Chapter Text
Trigger was currently mid bank, guns lined up to shred the engines of an enemy Raptor that had flown a bit too close to his wingman Count. Debris scattered across the wake of Trigger’s Eagle as the Raptor violently detonated mid-air, giving his wingman a moment to breathe. Trigger let out a relieved sigh before making a hard turn to pursue his next target.
“Nice shot, boss. Thanks!” said Count as he regrouped with Jaeger.
“Watch out Sol 2, drone on your six!” shouted Seymour over the combined radio channel. His wingman, Wit, made a hard upwards high-G turn to evade the rapid pellets of machine gun fire that sprayed out from the small but agile MQ-101 unmanned aerial vehicle. The drone perfectly matched the maneuver, but Seymour had expected it to and already had his guns lined up to intercept its path. The drone was reduced to a ball of flaming steel as the gun of Seymour’s Flanker tore into the drone’s fuselage.
“Damn drones. They’re fast, but somewhat predictable,” remarked Seymour, as he reformed on Wit’s six.
“That’s Belkan ‘witchcraft’ for you,” replied Wit as the two of them split to acquire new targets.
“Leave some for the rest of us, won’t you, Sol 3?” said Lanza, his Eagle emerging from the remnant fireball of a falling drone. Seymour chuckled in response, taking out another drone soon after. Lanza frowned, but he knew it was all in good banter.
The Arsenal Bird Justice was scheduled to arrive in the current airspace around the space elevator in the next ten minutes. Strider and Sol Squadron had been fighting to establish air superiority over Lighthouse airspace for half an hour, hopefully completely sanitizing it before Justice arrived. Currently they were outnumbered at least three to one. AWACS Long Caster’s voice crackled through on the line.
“Heads up Sol, Strider, Cyclops, you guys have multiple squadrons incoming from the south-east with at least a dozen drones following suit. I’d recommend splitting up and taking them out separately.”
“Acknowledged,” said Trigger. “Strider will take the Raptors. Sol, you two take the Su-57s. Cyclops, keep the drones off our backs.”
“Wilco,” replied Lanza, breaking off to distract the drones.
“Roger that, Strider 1,” came Wit’s response. “Let’s go Seymour.”
“Right behind you.” The pair of Flankers sped off to meet the Felons head-on in the clouds. Gunfire and tracers tore through the mist as planes fell out of the sky like comets, and the two weaved together through the sky like practiced dancers, supporting and covering for each other with clinical precision.
Strider Squadron formed up on Trigger. They were all in F-15 Eagles — standard Osean Air Defense Force kit. Trigger checked the mission clock and grimaced. If the Arsenal Bird was due any minute now they needed to mop up these remaining squadrons.
“There’s enough Raptors for each of us,” remarked Huxian, as she took up the rear position as Strider 4.
“Trigger might just take them all out himself, though,” said Jaeger, taking up the right-most position with a soft chuckle as Strider 3.
“Then let’s make it a contest. Fastest one to down their Raptor wins!” exclaimed Count, taking up Strider's second position directly on Trigger’s wing.
Trigger let out a short laugh and pushed the throttle down, accelerating towards the group of Raptors, taking the lead. There were indeed four, but behind each one were three drones.
“This is Long Caster — one more heads-up: the drones are on semi-autonomous programming from what we’ve observed. The lead planes are providing orders to them. Take out the lead planes and the drones will go inactive, making them an easy meal.”
“Roger that. Hear that team? Ignore the drones,” said Trigger, immediately banking off to follow one of the Raptors that had begun to turn around.
“Didn’t have to tell me twice!” said Count, breaking off to pursue his own bogey. Strider squadron lacked the fluid coordination Sol squadron had perfected, but individually each pilot was sharper and more efficient. Count easily approached from on high, and the Raptor attempted a harsh left turn to evade, but Count had anticipated such a maneuver and easily adjusted his approach, firing off a barrage of cannon rounds down the right wing of the Raptor in front of him. The wing violently snapped off, sending shrapnel flying and causing the plane to spin uncontrollably into the ocean below.
“That’s mine down!” yelled Count. He looked around, but Trigger had already taken care of his and was aiding Jaeger in taking his down. Huxian was mid rolling scissors with one Raptor before it pulled a poorly-timed cobra, giving her the opportunity to dissect the plane with a stream of lead.
“Bandit down!” she yelled, before turning to pick off the remaining docile drones. Trigger and Jaeger both easily cornered the remaining Raptor from above and below, leaving it with no vector of escape. The two performed a mirrored rolling maneuver and cleanly sliced both wings off with a concentrated burst of gunfire, causing the Raptor to torpedo-spin downwards into the ocean. The remaining drones flew aimlessly, only being kept airborne by autonomous self-preservation protocols. Fencer and Lanza had been systematically erasing the remaining drones as the lead planes were disabled. The two of them worked with practiced efficiency, befitting the two members who had known each other the longest.
“Like fish in a barrel,” said Lanza, doing a little barrel roll in celebration.
“Keep your head in the game, Cyclops 4,” said Fencer.
“I know, I know! Chill, the big bird isn’t even here yet, Cyclops 1." Fencer's callsign came out as a lackadaisical drawl.
“Good work, team,” said Long Caster, “but I’m afraid I have bad news. Justice’s here.”
“Ah shit,” mumbled Lanza. The clouds groaned as they parted to usher in the porcelain whale. The one-kilometer wingspan cast an ominous shadow over the naval fleet gathering below. Both wings combined sported an impressive eighty combat-ready MQ-101 UAVs, with two pulse laser cannons per wing for good measure. The upper fuselage of the craft was littered with anti-air artillery and air-to-air missile platforms that operated completely independently, whereas the lower fuselage supported a long-range tactical laser turret. The sunlight illuminated the gleaming white shell of this weaponized whale, revealing every intricate detail of its hull. One by one, drone after drone fell from its wings under the rhythmic thrumming of its eight hind propellers.
“That thing is huge,” said Tailor.
“Damn… there’s no safe angle to engage it,” said Skald, forming up behind Fencer in Cyclops' second position with Tailor in the third position. The two of them had been on the other side of the space elevator, providing support to distant allies.
The rest of Strider, Sol, and Cyclops squadron had finished gathering together at a distance in front of the Arsenal Bird, flanked on either side by several dozen independent allied fighters like a wall of planes. The entire remaining air force stood at the ready. The remnant naval fleet below had also been sparing their ammunition, preparing for the coming saturation attack against the Arsenal Bird. The radar was quiet, showing no activity besides a large red dot — the bird itself — and countless smaller blips for each of the drones it was still releasing. It wasn’t long before the command came through.
“Begin saturation attack!” yelled Long Caster.
The air screamed with the whistling and burning of missiles and bullets as they converged from every direction towards the Arsenal Bird, creating a cloud of contrails. Trigger gritted his teeth. He had a bad feeling about this. The other Arsenal Bird — Liberty — took the reactivation of the ancient asteroid defense system Stonehenge to destroy in an operation that took place months ago. Stonehenge had the firepower required to rip asteroids apart, and even then it could only be fired once before shutting down for good. This saturation attack was like comparing poppers to a hydrogen bomb. Not to mention, the Arsenal Birds had one trick up their sleeve.
Right as the majority of missiles closed in on the hull of Justice, a blinding bright blue flash emanated from the circular center nexus. In an instant, a large and transparent spherical field expanded rapidly from the center hull, evaporating all missiles and absorbing all gunfire. It stayed there, surrounding the entirety of the Arsenal Bird.
“Damn! The attack was completely ineffective!” exclaimed Jaeger.
“Wow...” said Lanza.
“We just have to get inside the shield to disable it!” shouted one of the allied fighters.
“No! Lune 4, break!”
Lune 4 did not break. With confidence, Lune 4’s Hornet collided with the forcefield at six hundred knots as if it had hit an immovable wall. The plane shattered and exploded on impact. Not a single shard of metal made it through the shield.
“Shit!” Count said. “There goes that idea…”
Trigger slammed his fist against the throttle. Of course it couldn’t have been that easy. If it were, the war would have ended months ago. The entire naval fleet was now running on fumes, having spent most of their ammunition on the previous attack, and the drones that had previously undocked were closing in rapidly.
“Team, split up. We’re outnumbered at least five to one, and the likelihood of another saturation attack is zero,” began Trigger. The laser cannon below the Arsenal Bird had now spooled up completely. The white-hot beam was tracing lines in the sea, cutting through frigates and destroyers with no resistance. Trigger watched as three ships in a row were dissected clean in half, the still molten steel creating a red hot outline surrounding the point of incision. Trigger could now see that the laser was the result of a ball that seemed to focus several output points into a single unified laser. The radio was aflame in panicked chatter, cries of “abandon ship!” and “mayday, we’re going down!” flooded the channel. The final active drone count reached into the seventies, and they were already engaging with the closest fighters to the Arsenal Bird.
“Lune 3, your six!” cried one of the allied fighters behind them. Lune 3 barely had a second to react as a group of drones that were left over from the previous engagement aligned themselves easily with the Arsenal Bird’s new commands. The drone group tore through Lune 3’s Flanker with brutal efficiency, forcing him to eject instantly as the only intact part of his plane was the front of the fuselage. All allied planes immediately scattered.
“All planes engage the drones while command figures out a solution for the shield! Cyclops, cover the rear!” shouted Trigger. A choir of acknowledgments came through the radio in response from Sol-Strider as the group of six planes split off in unison. Jaeger and Huxian pivoted around to support the rear line. Drones fell out of the sky and tracers flew left and right as the independent allied fighters struggled to keep up with the sudden overwhelming numbers. Wit and Seymour dove to assist one ally that was being hounded by three drones, but they all coordinated a frighteningly efficient killing blow moments before they could get within range. The pair looked around for other allies to assist before they fell the same way. The drones were too coordinated for the average pilot. Fencer and Lanza were hot on Sol’s tail, providing covering fire and leaving a trail of flaming drones following them. Trigger and Count dove to support the naval forces, pressuring the airspace beneath the Arsenal Bird to allow the fleet to restock their ammunition.
“When is that shield gonna lose power?” asked Jaeger.
“Never. The orbital elevator is continuously supplying it with power,” replied Wit. Jaeger clenched his teeth.
“Then what should we do?!” cried Huxian, narrowly evading a stream of gunfire.
Trigger weaved through the drone fire, tightly gripping the throttle and flight stick, forcing his Eagle out of rolling scissors and into Immelmans. He could see Count’s plane behind him, following his motions and taking out drones that tailed his six.
“Trigger, break!” yelled Count suddenly, and without thinking Trigger complied. His Eagle did a brutal hard right as the laser cannon suddenly changed trajectory, shooting upwards and forcing Count to jink left at the same time. The beam carved a line that barely missed both of them. Trigger flinched.
“Good call, Count,” said Trigger.
“Damn it, that shield is making counterattack impossible! I wish it’d just go away!” shouted Count.
“Wish all you want, command doesn’t seem to have a plan at all yet,” said Long Caster with a sigh. “They’re saying to prepare for a second saturation attack.”
“After they clearly saw the first one failed? What are they, nuts?!” countered Tailor.
Count groaned in frustration, dodging another barrage of gunfire that streaked across the top of his canopy and taking out a drone that was tailing an ally. He switched on the wide-band radio that he’d hidden in his plane months before. It was technically against regulations, but an old squadmate always preached the importance of information. To his surprise, a female voice immediately came through.
“-the space elevator, but it’s not like we can just go out there and chop it down,” the voice began. Count went to turn up the volume, but a bullet grazed his wing and he forced his plane into a high-G turn to lose his tail. Trigger came up behind him and in a clean pass tore the drone apart with gunfire. Count grumbled with frustration and turned up the volume again. “At the top of the windbreak, six location markers have been set in place. They monitor distortions in the space elevator. Those are the locations we need to target. If the sensors go bad, the elevator’s observation system will think the elevator has fallen. Until its safety can be confirmed, all microwaves will be stopped.”
“I got it,” said Count.
“What?” asked Huxian.
“Leave it to me.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Trust me!” Count let out a small laugh.
“I see six lightbulb-shaped things,” came another voice from Count’s wide-band. A different voice, still female but softer.
“That’s it, that’s a location marker! Smash it, smash all six of the bastards!” cried the other voice.
“Just go away!” groaned Count, forming up again on Trigger’s six. The two of them continued weaving through the gunfire from the drones while narrowly evading the laser that now had them in its sights. Sounds of effort and the smashing of metal and glass trickled from the radio. “Begone!” he said again, “Disappear!”
“Gone cuckoo, Count?” remarked Huxian, half-mockingly.
“Away with you!”
A loud crashing noise blared from the radio behind Count’s seat, forcing him to recoil in surprise. A low rumble suddenly emanated from the Arsenal Bird, loud and strong enough to cause a turbulence in all nearby planes. The forcefield shimmered briefly before it slowly dissolved. A missile tore through the remnant shields, impacting the left wing and sending a spray of metal off into the sky.
“Look!” shouted Jaeger.
It was wide open now.