Solar War Vignettes - Foxfire Requiem
Author: iaart
Area 91
Okita
State of Tenzan
December 7, 0123 R.C.
0615 hours
There was frost on the canopy again.
First Lieutenant Erich Wolff scraped it away with his glove, and squinted into the overcast sky, jagged mountains above the uniform gray of the clouds.
This would be his first flight on Plateia that wouldn’t be a simulation, and what a flight it would be. Since his youth, he’d dreamt of flying an F-119 Accipiter, and now the opportunity lay waiting before him. If only the circumstances hadn’t been so dire. With the fall of the Northern Redoubt, practically all of Okita now lay vulnerable to the Union State’s advances. The fight for air superiority would be key to driving them back.
1Lt. Erich Wolff and Cpt. Itsuki “Whiplash” Ari.
Behind him, he could hear the footsteps of his Weapons Systems Officer, Captain Itsuki “Whiplash” Ari. She was a seasoned pilot, and a veteran of the Colony War, or so he’d been told. This would be his first mission with 511th Tactical Fighter Squadron, and he wasn’t quite sure what to expect of it.
“Morning, Wolff. You nervous?”
He shook his head, and continued to stare out at the mountains. Behind him, he heard the rustle of something being unwrapped. Looking back, he saw Itsuki offer him a Nagiyama chocolate bar.
“Want it? You’ll need the energy.”
Besides milk chocolate, each bar contained dextroamphetamines, caffeine, and sugar—a mix potent enough to keep the pilots of the Coalition working through long flight hours. Not quite as potent or sophisticated as the stuff fencer pilots got, though.
“…Sure, thanks.” Taking a bite, he looked on past her. Besides their aircraft, the squadron’s planes sat idle, awaiting the arrival of the pilots to fly them.
He ran a hand across the fuselage of their aircraft, as one might a wounded dog. “I heard these were pulled from reserve,” he said. “You certain we won’t run into issues?”
She shrugged. “We’ve had two weeks to get them working. I think maintenance has got us covered, Wolff. They’re a bit old, but they’re in working order. Question is, do you have what it takes to fly one?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Itsuki looked back. “Briefing should be in fifteen minutes. Once you’re done catching fresh air, I’d suggest you get to it.”
0630 hours
Erich sat in the briefing room with the rest of the flight. He was one of the few new pilots here, and the presence of his comrades, many of whom were veterans, was somewhat intimidating to him. A man clad in a Coalition service uniform stepped into the room, and tapped a projector. A map of the nearby area flashed onto a whiteboard.
“Good morning, everyone. I know the weather’s been hell, but it’s cleared up just enough that we need to get your asses out there.” The Lieutenant Colonel grinned. “I hope you all caught some beauty sleep.”
Lieutenant Colonel Roland Foulke was the CO of the 511th, and had been a fighter pilot long before many of them had even considered a life in the armed services. A career CFA officer, he’d flown his first combat sorties in Vasati during the Colony War, where he racked up confirmed kills even as the Coalition lines collapsed. During the Vasatian Wars, he fought against Grensland, the SIF and SVA alike, and eventually saw combat against Commonwealth pilots during their intervention in the conflict. He had been transferred back to Plateia in 0119, and the Solar War was soon to follow. He saw service in Eurysia, then Esmaria, then finally Tenzan.
By the time the Union State invaded Okita, Foulke was already written off by most as a burnt-out relic—too blunt, too angry, too Esmarian for the fragile situation on the island. But when everything fell apart, he’d been one of the few left with a clear head and a working grasp of how to keep the jets flying—even as most air units relocated south.
He pressed a button on his remote, and an icon appeared near a mountain pass. “Flasks out of Kamiguni again. We believe they’re hunting one of our southbound convoys ferrying survivors back to Fujisaki,” Pa-43s, CFA reporting name ‘Flask’, were the mainstay of the Union State’s jet fighters; supermaneuverable, equipped for air superiority and ground support missions alike, it could stand toe-to-toe with the Coalition’s F-119 Accipiters, and then some.
“We think they’re running off an AWACS, call-sign Kosmos-4. That’s your jackpot. You find that, and you’ve found the fighters. Kill the source of the information, and the bandits will have to split. Eliminate that AWACS or send it on the retreat—that should be enough to ensure the convoy makes it to the city unmolested.”
Someone in the back raised a hand. “What do we do if the fighters spot us first?”
“Lead them away. You’re the only flight of the squadron that will sortie for this one, we’re making the most out of what we have. If the convoy is spotted, they’ll send in bombers, and that’s not good. Get in there, kill the AWACS, and get the hell out. Quick and simple. Any questions?”
Nobody raised a hand. The Lieutenant Colonel nodded. “Okay. Dismissed. Be in your fighters by 0730.”
Erich stood up, and began walking towards the hangar, Itsuki following behind him.
“Let’s see how well you can fly, Wolff.”
0735 hours
The engine roared to life, as did the jet’s control surfaces. In the cockpit, Erich felt a rush of adrenaline course through his veins, and he could barely keep himself still.
“Remember, the neural sync will mess with your body a bit the first time you use it with a new partner. Don’t worry about it, alright? It just means it’s working.” Itsuki’s voice came from behind him. “And don’t go digging too deep in my head.”
He laughed. “I won’t, ma’am.”
Erich could feel himself tense as a sharp sensation pricked at his extremities, his nerves flaring as a distinctly separate voice echoed in his mind.
Then, his hands and feet jerked, and he could sense the stick and throttle, not through his gloves, but through the craft itself. His ears, attuned to the whine of the engines, were deaf to the sound of his own breath. He was the plane, he was Itsuki, and the plane was him. Images flashed of a life not his own, of memories that weren’t his, and the pain of a loss that never was. Then the world settled down again, and he was staring into a gray sky once more. The other pilot’s thoughts had already become an accepted fact.
He blinked, and took in a breath, the oxygen mask resting on his face. “…It takes time getting used to,” he muttered to himself.
Itsuki gave him a tap on his helmet. “We’re linked. It’ll be easier next time. Now let’s try a systems check. Go down the list, read to me what you see.”
Erich nodded. “Auxiliary power unit is functioning. Radar and avionics, online. Engine status operational. All weapon systems, online. Canopy seal intact. System reports no malfunctions. Airbrake, landing gear, and flight control systems are all operational. We’re good to go.”
The WSO nodded. “Good. Let’s get rolling.”
The control tower crackled to life. “511th, you are cleared for takeoff. No angels watching today—keep it ugly.”
Foxfire One was first onto the runway.
“Foxfire One, taxiing now. All systems nominal,” its pilot, First Lieutenant Reina Hoshino, announced. Like Erich, she was new blood in the unit, and the only other one, in fact. The rest of the squadron all had some degree of combat experience, whether in the Colony War or the current conflict. But not her, or him, and he had a feeling that was going to bite him in the ass sooner or later.
“It's a quiet day in hell,” Foxfire One’s WSO and the flight’s leader, Major Greg “Wiretap” Sutter, was one of the few pilots Erich personally heard of before his assignment, an ace who had earned his stripes in the Colony War. “Keep an eye out. Union State bastards like to play dirty, especially when they’ve got the cloud layer to themselves.”
With that, Foxfire One rocketed away, quickly disappearing into the skies above.
“Foxfire Two, hot and heavy. Missiles loaded, seeker heads active. Brakes set…” Captain Kenji “Smoke” Inoue and his pilot, First Lieutenant Daichi “Blitz” Murayama, were next in line. Erich didn’t know much about them, but their record was nothing short of impressive. A solid pair, skilled at dogfighting, and a favorite among the enlisted for their antics.
“Hydraulics humming like they owe us money. Avionics scratched but breathing,” Blitz remarked.
He could hear the snapping of switches over the comm as the pair hastily ran through their launch checklist. “Brakes off, afterburners lit and on full power. Clear deck, two is away. Let’s make some noise,” Smoke announced.
Through the glass, Erich could see the jet scream down the runway, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. It soared up and above the mountains, and then vanished, like its wingman before it. For a few seconds, there was silence, save for the crackling of the comm and the rumble of the remaining aircraft.
Erich looked down at his throttle, and rested his hand on it. He’d practiced this hundreds of times, in simulations, and on test planes.
“Not second-guessing yourself, are you?” Erich could hear a familiar voice echoing in his mind: Itsuki, communicating to him through the plane’s neural link.
He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“Just making sure, lieutenant. We don’t need any more dead newbies.”
“Foxfire Three, rolling systems check… radar green, targeting aligned. Weapons verified,” Captain Petar “Ghost” Ivankovic, and his pilot, First Lieutenant Alicia “Cinder” Caldwell, were more of an enigma to him, even though he’d trained with them in the VR pods a couple of days ago.
Their service records were spotty, at best, but from what little Erich had heard, Ghost was a competent weapons operator, and Cinder was a damn fine flier, despite her habit of chewing gum during missions. She had a knack for pulling of maneuvers that no sane fighter pilot would even think of performing, let alone attempt… and she had been one of the last ones out of the Northern Redoubt, or so the rumors went. “Afterburner green, throttle good. Systems are looking clear. We’re on the hunt.”
“Foxfire Four, you’re up,” said Wiretap. “Get in the sky. Don’t leave us hanging.”
Itsuki gave him a tap. “This is it. Showtime.”
His hands were on the controls, and his legs were rigid. Over the comm, the control tower hailed them. “You’re clear for takeoff, Foxfire Four.”
“Aye aye, Control,” replied Erich, and with that, he rolled his craft out onto the runway.
The engines rumbled, and he could feel the airframe shake. Pushing forward on the throttle, he tensed as the F-119 shot forward. Within a moment, the lights of the hidden mountain base became a distant memory, replaced by the clouds and mountains of the landscape below.
Erich pulled on the stick, and the plane turned, bringing him face to face with the sun, peeking through a small hole in the gray clouds. He squinted, and could just barely make out three silhouettes in the distance—his squadron mates, no doubt. Above, the glimmer of aurorae shimmered at the sky’s edge, arcs of luminous plasma creasing the horizon.
“Looks like the Vortex is in flux,” Cinder remarked. “Might interfere with the next sorties.”
Wiretap grunted. “It won’t be an issue. Not for us. We’ve put up with worse. Just focus on the mission.”
The flight continued uneventfully over the the surreal sprawl of clouds that seemed to stretch on and on, broken occasionally by the jagged peaks of mountains below. Over the comm, Foulke hailed them. “Alright, 511th, you’re approaching the AO. Be on your guard, and keep your eyes peeled. You should have the AWACS in sight soon.”
“Copy that, Command. We’re in the zone,” said Wiretap.
For a few minutes, there was silence. Then, a blip on Erich’s HUD appeared, and a loud radar ping followed. “I’ve spotted something on radar. Bearing north-northwest, high altitude, moving at five-hundred KPH. Think I might have our target.”
“Command, we have a possible contact,” Wiretap announced. “Moving to investigate.”
The flight broke off into two pairs. Wiretap and Smoke took the lead, while Ghost and Whiplash hung back, ready to follow their comrades if they ran into anything unexpected. The radar ping grew louder as the flight drew closer.
Finally, the flight’s leader spoke. “Got a read on the bandit. Signature lines up with our AWACS… we’ll engage in BVR. Fire on my mark, Smoke.”
“Copy that. Arming seekers.”
Erich looked on at the dots on his HUD. They were close, too close. He could practically imagine the whir of the F-119’s seeker heads.
“Foxfire One, missiles away, tracking true.”
“Foxfire Two, tracking the bandit.”
They had a lock. This was going to be a clean kill. The Asterian fighters would never know what hit them. Erich relaxed slightly. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to dogfight on his first sortie after all.
Then, the AWACS vanished from his radar, as did his squadronmates. A red light flashed in his cockpit. Something was wrong. His instruments were acting up. “What the hell is going on?”
Itsuki swore. “ECM! Someone expected us. Hold on, Wolff!”
A second later, a flash of light engulfed his view, and he felt a sharp sensation in the back of his neck, a stabbing pain. When he opened his eyes, the world around him was a haze of static and white-hot sparks, his vision flickering in and out of focus. It was as if his entire body was on fire, burning him from the inside out, and he could only barely move his limbs. Every inch of him ached, and his throat felt tight. He could taste bile, and his nose was bleeding. He tried to speak, but no words came from his lips. His thoughts were muddled, and his mind raced.
“Can you hear me? Answer, damn it!” Itsuki’s voice was distorted and indistinct, a distant shout in his ear. Erich was vaguely aware of someone grabbing his shoulder. “Stay with me, Wolff. You’re going to be okay.” She sounded desperate, and Erich was unsure if her words were a lie or not.
Suddenly, his senses snapped back. And he saw the sky above him, the mountains and clouds. Through the canopy, he could see a Flask in the distance, its silhouette illuminated by a pair of bright blue trails.
“Missile launch!” Itsuki called out.
Instinctively, Erich pulled his fighter into a dive, countermeasures deploying behind him. As he did, the enemy fighter roared past him, and the missile went wide of his jet, exploding just short of the cloud layer.
“Shit. That was close,” he thought.
Itsuki grunted. “No fucking kidding. How the hell did they get the jump on us?”
“The others…” Erich’s mind raced. Were his comrades dead, or were they simply caught in the same trap?
“Mayday, mayday, mayday. Foxfire Three, Foxfire Four, I’ve got a bogey at six o’ clock. Get him off me!” Wiretap’s voice was strained over the radio, his breathing audible. “He’s right on my tail!”
“On it,” replied Itsuki. “Wolff, get us in position.”
Erich nodded. “Roger that.”
He pulled his plane into a sharp turn, and pushed the throttle forward. The enemy jet, a black speck against the gray of the clouds, loomed larger and larger in his sights. It was turning, attempting to maneuver its way out of his firing arc, but Erich didn’t let up.
“Locking on,” Itsuki announced, her fingers flying across the keypad. “Firing!”
Two AIM-23M Dart infrared missiles launched from their hardpoints, streaking towards the enemy plane. For a split-second, the Pa-43 banked, and then a brilliant ball of fire erupted from the fuselage, sending pieces of the craft hurtling through the air.
“Good kill,” said Wiretap. “Now, where the hell are the rest of them?”
“I think I’ve found one of ‘em. On my six. Blitz, break left!”
As soon as Smoke spoke, Erich spotted a flash of light in the distance. A cloud of tracers arced down from the skies, and the F-119 rolled and weaved to avoid them.
“Ghost, on our three. Take him out!”
Another Flask emerged from the swirling mist, the distinctive profile of its design visible through the canopy. It began to climb, and its cannons flashed. Tracer fire lanced out, striking the side of the mountain below, and a plume of smoke and dust billowed in its wake. A missile launched from its undercarriage. Erich knew that the pilot wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long. But the missile was a different story. It could reach them, and the pilot seemed intent on killing his target. It was a simple game of chicken, and it was clear that the Asterian fighter was winning. Erich could see that Ghost was trying to pull away, but the enemy had the advantage of altitude and speed, and the missile was closing fast.
“Whiplash, nail him!”
“Let’s do this,” Itsuki ordered. She leaned over her console, her eyes narrowed. “Get him in range, and then give him a full burst of 25mm. Just like the sims.”
“Roger,” replied Erich. He wasn’t about to let this Union State bastard have a chance to line up a shot on his comrades. Diving, he pushed the throttle forward, and his F-119 screamed through the air, twin engines hitting a roaring crescendo. He could hear the wind whistling past his ears, the noise of the turbines drowning out all else.
“Almost in position. Ready to fire… now!”
Pulling the trigger, the nose-mounted M73 autocannons spat forth a stream of bullets, stitching the sky in a trail of glowing red. The Pa-43 broke away from the chase, but it was too late. The rounds cut through the fuselage like wet paper, fuel igniting in a bright orange streak that quickly spread, consuming the entire aircraft in an inferno of flames. Shrapnel and twisted metal showered the ground, and the remains of the fighter tumbled into the ridge below.
The last fighter was nowhere to be seen. Erich scanned the horizon, and spotted nothing.
“They must have bugged out,” Cinder observed.
“Too many casualties to continue their mission,” Wiretap said. “They’re probably retreating alongside the AWACS. At the very least, we diverted them.”
Smoke piped up. “The convoy escort will have a much easier job cut out for them now, at least.”
Foulke spoke on the comm once again. “Radar installations at Joint Base Kamifuji are picking up their retreat. We’ve spooked them… for now. Return to base—Mission accomplished.”
And so, the planes turned, and soared back to Area 91. Erich was exhausted, but relieved to know that his first combat mission had been a success. The return flight was quiet, save for the constant hum of the engines and the occasional stray thought from Itsuki.
“Good work out there, Lieutenant. Glad you managed to keep your head on your shoulders. Let’s hope our next sortie won’t be as messy.”
He smiled weakly. “Yes, ma’am.” His body ached, and his throat was still dry. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep, but that would have to wait. For now, he had a landing to make.
As if sensing his exhaustion, Itsuki interjected. “Don’t go soft on me now. I’ll grab us something to eat after the debriefing’s done with. We haven’t even had breakfast yet, after all… You can tell me all about what a hotshot ace you are while we’re stuffing our faces, alright?”
“Sure thing.” He grinned, and relaxed a little bit. “I’ll look forward to it, Captain.”