Kingdom of the Clouds [closed]

[Yalkan]

Finn Fun Times

---

​

Finn leaned back in his lawn chair. It was a beautiful day in Antunum. The hangar provided a lovely shade in contrast to the sunny, clear day before him. He had been switching between answering emails on his phone and working on a sketch of the horizon. It was the slow season for him and his Sjellheim Kleinbjørn after all. The summer months allowed for easier transportation and less need for vital supplies in the remote parts of the Epiphani. He learned long ago to enjoy the slowness while it lasted. He flipped through his phone noticing a fresh email chain from his entire family. Forty six unread messages. Geez they were busy bodies he thought. He smiled though. Perhaps he should visit them. He didn’t have much going on here at the moment. It was then he noticed one of the messages, giving farewells and wishes of safety to his younger brother Brinn. He read on. Apparently he was deploying to Dučrijeka. Finn had heard of the news and the rumblings coming from that part of the world. He decided to respond to the email chain only with ‘Stay Frosty’.

Finn took a sip of his Nærøy Iced Tea. Quite refreshing on the warm day. Almost nap encouraging. Definitely nap encouraging. With a smile on his face Finn pulled his hat over his face and let his mind drift off into sleep.

“Missile! Missile! Missile!” the alarm shouted at him. Finn snapped his eyes open. He was staring out of his cockpit and all he could see was the ground fast approaching. The scream of twin turbine engines nearly drowned out the alarm blaring at him.

“Missile! Pull up! Missile! Pull up!”

Finn checked his altimeter, the numbers were flying by wildly, but he could see he barely had any altitude left at all.

“Where is he?! I lost him!”

The voice was familiar. That’s right. It was his wingman Erik “Boomer” Hegg.

“Eight hundred meters and closing on missile one!”

“He’s 4’oclock high! Keep track of him! Prepare for some Gs! I’m slicing right!” Finn yelled back over comms. He pulled back on the yoke. The entire jet started to vibrate violently as the air rushing by crashed upon it like water. Slowly the horizon came into view. Finn sucked in air trying to not be crushed under the increasing weight all over his body. The alarm was still yelling at him.

“Pull up! Pull up! Pull up!”

No more missile alerts. He must have broken radar lock. That was a start. He forced his head to look up as the g-forces began to release him from their crushing grip. Past the glint of the glass cockpit he saw him. Matrix. Banking in so he could regain Finn’s tail. And in that very short moment. Through the fear that he was refusing to acknowledge. With the taste of stale air in his mouth. He felt himself smiling.

 

[Predice]

A couple of Predicean People's Air Force pilots were sitting around, smoking, listening to music, and playing billiards.
The serene environment of classical music, and cigarette smoke was interrupted by an alarm...
"Scramble scramble scramble"
Snuffing out his cigarette, Carlo "Matrix" Berignola quickly reacts, grabbing his flight helmet, and heading for his CC-17bis/B.
He begins to climb into his worn aircraft.

"She's good, right Mendoza?" he asks the mechanic

"As good as she can be. Go get em' Matrix!" The Mechanic responds.

Carlo responds with a quick nod as he gets into his plane and closes the canopy.

Within minutes he is in the air.

Suddenly Matrix hears a voice through his radio:
"Matrix, this is Blindeye, their radars are gone. You are free to approach."

"Roger, wilco" Matrix responds

After some flying...

"We are right fucking behind them, let's shoot em' up!" Matrix's Wingman shouts

"Quiet, no unnecessary chatter over radio. We need to get closer. Range is about 2 klicks." Matrix calmly responds

They do in fact get closer, and just when it begins to look like they may hit the poor bastards, in their brown paintjobs who were maybe just 700 meters away, Matrix gives the command:
"Engage! Weapons free, weapons free!"

He quickly hears several instances of "Fox 2!" Blaring through his radio.
He also says "Fox 2".

"Splash one!" he quickly follows up. The others do not see similar success, but at least one was gone. He now followed another plane

He then gets on the tail of the plane... it had a clearly distinguishable tail... Bright orange! It stood out like a sore thumb!

"Fox 2!" he quickly yells. The V-4 in front of it crash dives, his missle misses.
Matrix follows.
The V-4 breaks hard, and gets behind Matrix.
Matrix quickly pulls up into a loop de loop and gets behind the V-4 again, expending his last missile after saying "Fox 2!"
The V-4 yanks up. The missile smashes into the ground.

"Slippery son of a bitch" he remarks to himself.

He follows the V-4, every alarm blaring, his vision darkening, but just as he feels he is about to black out, the V-4 slips beyond him. He banks right, and sees Grizzly through his cockpit. He manages to get behind the V-4 and depresses his trigger.

 

[Yalkan]

“Scoop it! We’ve almost lost him!” Boomer yelled.

Finn was pushing the throttle to maximum. The twin scream of the engines whined even more. And that’s when Finn heard it. A sudden loud buzz and burst. Then a very loud bang came from the right side. Before he could even look to see, the yoke pulled right into a roll. Luckily he caught it quickly easing the craft into the roll slowly as the plane resumed level flight.

“Shit! Fuck he clipped us! He’s on our six!”

Finn grunted in response as he wrestled the controls to stabilize the jet. He toggled comms to his flight. “This is Wasabi-One, We’re hit. Wasabi-One is hit.”

He heard a response over the comms, but he couldn’t make out what was said as he wrestled to keep the plane level. The vibrations reverberating through the entire craft were only getting worse.

“Keep going! We aren’t being painted! Pull up and away from him!” Boomer kept screaming.

Finn flipped a switch for the V-4s wings to change their position. The clank of and hissing of hydraulics as they pushed the wings back into their high speed position filled the cockpit. He then pulled back on the yoke and forced the jet into a climb.

“Damn these guys are all over me!” yelled Ottar “Wamo” Myre. Wasabi-Three.

Finn couldn’t do anything about that right now though. He looked up again to see the others in Wasabi squadron taking evasive maneuvers. He saw the two CC-17 bis bandits on Wamo’s tail. At least he was alive for now. He kept turning his head to see where this Matrix was. “Talk to me Boomer, where is this asshole?” Finn asked whilst mumbling curses as the yoke lurched violently.

“I can’t see him anymore. Still nothing on the radar. I think we’ve outrun him. Keep punching it!”

“Tell them to get out of there Boomer. We've got to pull out!”

Boomer sighed a bit before toggling his own comms. “Wasabi Flight, This is Wasabi-One, Return to base. Do not engage. Repeat, do not engage. Pull away! Mission in scrubbed!”

Finn didn’t have to look to confirm his comrades were pulling away. The pitch of their engines told him all he needed to know.

“Grizzly...they got Wasabi-Two. They got Burner.”

Finn learned something right then and there. Mads “Burner” Lunde was his wingman. He had flown with him for years. No one had reported a chute. Hell, Mads didn’t even call out the hit. The only thing left was a shrinking pillar of smoke as they pulled further away. Finn felt nothing. No loss. No anger. The only feeling Finn could come close to feeling was the excitement that was coursing through his veins during the entire engagement.

 

[Predice]

Matrix's two 30mm guns fire and impact the V-4... but something is off. Matrix can immediately tell. Where were the explosions? Even as his gun tears off the wingtip of the plane ahead, he thinks to himself:
"Please tell me this isn't AP... please..."
As his guns run out of ammo he makes realisation...
"This is AP isn't it... fuck's sake." He slowly breathes in and out...

"Who the fuck loaded my guns with AP!?" Beringnola angrily questions
"These are fucking duds or they're AP. Son of a bitch! I HAD HIM! I FUCK..." He cuts himself off
"Splash one" Yells Marco "the Shark" Fiuluzzi
"They're bugging out, they're faster than us. No point pursuing them and wasting fuel. RTB." Matrix ordered, as he turned his jet back.
"At least I got the lucky fucker's wingtip. Had I had HE, he would be a goner" Matrix continues.
"Save the chit chat for the ground." The Shark says, commandingly.
"Oh shut the f... alright sure." Matrix complies.

After twenty minutes of flying, Matrix and his squadron approached the airfield. It was then that his plane began to warn him:
"Bingo fuel. Bingo fuel. Bingo fuel..."

"Of course.." he grunts

He manages to gently put down his plane on the runway and taxis to a hangar. He angrily steps off his plane.

"WHO THE FUCK LOADED MY GUNS WITH AP?! I WILL KICK YOUR FUCKING TEETH IN!" Matrix screams angrily.

"Calm yourself my man. It was a mistake" A young engineer begins to speak

"CALM MYSELF?! OH GO FUCK YOURSELF! YOU LOADED MY GUNS WITH AP! I NEEDED HE!" He takes a deep breath. "I am getting a drink. You better not fuck up next time or it will be your last I swear to fucking god you little piece of shit."

Beringnola heads for the naafi to buy himself a drink

Lighting a cigarette on the way, he thinks to himself:
"I am still buying these with my hard earned cash. Ironic."

 

[Yalkan]

One Month Earlier
February 18, 2003
Royal Yalken Air Force Base Lonning, Stenburg, Yalkan

Finn was sitting in the briefing room with his copilot Erik. Erik was fast asleep in his chair, a hat draped over his face. It gave Finn the perfect opportunity to sketch his compatriot. They were waiting for the wing commander along with other flight officers. Finn tapped his foot impatiently. They were called up all of sudden. It could only mean that this briefing would detail out actual sorties worth his time. This was definitely not some drill or attempt by the commander to instill discipline in his pilots. Finn had a nose for smelling out such actions early on in his military career. He was putting the final touches on his rendition of his copilot when he received a hard slap on the back.

“Why do you always give him such big ears? You know he’s sensitive,” commented Mads as he leaned in to see what Finn had been sketching.

“My eyes don’t lie,” he responded with a grin.

“Well it won’t be my ass when he dumps your fuel and ejects leaving you out in the middle of nowhere,” Mads laughed as he took his seat.

“Finn drawing again?” Peter “Three Eyes” Aamland asked. Mad’s coopilot.

“Yep”

“Is it the ears again?”

“Yep”

“Should I be surprised? I haven’t decided yet,” Peter said mockingly as he too sat down.

“Hey now! That’s your captain you’re talking to! He might order me to fly into a hill just to be rid of you!” Mad’s laughed out.

Erik lifted the hat off his face. Blinking slowly as he woke up. “Don’t think that’s how orders work or did they change everything again while I slept.”

Other pilots shuffled in and sat in their chairs right before the wing commander, Lieutenant Colonel Gøran Westgard, walked in followed by the squadron leader, Major Herman Roisum. All the pilots stood to salute.

“Yes yes, thank you children, sit down,” the lieutenant colonel responded as he stood in front of them. “Major Roisum here is passing out packets concerning the recent developments occurring in our nearby benevolent neighbor The Predicean People’s Republic and your possible participation in such developments. Major if you would.” He gestured for the Major to take over the briefing.

The major stood next to the colonel after passing out the packets. “As some of you may know. In the last week the People’s Republic has seen some prolific amounts of civil unrest and militant activity. The Government of Nation Unity or GNU has moved from being a government in exile to active rebellion. They have gathered support from other fringe groups.”

Behind the Major an aid was setting up a map. The major wasted no time using it. “Three days ago in Nuova Antofagosta, the capital, the city saw impressive fighting. The entire Tenth Infantry Division of the People’s Army declared mutiny and marched on the capital proper. Their progress has been halted, however this is a prime opportunity for the GNU. And for us. That’s where you come in.”

The major began pacing back and forth letting the last bit sink in. Finn could see the other pilots leaning in and taking special interest. They were hungry. He could not deny it for himself either. This smelled like action!

The major continued, “Our government has been approached by the GNU looking for support of any kind. And our government has deemed it fit that we may answer the call. But not completely. You know how these pencil pusher types are. Things are always half assed. We will require ‘volunteers’ for a small force to give aerial support. This will include high/low altitude recon. Coordinated Ground Support. And if you’re lucky…. you might even get to dance with some of their pilots. Questions?”

All the pilots in the briefing room chuckled. Finn raised his hand before speaking, "When do we start operations?”

“As soon as we have our volunteers. I take it you’re interested Captain Boelter?” The lieutenant colonel responded. “As soon as you boys fill out your paperwork, we’ll have you in the air.”
Finn was already grinning. Finally. Something exciting.

 

[Yalkan]

August 4, 1994
270 kilometers of the coast of Yalkan

Finn was gripping his yoke like it was his life line back to real civilization. It was his first solo flight. No instructor in a seat behind him. No one there to help him if things went bad. He felt he was drenched in sweat. So far so good. At least he wasn’t completely alone. He had been following on the wing of his instructor Captain Oskar “Fatman” Madland. Finn looked at the brand spanking new V-4 that his instructor was flying. It was slicing through the skies like a scalpel. He could not help but smile under his oxygen mask. The Drääke that he was flying decided to show its jealousy and dropped a few feet in altitude in an instant. He gripped the yoke tighter, turning his knuckles white. His smile was gone. He’d have to apologize to the old gal later.

A voice buzzed over Finn’s headset. “If I didn’t know any better I could have sworn I saw your plane shivering. You alright kid?”

Finn pushed the button on his yoke to respond. “Yes all above board here. The water is looking especially deep and blue today.” The vast blue beneath both went on forever. As if it threatened to swallow them both up. Finn took a deep breath to allow the feeling to pass.

“Don’t worry kid, it aint as cold as you think. We’re thirty klicks from the PNR. We’ll be well on our way home before then. So sit back and relax a little. Just think of….,” Fatman’s voice trailed off for a moment. Finn checked his comms, they seemed all alright.

“Repeat last, I didn’t quite get that.” That’s when Finn’s radar decided to come to life and show two blips on the screen. He blinked heavily before looking again. “Uhhh, Fatman, I’m getting two bogeys on bearing one three three.” Finn waited for a response. Nothing. He tried again, “Fatman do you copy?” Still nothing. He was looking at the plane flying slightly in front of him. Everything seemed alright. He pushed on the throttle and pulled up alongside the V-4 to get a look into the cockpit. Fatman was staring right back at him shaking his head whilst tapping his headset.

“Of all the times…,” Finn muttered as he fumbled to get his flash light out of it’s pocket trying to remember the alphabet in Morse. Fatman was already blinking a message to him. Finn squinted to see the blinking light against the brightness of the sun overhead. “Com…. Down…. Two…. Bogey…. R…. T….B,” Finn said aloud whilst trying to maintain level flying. His eyes caught the blips getting much closer now. He gave a thumbs up to Fatman. The V-4 rolled and pulled into a turn, Finn followed suit.

The two blips were practically on top of them now. Finn nervously swiveled his head constantly to get a spot on them. They had adjusted their heading to pursue. Contact would be imminent. Finn figured for now he would have to stay on his leader’s wing. He noticed he had been holding his breath. As soon as he let go to breathe again, he saw Fatman’s V-4 pull up and to the right. Finn pulled on his yoke to follow suit and that’s when he saw them. The two blips from the radar had now become two real dark spots contrasting against the white of the clouds towering over them all.

“Shit,” Finn cursed audibly.

Finn’s heart was racing in his chest. This was his first contact with…. anything. All the potentials were running through his mind. His Drääke shook as he tried to keep up with his wingman’s V-4. Fatman was pulling ahead of him significantly. Fear started to sink into Finn’s heart. What if he was left behind? What if he couldn’t keep up with these two bogeys’ maneuvers? Shit what if they were actually engaged? Finn began checking his weapons systems. Gun was loaded. Full spread of aams. His training was kicking in. He breathed deeply and slowly to calm his nerves. The two dark spots broke their formation. One was going high into a climb. The other was diving down into a banking intercept. Finn could see the nose of the aircraft pointing dead at Fatman.

This is it. Finn’s grip on his yoke was making his hand hurt. Or it probably should have made his hand hurt, if it was not so numb. Fatman’s V-4 was far ahead now banking and climbing towards the diving bogey. That’s when Finn saw a missile launch from the wing of the V-4. Finn’s eyes slowly tracked the missile as he watched in disbelief. The bandit deployed flares and rolled out of the path before swooping back into a climb.

“Shit!,” Finn yelled. We’ve engaged! He thought. His head swiveled to keep track of the other aircraft still high above them. Had they been fired upon? Finn didn’t see anything from the diving aircraft. Fatman had already banked to follow the climbing aircraft. The Drääke couldn’t turn so quickly. He noticed the other bandit had now dropped into a dive as well, probably to cover his wingman. Finn pushed his throttle to full. The Drääke wouldn’t climb as fast as he needed. The V-4 kept pulling further and further away from him on the tail of his prey.

Fatman was using his gun. The distinct buzz was echoing even though the scream of all the jet engines. Finn tried pulling up even further to try and intercept the diving bandit, but it was too late. A missile lit up and whistled across the sky. Finn held his breath. Fatman deployed his flares before trying to roll into a dive. It didn’t change a thing. The missile made contact. The V-4 that was shining in the sun before, was now crumbling apart in a smoking heap as it hurdled towards eras.

Finn’s fear peaked. He knew in his heart he had no chance. He furrowed his sweat covered brow. He’d see Fatman soon. Luckily for him, the bandit that had launched the missile swooped right into his firing line. The Drääke’s computer got an instant lock. She was thirsty for blood. He launched two missiles. They screamed forward ahead of him one after the other. The bandit deployed flares and pulled into a climb. One of the missiles exploded amongst the flares. Yet the remaining one continued its hunt. The distance was closing. The bandit swerved and tried fighting off the pursuing missile, but to no avail. It finally closed the distance and exploded. A hit! Finn’s heart sored with hope. However, the plane kept flying. It was clearly damaged however. Leaving a long smoke trail as it desperately clung to flight. He moved in to finish it. The alarm decided to interrupt him. “Warning. Missile. Warning. Missile,” the alarm screamed at him. He ignored it. It was inevitable. But at least he could get revenge. He lined up his crosshairs on the smoking bandit. He squeezed the trigger. The Drääke vibrated violently as the gun shot hundreds of rounds in a mere few seconds. The bandit in front of him disintegrated into a cloud of debris and little smoking meteors.

“Warning. Missile. Warning. Missile.” Finn came out of his bloody haze. He still had time! Panic gripped him. There was nothing he could do. He had let the missile get too close. Eject. He had to eject! He pulled on the yellow handle between his legs. The canopy bolts exploded and shot it off. As soon as it did, the air that was rushing outside decided to punch him in the face. The back of his head hit the pilot seat. First there was pain, but then there was nothing but darkness.

 

[Yalkan]

August 5th, 1994
Zeta, Yalkan

“I want to know how this could happen. How is it that countries that don’t share any border have this sort of incident happen!” yelled Prime minister Iswald Markussen. The cabinet was dead silent. Mr. Markussen held his face in his hands. “We were just working on reducing our presence. What part of reducing force does this look like?!”

“Sir, not to be a cynic, but everything that could go wrong, did,” the minister of defense, Agnar Rongstad, responded. “The communication systems failed on both crafts. They couldn't respond or commence hails. Not only that it was a training exercise.”

“This is why I wanted to reduce our presence in the first place! Now we can’t! If we do it’ll be a huge victory for the Predicean People’s Republic. We’ll appear weak. Like we’re bowing to these revolutionaries,” Mr. Markussen said as he was tapping his pointed finger on the reports in front of him.

“We could use this to denounce them. Their expansionist agenda. It would be good to show the world where we stand,” Agnar replied as he leaned back in his chair.

Mr. Markussen stared at the man in dead silence for what seemed like an eternity. “Are you an idiot? Everyone in the world already knows where we stand. That would only escalate and exacerbate the situation. What I don’t want is Prediceans landing and marching on our beaches over a single plane!”

“That plane. No. That pilot died defending his home,” Agnar responded coolly, never breaking with the gaze of the Prime Minister. “Are we really going to let that happen without any repercussion?”

“Now...now is not the time for that. We can’t afford a conflict of such magnitude. For now, bury it. We need to get ahead of this before the press gets onto it and blows this out of proportion. But don’t worry General Rongstad. Maybe not now, but we will respond in the ways we can afford.”

 

[Predice]

August 5th 1994
Rivoluzione Air Base, North of Colorino, Predice

The Squadron was filled with anguish and thoughts of revenge. "Wiseguy" had been shot down over the ocean, likely having died instantly upon hit. His wingman, the young Lieutenant Carlo Berignola was especially hard hit. It had been his leader who'd been shot down. He felt guilty, he felt at fault. He couldn't get it out of his head. He needed to call the guy's wife...

He went to a payphone, inserted a 5 piara coin, and dialled the number.
He hears a voice on the other side: "H-hello?"
"Hello. I am Lieutenant Carlo Berignola. I called you to deliver some terrible news."
"W-what happened?"
"Your husband..."
"No..."
"Your husband was killed in action while defending his country."
She sobbed.
"I-I'll leave you to grieve. Goodbye." he puts the phone back into its place, and sits down on a bench outside.

He sobs into his hands, trying to keep quiet. The entire base was grieving with him.
He would not forget this.

 

[Yalkan]

March 3rd, 2003
Skies over the Nord region of Predice

Finn stared out of the cockpit into the clear skies all around him. He swore he could see them. Any moment they would arrive. “Grizzly.” He turned to look up towards the sun. No clouds. No cover for them to sneak up. “Grizzly!” He checked his radar. The scope was clear. Well, except for the blip ahead of him. They should be here by now. “Finn! Brother!”

“What is it?” Finn barked back towards his copilot turning his head to look back at him.

“You’ve...you’ve been on this guy for a minute. Don’t draw it out. Finish the mission and let’s go,” Boomer responded with worry in his voice.

Finn brushed him off. In front of him a few klicks ahead was a large cargo plane. Supposedly carrying vital supplies from some far airbase. Finn had already forgotten where. The computer in front of him told him he had a lock. Finn had no intention of rushing his ‘mission’. If he waited. Surely they would call for backup.

“Give it a few more seconds,” Finn said as his gaze returned to the surrounding skies. He was out there Finn thought to himself. Just waiting for him.

“Look man you can’t bring them back! Especially by risking our necks! Mads and Peter are gone…” Boomer trailed off expecting a response, but none came. “Talk to me Grizzly!” Boomer was shouting now. Finn didn’t look back this time. His eyes were still scanning the horizon.

“This ain’t about that. This is different.”

“What’s different?! We have a target to destroy! There’s the target! It’s been there for some ten minutes now! Fire the damn missile!”

“Not yet.”

“You’re making me nervous, man. You’re distracted. And that’s no way to fly. That’s a death sentence up here.”

Finn sighed in defeat. “Fine, Fox two.”

A lone missile trailed forwards towards its prey. The plane slowly tried to bank away and deploy flares. Finn had already pulled away before confirmation of the hit. The distinct sound of metal tearing apart is all he needed. He would have to explain his hesitation. He could probably excuse it as battle fatigue when he got back to base. Finn cursed that ‘they’ were a no show. Another opportunity wasted.

 

[Yalkan]

July 29th, 2003
Royal Yalken Air Force Base Lonning, Stenburg, Yalkan

Finn sat in the hangar staring at the V-4 in front of him. His V-4. Sure he didn’t own it, bought and paid for by the government and all that, but he knew the gal like the back of his hand. The ground monkeys were just about done with what he asked. His request wasn’t regulation, but when you’ve shot down sixteen planes and run hundreds of bombing runs in the span of five months, you get special privileges.

It also helped he was the only one left. Finn chuckled a little to himself at the desperation of trying to find the silver lining of having all your comrades die. He laughed a bit more whilst letting his head hang back. “Guess…. I really am the best of the squadron now,” he muttered to himself.

Why was it that he couldn’t protect them? First Jonas and Iver, then Mads and Peter. So many others. And now it was Nik and Tor. Maybe they were weak. Maybe he wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter. Not really. One thing Finn knew was that now, he had no chains. It was a bitter irony. Because he had failed now he could win. He didn’t have to waste energy or time on the fallen. They all had known what they volunteered for. Perhaps not. But they did so willingly. The risks were there whether you liked them or not.

“You’re watching the greasers work? Really?” It was Boomer. He pulled up a foldable chair next to Finn and sat down.

“Only way to know she’s taken care of is to see to it yourself. Besides it’s not like I’m actually doing the work,” Finn responded while looking at his co-pilot. The man had changed. He looked older.

“Why do they got her all wrapped up for?”

Finn didn’t answer the question. He looked back to the plane. Would Boomer even understand? Of course he would. He was his right hand man. The man had seen his brothers die in front him just the same as he had. Finn smirked again at his own doubt. No time for that. Boomer had said it himself.

“Just a modern take on…. an ancient tradition, you’ll see,” Finn finally responded. Boomer looked at him quizzically. Finn could see the gears turning in the man’s mind. Eventually though the questioning eyes flashed into a resolute stare of understanding. He had clearly pieced it together.

“What color?” he asked slowly.

Finn grinned. It felt good to know that he had a co-pilot like Boomer.

“Red. Blood Red.”

 

[Predice]

August 1st, 2003
11° Gruppo Caccia Headquarters, Nord, Predice

Carlo sat on a lawn chair, cigar in mouth. He sat there and admired the plane with which he had won all his victories, now in a new outfit. He sat there, on the tarmac, enjoying the summer heat. As he finished his cigar, he stood up, and walked over to the table, laying out glasses and filling them with whiskey for every man in the Squadron, knowing well that he was the only man left. It had become something of a tradition for him. It helped him mourn those he'd lost. The base was eerily quiet. Many assets had been moved elsewhere, and only the minimum to support the last plane left were kept. A tear slipped through the corner of his eye, as he drank the shot allotted to him, and left the rest for his comrades. He then returned to his plane. She was a worn machine, having seen many battles and having helped the man weather many storms. She was his best friend. He quietly affixed a last Yalken kill marker on its place, before putting a letter to his family to the post. Not a soul in sight. He truly felt alone here, in this semi-deserted base, but he demanded to be kept here, and the Government couldn't really force their top scoring ace to do anything. He quietly paced around the tarmac, and looked at the flag he bore on his sleeve. Lighting a cigarette, he burnt a hole into the red star, before looking up into the sky, and saying: "I shall come soon, Comrades."

 

[Predice]

August 2nd, 2003
11° Gruppo Caccia Headquarters, Nord, Predice

Looking into his wallet, Carlo digs out a 5 piara coin, and looks at it for a second. The copper coin looks worn.
Inserting it into the coin slot, he waits for the prompt to select a number, which finally comes.
Inserting the number, he waited.
Soon a voice comes to the line:
"Hi!"

"Hi honey!"

"It's been so long."

"I'm sorry. Hopefully I'll get home soon. How's my little Bertie been?"

"He's been having a tough time without you. He's been wondering when you are coming home."

"Bring him up here."
Some shuffling could be heard on the other line

"Papa!"

"Bertie!"

"When are you coming home?"

"I don't know, but I promise you, I'll come home soon. I love you!"

"Ok... Mama wants to talk to you still."

"Please come back soon alright?"

"I promise you I'll come back."

"Stay safe honey, I love you!"

"Me too. Kisses!"

"Bye."

Carlo quietly hangs the phone up, and wipes his eyes. He thinks about what these next few days would bring

 

[Yalkan]

April 11th, 1982
Pasture outside of Skriekensburg, Yalkan

A lone sheep ate grass along a wet hillside. Nothing working to break the tranquility of the moment. Wet grass. A light breeze. Clouds hiding the hot sun. Heaven for the singular sheep. It kept chewing completely unaware of the young boy sitting on his dirt bike at the top of the hill. Ignorance was bliss.

Finn had finally found the damned fluffball. Twenty seven miles from the pen. It was a miracle that it hadn’t been eaten despite being lost for two days. He had been scolded for the whole two days. He swore didn’t leave the gate unlocked. These damned sheep were smarter than they looked. He’d have to prove it to his grandpa later. Right now. He had to herd the little beastie back to home.

“I gotch you now! Target Acquired!” Finn yelled before revving the throttle on the bike. The wheels spun to life kicking mud and propelling the little boy forward down the hill. Soon enough Finn realized that perhaps going full throttle down a wet hillside was not the best of plans. The sheep merely moved to avoid being hit by the howling child. When Finn passed the sheep at breakneck speeds despite his best efforts of applying the brakes, he definitely knew he had made a mistake. The initial war-cry had turned into a high pitched scream. Finn held on tightly as the bike bumped and swayed all over as gravity took the wheel.

“Stoooooooooooop!” He prayed desperately. His prayers were answered. The front wheel of his bike caught on some rocks deep in the mud of the hillside. The bike came to a very abrupt halt. Finn did not. Time slowed down for him for a brief moment. He saw the dew on the grass of the hill. The splatter of mud flying with him. The rays of the sun peaking through the clouds overhead. The way the wind was dancing along the hill. The moment passed. As he tumbled through the air Finn could only think that if he lived, he’d triple lock the gate every chance he got.

The boy landed with a distinct ‘slorp’ in the mud some fifteen yards away from his bike. The sheep stared at him for a moment before resuming lunch.

 

[Predice]

March 19th, 1985
Nuova Antofagosta, Predice

Carlo was celebrating his 15th birthday with a few friends. His parents had left for the weekend. They'd left them 200 piara. The boys played games, and had a fun time. They went into Carlo's parents' room. There they found a pack of Red Star Cigarettes.

"Nice!" one of the boys exclaimed.

The boys secretly went into the backyard, it was dark out, and nobody was out. Perfect.
Each of the boys took a cigarette and they smoked them. Surpirsingly it was Carlo's first time, and he coughed, but concealed this as best he could, as to not embarass himself. This seemed to work somewhat well, however the boys decided to head back inside, and maybe order some pizza.

Looking into the phonebook, Carlo quickly found the number to order pizza, and called the number. He ordered 3 Margherita pizzas, and a pizza capricciosa. The pizza arrived quickly, and Carlo paid for his order. The boys quickly descended on the pizzas.

Soon afterwards, the boys also opened the alcohol cupboard, taking out a bottle of Bourbon whiskey. They had all made sure to eat a fair amount before drinking some each. This moderation did not last long however, and soon the 8 boys had emptied 3 bottles of whiskey, and a bottle of wine between them. They were all sleeping by 11:45PM.

Carlo was grounded for 2 weeks.

Little did Carlo know, that one day one of these boys would be his wingman.

 

[Predice]

August 3rd, 2003
11° Gruppo Caccia Headquarters, Nord, Predice

Carlo glances into his pack of cigarettes.

"Son of a bitch. One left."

He takes it out and looks at it for a while. He begins to quietly walk towards the memorial of his fallen comrades, finding that of his wingman, and best friend, Giorgio "Crusader" Avanzo. He looks down at the guy's memorial, and slowly puts the cigarette into the earth, lighting it.

"This one's for you, brother" he says tenderly.

It all came back to him...


It was a warm July day. He and Giorgio were riding Motorbikes on a country trail. They were both newlyweds. They talked about life, memories, the Military, plans for the future and so on.
"We got posted to the same unit didn't we" Giorgio began
"11th Squadron for life!" Carlo responded
"So, how's the wife?" Giorgio asks
"Great! Have I told you we're expecting?" Carlo responds
"Yeah! We too!" Giorgio answers
"Remember when we rode our bikes for the first time?" Carlo asks
"Nine years ago. Like yesterday. Anyway, I bet I can beat you to that vineyard." Giorgio responds
"Like hell you can!" Carlo yells
"Observe." Giorgio responds simply.

Carlo finds himself sobbing at his best friend's memorial. He had lost so much.
He glances at the pistol in his holster...
"Not yet" He mutters.
"I will join you when it is time." he continues...
He curled up next to the memorial, as the cigarette slowly burned...

 

[Yalkan]

August 5th
The Skies.

Finn glimpsed at his airspeed. He was pushing the limits that his readouts could give. It wasn’t as fast as he had hoped, but the mean old gal was carrying a full spread. The gentle whine of the twin engines told him that she was in perfect form. Ready for anything. He toggled the comms to his copilot on his yoke.

“How much longer till the airbase?” He asked, watching hillsides and trees zoom by outside of the cockpit . His fingers were tingling in his gloves. The excitement of what was to come coursed through him. Finn knew once he got what he wanted he wouldn’t be so jittery.

“We should be passing over in approximately three mikes,” Boomer replied. “Are you sure about this Grizzly? A direct fly over?”

Finn could tell from his voice that he too was anxious. That was good. It meant he was alert. Finn would need him at his best. He chuckled a bit, loud enough for Boomer to hear.

“What’s so funny?” Boomer asked incredulously.

“It’s like you said. No room for doubt up here, buddy. You with me?” Finn replied with a laugh.

With a steely voice that dripped with sarcasm Boomer retorted, “Well now that you ask I think this is my stop coming up on the ri- oh there it goes. Looks like I’m stuck with your ugly ass.”

Finn smiled under his oxygen mask. He had already known the answer, but it was good to hear it.

“Less than one mike. Over this ridge,” Boomer announced.

Finn’s hand tightened on the yoke. Show time. His vision locked on the ridge. He could have sworn his V-4 was going faster as they got closer. Just the adrenaline he smirked. The plane shot over the ridge like a cannon. The ridge had revealed its secret, an expansive flat valley with an airbase smack dab in the middle. Almost immediately Finn’s display lit up with warnings.

“We’re being painted. I’ve got multiple locks!,” Boomer called out.

Finn saw beyond the sheen of the cockpit that the distant emplacements started firing their SAMs and lighting the sky with tracers from rotary cannons. He felt no hesitation. He pushed the throttle to maximum and the engines roared in answer. Gently he began to swivel his yoke, cutting the V-4 through the incoming fire. The base kept getting closer and before long Finn was right on top of it. He could almost hear the echo of the engines from the ground. Perhaps it was just his imagination. Just as soon as they were over the base, the jet had shot far past it.

Finn let out a loud whoop followed by laughter. “Think they got the message?!” he yelled over the screaming turbines.

Boomer could only mutter “Sweet messiah” before responding, “They’re still shooting! So yes!”

 

[Predice]

August 5th, on the Tarmac

Carlo was already on the tarmac, preparing to take off, when a V-4 darted overhead. Carlo, pissed, raised a middle finger towards it, as the plane began to dart forward on the runway. The CC-17, despite being an oldtimer, rose into the sky as quickly as she ever had. "Perhaps you're angry too?" Carlo asked jokingly, the plane answered with its big roaring engines. The CC-17 began to catch up to the V-4. Carlo depressed his trigger, and the cannons roared in response, spitting out 30mm 'fuck you' rounds, the V-4 dodged and weaved in response, the burst of cannon rounds rocketed forward, towards the V-4, but failed to hit. Carlo reoriented his aircraft, and depressed the trigger again. A hit, the right wingtip was off. Was this going to be another easy victory?
The V-4 was piloted very well, fighting to stay in the sky. It suddenly began to turn, sharply, to face the CC-17. This was unexpected. Quickly, a burst of fire was sent towards the CC-17, it thankfully missed. The planes shot past eachother, almost head-on. For a few short moments, Carlo could see Grizzly and Boomer. Carlo pulled as hard as he could on the yolk to get behind the V-4 again. This proved to be a difficult task, as the V-4 also moved hard, to create a circle, neither side was able to get a shot. Carlo, at last managed to get his sights on the plane. He depressed his trigger... nothing. He depressed it a second time... nothing. A third time... nothing. "FUCK, DID YOU HAVE TO JAM JUST NOW?" Carlo screamed out. He hoped to god that the missiles would still fire, or else he'd be defenseless. Thankfully, the missiles still worked. He managed to get a close range heat seeking missile going towards the V-4. Unfortunately the missile believed that one of the flares was a higher priority target. Carlo harumphed. The fight was still on. Carlo's fighter carried 4 missiles, one was gone now. Perhaps he could deplete the V-4's flares before firing a final missile taking the kill? Carlo's hopes were quickly disrupted by a large missile heading his way. The V-4 had again managed to get head on with the CC-17, and had launched a missile. Carlo quickly dumped flares, before diving hard, thankfully their missile also chose one of the hot flares, but now he had allowed the V-4 easy access to his rear, which they were exploiting. Carlo pulled one of his old tricks. A loop-de-loop behind the V-4, successfully. He had gotten himself out of a shit creek, however, he was now too close to launch missiles, and his guns were probably still jammed, so he made the decision to pull off the pursuit for now and try to get his guns fixed, he had already bruised the V-4. Surely it wouldn't follow? As Carlo was breaking off, he spied a V-4 following him. It was out for blood...

 

[Yalkan]

August 5th
The Skies

“Finn! Reduce your speed! You’re gonna tear the wing off!” Boomer yelled over his headset. Finn paid him no mind. The display in front of him screaming warnings at him. Finn paid them no mind. His eyes only on the orange craft contrasting against the darkening sky. He flipped a switch on his throttle before toggling the button on his yoke for his mic. Boomer’s eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing. The man was broadcasting on all channels. “What are you do-”

Carlo kept his head on a swivel trying to keep and eye on the red V-4 behind him. Any second the red demon would be in range for target lock. He lightly finessed his yoke to keep his six off his opponent’s twelve. The anticipation for missile-lock kept growing. The blip on his instruments only kept crawling closer. He began to formulate a plan. Instead Carlo’s headset burst to life with an unfamiliar voice.

“There’s no one there for you, there’s only me,” the voice crackled in broken mercanti. Carlo immediately started checking his channels. Everything seemed above board. It wasn’t on any Predicean frequencies. No friendlies in the air. It had to be UHF. It had to be him. Carlo turned his head back to locate the V-4. The flash of red against the dark clouds was stark. It was still on his tail. Well within range, but keeping it’s distance. Carlo pushed on his throttle to the maximum. His CC-17 happily roared in response. The V-4 began to lag behind. Carlo didn’t know what to make of the situation. This was a first.

“You feel it too. I can see it. You fly like you’ll be up here forever,” the voice droned on over Carlo’s headset. The dashboard in front of him lit up red. The V-4 was locked on.

“Vaffanculo...” Carlo grunted into his mic as he started his climb into evasive maneuvering.

“Tempo per la tua esibizione!” the voice crackled once more with a laugh before Carlo shut off his headset. No time for distractions.

---

Vaffanculo = Fuck you
Tempo per la tua esibizione = Time for your performance

 

[Yalkan]

August 5th
The Skies

The orange craft dived once more to break the lock. Finn’s V-4 easily followed behind move for move. Finn kept a tight grip on his yoke, always ensuring that his nose was always pointed at his opponents tail. He kept an eye on the altitude as they dropped closer and closer to the ground in the dive. Both planes disappeared into the cloud cover on their descent. His lock on the plane was broken. Finn smirked.

“These clouds won’t save you,” he chuckled into his mic. The rain and dense cloud was blinding. Only the faint orange glow of Matrix’s afterburner allowed Finn to maintain pursuit. Suddenly that lifeline disappeared.

“Where the fuck he go?” Boomer shouted. "Do you have a bead on him?"

Finn kept descending, as calmly as he could. Eyes peering beyond the glass into the dark beyond. As Finn's V-4 exited below the clouds, there was no CC-17 to be seen, at least not at first glance. Suddenly Carlo's voice came on in Finn's ears. "I am not impressed."

Finn frantically looked around, only to hear Boomer’s voice in his ears: “3 o’clock! On level!”

Looking to his right, Finn saw the Tiger CC-17, with Carlo inside giving the finger.

 

[Predice]

August 5th
The Skies

The CC-17 was still not cooperating. The V-4 was faster than the CC-17 and he wouldn't be able to get away. With no weapons, the last thing he could do was ram.
Turning above the V-4, and climbing a bit, Matrix prepared for a huge gamble. To ram the V-4 from above. The V-4 seemed to not be responding to Matrix' maneuver, they seemed to be taking a gamble too.
The CC-17 went into a dive, roaring in anger. After a few seconds that felt like hours, the CC-17 just barely passed in front of the V-4. Grizzly quickly depressed the trigger and the CC-17 was racked with cannon fire.

The CC-17, letting out its dying breaths, was rapidly losing altitude, but Matrix didn't even think about abandoning her. He struggled desperately to keep control of her, preparing to ditch his beloved aircraft.

"Damn you! Work with me here!" Matrix desperately yelled, as his aircraft began to roll out of control
Placing his feet on the dashboard, as he pulled the yolk as hard as he could, to level it off a little bit.
Fly by wire hadn't been introduced into the CC-17 yet, unfortunately for Matrix.

The plane's rapid plummeting gave Matrix little time to think, as he worked hard to keep control of the plane.
As the ground approached though, Matrix allowed himself a second of thought, before ditching the plane into the dirt.
Struggling out of the cockpit, Matrix saw the V-4 pass overhead.

 

[Yalkan]

August 5th
The Skies

“We did it!” We fucking did it, you crazy bastard!” Boomer yelped from behind Finn. Finn kept staring forward lost in thought as he kept the plane level. He waited. What was he waiting for? He had hoped maybe a sense of relief or maybe pride would come over him. There was nothing. The quickly shrinking plume of smoke in the sky behind them confirmed what he had set out to do. So why did he feel empty?

“That we did, Erik. We sure did,” Finn replied solemnly as he put away his thoughts and instead decided to share a moment with his copilot.

“Ha! Erik? You haven’t called me that since we met!” Erik sat back in his seat, clearly exhausted. “You sure had it out for him…”

Finn laughed softly beneath his oxygen mask. “I suppose...I suppose I did.”

“Oh don’t play all cool with me now of all times! You were a man possessed!” Erik laughed too as he reached over his console and slapped his partner on the back of his helmet.

“Saying all sorts of things...” Finn said, mostly to himself.

“Yeah well, I was too busy soiling myself to really notice,” Boomer chortled. Boomer’s eyes were inevitably drawn to his dashboard. “Speaking of pants shitting situations, engines overheating, fuel’s almost gone, and if that vibration in my ass is telling me anything, our wing is about to disintegrate and take us with it.”

Finn grunted in agreement. The controls had been acting up the entire engagement and even now he was unsure if they would make it back to base. Still, he took comfort in the fact the ol gal hadn’t betrayed him yet.

“Hmmm crashing because my partner is an idiot? Puts me in the mood for a song!” Boomer yelled. “Og der er det bayerol som bare Ytteborg kan brygge! Det flyter om..”

Finn rolled his eyes and smirked. One of Mad’s favorite drinking songs. He banked the plane lightly to return to base. He switched off his comm set in the hopes of allowing the deafening engines to drown out his copilot. Nothing had changed. After a while he found himself mouthing the words to the song. Everything had changed.

 

[Yalkan]

August 8th, 2003
Royal Yalken Air Force Base Lonning
Stenburg, Yalkan

Erik was pissed. He was more than pissed. Finn that dumb bastard! Going behind his back. A transfer! No discussion! Not even a word! He stormed across the tarmac to the hangar he knew Finn would be hiding in. He purposefully opened and slammed an access door to announce his arrival. A handful of aircraft mechanics stopped their work to see what the commotion was about.

“Finn! I know you’re here you son of a bitch!” Erik roared. The man stared down every mechanic. Most pretended to resume work. Others shrugged with aloofness. An older gentleman with oil stains up to his elbows was not so intimidated, but had decided to help the man in his quest.

“He’s out back in the grill pit, sun bathing I’m assuming,” he remarked without turning around.

Erik stormed off once more towards the back of the hangar where some of the techs had set up a small area to relax and lounge about. Not strictly regulation, but that wasn’t Erik’s concern at all. Once more he opened and slammed a door to the outside. He found the man he was looking for laid out on a couch with an arm over his face to block out the sun.

Without a word Erik began kicking his copilot relentlessly, that is until the sheer panic the man made him fall off the couch.

“Who the hell! What the hell! Why the hell!?” Finn barked from his spot on the ground with his face in the gravel.

“You volunteered me to return to normal service! Behind my back! Why!” Erik yelled, crossing his arms as he loomed over the still prone Finn. Finn struggled to get up before letting out a defeated sigh upon realizing who it was that was hitting him. He had hoped that the next mission would go through before his partner learned of the transfer. Too late now he supposed. There was no point in hiding it any longer.

Finn dusted himself off before replying, ”The V-4 got junked. Too many parts needed replacing. Major Roisum has been informed from powers on high that we can’t afford to continue missions.”

“That doesn’t explain the transfer you magnanimous cunt,” Erik shot back.

“I convinced the major… that I could still do missions using uh, cheaper methods. Using an Styrkefalke.”

“An Styrkefalke?! That barely holds-”, Erik stopped himself for a moment. He took a deep breath before continuing. ”I see. So no need for me anymore. Just gonna take everyone on by yourself huh? You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“It’s better this way.”

Erik exploded from his collected calm, “How is this better?!”

“You won’t be in danger.”

“Oh so I’m the one in danger! Mister big shot here is fucking invincible! Unlike his pals! You’re a real piece of work Boelter! Fine! Die like the rest of them!”

Erik stormed off in a rage back towards headquarters. Finn sat back down on the couch with his head leaning back. Erik would be okay. He’d recover. He’d get to live a long life and make a career out of all of this. Finn on the other hand.... there was a feeling he could not shake. This last mission would help him figure it out. He threw an arm over his eyes to blot out the sun. It was better this way.