that all the windows were tinted. 

“Hmm,” Twister said, eyeing the transport. “Nothing suspicious here.”

“Nothing suspicious until we can confirm it,” Katrina said. She opened a radio frequency and started her communication. “Attention unidentified transport,” she said. “As of today, all flights into Cascadia have been banned from this airspace. You are violating Federation protocols by intruding into our territory. Set your transponder to our beacon and follow us to the nearest airfield. Lower your landing gear if you-” She was interrupted by a buzz in her headset. 

A missile lock warning. 

“Enemy fighters on our six!” Argonaut cried. “All planes, break!”

Katrina slammed her fighter into a dive and rolled her fighter on its back and dumped flares. The two missiles that were targeting her streaked by the transport and detonated harmlessly in the distance. 

“Argonaut, what’s the sitrep?” Katrina demanded, spinning her fighter around to confront the adversaries. “Who the hell just jumped us?” 

“Checking,” Argonaut said. “Contacts confirmed. 6 Cascadian F/C-16s. You are cleared to engage.” 

“Vanguard, let's make some scratch,” Katrina ordered. “Take the bastards out.”

“Righto,” Twister said, splitting off from Katrina and taking on two of the Vipers. Peppermint didn’t respond, instead opting to take on 2 other Vipers. Katrina was left with 2, spinning around and locking one up. She fired 2 of her standard missiles, both of which connected with the F/C-16, and disintegrated it. The other one tried to bait her in a chase towards the ground. 

“Heh. Got you now, Dragur 1,” Katrina said, smiling at the memory. Fortunately, the other Vipers were more occupied with Twister and Peppermint on their heels, so Katrina took the liberty of blasting the Viper out of the sky with her guns. 

“How are you two holding up?” Katrina asked. 

“I’m fine,” Twister said, nailing his two Vipers with a well-timed MLAA salvo. “Finished dealing with these pests.” 

“Same here,” Peppermint said, shooting down his Vipers with a combined gun and missile salvo. “What’s next? I say we go after that transport and make it reconsider its place here.” 

Hold that thought,” Argonaut suddenly said. “I am detecting another group of Cascadian fighters inbound: 8 F/D-14s with 4 additional F/E-18s. Cleared to engage.”

“Really?” Katrina said, switching to her MLAAs. “What could make this cargo so enticing?” 

“That’s for me to find out,” Argonaut said. “I’ll be running something while you keep the fighters at bay.” 

The enemy fighters came into view: 8 olive-green Tomcats flanked by 4 Hornets, all of them armed for air-to-air work. Katrina felt a slight twinge in her body as she locked up 4 of the Tomcats with her MLAAs. It was a beautiful aircraft to her, growing up in a country that she was now fighting against, but her duties came before some long-gone memory. She slammed the trigger and 4 missiles rocketed out from under her Agile Eagle, followed by 4 rapid clicks as each of them vanished off of the HUD. The rest of her squadron followed suit, with Twister and Peppermint firing off a salvo of MLAAs. However, the Cascadian pilots were smart this time, with the remaining fighters breaking off and evading some of their missiles, though 2 Tomcats took a hit. One of those damaged Tomcats, in turn, unleashed a semi-active missile at her. She dumped flares and used the AOA Limiter to swing around the Tomcat and get on its back. The pilot attempted to evade her by climbing up and leading her into a stall, or allowing one of the Hornets to get on her ass and fire a semi-active, but the massive Tomcat suddenly banked to the right in a futile attempt to evade Katrina’s guns. Once the pipper was lined up, it was only a matter of pushing the trigger and letting her gunpods finish the job. The Tomcat careened to Earth in a flaming wreck, while the canopy blew and the pilots ejected.

“That was a tough one,” Twister said, firing his guns into a pair of Tomcats. 

“Yeah,” Katrina said, singling out a Hornet and blowing it up with a pair of STDMs. “They were probably an experienced pilot. Looks like the Cascadian Air Force isn’t all just nuggets.”

“Agreed,” Peppermint said, taking down 2 Hornets own an MLAA salvo and the final one with his guns. “I had to tangle with one of these bastards for a while. Hornets may look pretty, but get too relaxed around them, they will sting you in the ass.” 

Katrina laughed, locked up the last Tomcat, and fired a pair of MLAAs. The Tomcats attempted to evade her missiles by dumping flares, but they were too late. Both missiles impacted the engine block of the Tomcats and both hapless machines spiraled down to the ground in flames, all the pilots ejecting. 

“Argonaut, all resistance has been eliminated,” Katrina said, forming up with Twister and Peppermint. “What next?” 

“I’ve been trying to communicate with the transport since it had slipped away during the fight, and we have confirmed its manifest,” Argonaut said. “This plane is carrying supplies vital to the Cascadian war effort. You have permission to shoot it down.” A targeting box appeared around the transport, and the targeting computer locked the C-8 up. But Katrina refused to pull the trigger. 

“Argonaut, I’m not sure,” she said. 

“Do it. That transport violated Cascadian airspace and is supplying the rebels. Take the shot, Vanguard 1.” 

“But Federation protocol dictates-”

“Take the shot, Vanguard 1. I’m not going to ask aga-”

“Sir, it is Federation protocol to escort an intruding aircraft to a local airfield and detain the crew, and that’s what this interception was-”

“Take the shot NOW , Vanguard 1!” 

Katrina sighed. There was no point in arguing with an angry AWACS. She held her fire for a few more seconds before she pressed the button. 

A single MLAA detached from her fighter and streaked forward. The Cascadian transport stood no chance as it took the full force of the blast. Katrina and her squadmates watched the smoldering remains shrivel up and fall to the ground. 

“The transport is down,” Argonaut said, that dangerous leer back in his voice. “The traitors are dead. Vanguard Squadron, RTB.” 

X

After a hurried debriefing, Vanguard was gathered in the mess hall, reflecting on the mission and Argonaut’s brash decision. 

“It was standard Federation protocol,” Twister said, taking a large gulp of coffee. “A transport violates Federation airspace, and we were supposed to escort it towards a nearby friendly airbase, not completely blow it to dust.”

“What about High Command’s orders?” Peppermint said. “It’s their call after all.” 

“Goddammit!” Katrina snapped, chucking her empty coffee cup into the trash can. It hit the bottom of the bin with a sharp clang that made Peppermint jump with fear, with a face that said I’m so happy/scared that my flight lead is my girlfriend . “This is war! We do what Federation High Command does, but morality comes as well.” She glanced at Peppermint, who had recovered from her apparent outburst. “I do not agree that disobeying an order was okay. I just need to make the Federation a more effective force by not committing war crimes.” 

“Or what?” a sudden guant but sharp voice said. They looked up to see a man Katrina assumed to be Argonaut march up to them. “The only way the Federation would be able to achieve true victory is through overwhelming force, not with petty laws and morality,” he said, leveling a finger and pointing it at Katrina. “The next time that I give an order, you obey it! That’s the mission.” He glanced at the rest of the squadron. “The same goes for all of you,” he said, adjusting his dark sunglasses. Katrina caught a glimpse of his dark yellow eyes. She felt like they were boring into her eyes and trying to uncover her deepest secrets. With another threatening glance, he left. 

“Ignore him,” a familiar voice said. They turned and saw Alamo standing there, a sandwich in his hands. “He’s one of the more radical members of the military. He does that a lot.” 

“Alamo!” Katrina said. “How did the raids go?”

“They went rather smoothly,” Alamo said, taking a bite out of his turkey ham sandwich. Those Cascadians are tough sometimes, but hit ‘em where it hurts, which is to say, their Air Force, and they fall like dominoes.” He took another bite. 

“Well, better get some rest, Vanguard,” he said. “I have an important sortie tomorrow with another squadron, callsign Molot. Hopefully, this mess will be over very soon.” With trust, he chucked the remains of his sandwich and the wrapper into the trash can. “Too dry,” he said to no one in particular, before storming off. 

Katrina leaned against the wall, feeling every sore joint in her body. Her hand suddenly felt warm. 

“Hey,” Peppermint said, his deep baritone voice soothing in her ears. “You alright?” He pressed a small kiss on her head. 

“Fine,” Katrina said, leaning into Peppermint’s warmth. Twister didn’t mind. He was just staring at the wall, bored. “Just a little tired.” This is why she liked Peppermint: A loyal wingman who respected your decisions but still wanted to do the right thing. They had started dating shortly after they were transported back to the Federation mainland. At first, it was just hanging out in each other’s quarters, until they were confident to sleep in each other’s arms. She enjoyed every second of it. 

Now, it looked like their loyalty to each other was being tested again. 

Twister’s loud sigh brought her back to reality. “Jeez,” he said, tossing his coffee cup into the trash can. Katrina heard a thunk. He probably had an apple core in it as well. “Looks like not everyone shares Argonaut’s sentiments.” 

“And that's a good thing,” Katrina said, eying the clock on the wall, still holding on tight to Peppermint’s hand. “Because I think this is just the tinderbox. All we need is a big enough match, and this war will burn the world if it has to.” 

Chapter Text

February 2, 432 AC

“Vanguard, you are on station,” Argonaut said. “Stand by for your infight briefing.” 

“Copy that, Argonaut,” Katrina said. The rest of her squadron shortly followed suit. 

“As of yesterday, all civilian and military flights in or out of Cascadian airspace have been redirected to any airport or at the threat of a shootdown,” Argonaut said, malice in his voice. “However, Cascadia has now stooped to recruit aid in the form of mercenaries and other PMC forces.” 

“Really?” Twister said with a laugh in his voice. “Just a few years ago, we were ridding the mercenaries in Oceania with these people. And now they are recruiting those people to fight in their war? Oh, man, they must be getting desperate.” 

“They must be,” Katrina said. “Continue, Argonaut.” 

“Vanguard, you are to act as a border patrol force, eliminating any mercenary fighter group or PMC that dares to cross over into Cascadia, otherwise they might have a fighting chance,” Argonaut ordered. Suddenly, a radar beep on Katrina’s HUD told her that she had a couple of contacts. 

“Vanguard, we have contact with a mercenary PMC trying to breach into Cascadian airspace. You are free to engage.” 

“Roger,” Katrina said. “Requesting targeting bearing.” 

“Push 400 dead ahead, weapons free,” Argonaut said. “Weapons free.” 

“Wilco,” Katrina said, selecting her MLAAs. “Vanguard, we are free-range. Take these low lives out.” 

“Roger,” Twister said. “These punks are no different than those in Oceania.” 

“Then treat them just the same,” Katrina ordered, highlighting the first set of targets: A pair of F/C-15 Eagles that orbited a pair of C/T-17s and a quintet of Sk.30s. Completing the mix was a lone FC-8 escorted by a pair of F/D-14s. All planes had a mixed slate-gray and black woodland camo. Once the two Eagles were highlighted, she fired 2 MLAAs at them. 

“Vanguard 1, Fox Three!” Argonaut called. Katrina’s two MLAAs struck both of the Eagles, and they fell out of the sky in flames. 

“Easy money,” she said, using her AOA limiter to turn back and destroy an Sk.30 with her guns. 

“No doubt,” Peppermint said, strafing the C/T-17s with a gun pass. “These guys are no different than those chumps we fought years ago. Speaking of which, who are we dealing with?” 

“Standby,” Argonaut said, and Katrina heard typing as he combed through his records. In the meantime, she locked onto the C/T-17s and downed them with a pair of standard missiles. 

“From what I could gather, you are currently engaged with a private security corporation called Maverick Incorporated. They specialize in aerial warfare among some of the periphery states.” There was a moment of silence as Argonaut scrolled through. Katrina dodged a missile from one of the other Sk.30s. She then looped behind it using her AOA Limiter and totaled it with a gun burst. “There isn’t anything regarding their previous deployments.” 

“Well, make this one their last,” Katrina snarled, highlighting the FC-8 and its escorts and opening fire. Several MLAAs detached from her fighter and soared towards the mercenary planes. All three of them connected, and the two F/D-14s and the FC-8 shriveled up and fell to the ground in fiery wrecks. 

“Argonaut, HVT down,” she said, turning her attention to the remaining Sk.30s. 

“Good work, Vanguard,” Argonaut said, his dangerous leer in his voice returning. “Show that mercenary filth that they are not welcome in Cascadia.”

“Roger,” Katrina said, tightening her grip on the controls. “Vanguard, take on one of them separately. Don’t stop until they are all down.”

“Roger that, Comet,” Twister said, peeling off to engage the nearest Sk.30. He easily destroyed it with a quick gun burst to the cockpit. 

“Righto. Time to make the doughnuts,” Peppermint said, picking his Sk.30 and pursuing it relentlessly. He eventually got a solid lock and destroyed it with a standard missile. 

Katrina found the remaining Sk.30 and locked it up. She prepared to fire her standard missiles, but the aircraft was flying too erratically for her to get a clear shot. She waited as the two planes swerved this way and that, trying to get on each other’s backs and shoot each other down. However, an opportunity arose when the mercenary pilot attempted to draw her towards the ground. Katrina seized this opportunity and gunned through the engines of the plane, causing it to spiral towards the ground in flames. The pilot didn’t eject. 

“Vanguard 1, splash one,” Argonaut said. “That takes care of our mercenary problem. All aircraft, RTB.” 

X

“Good work, Vanguard,” Mckay said, adjusting his glasses. “The mercenary intrusion along the southern region of the Freson Range has been kept to a minimum. However, we have a problem on our hands.” He let out a sigh. “Earlier today, we detected another large PMC crossing the Freson Range. They engaged our border patrol squadrons, and they slipped through unscathed. To add to this disaster, they managed to destroy the Littoria-class battlecruiser, the Espadon.” 

“How?” Katrina cried. “How can such low lives challenge the will of the Federation?” 

“Apparently, from what we were able to salvage from the last report from an AWACS stationed in the area, it seems like these mercs were the ones that we hired to recover the Meylix’s cargo,” Mckay said, sighing. 

“Sicario? You mean those guys?” Twister said. “Damn mercs, always looking for their next paycheck so that they can keep shooting away at things.” 

“Which is why we got to cut off the main backbone of the Cascadian military soon,” Mckay said. “But for now, get some rest and standby for your next sortie. Dismissed.” 

A/N: Just a short chapter while exams are picking up. Stay safe!

Chapter Text

Operation Sinking Stone

February 4, 432 After Calamity

“One key element of the Cascadian military is their naval forces,” Commander Mckay said, powering on the briefing software. “In order for the Federation to adequately supply our troops on the front line, we must remove the threat to our naval supply line, so here is your mission.” The map zoomed in on the northeastern part of Cascadia, near a small naval port. “You are to ambush the Cascadian fleet near the city of Seletepura. Deal as much damage as you possibly can before egressing out of the AO. We don’t wanna overstay our welcome there.” 

“Easy enough,” Peppermint said, as they walked toward the tarmac to load up. “Bomb a couple of tin cans to oblivion and then flee. What could be so hard?” 

“Quit screwing around,” Twister said, as they approached their F/S-15s on the runway, all of them loaded up for their mission. “When you keep saying shit like that, things always tend to get worse.” 

“Can it,” Katrina said, observing the loadout for this mission. The 4 gunpods on the Eagles were replaced with racks of UGBS-3s. Perfect for a quick hit-and-run mission. Apart from their usual standard missiles, there were only 4 MLAAs loaded on to the aircraft. “We already have the advantage for this situation. We just gotta make sure that it doesn’t spiral out of control. Crystal Kingdom is counting on us.” She climbed into her fighter’s cockpit and sealed the canopy, shut, adjusting her air mask and her helmet. It felt good, doing this. It put her mind at ease before a big battle and one crucial battle like this one, it was important to be in the right mindset when faced with such a daunting task like this. The roar of a squadron of F/D-14s taking off was reduced to a muffled roar.  

She flicked on the primary systems, starting with the computer systems that powered the plane, and then activating the engines. They came online with a steady roar, slowly increasing as she disengaged the brakes and eased the fighter onto the runway. She caught a glimpse of Argonaut’s FC-8 as she slid onto the runway ahead of her. 

“Control, will you kindly send me up first?” Twister asked. 

“Vanguard 2, Twister! This is the control tower!” the ATC barked. “You are not cleared for takeoff. Obey orders!” 

“Go to hell!” Twister snapped back. 

“All aircraft taking off, watch out for Vanguard 2. He’s forcing a takeoff!” the ATC replied. Katrina chuckled. 

“Shut up!” Twister said. “I’ll obey orders, Goddammit! As soon as Argonaut’s fat ass is off the runway, we’ll be good to go!” 

Katrina laughed quietly to herself as she watched Argonaut’s FC-8 lumber down the runway and into the sky. She then lined her fighter up and waited for the all-clear from the tower. 

“Vanguard 1, the runway is clear. Go now!” the tower ordered. 

Katrina opened up the throttle and the F/S-15 shot down the runway and into the sky. She retracted the gear shortly after and climbed up, putting distance between her and the base. Vanguard 2 and 3 followed behind shortly. 

X

The flight to Seletepura was shorter than Katrina expected, and in no time, her fighter was skimming above the surface of the water. Katrina saw the ripples in the water as the harbor slowly came into view. 

“I can almost touch the water,” Twister said. 

“But get too close, and you’ll crash,” Peppermint said. 

“Not if I can help it,” Twister said.

“If it does happen,” Katrina said, adding in her two cents, “we’ll miss you, Captain Ahab.” 

“Whoa, you actually read it?” Twister said, sounding surprised. “At least we won’t be going down with Moby Dick in the end.” 

“Vanguard Squadron, altitude restriction lifted!” Argonaut called out. “Begin operation!” A dozen targets appeared on the HUD, ranging from large battlecruisers to small corvette-sized vessels.

“Vanguard, engage,” Katrina said, taking her fighter up from the waves. “Sink these bastards while they are out in the open.” 

“You got it, lead,” Twister said, popping up and unleashing his UGBs on an Aegis Ashore defense system. It caught fire and exploded. Katrina targeted a pair of cruisers moored together and made short work of them with her bombs. As she looped around to make a run on a battlecruiser, AA fire erupted from the shoreline. 

“Peppermint!” she called. “The birds are online and chirping. Can you silence them for me?” 

“Sure thing, Comet!” Peppermint said. Katrina put two bombs on the battlecruiser and swooped around the blazing vessel to finish it off. The AA defenses finally sputtered to life, but it could do nothing against her next two bombs. The explosion could be felt in her cockpit as she pulled away from the burning wreck. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peppermint strafe the AA batteries and put it out of its misery with a pair of bombs. 

“Thanks, Peppermint,” Katrina said, as she took care of a destroyer that had attempted to slip its mornings and make its way toward the harbor entrance. 

“Don’t sweat it,” Peppermint said, jettisoning some flares to avoid a SAM. 

“40% of all hostile naval vessels eliminated,” Argonaut said. “Hold on. We’ve got interceptors incoming, bearing 350.” 4 targets appeared on Katrina’s radar. 

“We’re not equipped properly for air-to-air,” she said, taking care of a cruiser and a destroyer.

“Just try and fend them off,” Argonaut said, simply. 

“Fend them off?! That’s all you have to say?! C’mon!” Twister cried, as he dodged AA fire to put a pair of bombs on an Aegis Ashore system and another battlecruiser. 

“Just try and hold them off as long as possible,” Katrina said. “We’re not gonna stick around and fight any more Cascadian squadrons.” 

“With the way we are tearing up this place, I’m surprised the entirety of the Cascadain Independence Force ain’t up our ass,” Twister said, diving back and wiping out a pair of destroyers.  

Katrina cautiously eyed the radar contacts as they edged closer. Once they were within range of her missiles, she caught the distinct silhouette of 4 MG-29 Fulcrums in Cascadian markings. Their olive drab camo and white nose cones were visible even from her current position.

“Twister, Peppermint, take care of the rest of the naval vessels,” Katrina said, breaking off from the smoldering wreck of an LCS. “I’m gonna get in their face.” 

“Roger that,” Twister said, as he pulled up from the wreck of a destroyer that was listing in the harbor. “Be careful out there, flight lead.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Katrina said, arming her MLAAs. She highlighted the Fulcrum in front and loosed one. The missile was moments away from impacting when the Fulcrums split in a beautifully synced sunburst formation. The missile missed its intended target and blew harmlessly in the distance. 

“Beautiful,” Katrina muttered. She engaged her AOA Limiter and was behind one of the Fulcrum before they split again. This time, they split off in pairs, one to the right, and one to the left. Katrina followed the formation on the left. She expected them to split again, but this time, they didn’t. She edged closer, hoping for an opening to fire her standard missiles. 

“C’mon now,” she muttered, her hands gripping the stick with all her might. “I know you can’t keep this up forever.” 

Fortunately, an opportunity came for her a few moments later. The lead Fulcrum tried to break off and lead her into a position for the other Fulcrum to get a shot at her, but she was not taking that ruse. Instead, she targeted the Fulcrum trailing out from behind the lead plane. Once a solid lock had been obtained, she let it loose. This time, the missile didn’t miss. It impacted the right engine of the Fulcrum, and the other one sputtered and died as its hydraulics were severed. The Fulcrum entered a death spiral and its pilot ejected. Katrina quickly refocused on the other Fulcrum as it attempted to recall the other two Fulcrums to its location. Katrina didn’t give it a chance. A single MLAA put the Fulcrum out of its misery.  

“50% of the enemy squadron has been eliminated,” Argonaut said, that leer ever present in his voice. 

“Woo!” Peppermint called. “You go, Comet!” 

“Thanks, Peppermint,” Katrina said, as she locked on to the other two Fulcrums and ended them with an MLAA salvo. “What’s the status of the naval fleet?”

“Completely sacked,” Twister said. “We’re currently egressing out of the AO. Waitin’ on you, kid.”

“Excuse me,” Katrina snapped as she dove beneath the clouds, leaving the smoking remains of the harbor behind. “I’m 35 and yet you still call me ‘kid?’” 

Twister just chuckled. 

X

“Vanguard, I would normally congratulate you for today, but we have an urgent situation on our hands,” Commander Mckay said, rubbing his eyes. “Earlier today, Rowsdower AFB detected a bunch of mercenary and CIF aircraft approaching. They then got out a radio comm saying that they were under attack. A few minutes after that, we lost total comms with both the ATC and Crosstalk Squadron. We have to assume that Rowsdower has been taken by the CIF and the mercenaries.” 

Katrina felt a cold knot form in her stomach. These mercs were a lot tougher than she thought. 

“I also regret to report that the carrier FCG Antares has fled the dockyard before your assault,” Mckay said, rubbing his eyes again. “We need to intensify our assault over the next few days. But until then, get some rest. Dismissed.” 

X

“Well, that was lame,” Twister said. They were all gathered in the mess hall, cups of coffee in their hands, mulling over the recent news. 

“More than lame,” Peppermint said, twisting the lid of his coffee cup. “Now one of our most important bases is in the hand of the rebs. This is whole thing isn’t in our favor.” 

“Well, it has to turn around soon,” Katrina said, turning her attention to the news. It showed the attack on Rowsdower that was being broadcast on the military network, though some parts were heavily edited to maintain morale and secrecy. One part, though, caught and held her attention. As the camera swung to the sky, an F/D-14 zipped by and smashed two AA installations with a pair of standard missiles. As it banked off, Katrina saw that the F/D-14 had a gray and black woodland camo, and on its tail, there was a…butterfly? She couldn’t really tell. But from this angle, it looked like a…

“Crown?” she whispered to herself.  

“Hmm?” Peppermint said. Katrina opened her mouth to respond, but then a voice cut her off. 

“Vanguard, do you have a moment?” It was Alamo. 

“Yeah?” she said, chucking her empty cup into the trash can. “What it is about, Alamo?” 

“Not here,” Alamo said. “We’ll discuss this in my FC-8.”

Katrina looked at her squadron and both of them nodded. Whatever this was, Alamo wasn’t taking it lightly. 

They exited the base and crossed the tarmac to Alamo’s FC-8, fresh from its latest sortie. Various equipment was hooked up to it, and Katrina saw a fuel truck nearby, removing excess fuel from the aircraft. 

The base had some newcomers, probably squadrons that were rerouted from Rowsdower or other bases. Katrina picked out a pair of F/T-15s, a downgraded version of her F/S-15 that had similar armaments, but were not capable of having both flares and an AOA Limiter at the same time, a full squadron of 12 RF-1 Rafales, a pair of Sk.57s, and 6 VX-23 stealth fighters. Jet engines roared as a trio of prototype F/G-18 Growlers came in to land. Additional aircraft were spotted at the end of the airbase: Argonaut’s FC-8, 4 Sk.57s, 8 F/F- and F/E-18s, 10 F/E-15 Strike Eagles, 12 F/C-15s, a pair of I/A-52 heavy bombers, and a quartet of I/U-95 Grizzly bombers, their contra-rotating propellers still winding down from their long flight, their turquoise and green fuselages glinting against the light of the dying sun.

“A lot of traffic here,” Katrina said, watching a pair of KC-330 Voyager tanker aircraft touch down and the trio of F/G-18s taxi over to their position. 

“Federation Command wants a full offensive to take place over the next few days,” Alamo explained, as they climbed up the airstairs and into the FC-8, which thankfully blotted out the noise from all the jet engines. 

“Emphasis on massive, sir,” Peppermint said, as the door to the FC-8 closed, blocking them from the outside world. “With that much airpower, we can prematurely block out Oceania in a day.”

“Yeah, but not in this case,” Alamo said, booting up his station. Katrina saw a small railing rise up through the floor and a holographic projection appeared. She knew that the Federation had been developing new methods to supplement their AWACS operators, but she hadn’t seen something this advanced before. Alamo effortlessly manipulated the controls and logged into the system. He then selected the latest mission file and spread it out on the display for all of them to see. 

“This was today’s sortie,” Alamo said, zooming in on the map. “We were sent out to eliminate a convoy of escaping Cascadian soldier. Nothing special, right? We’re going to prevent the spread of false information or even incriminating data. However, this isn’t the only sortie that took place. Look.” He zoomed out and with a dew more taps on the rail, a few more icons appeared, showing other Federation AWACS planes and their strike packages. “Multiple strikes took place around the Federation-Cascadian border. Sounds too remote for a Cascadian armored column, right?” Katrina felt a dark and cold put in her stomach take shape. Even for an Argonaut-look-a-like, this was very dark for the Federation. 

“What are you suggesting that we do, sir?” Peppermint asked. 

“Just pack your stuff and get ready in case this thing turns out to be true, Alamo said, closing his terminal and opening the door of the FC-8. The rush of jet engines reached their ears once again. “I’ve looked through your mission files, and you’ve been assigned to one of these missions soon.” 

“How cold has the Federation been?” Twister said, as they walked back. “How long has Crystal Kingdom been keeping all of this under the radar?” 

“I don’t know,” Katrina said, as 8 familiar Sk.37s landed. “Hey, Aquila’s here.” 

“Huh. Freshly rerouted Solana, eh?” Twister said, cracking his knuckles. “Lucky bastards don’t even know what is going on.” 

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Katrina said, as they approached their quarters. “But be ready just in case.” 

“Righto, boss,” Peppermint said, as he and Twister disappeared into their quarters. Katrina entered her quarters and locked the door behind her, also making sure to lower the blinds. She then picked up everything: Her clothing, all of her Federation flight suits, a box containing a scale model of her F/S-15, squadron patches of Vanguard Squadron and other things into a gym bag. Finally, a framed photo of vanguard themselves. Peppermint and Twister behind her, all of them in front of her F/S-15. A machine that had served her well since Oceania, and now it will serve her new purpose once again. 

She stuffed it into her bag and dropped it in the corner. She then sighed, stripped down to her undergarments, and sank back into her bed, feeling the warm mattress underneath. 

If the Federation was really committing these horrible things, she hoped God or even the Dust Mother would forgive her sins if she corrected the Federation’s actions. 

A/N: The I/A-95 Grizzly fan design was made by MontyMains on the Project Wingman Discord. 

Chapter Text

Operation Cherish

February 10, 432 AC

“Vanguard, I have never expressed how important this operation is,” Commander Mckay said as the briefing software finished loading. “Over the course of the past few days, we have noticed many Cascadian armored columns attempting to escape to the border.” The map zoomed in on the border between Cascadia and the Federation mainland. “However, those Cascadians had the decency to try it again, this time with a convoy had stopped to rest right here.” The convoy was highlighted as Mckay cleared his throat. “Your task is to annihilate this convoy before they make it into Cascadia. We cannot let word of this conflict get to the outside world.” They stood up to leave. 

“Oh, and one more thing,” Mckay said, as Katrina opened the door. “Argonaut is out on another sortie, so your AWACS will be assigned back to regular sorties with you. Good luck.”

No one said a word as they went to fetch their things from their quarters. Katrina shot a last glance at her room as she shut the door behind her. If the rumors of the Federation brutalizing civilians were true… Then she wanted to get as far away from this place as possible. 

They walked out of the base to find it in a busy state. An I/U-95 Grizzly stormed down the runway and into the sky, followed by a whole squadron of F/C-16s. 

“What’s with the large strike force?” Peppermint asked, watching the last F/C-16 lift off. Katrina noticed the clusters of UGBS-3s dangling off of its wings.

“That convoy must be of great importance to the Cascadians,” Katrina said, dumping her back on the floor of the Eagle’s cockpit. “Just get ready, in case.” Peppermint nodded, and he dashed to his F/S-15. 

Katrina lowered the canopy and started checking the systems of her aircraft. 

Battery back up generators…check. Instruments looking good. Fuel pumps are looking good. Canopy locked and pressurized. 

A roar sounded outside her canopy, and saw the afterburners of Peppermint’s F/S-15 come online. The other aircraft around the base started coming online as the first sorties of the day began. Katrina smiled as a pair of Navy-blue SV-37 Viggens passed her canopy. Towards the end of the base, the 8 Sk.37s of Aquila Squadron started belching flame from their dragon mouths. It was time to add her engines to the growing symphony. 

HUD display…on. The various marks on the HUD appeared. Ejection seat armed. Engine APU and fire protection equipment on. Countermeasure release switch unlocked…manual. Pylon power on. Throttle unlocked and on idle nav lights and transponder…on. She found a small button marked “ENGH START,” and held it down for a few seconds. 

Spooling the furnace.

The twin engines of the Eagle began to sing their familiar tune, growing in volume and intensity as the RPM gauge on her dash slowly climbed. Once the needle was around the 40 mark, the whistling transformed into the idle wail that Katrina knew by heart.  

Engine at idle. Gyro power on. AC on. Secondary systems on. IFF and IFF decoder, online. Radar and RWR, online and ready to go. NPP tuned and ready. Missiles loaded and caged. Guns are racked. There was a sharp buzzing noise as the 20mm cannons in her gunpods spun and calibrated themselves. Katrina just smiled. It felt nice to have her usual loadout back. 

Finishing things off, Katrina flicked her wheel lights to the taxi preset and dropped her flaps to the takeoff setting. There was a roar as the Sk.37s of Aquila Squadron took off, possibly on another sortie. Her F/S-15 was ready to go. 

She got the signal from the ground crews that she was ready to go. She released her brakes and the Eagle rolled out on the taxiway. Peppermint and Twister followed shortly behind. Behind the three of them, the multicolored FC-8 of AWACS Alamo, followed shortly behind. 

“Vanguard, this is the tower,” the ATC said. “The runway is clear. Go.”

Katrina waited for a pair of MG-31s and Sk.57s to take off, and then she mashed down the afterburner and shot down the runway and into the sky, with Twister, Peppermint and Alamo following shortly behind. 

“Alright,” Alamo said, as they put a few miles between them and the base. “Glad to be back in service with you all, Vanguard. I was gonna miss our number two here.” 

“I wish you hadn’t said that,” Peppermint said. “Now that’s just going to boost his over inflated ego.” 

“Hey, are you aware I am listening to everything?” Twister said. 

“We’re perfectly aware, Twister,” Katrina said. “Alamo, where is the task force we are to escort?”  

“Right here,” Alamo said, highlighting a formation of aircraft. Katrina pulled up alongside them and recognized them as the mass formation she saw launch earlier. A formation of 6 F/C-16s in standard Federation colors surrounded a single I/U-95 Grizzly, its 4 massive contra-rotating props spinning at a dizzying rate. 

“This is Troy 1,” one of the pilots said. “Glad to have you guys flying with us.” 

“Pleasure as well,” Katrina said. “Who’s big baby Huey?”

“This is Iacon 1,” an interesting voice said through the comms. “We are green for operation.” 

“Good,” Katrina said, sliding into formation with the rest of Vanguard close behind her. “Good, good, good.” She then muted her comms and turned over some thoughts in her mind as they cruised toward their objective. Most importantly, her mind crossed Alamo’s warning about the Federation disguising civilian infrastructure as military targets. It seemed a little too obvious that there was nothing of value there, but it seemed a little too obvious to hide an armored column. 

She continued to ponder this for a few hours as they cruised above the clouds until a transmission from Alamo interrupted them. 

“Alamo here. We are approaching the target area.” His FC-8 broke off from the rest of the formation and started to orbit the strike force. 

“This is Iacon 1,” the pilot of the I/A-95 said, as the bomb bay slowly opened and menacingly, exposing the deadly payload. “We are approaching the target. The traitors to the Federation die today. Long live the Federation!” 

Katrina looked down, expecting to see a vast number of Cascadian vehicles, all lined up and awaiting to be taken out by the bomber. However, she saw a quaint little airport in place of the expected armored column. A blue-striped C-8 was at the end of the runway, awaiting takeoff. Her insides froze up as the situation was confirmed for her. 

Thinking quickly, she dialed up Alamo as she watched the distance between them and the airport shrink. 

“Alamo here,” the voice of the squadron said. “What’s the situation, Comet?”

“Your suspicions were right,” Katrina said, watching the airport grow closer to them. “The Federation is targeting civilians.” 

A/N: Whew! After exams have ended, I am ready to publish more chapters of Vanguard. Also, quick shoutout to njmksr and ViperLass on Fanfiction.net and Ao3 for inspiring me to write this story!  

Chapter Text

“W-what?” Alamo said, shock in his voice. “N-no.” There was a typing noise as Alamo tried to pinpoint the exact location of their exact target. “No. Iacon 1, disengage immediately.”

“Vanguard, following me,” Katrina ordered, pulling her F/S-15 away from the formation. 

“R-roger,” Twister said, shock evident in his voice. 

“Right behind you,” Peppermint said. They joined up behind the formation of bombers, and Katrina opened up a comm frequency to the bombers. 

“Attention Troy and Iacon, you are targeting a civilian outpost. Change course and leave the airspace immediately. Repeat, you are targeting a civilian outpost!” 

“The civilians are spreading dissent,” Troy 1 said. “They are traitors to the Federation in every way.”

“That isn’t what the Federation is supposed to do,” Katrina said. “The right thing to do is to enforce censorship of communications and ground all flights out. Not this.”

Troy 1 chuckled darkly. “Either way, they are traitors. No civilian flights will be allowed to leave Federation airspace and cross into Cascadia without the Federation’s explicit permission. And they don’t have that right now. All units, prepare to drop!” 

Katrina’s finger tensed on the trigger. She was close to destroying the entire bomber formation, but which of the aircraft first? The I/U-95 could carry more and was the more obvious target, but the F/C-16s were much more nimble. Damn it. 

Suddenly, several things happened in quick succession: A marker box appeared around the bomber and its escorts, Katrina’s finger was on the trigger and the bomber was quickly chewed up by her gunpods.

“W-what?” Troy 1 cried, as the wreckage of the I/U-95 fell to Earth in a crumbled heap. “Who was that?” 

“It was Vanguard!” Troy 3 said. “These conservatives are the death of the Federation! Eliminate them!” 

“Troy 3, Troy 4, go after their AWACS,” Troy 1 ordered. “Troy 5 and 6, go after Vanguard. Me and 2 are gonna level the place.” Four Vipers split off from the squadron, and two of them blew past Vanguard and made a beeline for Alamo, while two of them faced Vanguard head on in a joust.  

“Troy Squadron, this is your last chance to stand down!” Katrina ordered, narrowly avoiding an SAA shot from one of the Vipers. “Damn it!” 

“They’re not gonna listen!” Peppermint said, blowing apart one of the Vipers with a cannon burst. 

“Well, they made up their minds,” Katrina said. “Vanguard Squadron, engage!” 

“I got the ones attacking the airport,” Twister said, igniting his burners. “You go get the ones going after Alamo.” 

“Roger, Twister,” Katrina said, peeling off with Peppermint and shooting for the other two Vipers. 

“Comet, watch it!” Peppermint cried as the Viper that fired the SAA at her shot another one off. The RWR warning threatened to break her concentration as she toggled the AOA Limiter. She pulled over the missile and the Viper with a well-performed cobra. Leveling her fighter, she obtained a solid lock and fired a standard missile. It detonated in the tailpipe of the Viper and sent it spiraling down to Earth. The pilot ejected shortly after. 

But the temporary delay caused by that pilot allowed the other 2 Vipers to gain the advantage in speed and outpaced the Eagles of Vanguard. 

“Alamo, this is Comet!” Katrina barked into the comms. “You have two Vipers heading your way!”

“Copy all,” Alamo said. “Readying countermeasures!”

“You better hope that those work,” Peppermint said, just as the Vipers unloaded a pair of standard missiles each at the FC-8. 

“What the-Deploy flares!” Alamo shouted at the pilots. The FC-8 slowly banked to the right away from the missiles, releasing flares all the way. Three of the missiles missed the FC-8, but one missile grazed the tip of the right engine and exploded. 

“Alamo!” Katrina cried. The FC-8 appeared out of the smoke, its underside riddled with scorch marks. The right engine, however, was a belching, smoking mess. Dark smoke poured out of the wound that had been inflicted by the missile blast. 

“Don’t cough up any tears, Vanguard,” Alamo said. “I’m fine, but we have a problem.” There were some beeping noises in the background as the fire protection equipment activated. “That blast has knocked out our engine, so thrust is an issue right now. Our auxiliary power is kicking in right now, however, that will take a few moments, so for the time being, we’re a sitting duck.” there was a typing noise in the background as Alamo sent the IFF data and location of the last two F/C-16s. “Speaking of a sitting duck, that blast knocked out our countermeasure deployment system. Can you take care of those Vipers for us?” 

“Sure,” Katrina said, still recovering from the near sudden demise of their AWACS. “C’mon, Peppermint. Let’s go.” 

“Righto,” Peppermint said, breaking off with her and squaring off against the 2 remaining Falcons in a joust. Just as the pipper was lined up with the cockpit, a missile came streaking out of nowhere and blew it to shreds. Katrina snapped out of her daze and pulled a roll to avoid the debris. Peppermint, meanwhile, pulled around sharply using his AOA Limiter and blew the final Viper to shreds. 

“Did you really forget about me, Comet?” Twister’s voice said. He sounded irritated. 

“Don’t worry, Twister, for God’s sake!” Peppermint said. “We weren’t hoping for your ass to get blow out of the sky!” 

“These little shits were easy to deal with,” Twister said, as they formed up around Alamo. “Jeez, guess they really did a number on Alamo.” 

“Our systems are operable for the moment, Twister,” Alamo said. “However, I don’t know if the civvies down there still don’t trust us.” 

“Then where should we go?” Katrina said, glanced down at the airport. Other than a few bruises here and there, it was relatively intact. “The entire Federation MP force is gonna be right up our ass the second we touch down at any Federation-flagged airport!”     

“We could go private,” Twister suggested. “Start our very own PMC.” 

“No fucking thank you,” Alamo spat. “I believe the safest option right now is to turn ourselves into the Cascadians.” 

“Really?” Twister cried. “These bastards aren’t gonna trust us one bit, after we demolished one of their bases, shot down an unarmed transport, and mauled their fleet!” 

“If we don’t do anything rash to them when we surrender, maybe they’ll trust us,” Katrina barked, shutting Twister up. 

“I’ve got the distress beacon ready,” Alamo said. “We just have to activate this once we are in Cascadian airspace.” He sighed. “I hope to hell that you are right, Comet.” 

Katrina checked her fuel status. The needle was around the middle of the gauge. “Vanguard, what’s your fuel status?”

“Fuel is looking good,” Twister said. 

“It’s looking good for me as well,” Peppermint said. 

Katrina nodded to herself. “Alamo, lay us a course.” 

“Roger,” the AWACS operator said. 

Katrina sighed as they put some distance between the airport and her past, her simple view of this blasted war shattered. 

X

They flew for a couple of hours in silence while listening to Federation radio chatter. A siege had been lifted for some Cascadian forces in the Salvemini Vineyards, and from what Katrina could gather, an aircraft with a crown insignia had broken the Federation offensive.

The Crown. 

It was only yesterday that she saw that mysterious F/D-14 on the TV. Could this be the reason why the Federation was so afraid to let anyone in? She dismissed this thought and continued to fly in silence. 

X

After a while, they crossed into Cascadia and Alamo let his distress beacon play. It wasn’t after a pair of Cascadian F/C-16s and F/D-14s intercepted them that Katrina realized her time in the Federation was over. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

Sirens of Defeat

Cascadia Independence Air Force Base Charlie

Operation Red Coast

February 22, 432 AC

Katrina had never been in a prison before, aside from a training course that she had taken that prepared her for the eventually that she’d be captured by enemy forces. Now, as she stared out at the dark corridor of the prison hall, she felt like all of that training had been for naught. 

The Cascadians were tough, but not so tough in that they brought out tools to extract intel from her. She told them everything that she knew about the Federation war strategies up until her defection. They then forcefully removed all of her clothing and gave her a loose-fitting orange jumpsuit to wear before slamming the door shut. Katrina thought that she could go without the starchy and itchy orange suit, but the cold air-conditioned room had changed her mind and she was forced to put the suit on to keep her bare skin warm. They also had given her a pair of plastic slippers and socks for her feet. Food wasn’t an issue either. Baked beans, microwaved burritos and a small pint of water wasn’t the worst meal, as she had eaten worse things during her training sessions. 

All of these had her wondering whether the Cascadians were repurposing her squadron for something big. The moment they got out of their aircraft after they landed, Cascadian MPs had taken them into custody. All of them except Alamo and his crew. The Cascadian MP who had escorted her into the brig just told her that since Alamo was an AWACS operator, he could divulge any future attacks by the Federation, as long as his credentials gave him access. Their aircraft, however, were taken to a separate part of the base, presumably to have their flight computers wiped and reconfigured for Cascadian usage by them or by other pilots. 

All things considered, it was pretty fair treatment.  

A buzzer. The sharp clicking of rifles and boots on the hard floor. Guards. They were probably going to drag them to the courtyard to be shot. 

A lone Cascadian guard stopped by her cell door, carrying a bundle. The door unlocked with a sharp buzz, and he came into the room and gave her the bundle. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Katrina said, unfolding the bundle to reveal a new air force uniform, although this time, the Cascadian flag was adorned there in place of the Pacific Federation flag. A new pair of boots were also there, perched on top of the bundle.

“You are being pardoned. Partially, of course,” the guard said, turning his back to her so that she could change. “Orders from above. Commander Archer wants as many people as he needs for a mission.”

Katrina nodded, shrugged off her orange jumpsuit and put on her old flight suit. It felt nice to be back in comfortable clothes. She then shrugged on the boots and laced them up. 

“Done?” the guard asked, turning to face her. “Good. You and your fellow squadron will follow us.” He motioned for her to follow him, and Katrina obliged. She saw Peppermint and Twister step out of their cells, both of them in their old flight suits and their own cells. 

“Not looking too shabby?” Katrina asked, as they rounded the mess hall. Several Cascadian pilots shot death glares at them, but the vast majority of them looked sympathetic towards them as they collected their rations.     

“This place is alright,” Twister said, as they sat down at a table and quickly bit into their food. “I wouldn’t mind a few more days in this 5-star hotel.” 

“Would recommend,” Peppermint said, his burrito half-finished. “At least the food is better than advertised.” 

Once they finished eating, they were led to the breeding room and took the three remaining seats that were available to them. The chatter in the room died almost instantly when a man took the podium. 

Commander Archer looked no different from Commander Mckay, although he looked slightly younger. Katrina heard the name bounce around a few times when guards were posted around her cell, talking about some new commander to replace the old one, who had resigned to take care of his family. 

“Everyone here? Good,” he said, booting up the briefing software. “We have an important task at hand, and CIF HQ is counting on us.”

The map zoomed in on a city along Cascadia’s western coast. 

“Despite our initial attempts to push the Federation from Cascadia, the Federation always pushed us back hard, and now we are on the brink of defeat.” He cleared his throat. “Now, the Pacific Federation is closing in on Presidia, our capital city, and full-on tactical retreat has been called. So, here is the mission: You are to assist the evacuation by any means necessary, and to cover the retreat of our forces so that we can regroup for a counterstrike.” He adjusted his glasses and continued. “We have three new members, but I’m going to have to cut the introductions short. I’m Commander Archer, leader of this CIF unit. CIF-98, to be exact. These new guys, in question, are Federation defectors who have, wisely, turned themselves in to fight for our cause. As of today, Vanguard Squadron will be attached to CIF-98 of the Cascadian Independence Force.”

Katrina couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After they had bombed a Cascadian Air Force base and nearly sank the entirety of the Cascadian Navy, they were being reinstated…like that? The other Cascadian pilots in the room thought so too. A sandy-haired woman, in particular, glanced at Twister before quickly adverting her eyes back to the front. Only when Archer put his hand up did the room settle down. 

“They will be sent as part of the first wave of reinforcements. The rest of the Cascadian pilots elsewhere will pick up the slack when Vanguard escorts them out of the AO.” 

Great , Katrina thought. They were being sent in as the guinea pigs to prove their loyalty to the Cascadians without any support from them. They had done this many times in the past without any Federation support, but she felt like this was a test by the Cascadians to prove their loyalty to them. The classic tactic. She really expected them to shoot down the evacuation transports and make a break for the nearest Federation airbase, but that wasn’t going to happen. They were done with the Federation’s crimes. 

“We can expect Federation resistance to be heavy, so equip your planes as necessary for any air, sea, or land engagements. Suit up when ready and prepare to move out,” Archer concluded, shutting down the briefing software. Katrina would feel better if she had been sent out to dig up landmines with her bare hands. And without metal detectors. “Oh, and one more thing,” Archer said, as they turned to go. “Since your AWACS is undergoing repairs, you will be paired with the mercenary AWACS Galaxy, currently en route to Presidia to assist in the evacuation. We expect the best out of one of the elite squadrons of the Federation.”

“Ha! Like he hasn’t seen our combat records,” Twister said, as they filed out of the briefing room and made their way to the tarmac. 

“Yeah, these Cascadians don’t trust us that easily,” Peppermint said, opening the door to the tarmac. “After destroying a bunch of their shit, they wouldn’t turn their backs on us for even a split second.” The balmy Cascadian air hit Katrina like a hair dryer as she made her way to their F/S-15, which was luckily intact. She would be less fortunate if she had found a rust bucket like the SV-37 Viggen in its place instead of her super-manuverable fighter. The paint scheme didn’t change, but the Federation roundels had been replaced by the Cascadian Air Force emblem, and the vertical stabilizers were inscribed with:

CIF-2

   945712 

        Cascadian

                        Independence Force

Katrina smiled. It wasn’t a big step-up from her Pacific Federation roundels, but it’ll do. 

She got into her cockpit and welcomed back the sounds of the turbofan engines as she coaxed the plane to life. The canopy shut, and in not time, she was rocketing down the runway and into the sky. 

X

After a long and uneventful flight, interrupted by a mid-air refueling maneuver taken by a CIF C-8 tanker, Vanguard was rapidly approaching Presidia. The first thing to pop up on her HUD were the various CIF and Federation forces fighting through a slog above Presidia. 

“Holy shit,” Peppermint said, as Katrina saw a pair of CIF MG-29s chase down a pair of Federation MG-31s. “Call this a furball.”

“Hold on,” Katrina said, as she got busy with her plane’s radio. “I’ll try and ping any AWACS planes that are nearby.” To her surprise, the first AWACS to show up on her radar was flashing a mercenary IFF signature. She then established contact with the plane and opened a radio frequency.

“This is Vanguard 1, call sign Comet, pinging friendly mercenary AWACS, how copy?” she said. 

“You’re that defector squadron?” the voice of the AWACS operator came back. The smoothness in his voice surprised her. “Commander Stardust told me all about you. This AWACS Galaxy of the Sicario Mercenary Corps at your service.” And then, to someone else perhaps, he said, “Easy there, Dip. They’re on our side.” 

“Copy that, Galaxy,” a new voice came through the radio. An MG-29 zipped by them as they slid into formation. Katrina caught a glimpse of the paint scheme: A gray body with white stripes on the tips of the vertical stabilizers, a white nose cone, black stripes along the belly, invasion stripes on the wings, and a blue underbelly. Mercenary markings, a personal logo depicting a pair of black and blue chains with a red line through the middle, completed the mix. 

“Not too shabby for a mercenary color scheme,” Twister said, watching the Fulcrum dash off and engage a pair of SV-37s. 

“I’ve seen more…colorful ones in my time,” Peppermint said. 

Katrina chuckled to herself as she imagined his eyes rolling. “Galaxy, got anything for us?”

“Uh, hold on a second, Vanguard,” Galaxy said. There was some typing in the background. “The Wild Boar Regiment is trapped in the center square, and they need air support to break the deadlock. I’m sending their coordinates now.” 

“Roger that,” Katrina said, closing the comm channel. “Vanguard, go and eliminate the enemy air power around the city to pave way for the SAR choppers. I’ll take care of the ground forces.” 

“Roger that lead,” Peppermint said, peeling away and jumping an F/D-14. “Vanguard 3, engaging. C’mon, Twister. Don’t lag behind!” 

“Okay, okay! Don’t be such a pushover!” Twister said. “Vanguard 2, engaging.”  He peeled away and initiated a dance with a pair of F/E-18s. 

Meanwhile, Katrina had managed to locate the Wild Boar Regiment and lined up an APC in her sights. Once the lock icon had settled over the vehicle, she loosened a standard missile and blew it to shreds. She then looped around a SAM warning and took out an SPAA and a tank with another standard missile and her gunpods. 

“Wild Boar Actual, this is Vanguard 1,” she said. “Glad we can meet again, albeit under different circumstances.” 

“Vanguard 1, long time no see!” General Elizabeth said. “Thanks for clearing out our deadlock.” He then called out to the rest of his troops. “This is General Elizabeth. I’ll be conducting the tactical retreat. All Actuals report to my callsign, and we’ll get you home safely.” 

“Cut across backyards if you have to,” an allied ground soldier said, “and if you have to abandon your vehicle, torch it.”

“Route any civilians into the underground,” another voice cut in. “We’ll pass them off to the Independence Force when we can.” So, it turned out there were Cascadian Partisans among the regular forces. Seemed some of them preferred unconventional methods when it came to fighting the Federation. Katrina pulled around an MG-29’s missile lock and shredded it with a gun burst. 

“To all units left in the AO, remember, if you need SAR choppers, their callsign is Jesterfield,” General Elizabeth said. “The enemy doesn’t have substantial AA at the moment, so call them in as necessary.”

Katrina pulled around the tracers as an Sk.37 charged at her head-on in a joust. She locked on to a pair of Sk.27s heading for a pair of C/T-17 Globemaster transports, most likely carrying refugees. She tapped the trigger and fired a pair of MLAAs. They connected with their targets and blew the Flankers out of the sky, the digital pings confirming it.  

“Vanguard 1, splash two,” Galaxy said. “Not too bad for a Federation defect.”

Katrina was about to retort, when a voice cut through the comms. “Prez! See that bandit on our ass?!”

“Yeah, I got him!” a female voice called out. “Comic, are you around to help?” 

“Negative,” another voice called through, also a female. “I have my hands full here!” 

Katrina glanced around and saw an F/E-4 being pursued by an MG-29, catching a glance of the mercenary roundels. 

“To the mercenary in the Phantom,” she called out, pulling away from another MG-29 that tried to gun her down. “On my mark, break right. I’ll help you nail that son of a bitch.”

She waited for a few moments, and found a perfect opportunity to strike. 

“Now!” she called. The heavy Phantom banked to the right, the MG hot on its tail. Not wasting a single second, she mashed down the trigger and blew the MG out of the sky with a whip of bullets from her gunpods. 

“Your ass is clear,” Katrina said, pulling up alongside the Phantom. She could now see the gray and black color scheme that dotted its fuselage, with its turquoise underside, and, most intently, the crown-like insignia. 

“Thanks for the support, Vanguard 1,” the pilot said. “I’m the leader of Sicario’s Hitman Team. Just call me Monarch.”

“Hey! Did you forget about me?” a shrill female voice said, clearly annoyed. 

“And that’s Prez, my WSO,” Monarch said. “She handles weapons and communications.”

“You know that I have tough fists, though,” Prez said. 

“Yeah, and that too,” Monarch said. “Best we get back to the fight, Vanguard 1.” 

“Right,” Katrina said, peeling off from the Phantom and hitting a pair of MG-31s with her guns. All the while, the radio transmissions grew more and more frantic.

“We still have troops left in the city, don’t we?” a ground soldier said. Katrina could hear gunfire in the background.

“They stayed behind to cover our retreat, so let’s not waste their sacrifice!” another soldier said. Katrina swallowed hard. Things down below suddenly seemed a lot worse than it should have been given the circumstances. 

Katrina swerved around the bullets of a pursing F/C-16 and blew it out of the sky with a pair of missiles. 

“Vanguard, how are you holding up?” she asked, dodging a missile alert. 

“I’m holding up just fine, thank you,” Twister said. “Been covering the evacuation transports with 3. Damn, these bastards are tough.”

“You don’t say,” Katrina said, dodging the bullets from a pursuing F/E-4. “Thank God we have the skills to counter them.” She pulled behind the Phantom before filling it with lead. 

“They’ll tell stories about this mission, ladies and gents,” a mercenary pilot said. 

“The Fall of Presidia,” another mercenary pilot said. “Better make my place in it.”

Katrina smiled, seeing the glory hound sides of these mercenaries. 

“General Elizabeth, pull aggressively while we still have the air superiority,” a Cascadian pilot said. 

“We’re using this time to sabotage roads and waterways out of the city. Evacuation operations are going well. You do your job, flyboy, I’ll do mine,” General Elizabeth said. 

“Just a recommendation, General,” the pilot said. 

“These damned militiamen are complicating the battlespace. Someone get a read on who they are,” another Cascadian soldier said. 

“Wild Boar Actual, I’m getting SOS calls from downtown Presidia,” AWACS Galaxy said. “What should I tell them?”

“We can’t do anything for them,” Elizabeth said, sighing deeply. Gunfire was present in the background. “Tell them to dissipate and evacuate by any means possible. Tell them I’m sorry.” 

“Copy all,” AWACS Galaxy said. Katrina could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“Damn,” Twister said. “This is not how I wanted the operation to go. Goddamn Feds.”

“This is war,” Peppermint said, shooting down a pair of F/C-16s. “You don’t get to choose who dies and who lives.”

“Peppermint’s rights,” Katrina said, looping out of a missile warning to put a missile into an Sk.37. “Let’s focus on what we can control, alright?”

“Copy,” Twister said, putting bullets in an F/C-15. “At least we can’t see what is happening down there will all the chaos that’s happening up here.” 

Katrina silently agreed with that statement as she looped behind an SV-37 to put it out of its misery with a quick gun burst. Vanguard continued its repeated barrage of quick attacks on the Federation positions, while watching Hitman Team do their work. She watched in awe as Monarch coordinated the stick and rudder of his massive Phantom to outmaneuver even the most nimble of Federation fighters.

“To anyone on this net, we have secured Takenori Square, but we have incoming hostiles!” a ground unit reported. “If we can take this place, we can direct evacuation chopper traffic here!” 

“Prioritize armored units and specialists during the evacs,” another CIF soldier said. “We won’t make it long without them.”

“Hey, what’s the ROE on the police?!” a Federation unit suddenly reported. Katrina furrowed her brow. Weren’t the Federation radio frequencies encrypted?

“All units, be advised that Presidian police forces are experiencing infighting. Engage only if necessary.”

“All Vanguards, check your radio frequencies,” Katrina said, dancing around a pair of F/F-18s and downing them with a pair of gun bursts. She then checked her ammo state. A few gun bursts and several missiles remained. Not too bad in the face of almost impossible odds. “Did you get snippets of Federation chatter?” 

“I did,” said Peppermint. 

“Same here,” Twister said. “Must be a glitch. Let’s check on it when we get back to base.” 

“Use the wrecks as a cover,” another soldier said. ‘We can’t afford to draw fire toward homes!” Katrina pulled away from the smoking wreck of an MG-29 just as a transmission came through.

“Stardust, Sicario has secured its areas separately. What’s the call?” It was the man with a gruff voice. 

“Standby,” the person called Stardust said. Suddenly, Katrina’s radar lit up with several long-range radar contacts, both large and small. 

“Sicario, we have large contacts inbound. Looks like an airship picket,” Galaxy chimed in. 

“Destroyer Koteng and Destroyer Ameria ,” a new Federation voice joined them. “Flow on your current heading and drive the mercs out of the airspace.” The frequencies on the fighter’s dashboard said that it belonged to an AWACS with the callsign of Jade.  

“Remember, attack these things from above and below,” the gruff voiced mercenary said. “Never from behind or head-on.”

Katrina pulled up above a Littoria-class and locked on to its subsystems. A yellow whip of tracers from a CIWS mount rose to greet to her, but she weaved through the rounds and launched an MLAA salvo. Once the subsystems were destroyed, she fired a long burst of cannon rounds, finishing off the airship. 

“I always preferred naval ships over these things,” a female mercenary pilot said. “Pain in my ass to take down.” 

“Are we good to down these things over the capital?” Diplomat said, as the Littoria Katrina shot down crashed on the outskirts of the city. 

“Not like we got a choice,” the female mercenary pilot said. 

“Kennedy Hall just got torched,” an allied ground unit reported. “We had an IFV platoon roll through it, so we’re pulling back. That earned a laugh from Diplomat. 

“This story gets more interesting,” Katrina said, pulling back from the wreck of the Ameria as Monarch’s F/E-4 pulled away from its newest victim. 

“Hmm?” Twister said, blowing apart a pair of Sk.30s with his gunpods. 

“Nothing,” she said quickly, turning back to the action.

She swooped in behind the Koteng and her gunpods tore chunks away from its subsystems until it chewed into its hull, and the frame collapsed under the stress and fell towards the Earth. 

“HQ, we can’t get our coordinates over the secure channel!” another ground unit reported. “Where are we going?!”

“It’s that damn jamming!” General Elizabeth said. “Just head north! We’ll organize as best we can when we’re out of here!”

Katrina swiveled her head and observed the battlespace as the mercenary and Cascadian forces were beginning to wrap up the evacuation efforts, with Federation and Allied fighters occasionally dropping out of the sky. 

“Vanguard, we’re almost done here,” she said, lighting her afterburners. “Just cover the transports until they are out of the AO.”

“Roger, lead,” Twister said. 

“I’ve got your six covered, Comet,” Peppermint said, as the three of them formed around her. They tagged along for a while until a radar contact appeared on her radar: One of the last Anura-class airships somehow escaped the slaughterhouse over the city and was preparing to bear down on the evacuation convoy. 

“Vanguard, target that cruiser,” Katrina ordered, arming her few remaining MLAAs. “We’re gonna try and take it out in one run.” 

“Roger that,” Twister said. 

“Solid locks!” Peppermint cried. 

“Vanguard 1, fox three!” Katrina cried. A swarm of multi-lock missiles dropped from the Eagles and soared forward to greet the Anura-class. A chorus of digital plings confirmed that multiple subsystems on the Anura had been destroyed. Katrina switched to her two remaining standard missiles and looped around to finish the Anura off, when another pair of standards shot out of nowhere and splashed the Anura. As the fiery wreck of the Anura plunged towards the sea, Katrina saw the digital camouflage that marked Monarch’s F/E-4 as he joined up with the rest of the aerial convoy. 

“Showoff,” Katrina muttered under her breath as she and Vanguard joined the massive aerial convoy heading out of Presidia. 

“Hey, I heard that,” Monarch said. “You only softened up the whale for me. That I can appreciate.” 

“We’ve done all we can, Sicario,” AWACS Galaxy said. “RTB to Rosdower.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” a ground soldier said, defeat evident in his voice. 

“Vanguard, we’re gonna head back,” Katrina ordered. “We’re done here. Galaxy, we are RTB.”

“Roger all, Vanguard,” Galaxy said. “Hold on. I have a message from the Boss and Stardust for you.”

“This is Assassin 1, callsign Kaiser, to Vanguard Squadron,” the gruff voiced mercenary said through the comm. “We appreciate your efforts here today. Many of us were from here, after all, so this was a rather warm homecoming.”

“Much appreciated,” Katrina said, her tiredness evident in her voice. 

“This is Stardust of the Cascadian Independence Force,” the CIF pilot said. “I also appreciate your efforts during the evacuation. My countrymen owe you three a lot of their gratitude.”

“Copy all, Stardust,” Katrina said. “We’ll be heading back about now.”

“Roger all,” Galaxy said. “May the winds guide you three to bigger and better fortunes,” Galaxy said, before signing off. 

Damned gloryhounds , Katrina thought with a smile on her face as the three of them peeled off and shot for the safety of their new home. 

X

“I must admit,” Commander Archer said, glancing at Vanguard through the empty briefing room. “You three managed to buy the evacuation enough time to retreat to the safety of friendly airspace. Thanks to you, the manpower and intel we obtained on Federation activities inside Cascadia has been vital to our war efforts.” He rubbed his eyes. “However, we have lost our all contact with any remaining units in our capital city, so expect the worst for them.” He rubbed his eyes again. “We also have received special orders from Command to carry out a series of strikes in the next few days, so in the meantime, get some rest, and standby for your next sortie.”

X

It was pouring by the time Katrina stepped outside the building. The once balmy air of the morning had been replaced by an eerie gray sky with rainclouds, dropping endless bullets of water onto her new world. 

She glanced into the darkness, and to the shapes resembling Agile Eagles. How fast things changed. From fighting mercenaries in Oceania to fighting against the Federation, all in a matter of years, yet it felt like weeks. 

The rain did offer one slight advantage, though. It obscured her thoughts from the rest of the world, and it felt good. Katrina had the arms of her flight suit tied around her waist, and her arms were taking in the cool air of the rainstorm. 

A pair of footsteps behind her. 

“Someone’s moody.”

She turned, and there was the ever jovial face of Peppermint. 

“Well, somebody’s up late,” she said, as Peppermint leaned against the door. “Having bad dreams again?”

“Not really,” Peppermint said, sheepishly, stroking the back of his head. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Katrina said, smiling. “Then, tell me why you’re up.”

“Everyone is celebrating Vanguard’s success today,” Peppermint said, now seeming more awake. “Twister even managed to get himself hooked up to one of the Accipter pilots here.”

Katrina chuckled, and the two of them lapsed into silence for a while, listening to rain fall. 

“How do you feel, about all this? About anything that has happened?” Peppermint asked, breaking the silence. 

Katrina paused. She hadn’t really taken a second to think about what her squadron’s defection might mean to Federation High Command. On one hand, it did give the Independence Force a unit who had experience fighting in a war, and it also gave them three advanced fighters to boot. On the other hand, the defection of a prestigious Federation squadron was causing alarm bells to be ringing in the minds of the Federation officers, who not only realized the loss of an elite fighter squadron, but also a drop in morale. 

“That we are the most wanted people in the entire Federation?” Katrina said, rubbing her hand on her back. “That we have helped so many people, so many innocents, back there today? Then, I feel like our defection was worth something.” She briefly remembered the airport they had been sent to bomb, and pictured what might have happened if they had let the bomber release its iron storm. The resulting picture wasn’t pretty.

“I just-Look, it’s been a crazy few days,” she said firmly, slipping her flight suit back on. “Let’s just concentrate on winning this damn war so that we all have a place to go home.” She looked at Peppermint, who nodded. 

“Agreed,” he said, opening the door for her. “After you.”

Katrina grinned, and vanished into the depths of the base, Peppermint following close behind.