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Twenty or so OADF fighters are rolling onto a runway of a small air force base somewhere in southern Osea. Count didn’t recognize most of their pilots, but that wasn’t his concern. He only needed to follow one of them – Trigger. And his plane was warming up its engines right in front of Strider 2.
“I wish all of our briefings were that simple,” Count grinned, lazily checking his control surfaces. “Just go up there and shoot stuff. Don’t die,” He recounted.
“That was basically our life in Spare, I don’t remember you liking that,” Trigger noticed. “They didn’t even tell us who are we fighting.”
“You know it’s gonna be Aurelia,” Húxiān chimed in. “And their R prototypes...”
“Unfair match up with Gründer, unfair match up with Neucom,” Trigger finished her thought. “The more things change,”
“Yeah, but this time we have to rely on ourselves.”
Striders took off in silence, contemplating their situation. The front end of the Osean formation was starting to fray, high up in front of them.
“I’d gain some altitude and then see what’s next,” Lanza suggested. “Trigger?”
“I wouldn’t wanna run headfirst into a Cariburn,” Strider 1 reluctantly agreed.
“Oh, come on!” Count moaned. “We’re not gonna do that, one of our forerunners will.” He gestured forward, which none of his teammates could see.
“Yeah, and get themselves killed before we even get there,” Strider 4 argued. “Let’s get to a better position first.”
Their squadron turned gently and started climbing towards the flank of the expected enemy force. Count started staring off into the distance, occasionally catching a dark spot against the blue sky, inspecting it carefully and wiping a dust speck off the glass.
“I’m starting to miss Long Caster,” Strider 2 finally broke the silence. “Lanza, what’d you have for lunch?”
“Huh?” Strider 3 got taken by surprise. “We had some pancakes with-”
“Waffles better,” Count immediately dismissed him.
The sky became clear of another dust particle.
“Húxiān?”
“Get a crossword,” she scoffed.
“I had a good lunch,” Trigger jumped in.
“I know what you had for lunch.” Count sighed and sat back into his seat.
“We ate some salad with a fried… Apalis.”
“Huh. That’s exotic,” Lanza pointed out.
“No, the enemy!”
Finally an allied fighter made radar contact and a hostile fighter appeared on their HUDs.
“Apalis…” Count sighed. “We should’ve charged. Where’s your dreaded Cariburn, Húxiān?”
“Back behind and high up, with the rest of the pilots who know what they’re doing.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Lanza agreed. His voice sounded a little disappointed by the apparent lack of exotic birds in his friend’s diet. “They like to wait till you’re caught up in another fight, then swoop in and ambush.”
Count leaned back into his seat and watched as their allies find more Apalises and Forneuses. A furball started to form to their left. The sky filled with contrails, winding erratically and crossing each other at various angles.
“Rookies, all of them,” Trigger commented. “You can’t just fly head on and pray for the best.”
“You have to pull the trigger too,” Count snarked.
“If it wasn’t for this squadron, right now you’d be down there with them, charging at bullets,” Húxiān guessed.
“Charging at bullets is what got me where I am!” He parried.
“Doesn’t mean you’re perfect,” she shrugged. “Your Immelman’s got a wobbly tail.”
“And you do it like on rails?” Count crossed his arms and went back to watching the front line stabilize. He noticed they were slowly getting closer to it.
“That’s why I’m working on it.” Strider 4 brushed off Count’s sarcasm. “You can probably get it right sooner than me. Just ease off the rudder.”
Strider 2 exhaled through his nose in response. He started to think the fight was going to be over by the time they get within range when two Apalises broke away from the furball and started flying straight towards them, about two miles lower. One of them was trailing smoke.
“Enemy penetrating the CAP line!” Count jumped in his seat. The rest of his squadron grunted with more or less enthusiasm.
“Alright, I guess we can go,” Trigger said reluctantly. “Lanza, Húxiān, you stand by as back up. Count, come on!” Trigger rolled his F-15 and started gaining speed, coming down on the enemies in a wide spiral, like a bird of prey. Count quickly followed.
They closed in fast and both Aurelians had no idea they were there until Trigger shot a missile towards the one smoking, at the rear. It dodged but Count managed to finish them up with a quick gun burst. Meanwhile Strider 1 was rolling around the second plane. This one was a bit too slow for Trigger and he was slipping in front of it, but Count was just about to line up a second kill when an RWR screamed into his ears.
“Trigger! Third one, nine, high. Húxiān!” The last scream was more angry than alerting.
“Shit! Didn’t see it.”
“I’m tied up.” Trigger informed, doing a loop de loop. “Ugh. Die, you SOB!”
Count flared and jinked right. The projectile missed but the enemy aircraft merged and he had to focus.
“Guys, there’s another coming in. Cariburn,” Húxiān warned. “Lanza, let’s go.”
The second flight raced down to aid the first. Missile trails clashed, illuminated by flames and tracers, dissipating quickly in the wind.
“Splash two!” Count announced and rushed to help his flight lead. Húxiān intercepted the Cariburn but she had to deal with it alone.
“I’ve got a hole in my left wing!” Lanza gasped, jumped by yet another Cariburn.
“Lanza! Can you fly?” Trigger asked. “Take them right, I’m coming!”
Strider 3 confirmed but it was becoming clear his Eagle wouldn't make it back. Trigger made a split S to close the distance and released all the air from his lungs into his microphone. More enemies were on their way.
“I’ll take a shot, but we need to get out of here now. Count! Follow me.”
“I’m still kinda tied up.”
“Cariburn down! But someone's shooting at me.”
“Húxiān, break left!” Trigger ordered. He shot his gun at the enemy coming back onto Lanza but the bullets only scratched the target, barely making a dent. Count’s missile missed.
“It’s got my tail!” Strider 3 cried. His fighter wobbled in a turn and started spinning. “Shit! That's it. I’m out.”
“Lanza! Get it together!”
“No good. Run, I’ll try to cover. I’ve still got missiles.”
“Dammit!” Húxiān cursed but there was nothing she could do now. She jinked the fighter following her and turned after Count and Trigger.
“How did that happen!?” Count couldn't believe. “We weren't even in the furball.”
“It drifted on top of us,” Strider 3 answered. “Where are our allies?”
“God, there are three left!” Trigger, finally freed up had a chance to look around. Count also looked back. Skimming the tree tops, he was slowly getting away from his pursuers. And behind them another Osean craft disappeared from the HUD. The sky was full of Aurelian radar contacts.
“Three!?” Húxiān barked. “Yeah, that’ll do it. Lanza, how’s my six?”
But Lanza didn't answer.
Count turned
“You’ve got-”
“Fuck!” Strider 4 went up in flames.
“Shit.”
“Count, I’m getting your tail. Fox 2, Fox 2, Fox 2!”
Húxiān released all her remaining missiles. Then she started spinning, tracers shot in a spiral until the gun jammed. The remaining enemies gave up their pursuit and circled back to regain their lost altitude. Trigger and Count had to do the same.
They leveled their flights and caught their breaths.
“I’ve got two missiles left,” Trigger simply stated. He was too shocked to put any emotions into his voice.
“It took two minutes,” Count said in response. He’s had yet to blink since they left the fight.
“Lanza was right. Ugh, so much for strategy.” Strider 1’s microphone picked up something being punched with frustration. “We’ll pick them one by one, someone always keeps the watch. See something – we run,” he decided.
“We could make it work.” Count tapped his chin. His aircraft got lighter by a few bullet holes, but the damage was mostly superficial. Trigger was in similar shape, and they were both wiser with the fresh memory of their encounter with enemy pilots.
“We shouldn’t have rushed,” Count admitted.
“We had to attack sometime,” Trigger sighed in response. “We just happened pick the worst possible moment. But. We can still make it worth the while. The win is still on the table.”
They leveled their flight at 10,000 feet. Count looked left, to his partner.
„Let’s even out the score,” he said with determination.
„You and me. Let’s show them what we’ve got!” Trigger agreed.
„Righto! Stick with Trigger and you’ll make it,” Count recited like a mantra.
Trigger’s plane was glowing in the light of the sun, and he would follow that light to the ends of the Earth. Caught in a vertical flare, it was the most beautiful sight Count has ever seen.
And then another flare appeared. And a third one. Count’s admiration turned into horror.
„Break! Break!” He yelled, but the time was up. The next tracer bullet pierced through the cockpit and the rest of the series ripped Trigger’s plane in half. Strider 2 watched as a Cariburn came down and crossed through the fireball, sending the remains of his flight lead’s plane everywhere.
“Trigger! Dammit! You’re not getting away with this.”
He pulled hard. The sky turned black but Count kept the small bright spot in the center of his vision. The enemy fighter could turn on a dime but right now it was too fast. He had one shot to make it out.
Count fired a series. His nose was all over the place but a lucky shot ripped one of the hostile’s ailerons. It was still flying but Strider 2 gained another chance to bring it down.
“Shit, I guess it is a little wobbly.”
The planes merged, and Count had enough leverage to force the Aurelian into a spiral. The wounded fighter couldn’t keep up with the roll and a few moments later Strider 1 was avenged.
“I got him!” Count announced, but he barely leveled his flight when a bullet ripped another hole in his vertical stabilizer.
“Where did that come from!? He dodged a shot and merged. The hostile was already smoking from previous engagements but Count’s Eagle wasn’t brand new either.
“Where did that one come from?” he asked between the turns. “They just spawn whenever I get busy! Lanza!?”
The only answer was another enemy blip on the HUD. A Fregata, coming back from a bombing run. It was trying to escape from the last allied fighter, and decided to take potshots at Count, tied up in his own battle. It gave him an idea.
Still jinking, he traded as much height for speed as possible, all while trying to intercept the attacker. Just above the ground level he pulled a vertical and shot out his last missile. Count continued climbing as the enemy exploded. The Cariburn was getting closer to his tail when the last Osean finally noticed and rushed to help.
Count realized the absurdity of this task the moment his savior got ambushed by a Forneus, but that little victory gave him enough hope to continue. He pulled into a turn once again. This time all of his bullets missed.
“Shit!” It was his time to get sprayed with lead. A faint sound announced a fuel leak. Count cursed again and took a deep breath.
“Ease off the rudder… like this, Húxiān?”
This time he turned a lot smoother and managed to take out enemy’s elevator. He let it spiral while another approached.
“Son of a bitch. Lanza, you were right, all they do is ambush.”
He started another deadly dance, but didn’t last half a minute before he noticed the number of his opponents doubled. His turns were getting better, but the skill was slowly starting to lose its advantage over the sheer number of his enemies. Count was taking potshots but hardly any of them were landing. After a third fighter joined the pursuit Strider 2 realized the best course of action was to simply retreat. He dove from the little altitude he had and started meandering towards the airfield they took off not that long ago. If it was still standing, the AAA should at least make the Aurelians think twice before continuing the chase. And it would give him the time to think at all.
Count glanced at his tail, defeated. The enemies were still shooting. In case of the first one it was reasonable, but the second and third from the front were willing to risk friendly fire to get that kill. Count’s engines were starting to smoke but he stopped jinking so erratically, and with gritted teeth tried to align his pursuers. To his surprise, soon the closest plane burst into flames and fell down into the forest.
“You were right, Trigger!” He shouted. “Rookies, all of them!”
The second plane got taken down as well. By then they were close enough to the base for the last enemy to turn back. Count did so as well and managed to snipe them at the edge of his range.
“Guys! Did you see this?” Count couldn’t believe. “We can still win this!”
He almost didn’t notice no one responded.
There was only one enemy left. Count’s hardpoints were empty and the fuel leak wasn’t getting better, but he clawed his way back to angels 10 and the hostile was in his sights. They started circling each other at range but Count knew they couldn’t go on like this forever.
“Any ideas?” He asked the silence.
“Can’t ambush, can’t make it shoot itself…”
The Aurelian was taking their time. Count’s fuel was starting to get dangerously low.
“I’m open for some suggestions. Trigger?”
Trigger wasn’t answering.
“I can only think of flying head on. It’s not like we have time for anything else.”
Count contemplated for a while. His teammates were right earlier. It was a stupid gamble. The fact he’s done it before and came out on top doesn’t mean it would happen this time. But since none of them could give him any better ideas Count yanked on the stick and pushed the throttle.
The enemy took the chance. There were five kilometers between them.
Count made a correction. His bullets would drop a little. Four kilometers.
The enemy was rolling, but staying on course. It was enough to miss. It was hard to aim. Count made a roll too. Two kilometers. They opened fire simultaneously. Their planes ran into each other’s bullets. Count’s windshield cracked. His plane caught on fire. He couldn’t see anything. The sky filled with smoke. He couldn’t tell if he was still flying or falling.
“Come onnn!!!…”
They passed each other. The Aurelian fighter exploded. Count turned back. His flames were dying out. His plane was shaking, but flying straight.
He won.
“We won! Guys! Trigger! Húxiān! Lanza! We did this!” He yelled.
He looked around. The sky was empty.
“Guys? Come on, that was something.”
They didn’t answer.
“Guys?”
Count touched his headset in confusion.
“Why won’t you say anything?”
He returned to the hangar. He skimmed the debrief. Still not a word from his squadmates. Something wasn’t right.
Count minimized the game window and went to the voice chat. He immediately noticed Trigger, Lanza and Húxiān were gone from his room. Even more interesting, they made another one, and it looked like they were quite busy there. Count joined them.
“Need some help here!”
“Got ‘em! Now take the one on the left.”
“Too late! Splash four!”
“Trigger, leave some for us. You’re not alone.”
“OH, BUT YOU HAD NO PROBLEM LEAVING ME ALONE??”
“Count! You’re finished?” Trigger asked cheerfully.
“I won!”
“Damn, nice,” Húxiān congratulated.
“You would know that if you stayed!”
“It was dragging on, we were bored…” Trigger tried to justify. “We had three people free, we thought we would start the queue, but the match started so fast…”
“Yeah, so fast you made a separate room to chat.” Count wasn’t having it.
“We didn’t want to disturb-”
“Did you even want me here?” Count closed the game completely, disconnected his HOTAS and lowered the headset around his neck. “You guys are jerks. Fuck you. This is the last time I stay up late for the game night. And I’m never playing War Thunder with you again!”