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Wings of Warfare	By : DarkWolves Category: +A through F > Ace Combat Views: 2083 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the Ace Combat Series and i don't make money by writing this

Chapter List
- 1-Ace Combat 6- Wings of Warfare
- 1
Wings of Warfare

The operation was about to commence; the liberation of the embattled Emmerian military besieged in Silvat Town by the overwhelming force of the Estovakian Military maintaining a firm stranglehold over the Emmerian mainland was about to begin.
Emmerian First Lieutenant Sara Dark, codename Dark Wolf, sat in the cockpit of her F-16C Fighting Falcon, her fingers tightening around the control column in anticipation. She gently banked her craft to the side, gracefully allowing her wings to fall back level, feeling the gentle roll of the craft ripple through her body. Sara had always thought of herself as a ‘Stealth Pilot’, a pilot who could drop below a few hundred feet, deliver her payload and burn out before the enemy on the ground realized she had just dropped a 1500kg explosive ‘Day Ruiner’ on top of them.
Sara took her position in the formation of Emmerian aircraft, leading Twilight squadron. Her wingman Luke Traviss, codename Shadow, trailed behind her just off of her starboard wing. “Shadow, you flying green?”
“Roger that Dark Wolf. Lets get this operation started; my trigger finger is getting itchy!” Shadow was always a guy who never liked to be far away from the action.
“Keep in line Shadow; there will still be plenty of Stovies left for you” But Sara always knew how to reign him in again.
The Airborne Warning and Control System plane Ghost Eye in charge of the operation suddenly interrupted over the COM link. “All planes listen up. Our forces are completely surrounded over a wide area. We’ve got six sectors of operation to concentrate on. Use your radar to check enemy positions and move out to each area”
Another pilot called out over the frequency. “We better move. Our forces could get wiped out any second now” The Call sign read ‘Shamrock’ a.k.a Garuda Two.
“That’s right; our ground unit is on its last legs trying to keep them covered” Ghost Eye silently left the frequency.
Sara had heard rumours throughout the Emmerian base that the air force squadron Garuda Team would be involved in this operation. They had already made quite a name for themselves so far in the war- taking back Kesed Island, even shooting down several Estovakian aces of Strigon Team during the attack on the Bartolommeo Fortress, and most recently clearing a landing zone in Anea for the ground troops to finally land on the Emmerian mainland. Garuda were fast becoming the pride of the Emmerian military and the worst nightmare of the Estovakians.
“Alright Shadow. You wanted excitement, let’s get those Estovakian scum”
“About time, it’s time to dance with the angels!” Shadow increased his thrust- storming ahead of the formation. The breaking of the Siege of Silvat had begun.

**********************************************
Sara’s finger rested on the trigger. She had to wait until the last possible second. One thousand five hundred feet. She held her course. One thousand three hundred feet. She held. Nine hundred feet, she fired the weapon. The missile burned away from her plane at an even greater velocity. She pulled the control stick back; the nose brushed the tree canopy, the engines singeing the treetops as she began to regain altitude. She peered out over her wing, seeing what had been the head of an enemy tank column now erupting in a pillar of flame, burning debris raining down on the vehicles behind them.
Sara banked right over the forest expanding in all directions around her. She still had to neutralize a few more targets in order to relieve Quox Tank Battalion. “This is Quox Battalion. We are getting hit hard from all sides by Estovakian Tanks. Requesting immediate air support”
“Roger Quox Battalion. Twilight is popping your targets. Just keep them tagged”
“Roger that. Quox battalion is pushing forward. Out” Sara closed the COM link.
Sara banked her craft into a harsh roll, bearing down hard on the remainder of the enemy tank column for another run. She had the next target in her sight; she waited for her computer to give her a solid lock.
But suddenly the computer began screaming ‘Missile Incoming’, her trance was broken; her chance at hitting the target was gone. Sara burned the engine, increasing speed in an attempt to stay ahead of the incoming missile. Sara rolled into a sharp right turn, glancing out of the cockpit to see the engine trail of the missile as it streaked past her by barely a few feet.
“Shadow, I am being hassled by enemy SAM batteries. Can you provide cover?”
“Negative. Repeat, that is a negative Darkwolf. I took a lot of AA fire on that last pass. I’ve got warning lights all across the instruments, I am way down on power and I am running on fumes here”
“Can you keep her in the air?” Sara asked.
“Affirmative, but not for long, I’m heading for the landing strip”
“Roger that, Shadow. I’ll keep an eye over the airfield until you are back dancing with the angels”

***************************************
“Twilight Two you have entered the landing corridor. Lower your landing gear and prepare for touchdown” The Air Traffic Control operator came over the COM.
“Wilco Tower. Be advised Shadow is coming in to land with minimal power. Request emergency maintenance crews upon landing” Shadow activated his landing gear; content that the device was locked securely in place he began his descent.
“Don’t worry Shadow. As soon as the techs patch up your bird you’ll be dancing with the angels again. I’ll keep the Estovakians on their toes while you’re in the shop” Sara reassured him. ‘Dancing with the Angels’ had quickly become the motto of the entire Emmerian Military during the war with Estovakia, but no one knew where the phrase had originated from. It was just one of those things that just appeared out of nowhere in times of crisis to give hope to everyone.
“Don’t go killing too many Stovies without me Dark Wolf” Shadow joked back.
Sara laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it”
Their friendly banter was harshly interrupted by another source over the COM. “Twilight Two, be advised, I am detecting an enemy aircraft approaching the airfield on an intercept at high speed. Advise you abort, repeat, abort your landing and take evasive manoeuvres”
Shadow was currently cruising at 400ft with airspeed just over 100 knots, far too close to the ground and slow for any radical manoeuvres. With a malfunctioning engine and low fuel it was going to require the touch of the Golden King himself to get Luke ‘Shadow’ Traviss out of this one. Their playful banter abandoned, his tone became serious. “Roger that Tower. Twilight Two is taking evasive action”
Shadow engaged the throttle to maximum, his airspeed did begin to rise, but simply not at the rate he was hoping for- with all the wear and tear of battle combined with the fuel leak his bird simply wasn’t able to deliver like she used too. “Tower this is Twilight Two- engine is critically damaged, any assistance you can offer in downing the bandit would be much appreciated”
Sara broke out of her run. “I am on my way Shadow, just hang in there” Sara pushed her plane to the limits, praying that it would make a difference.

********************************************
Shadow had at least succeeded to regain some precious altitude and airspeed before the Estovakian bandit came within weapons range. But when he saw the target pass in front of him Shadow knew he was officially in the deepest pit of shit in existence.
The jet black and blood red Su-33D ‘Sea Flanker’ was embroiled with the piercing emblem of a Reaper across its wing. The insignia of the Estovakian 9^th Tactical Fighter Squadron, known and feared as the Elite Aces of Strigon Team, was marked across the crafts wing. That meant Luke’s situation had just turned from bad, to disastrous.
“Dark wolf, be advised I have identified the bandit as a member of Estovakia’s Strigon Team”
“Strigon, you mean the Estovakian Ace squadron?” Fear laced Sara’s voice.
“Afraid so” Shadow confirmed her fears.
“Shit” Sara cursed. “Just hold on. I am on my way”
“Damn” Shadow swore into oblivion.
“What? Twilight Two what’s your status?” She pleaded for details.
“Bastard’s tight on my tail. I’ll try to shake him off” Shadow banked hard to the right, just hoping he could gain at least some distance and time. But every manoeuvre only served to steal speed and fuel from his already heavily damaged craft, but the Strigon Ace remained firmly at his back and the situation continued to worsen. “Bandits launched a missile”
“Evade. Evade” Sara yelled. Sara was only now just coming within range of the engagement. She scanned the skyline in search of her embattled wingman. She found him. The jet black fighter of the Estovakian Ace followed Shadow closely, keeping his helpless prey firmly in his sights. The missile struck its target, the tail of Shadows plane exploded in a plume of flame.
“Shadow” No response. “Shadow, respond!”
Static buzzed over the COM. “The missile hit my wing //static// I am not going to be able to hold on to it much longer. I’m goanna have to bail out” Shadow relinquished his hold on the control column, allowing the useless control to flail about aimlessly of its own accord. He checked the straps holding him tightly to the chair. He reached down to his side, clasping the lever which would throw him to safety. He pulled the lever. The mechanism clunked deadly. “Mechanisms jammed!” he yelled over the COM. He attempted again and again to un-stick the rebellious handle, but failed with each attempt. He took hold of the control column once again, making a last attempt to save his bird. But the Reaper had clipped its feathers and his jet was doomed to fall to the earth.
“Shadow, what are you doing? Eject. Dammit, Eject!” Sara yelled into the COM, hoping that it would somehow save her falling wingman.
“It’s ok” Shadow finally replied, his voice laced with whimsy and serenity. “It’s my turn to dance with the angels” With the final words of a man who had accepted the inevitability of his fate he closed the communications channel.
“Shadow” No response. “Shadow can you hear me? Respond!” No reply. Sara could only watch helpless as her wingman’s plane lost more and more precious altitude. Eventually he struck the treetops, the craft bounced along the dense forest canopy. The crafts undercarriage became shredded by the tough tree bark, the shattered and burning remains disappearing beneath the broken treetops.
“Shadow” Nothing echoed her cries of pain. “Luke, are you there?” But despite her deepest hopes she knew he had little chance of survival.
Sara instead turned her energy towards taking righteous vengeance on the one that had snatched him from the skies. She scanned the skyline in search of her target. She saw the Reapers Emblem engraved on the wing of the plane. Her vision focused- she was blind to everything except her target. “It is time for you to dance with the Angel of Death!”
Sara engaged the throttle, blazing towards the Strigon Ace. She lined up the target in her reticule- the beep from the computer ensuring her that she had a secure missile lock on the target. She fired the weapon. The missile streaked towards her target. But the Strigon banked away to the right, evading the missile with ease, far faster than she imagined could have been achieved. She chased the craft in an attempt to regain her target.
The Strigon craft suddenly arced upwards, coming back down in a sharp loop the loop, emerging on Sara’s tail to pepper her engine with machine gun fire. Sara turned harshly out of his line of fire, coming back around in an attempt to catch him on his side. He evaded and weaved around the Sara, preventing her from acquiring a secure lock. She turned sharply, the Strigon plane floated across her HUD, her targeting computer following the craft. A missile lock was finally made. Her finger rested over the trigger.
Something suddenly struck her tail, an explosive shockwave cascading through her craft. Her trance was broken, her senses opening to the world around her. A series of warning lights and accompanying sirens rang harshly inside of her cockpit. She broke her eyes away from the Strigon Ace she was pursing. Her instrument panel was awash with burning red warning lights- the main fuel line was leaking heavily, the right aileron was severely damaged and the tail was hanging on by a bare thread. In her blind haste to exact her revenge she had failed to notice the mobile SAM site tracking her from the ground. She had been a fool. She had allowed her emotions to cloud her judgement. She had allowed her lust for vengeance to blind her to the world around her. And already another salvo of missiles was fast approaching on her tail. She was desperately fighting solely to keep her plane in the air, let alone evade missiles or hassle the Strigon.
Sara searched for some way to save her wayward craft. But alas her Falcon was crippled. The Strigon Ace was still remaining tight on her tail, ready to deliver the killing blow. She knew her end was fast approaching, and there was no way for her to save her wayward craft. She only had one option left to her.
Sara lowered her hand to the side of her seat. She pulled the lever- engaging the mechanism which launched her free of her craft. She thundered up into the sky, her body being bombarded from all sides by conflicting forces threatening to overpower her. Through the chaos and her blurred vision she caught glimpses of her crippled craft falling down below the deep tree canopy.
She reached her high point; her chair that she was securely strapped too began to descend back down towards the ground. All around her strafed missiles, machine gun fire and Emmerian and Estovakian fighters exchanging fire across the sky. The hard ground was fast approaching. She could see the high tree canopy’s below her.
The parachute activated. The straps tightened against her chest, knocking the air out of her lungs. Sara braced herself for the impact. She dropped through the tree canopy, the trees thick branches impacting her from all sides. The force of each impact intensified as she fell deeper into the dense forest, impacting the older, tougher branches the deeper she went. The impacts suddenly stopped, the straps tightened harshly around her chest.

**********************************
Sara sucked in a tentative gasp of air, her strained lungs painfully filling with precious oxygen. Sara thought her way through the drill she had memorized and repeated endlessly. She started small- she flexed her fingers and toes. The movements were smooth and relatively painless. She attempted something bigger; she raised and lowered her arms and legs in unison. The joints were stiff from the exertion of the previous battle, but otherwise they moved without complaint. From that she determined that she had survived the impact with only minor injuries.
Sara opened her eyes, her dark tinted visor made the dark environment beyond invisible. She pulled back her visor. Untamed woodland lay before her, she sat suspended at least two metres in the air. She looked up; the thick tree canopy had been broken and torn where she had fallen through. Her parachute appeared to have snagged on the thick tree branch, sparing her from the painful impact.
Sara unclipped the straps which crossed around her chest, the bond loosened and she collapsed forward. She clasped one of the straps tightly for support, her legs dangling lazily falling to the dirt under the unrelenting force of gravity. She hung from the straps, her legs dangling lazily just above the ground. She stumbled, her weakened legs unable to withstand her own weight. She pulled herself to her feet. She clasped her hands against the side of her flight helmet, pulling the helmet from her head.
Her long brown hair cascaded down her back, contained in a ponytail. She smoothed out the faults caused by the helmet. Her hair was far too long to satisfy the regulations, but this was a time of war. As long as she kept her hair out of her eyes the upper ranks were willing to cut their soldiers some slack.
Sara drew her combat blade from her belt, running the smooth edge of the perfectly balanced blade across her gloved palm. Content that the weapon was sufficient she reached up to clasp the straps of her parachute in her hands. She cut away at the thick cord, the heavy pilot’s seat collapsing into the dirt with a loud thump.
Sara unclipped the combat pack strapped to the back of the seat. She opened the pack, laying out the contents in the dirt in front of her. The pack contained a terrain map, compass, flare gun, pistol and spare clips of ammunition, medical kit and a few days worth of water and dry rations. The soldier’s on the ground affectionately referred to the rations as ‘Dry Rats’. These were small cubes which contained all the nutrients a soldier required on the frontlines without requiring preparation or creating leaving telltale waste. Unfortunately that also meant the design had removed any trace of flavour, so the cubes tasted about as appealing as Styrofoam.
Sara could not risk launching the flare unless it only served to draw greater attention from the Estovakians. She unravelled the map. She had caught glimpses of the recently re-captured Emmerian airfield to the north just before she had passed beneath the tree canopy. Using that as a reference point she noticed the map marked a river snaking south through the dense forest, just passing the east side of the airfield. If she headed east she would eventually come across it and if she continued upstream she would eventually come across the airfield and hopefully what remained of the Emmerian attack force that had retaken it. The sound of battle still punctuated over the gentle sounds of the forest surrounding her. The noise was strangely comforting as it assured her that there were still Emmerian troops for the Estovakians to shoot at. When the forest fell silent she would either revel in victory with her countrymen, or merely be prey for the Estovakians post-battle game of cat and mouse.
Sara secured the items in her pack, leaving the pistol held tightly in her hand. She bounced the weapon in her hand. She released the magazine, slamming it back into place. The Estovakians could hunt her, but she refused to be easy prey.

*********************************

Sara had experienced intense survival training before. Every soldier had to be put through a week’s intense survival training; a squad was abandoned in the wilderness while another squad attempted to hunt them down armed with rubber bullets. Anyone ‘killed’ or captured had to run the operation again. She knew how to build a shelter, what common plants and fungi were edible, how to cover your tracks in any terrain.
Sara continued to press on through the dense foliage. Occasionally she would be forced to drop to the ground, her highly attuned ears listening through the natural sounds emanating from the surrounding forest. Sara’s suspicions were continually aggravated by the odd rustle and broken twig which pierced the natural sounds of the forest.
Something suddenly leapt out of the brush behind Sara, smashing harshly into her back, her attacker’s dead weight dragging Sara into the dirt, her aggressor lying on top of her. Sara brought her elbow back, sharply connecting with her attacker’s stomach. Sara’s attacker recoiled in pain, Sara utilized their stunned confusion to scramble free from underneath her attacker. Sara drew her combat blade from her belt, she pondered retrieving the pistol from her backpack but decided against it as the sound of a gunshot would only serve to draw even greater attention to her.
Sara scrambled to her feet, turning to face her opponent, her blade in her hand ready to end this engagement in one swift movement. Her attacker launched at Sara. Sara succeeded in finally catching a glimpse of her attacker- they were female, young with flowing brown hair cascading freely down her back. The woman grabbed Sara’s arms, the two of them fighting desperately for control of the situation. Sara attempted to bring her combat blade down on her opponent, but her tight grasp on Sara’s forearms ensured that the blade could not taste human blood.
Sara brought her knee up hard, her opponents grip loosened. Sara whipped her forearms free of her opponents hold. Her attacker stumbled back a few steps, giving Sara the necessary space she needed to bring her combat blade up across her chest. Sara charged forward, attempting to capitalize on her opponent’s distraction to bring the blade down hard into their chest.
But her opponent was quick to recover, succeeding in evading the feral cut with ease. Sara stumbled forward, her delicate balance lost. Her attacker gripped Sara’s pack in her hands, sparing Sara from collapsing into the floor in a painful heap. But her attacker’s apparent act of kindness quickly turned sinister, her attacker bringing her knee hard up into Sara’s stomach. Sara cringed in intense pain, attempting to curl into a ball to protect her from another painful attack.
Sara’s attacker suddenly threw her aside, Sara rolling through the dirt painfully, her pack slipping from her shoulders in the fray. Sara suddenly lost her grip on her combat knife, the thin metal strip slipping silently from her gloved fingers and taking with it her only hope of surviving this engagement. Sara rolled onto her front, seeing the blade impaled in the soft dirt in front of her. Sara quickly scrambled to regain hold of it. But her attacker, having anticipated her move, quickly intervened. She leapt down on top of Sara, her attacker’s dead weight pressing her down into the dirt while her hand clasped her outstretched forearm in an attempt to keep her from grasping the weapon.
Sara flailed her outstretched arm, fighting her attackers solid grasp in an attempt to break free. But Sara’s attacker was physically far stronger, and with her superior position Sara would be unlikely to be able to overcome her. But Sara persisted none the less, her fingers clawing into the soft dirt in a vain attempt to regain a hold on the weapon. Sara persisted, taxing her already strained muscles.
But eventually Sara realized that all her attempts had been in vain, as her attacker secured a hold over the hilt of the weapon. Sara knew she had lost. Her entire body went limp; there was little use in fighting any longer, it would only cause more pain, better to just allow her adversary to end it quickly. Sara’s attacker hovered over her, gripping her shoulder they rolled Sara onto her back. Sara stared up into the face of her attacker. The woman had deep brown hair cascading down her shoulders, light tanned skin and piercing blue eyes. The blade of the combat knife held tightly in the woman’s hand was placed at Sara’s throat. One movement would end her part in this battle.
Her attacker cringed, a painful hiss escaping past her quivering lips. Sara’s attacker brought her arms up to her chest in an attempt to protect herself. Her balance wavered; she collapsed into the dirt beside Sara. Sara rolled to the side, rising into a crouch. “Are you alright?” The two of them may have been engaged on either side of a war, but compassion for another injured human was something that no insignia or uniform could ever suppress. Sara edged closer towards the injured woman, her right hand extended at arm’s length in an attempt to touch the woman’s shoulder.
The woman suddenly snapped her arm out, Sara’s combat blade held tightly in her hand. Her eyes burned with the rage born from the primal animal instinct to survive. The woman brandished the combat blade in front of her, screaming unintelligibly in Estovakian, desperate to keep Sara at arm’s length. Sara backed away in fear of catching one of the random slashes. The woman scooted backwards across the clearing, keeping the blade at arm’s length; she pressed her back against a tree on the edge of the clearing.
Sara took this opportunity to take in the details of the woman who had emerged out of nowhere to challenge her. She was tall, muscular while maintaining her feminine curves, her long brown hair cascading unencumbered down her back. The woman was dressed in the dark olive jumpsuit of an Air force pilot; her speech definitely identified her as Estovakian. “Are you alright?” Sara repeated.
The Estovakian woman simply retaliated with yet more steely eyes and unintelligible speech. Sara wasn’t even sure if the woman could understand her. But she persisted. “I am not here to hurt you” But the woman refused to falter. Sara suddenly noticed the deep crimson stain forming beneath her left hand clasped tightly over her right side. An idea eventually formed in Sara’s mind. “I have medical supplies” she slowly reached for her pack at her feet. She undid the zip, keeping her hands in sight as much as she could; she retrieved the deep green coloured case of medical supplies. “I can heal you”
The woman’s constant string of Estovakian speech suddenly subsided. Sara approached as cautiously as she would a vicious animal, her left arm held stretched in front of her while her right arm held the medical kit tightly to her side. Sara gently lowered herself onto her knee in front of the Estovakian pilot, placing the medical kit on the dirt beside her. Sara tentatively raised her left hand to take the combat blade from the woman’s firm grasp, the woman relinquished it willingly. Sara placed the weapon into the dirt beside her, forgotten. She returned her attention to the woman, with gentle hands she reached up to grasp the zipper of the woman’s flight suit. She gently pulled on the zipper, each gentle yank allowing the fastener to eat away at even more of the track and revealing ever more of what lay beneath.
The zipper reached the base of the woman’s stomach. Sara pulled on one of the sleeves, revealing the jet black T-shirt which concealed the woman’s torso. Sara helped the woman to slip her arms free of the jumpsuit, the jumpsuit held loosely around her waist. Sara glanced towards the woman’s injured side, the right side of her T-shirt stained dark red with wet blood, three fine incisions cut across the length of the fabric. Sara lifted the material of the woman’s shirt, exposing three jagged lines mimicking the cuts on her T-shirt which cut along the length of the woman’s side like the claw marks of a feral beast. The wound however did not appear to have cut deep enough to have damaged her internal organs, but the wound still posed a great threat of infection if left untreated.
Sara opened the medical kit at her side, retrieving a ball of cotton wool and some antiseptic to sterilise the wound. She poured some of the antiseptic into the cotton wool, gently dabbing the drenched wool against the throbbing wound. The woman hissed in pain as the liquid burned at her exposed nerves.
“Sorry” Sara spoke apologetically. She continued her work despite the veiled protests. “So what did you do?” Sara asked. “Get in a fight with a pack of wolves?”
The woman however remained tight lipped, her steely expression concealing the pain that was shooting through her body with each touch of the antiseptic. “I was forced to eject from my plane during the battle overhead. I fell through the tree canopy, I must have hit a tough branch on the way down” The woman sighed deeply. “When I saw you I thought I could ambush you. I thought you might have some medical supplies I could use”
Sara smiled. “Well you certainly fought well, despite your injuries”
“War brings out the primal desperation in all of us. I admit that both you and your country are proving far more difficult to subdue than our Generals first anticipated” Sara discarded the used cotton ball. She retrieved a roll of bandages.
“But it was Estovakia who declared this war. You should have realized that Emmeria is like a wolf” Sara took pride in the strength of her nation. “The strength of a wolf is in its pack, if you challenge one you must be prepared to challenge us all. Why declare a war against a wolf and not expect to face its pack?” Sara unrolled the bandages, she passed it around the woman’s back, encircling the woman’s torso under several layers of bandages.
The woman pondered it for a moment. “Estovakia fights out of desperation. Our country is wracked by turmoil, people forced onto the streets by the destruction and the economic collapse following the impact of the Ulysses Asteroid” Sara secured the bandages in place. “The Generals have reunited all of Estovakia under a common goal- the restoration of our country to its former glory no matter the cost. While I may support their principles I will admit that their methods are flawed and their goal of subjugating our peaceful neighbours under the jackboot of their regime is not a goal I wish to see realized” There was something in the tone of her voice- perhaps it was regret of her actions, either in choosing to fight in the first place, or failure at losing to the Emmerian pilots, and again to Sara.
Sara had to admit that her words rang true. “So then why do we continue to fight this war?” Sara secured the bandages in place with surgical tape.
“We are soldiers. We fight on different sides under different banners but we both support a common goal- the preservation of our homelands and our people”
“So you don’t think that your Generals will punish you for conspiring with your enemy?” Sara asked, genuine concern for her opponent seeping into her voice.
“It is the Estovakian people I serve, not their leaders. It is they who I fight this war to protect, and it is they who will judge me if I fail in my task to return glory to their homeland”
“What’s your name?”
“Dasha, Lieutenant Dasha Volkov of the Estovakian Air force”
- 1
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Wings of Warfare