[30 MINUTES TO LANDFALL]

BGM: Track 36 (Fully Loaded) - World of Warships OST

"Excuse me. I'll take over," the voice of Admiral Baxter spoke in the background of the call.

"Yes sir," the officer immediately said before the view was changed to Baxter standing in front of the command desk.

"Jansen? You still there?" Baxter asked.

"Yes, sir," the rear admiral replied.

"We've already alerted the city government and the local National Guard to start evacuation procedures for everyone living in or at the coastal areas. Thing is, the aliens are picking up speed. Additionally we just got pictures from our drones' flyby. You might want to see them."

Jansen received five photos. He opened the file containing them, which displayed around 15+ Abyssal Destroyers passing by San Nicolas Island. Behind the destroyer fleet were around six or more Abyssals. The picture was not of high quality, but Jansen could make out that they looked like they were humanoid figures standing upright on the water.

"What in the world...?" Jansen thought as he looked closer at the screen.

"Jansen?" Baxter asked, snapping him out of his stupor. "It looks like there's new UAOs."

"New aliens?" Missouri asked. "May I take a look?"

"Go ahead, Missouri," Jansen said as he handed the tablet to the shipgirl. Arizona and Iowa huddled with her as they took a look.

"Christ on a bike! That's...that's a lot of those guys!" Arizona exclaimed as she gaped at the photos. "Are...are some of them standing up?!"

"Hmmm..." Missouri muttered as she examined one of the photos showing the rear of the enemy formation. The humanoid figures greatly resembled the ones she fought back at Pearl.

"I think I've met the guys in the back already," she said to Jansen.

"I beg your pardon, Missouri?" Admiral Baxter asked in response.

"Oh, I remember...you mentioned in your interviews about fighting these...white-skinned, feminine-looking humanoids?" Jansen recalled. "Are you saying that-"

"Uh huh. They're probably the same guys."

"How many were they?" Iowa asked.

"Mmmmm...eighteen of 'em? I didn't get the last one though."

Iowa smirked.

"I wouldn't expect any less from my not-so-little sister," she said as she brushed her hair aside. "If Missouri can handle eighteen at once then we have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"You're really sure about that?" Arizona asked.

"A hundred percent, Ari. If they couldn't beat one battleship, what more if all of us arrive?" the battleship said as she put a hand on Arizona's shoulder.

"W-Well I guess you have a point..."

"Hey, Missouri. Can ya hand over the tab? We gotta check how many we're dealing with here," Ronnie asked. Missouri handed the tablet over.

"Err, uh...Admiral Baxter, sir?" Ronnie asked. "This is USS Ronald Reagan speaking. How many are we expecting? The photos don't really make it clear."

"Our most recent reports say that we've got almost twice the amount compared to the attack on Pearl. About 40 or more, the eggheads here reckon based on what photos we could get before the drones return," he replied.

"40 plus? So whaddya think, guys?" Ronnie asked as she turned to Midway and Washington.

"You three planning something?" Jansen asked, intrigued.

"Yes, sir. We've decided that we should launch an airstrike from here, considering we won't have enough time to get there before they hit shelling distance-" Washington said.

"-and we might be dealing with more fighters and stuff. So we can soften them up before we go in for the kill," Midway finished.

"Ah I see. Shock and awe style?" Jansen said.

"Shock and awe, my dude!" Ronnie replied (With finger guns).

"I think I can come up with something based on that. Admiral Baxter, sir?" Jansen asked into the tablet.

"Ears are open, Jansen. What do you have in mind?"

"How long do we have until they reach LA?"

"Around twenty-five minutes."

Jansen composed himself.

"Sir, looks like we'll have to make a detour," Jansen said before he moved near the truck's cab.

"Hey! Take us to the airfield at North Island!" he called out to the driver.

"Why!?" the driver shouted back.

"We're running out of time! Just get us there!"

"Okay, sir! Whatever you say!"

The driver radioed the other driver that they were to go straight to NAS North Island. Afterwards, Jansen decided to explain what he had thought of.

"Ok. It's pretty simple but here's what I came up with. Washington, Reagan and Midway..." he said as he turned to the three carriers.

"The three of you'll launch your planes and take out as much of the alien forces as you can. Meanwhile, for you guys and the destroyers..." he said as he turned to the battleships.

"We'll insert all of you via helicopter near LA so you can mop up who's left."

"I see, I see," Washington said. "That's pretty straightforward."

"Oooh it's been a long time since I've done airstrikes. Last time I did that was all the way back in Iraq..." Midway said as she fanned her cap.

"Okay, Jansen. Any plan is better than none at all," Baxter said. "Miss Reagan, do you mind if you hand him back the tablet?"

"'Course not, sir! Here ya go," Ronnie said as she handed Jansen his tablet.

"How many are going?" Baxter asked.

Jansen counted the destroyers, cruisers and battleships.

"Fourteen, sir."

"Vargas! Get the Firehawks to prep three choppers ASAP!" Baxter shouted to an officer off-screen.

"You guys aren't coming?" Arizona asked the three carriers.

"Nah. Close combat ain't really our shtick, 'specially when there's that many of 'em," Ronnie said to her.

"Besides, there has to be some of us here in case they attack here too," Midway spoke.

Arizona nodded in acknowledgement as she resignedly sat back, taking deep breaths to combat the uneasiness that was starting to overcome her.

"Oh my God...I'm...I'm actually going to fight for the first time..." she said to herself. It was dawning onto her that she was going to battle. An actual battle not like what happened before. The shipgirl wondered why and how her comrades surrounding her acted so coolly. She was made for battle, but yet at the same time...she was scared of it.

Iowa took notice of Arizona, as the shipgirl was solemnly looking down and almost hyperventilating.

"Hey, you okay Ari?" she asked.

Arizona jerked her head towards Iowa in surprise.

"Ah! Oh...uhhh, yeah. I'm good."

"Ari?" Missouri asked in concern. "You're feeling 'that' too, huh?"

"'That'? What do you mean?"

Missouri and Iowa glanced at each other before looking back at Arizona.

"You're scared right now, aren't you?" Missouri asked her. Arizona slowly nodded.

"Y-Yeah. I guess I am."

"That's okay. I had that same feeling too when I had to help out at Iwo Jima. It...went away after that," Missouri said as she looked down as well.

"I kinda felt it too when I started out in the Pacific. But I guess I got used to battle really quickly, 'cause I never felt it when I took part in Hailstone," Iowa said as she relaxed with her arms behind her head.

"All of us were scared in one way or another before we fought. You just gotta get used to being out there and stuff, and it'll just go away," Missouri said to Arizona as she put an arm around her shoulder.

"You feeling the shivers?" Midway asked Arizona. "It's ok, sweetie. Not everyone has the same experience, but we've all gone through our own baptism by fire."

"You may rest assured that our planes will do everything we can to protect everyone," Washington said. "After all, we have a city to defend."

Jansen and Baxter quietly watched and listened respectively, not wanting to interrupt.

"Camaraderie is something isn't it?" Baxter quietly said.

"Yes, sir," Jansen answered. "I just hope it'll be like this with the others."

"It will. I'm sure of it."

The trucks crossed the Coronado Bridge and sped down 4th Street towards McCain Boulevard, the drivers honking their horns to make the few civilian vehicles pull aside.

"Oh wow! I think we just broke the speed limit!" Ronnie said as she looked out the truck and saw multiple vehicles ahead of them pull aside hastily.

"I hope we don't do this again," Jansen worriedly said. "These trucks have a history of crashing..."

The truck sped past the Headquarters building and made a sharp right and another sharp left into the Air Station. They continued speeding into the base, heading for one hangar that had three HH-60H Seahawks with their rotors already spinning. As they were on the way, Jansen could hear Baxter arguing with someone off-screen all of a sudden.

"Are you crazy!? None of those goddamn jets'll do anything! Yes, I know we need more time to evacuate the coast. I've already- No you listen to me, Dwight! You're sending them on a suicide mission! Dwight! DWIGHT! GODDAMNIT!"

"Uhhhh...Admiral? What's wrong?" Jansen asked.

"The goddamn 144th Fighter Wing just mobilized their detachment at March AFB while we were discussing our means of action..." Baxter grumbled. "Jesus Christ...Jansen we're gonna need those carrier girls to get their planes over there pronto. They won't stand a chance against the UFOs."

"Oh crap..." Jansen muttered softly. "O-Okay, sir. We'll be right on that!"

Now not only did they have a city to save, but an entire air wing as well!

The trucks stopped a fair distance away from the helicopters. Jansen immediately ordered everyone to get off.

"Ok, ok guys. Let's move!" he commanded as they hopped off the back of the truck.

"Hey!" he called out to the destroyers who were getting off their truck as he walked towards them

"Sir?" USS Barry asked.

"Okay, uhh, listen. I came up with a plan while I was on the truck-"

"Way ahead of you, sir," Barry interrupted, grinning smugly. "Madam Reagan put the whole thing on speaker. We know what we gotta do."

Jansen raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What? H-How did-"

"We'll mop up the stragglers with the battleships, right sir? Just like you said!"

Jansen looked at Ronnie, who shot him a wink.

"Well that makes things easier I suppose," he thought. So apparently the shipgirls could use radio as some kind of telepathy? Jansen decided not to dwell on the thought for now. Asking questions was not appropriate at their current situation.

"Oh, but sir?"

"Yes?"

"Are you suuuuure all of us have to go? There's no one back here to protect Madam Reagan, Madam Washington..."

Jansen was about to answer when they were suddenly interrupted.

"JUST GO, BARRY! FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, I'LL BE FIIIIINE! UGHHHHHH!" Ronnie yelled, before muttering, "These guys are so frustrating sometimes..."

"I...uhh...guess that answers your question, Barry."

The destroyer girl sighed and shrugged. He and the fourteen selected shipgirls rushed over to the three Seahawks, upon which he was approached by one of the co-pilots. Meanwhile, the carriers went off to prepare for plane launch.

"Are you Admiral Jansen?" the pilot asked as he walked along with Jansen towards one of the helicopters.

"Yeah, that's me."

"The Vice Admiral told us we'd be carrying warships to battle!" one of the co-pilots said as he opened the door to the cabin. "Never thought that'd actually be something we'd hear!"

"Me neither! Get 'em over there as fast as you can!" Jansen said loudly to offset the sound of the rotors.

"'Course, sir! They don't call us the Firehawks for nothin'!" the pilot said as he pulled open the cabin door.

"Alright, Squadron 15!" Barry said as she turned to the rest of the destroyers and cruisers and put her hands on her hips. "We've got an alien mess to clean up so we're splitting up into two squads! Wilbur, McCain, Fitz and Anti! You guys are with me! McCampbell you're in charge of the rest."

"Yes, ma'am!" the destroyers and cruisers said in unison as they saluted. They split into two respective groups and and started boarding two of the choppers respectively.

"Hey," Jansen said to the battleships, who were about to board a Seahawk. "Good luck out there."

"Thank you, Ozzie~! This won't take too long, we promise," Iowa said to him.

"We'll see you back here, sir. Stay safe!" Arizona said as Missouri helped her onto the chopper before turning to the admiral.

"So, umm, sir? How are you going to see what's happening while you're here?" she asked.

"Not really sure. I kind of doubt I'll be able to use the satellite since Admiral Henderson isn't here..." Jansen replied before Baxter spoke.

"We've something that can do that here in the command room, Jansen. Report here after you're done over there," the higher officer said.

"Ok acknowledged, sir. I'll be right over."

"Sister?" Iowa said to Missouri.

"Yeah?"

"Let's go kick some ass."

"Right back at ya!"

The two climbed aboard, waving at Jansen before the pilot closed the door.

"Sir! You might wanna get clear!" he said to him before getting in himself. Jansen nodded and ran near the carriers, watching the helicopters start lifting off.

Meanwhile, Washington, Reagan and Midway equipped their rigging, which materialized out of thin air around them. They faded into reality, giving off an angelic white glow as large metal devices resembling portions of the Nimitz-class supercarriers materialized around the two. Each of the two had some kind of large, high-tech, shoulder-mounted launcher device that resembled their flight decks on their right shoulders, a metal platform on their left which resembled their bow. Reagan had four Rolling Airframe Missile (RAM) launchers, while Washington had two Sea Sparrow missile launchers, two of the RAMs and two of the Phalanx CIWS (One was mounted on an extension beside the plane launcher). A large metal backpack-like device was mounted on their backs that seemed to function as some sort of reloading system for their plane launchers and a mount for their radio antennas and radar systems. Midway's rigging differed greatly from the two as she did not have the large launcher and instead wielded what resembled a stockier Barrett M107 sniper rifle with a hose connecting it to her back rigging. The rigging served the same purpose: mounting for her communication equipment, radars and for the extensions that held her two Sea Sparrow launchers and two Phalanx CIWSes, one on each side. The rigging also had what looked like a miniature boiler and steam reservoir tank which the hose was plugged into. Her flight deck was mounted on a similar bow-like metal platform that also seemed to serve as storage for multiple magazines for the rifle.

All of them also transformed into their battle attire, Reagan's being her...well...her business suit, Washington's being her attire from her conversion and Midway's being her Navy tracksuit.

"Okay, everyone. Begin pre-launch checks," Washington ordered as the three nodded. They inspected the their respective launchers, Washington and Reagan opened a screen on the left side of their launchers that showed the status of the steam pressure and how many available aircraft they had. Midway inspected a gauge on the rifle's stock, and then looking over how many magazines she had.

"All fighters operational and ready for the air, sis," Reagan said as she selected the option [READY_ALL_FIGHTERS].

"Good. Midway?" Washington said as she looked to the other carrier, who was counting how many rounds she had.

"All good, Wash," she replied. Washington nodded and took a deep breath.

"Okay...begin fighter launch!"

The two Nimitz-class carriers knelt down for support and inputted multiple commands into the launcher, with the final command being [LAUNCH_ALL_FIGHTERS]. Midway loaded a magazine, cocked the rifle and fired into the air, with the Nimitz-classes' launchers loading miniature, unmarked dummy models that resembled F-35 Lightning IIs onto them and propelled them into the air with an extremely powerful burst of steam in intervals. Midway continued firing and reloading while the other two continued launching the miniatures which, after they reached a certain altitude, flashed brightly and transformed into fully-functioning F-35s that redirected themselves towards Los Angeles. The same happened with Midway's, with the bullets transforming into F/A-18 Hornets instead.

As the choppers rose into the air and the girls nearly finished launching, Jansen called out to them.

"I'm heading to the command center. You girls gonna be alright here?"

"We will, sir! Our point-defense is on point!" Reagan hollered back as she continued launching aircraft, with Jansen running to one of the trucks after shooting her a thumbs up. He opened the cab's passenger door and got in.

"Where to now, sir?" the driver asked.

"The HQ."

"Lou! We're heading back to the HQ!" the driver said into the radio. "Got it, Brent!" the other driver replied. The trucks sped off, heading for the HQ building.

[2O MINUTES TO LANDFALL]

Meanwhile, 32,000 ft above Los Angeles, California

"Okay guys. We're expecting a force of almost...h-holy shit I can't believe I'm saying this...more than FORTY of those damn aliens," Air Force First Lieutenant Christopher Velasquez muttered with a tone of fear and disbelief to his wingmen as their F-15X Eagle jet fighters sped above Downtown LA in the direction of the Abyssals. It was only a few minutes ago when their commander ordered every available plane to get in the air to engage the fleet of alien vessels heading straight for the city. Their mission? Buy as much time as possible for the evacuation of the city's coastal residents. The element of nine aircraft were expecting to be reinforced by the rest of the 144th from Fresno, so in the meantime, they were LA's seemingly only line of defense.

"Lieutenant?" Second Lieutenant Jack DeSanta asked his superior. "You...uhh...you sound like-"

"Like we're not coming back from this alive? Well...we most likely aren't..."

"I thought Vice Admiral Baxter sent over those 'shipgirls' to help us here?" Second Lieutenant Edward Quisley retorted. "Jesus fucking Christ. Trying to understand that shit almost made my brain explode..."

"Guys, guys. Come on," Second Lieutenant Lewis Falkner interrupted. "This damn city needs all the time we can buy, so we might as well do our jobs rather than worry about ourselves."

"Well I wasn't expecting our first mission to be a suicide one, dude," Second Lieutenant Michael Robbins said. "'Cause fuckin' hell none of these missiles are gonna do jack shit."

"I heard those damn things survived point-blank nukes in China, so most likely..." Quisley replied. "Hey MacAllen! Darvis! Marco! Zamora! You guys are really quiet back there."

"Well we're all pretty much resigning ourselves to whatever happens, man. What is there to talk about?" 2nd Lieutenant Victoria Darvis responded.

"Detachment 1!" their ground control suddenly shouted. "HEADS UP!"

All of a sudden, their planes' radars alerted as they neared Santa Catalina Island. All nine pilots saw an incoming force of almost 100+ UFOs

BGM: Excalibur - Ace Combat Zero OST

"HOLY SHIT!" Velasquez shouted as they saw a few Abyssal Fighters come into view in the distance.

"It was nice working with y'all, guys!" Quisley screamed. All pilots engaged their targeting systems.

"Got a lock! Fox three!" Falkner shouted, launching an AIM-120 AMRAAM at his first target. The rest followed suit in firing their missiles.

"Fox one!" Velasquez shouted, firing an AIM-7 Sparrow at an approaching Fighter.

"Fox three!" Darvis shouted as well, firing her own AIM-7 as she played chicken with an oncoming Abyssal Fighter. She immediately pulled away as the missile sped towards it.

The nine pilots engaged the nearest Abyssal Fighters, firing missiles at each one they could. The Fighters all flew in a set formation as they headed to the city, seemingly ignoring the human aircraft launching projectiles at them. The ones that got hit with missiles however, immediately reacted by deviating from the formation and chasing them down.

"We're detecting almost fifty-plus UFOs in your airspace, Detachment 1! Don't let them get past!" their ground control ordered.

"Easy for you to say, Garner! Why don't you get up here and try!?" 1st Lieutenant Alex Zamora irritatedly snapped as he attempted to gun down a Fighter, only for the bullets from his plane's Vulcan autocannon to seemingly bounce off the alien craft's body.

"What the fuck!? I launched everything at that one guy and he's still flying!" MacAllen shouted as he quickly turned the plane around after seeing three Fighters head in his direction.

"SHIIIIIT! ONE'S CATCHING UP!" Marco screamed as one Abyssal Fighter started closing in on him. He was already on full throttle, but it seemed that the alien aircraft was picking up speed. Marco launched his flares and activated his electronic countermeasures to no avail as the Fighter fired a continuous burst of accurate laser bolts that started ripping apart Marco's plane as it got closer.

"FUUUUUUC-" the pilot agonizingly screamed as his radio signal suddenly disappeared.

"MARCO!" Velasquez shouted as he frantically looked around for the falling wreckage of his ally. "Shit! Any 'chutes?!"

"Negative, V!" Robbins replied.

"Where's his plane?!"

"I don't know! He just popped off the radar too!"

"DAMMIT!"

The jet fighters continued their attack, attempting to hit more Abyssal Fighters with their remaining missiles and autocannon rounds. The only thing their armaments did was attract more Abyssal Fighters to retaliate instead.

"Alex! Bogey at your six!" Quisley shouted as he spotted a Fighter tailing his wingman's plane as he dodged laser fire from his left. "Don't worry! I got him!"

Quisley flew closer and opened fire with two AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles. Both missiles impacted against the Fighter.

"Got him!" Quisley exclaimed. However, he noticed that the red blip representing it was still on the radar, and it was still marked as airborne on his HUD.

"What!?"

The explosion cleared and Quisley was met with the sight of the knife-shaped alien craft facing directly at him as it flew in reverse!

"HOLY SHIIIIIIIT! IT'S FACING ME!"

"Huh!?" Zamora mumbled. The Fighter was no longer following him on his radar, but he noticed that the craft was now leading Quisley's flight path.

Quisley panicked as he immediately opened fire with his Vulcan. Predictably, the rounds simply bounced off as the Abyssal Fighter's laser opened fire.

"AAAAAAAHHHHH-" the pilot screamed. Zamora got a first-hand view of his wingman and friend's demise as he saw Quisley's F-15X get disintegrated in mid-air to the point that no wreckage was left as he turned his plane around.

"FUCK! THEY VAPORIZED ED!"

"What do you mean they 'vaporized' him?!" Velasquez shouted back.

"HIS DAMN PLANE IS GONE! IT'S ABSOLUTELY GONE! BASTAAAAARDS!"

"Focus, Alex!" their ground control ordered.

"FUCK YOU, GARNER! AT THIS RATE WE'RE ALL GOING TO END UP LIKE-" Zamora shouted as he suddenly noticed an Abyssal Fighter zooming at him at breakneck speed.

'SHIIIII-"

His radio went silent as the Abyssal Fighter rammed through his plane.

"Jesus Christ!" MacAllen exclaimed as he dodged more laser shots. As he saw the bolts fly past him, he noticed that his engines stopped working.

"What!? Damn they got my engines!"

"They got more than your engines, Mac!" Falkner replied, weaving in and out of unengaged Fighters to lose the ones chasing him. The latter simply just flew over the formation and continued their pursuit of Falkner's aircraft.

"What do you mean?!"

"Your entire back half is gone!"

MacAllen noticed that his "plane" started to lose altitude rapidly and violently spin out of control. The hapless pilot immediately ejected and saw that all that everything past the wings of his F-15X was gone. MacAllen gaped in both amazement and dread.

"...fuck..." he muttered. MacAllen looked up at the five remaining pilots as he floated down towards the waters off the coast of Santa Catalina Island.

"I-I'm sorry, guys..."

Meanwhile, Velasquez, Darvis, Falkner, DeSanta and Robbins continued their dance to the death in the sky as the countless Abyssal Carrier-based Planes continued their advance to Los Angeles

"Shit! It's only the five of us up here!" Darvis shouted after she fired her remaining missiles at one Abyssal Fighter to no effect. The Fighter did not bother to evade as the missiles harmlessly exploded as it made its approach towards her aircraft.

"Garner! What's the status of our guys at Fresno?!" Velasquez demanded, a few laser bolts barely missing his plane.

"Oh...uhhh..." Garner mumbled.

"GARNER! WHAT! IS! THEIR! STATUS!" the pilot demanded. Garner sighed.

"Colonel Kravinski ordered them not to mobilize."

Garner was met with the sounds of battle.

"Lieutenant Velasquez?" Garner asked.

"Tell the Colonel that if survive this, he's a dead man. If I don't, tell him for me 'FUCK! YOU!'"

"Kravi left us to die, huh?" Robbins asked Velasquez.

"Yes. He did."

"Knew he was an asshole ever since he got put in command..." De Santa muttered.

The five pilots continued weaving in and out of the Fighters' formation, with the ones chasing them taking pot-shots amidst the other unengaged Abyssal Fighters which were steadily heading for Los Angeles.

"You guys still have ammo for your Vulcans?" Velasquez asked.

"Yeah."

"Couple of rounds, V."

"Why?"

Velasquez gulped.

"We might as well keep these guys busy as long as possible. They only attack if we attack them, right?"

"V? You don't mean-" Robbins said before Velasquez cut him off.

"Detachment 1..."

The four other pilots anticipated in silence as they continued evasive maneuvers.

"Uh...what Quisley said. Everyone fan out and hit as many of these fuckers as you can with your Vulcans! We'll stall them for as long as we can!"

"...yes, sir."

"For Hollywood!"

"Heh. For Hollywood, Mike."

"Let's make this count."

BGM: Release - Ace Combat: Assault Horizon OST

The five planes started flying throughout the Abyssal Planes' formation, firing bursts at every single alien craft they could. Almost twenty Abyssal Fighters were now following each fighter in large swarms.

"Damn! They're like flies to a cheesecake!" Robbins exclaimed as he dodged laser fire.

"As long as possible, guys! Keep them busy!" Darvis shouted, laser bolts barely hitting her F-15X.

"Guns, guns, GUNS!" DeSanta yelled, firing his autocannon at every Abyssal Fighter in front of him.

"RRRRAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHH!" Falkner shouted as he emptied the last of his autocannon rounds into a few more unengaged Abyssal Fighters.

"*static* Patch me thro- *static* -ello?! Hello?! Please respond!" a voice suddenly crackled through their radios.

"Huh!? Is that-" Darvis asked before getting cut off.

"Lieutenant Velasquez?! What are you all doing?!" the voice demanded.

"Vice Admiral-" Robbins muttered.

"-Baxter!?" Velasquez finished. The pilot was baffled. Why only now?

"Disengage and get your asses back to March AFB right now!" the Vice Admiral ordered.

"What!?" DeSanta responded.

"What about the - shit that was close - the evacuation?!" Falkner asked as he dodged a few laser bolts which unfortunately disintegrated the tip of his right wing. "Shit, they picked off a part'a my wing!"

"The shipgirls have this under control! Now get out of there! We can't have you all die pointlessly out there!" Baxter ordered. The pilots were boggled. There wasn't a single 'shipgirl' around. How could they have it 'under control'?

"Lieutenant! There's aircraft arriving!" Garner spoke through the radio.

"Friendly or ali - fuck it, it's probably more aliens!" Velasquez shouted back. "Come on! We can take a few hundred more you alien bastards!"

"Christopher!" Darvis said. "I just got visual!"

"Me too!" DeSanta added. "They're not alien!"

"WHAT!?"

"Radar signatures match friendly aircraft!" Garner said. "Specifically F-35s and F/A-18s!"

"Where the hell did they come from?!" Robbins asked.

"Based on their direction...San Diego!" Garner replied.

"Ha?! There aren't any of those aircraft stationed at...unless..." Falkner contemplated.

BGM: Keep Alive - Ace Combat: Assault Horizon OST

"'Sup, y'all! Man, you flyboys must be crazy trying to take on these Martians!" an unknown female voice spoke.

"What the-!? Who is this?!" Velasquez demanded.

"You may return to base now. You've done your duty well," another female voice, this time more elegant and composed, said.

"Who is this?! How did you access this frequency!?"

"This is USS George Washington, CVN-73," Washington replied.

"And this is Ronnie R! CVN-76!" Ronnie followed.

"This is Midway, CV-41. Sorry if we're late, but you guys can head on back now. Our jets'll handle this!" Midway said. The five pilots couldn't believe it all.

"Garner! Contact those jets! I don't know what's happening but they're all gonna die out here!" Velasquez ordered.

"Sir, the unknown frequency is coming from those jets! All of them!" Garner replied.

"WHAAAAAT!?" all the pilots shouted in unison.

Almost 125 F/A-18s and F-35s appeared on the pilots' radars as friendly blips, approaching them at hypersonic speed.

"Holy shit! I don't remember reading that those things could fly that fast!" Robbins commented.

"They...they can't..." Falkner muttered in a combination of confusion and disbelief.

"AH, FUCK IT!" Velasquez screamed. "Hello! Washington? Ronnie? Midway?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Velasquez?"

"What up, Chris?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I have absolutely no idea what's going on..." the confused pilot spoke.

"That's fine, Lieutenant. Now why don't you let us take care of those pesky UFOs so you all can get to safety," Washington said.

"Yeah! Bring the party to us!" Ronnie excitedly said.

"Well, you heard 'em, boss," Robbins said to the senior officer.

"If they say they can handle it..." Darvis muttered. Velasquez immediately decided.

"ALL FIGHTERS! TOWARDS THE FRIENDLIES!" he ordered. All the pilots immediately turned towards the incoming mass of friendly jet fighters.

"That's about a hundred-plus of them..." Washington commented. "And more than that heading for the city. Midway?"

"Yes?" the older aircraft carrier answered. "I think I already know what you're gonna ask."

"Well, great minds think alike, right?" Ronnie said. Midway chuckled.

"You guys deal with the ones heading for LA. I'll take the ones chasing the five."

"Alright, then. Reagan, let's go," Washington spoke as her and Ronnie's F-35Cs split from Midway's F/A-18s and headed to intercept the main Abyssal Carrier-based Plane formation.

"Making contact in three!" Garner counted down as the two masses of air craft sped towards each other, with one at breakneck speed.

"Two!"

"HHHHHYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!" Velasquez shouted as he spun his F-15X to avoid more laser bolts.

"Woo hoo, Chris! Barrel rolling to the maaaax!" Ronnie commented.

"One!"

The two groups collided in a cacophony of machine gun fire, missiles and lasers. But fortunately, the five pilots got out without a scratch.

"Are we...?" Falkner muttered.

"Did we...?" DeSanta muttered.

Velasquez and Darvis both were stunned.

"HOLY SHIT, GUYS! WE'RE ALIVE!" Robbins exclaimed.

The five immediately started rejoicing.

"Let's get outta here. I have a douchebag to beat the shit out of when we get back," Velasquez said.

"Count us in, V," Darvis said to him.

"I think all of us here have a bone to pick with Kravinski," Falkner said.

"You're not alone," Vice Admiral Baxter suddenly interjected. "That asshole just got four of you killed. I think it's safe to say you have a right to beat his ass when you get back."

"We headin' to Fresno then?" Robbins asked.

"We're heading to Fresno, Mike," Velasquez said.

All five fighter pilots looked back at the battle. Midway's Hornets were somehow making quick work of the Abyssal Fighters that used to be following the five. The almost hundred-strong mass of alien craft was reduced to a measly fifteen, with the Hornets only losing three of their own.

"Damn. How are they doing that? We couldn't even scratch them!" DeSanta wondered.

"Let's not kill our brains thinking about it, Jacky. We still have a jerkass to fuck up," Velasquez ordered.

[10 MINUTES TO LANDFALL]