Disclaimer: I do not own Ace Combat. Fanfic Authors even challenge the true sky.

All right Squadron, listen up! I'm back from solitary and I'm ready to answer your call with a sequel to Persona Non Grata. So suit up, grab yourself a big ol' sandwich, and form up on my six. It's time to fly!

Bulgurdarest Air Base
August 9, 2019

The clatter of silverware and the smell of warm food greeted me as I entered the messhall of the airbase to look for my friends. The days following the death of Colonel McKinsey and the last flight of Spare Squadron had been nothing short of miraculous. As a result of rooting out a traitorous officer, the survivors of our penal squadron had been given official pardons and reinstated back in the ranks of the Osean Air Force. In a way, we had gone from convicts to heroes seemingly overnight. The whole thing had been like a surreal out of body experience but perhaps there had been a little luck involved too. My friends and I had been granted new leases on life and we didn't intend to waste that blessing either.

The Lighthouse War as it had come to be called was still raging on the other side of the continent but the small quiet refuge of this airbase in Bulgurdarest had been a godsend for those of us who were in need of it. Although Bulgurdarest was still struggling to remain a neutral power, it was still honoring its close ties to the Osean Federation and allowing some of us a temporary safe haven so that we could regroup before moving on again.

As I passed a few airmen carrying trays of food, I finally found my friends who had come along with me from the Zapland air base. They were sitting at a corner table eating some lunch and joking with each other. They all looked up when they saw me and my roommate Tabloid moved over to give me some space to sit. The lanky man with sandy brown hair gave a cheerful grin and raised a mug of coffee, "Hey Trigger. It's about time you showed up. We were just talking about how much better the chow is here than it was back at the penitentiary in Zapland."

"Geez, everything is better here than it was at the 444th," my other wingman Count said leaning back in his seat. The handsome fair featured man with a mop of blonde hair gave a sigh, "I'm just glad to be out of those jail cells and be treated like a human being again."

The lone female of our group, a tanned young woman with a very short haircut gave me a curious look, "Where were you off to this morning Trigger?"

I reached into my flightsuit and produced a card for everyone to see, "I was getting my new ID badge just now. And guys? Don't be too jealous that I took such a great photo. I am devastatingly handsome after all."

Avril laughed at the humor and passed the card along, "So your real name is Thomas Richter, huh? Kinda sounds like Trigger, doesn't it?"

"Moreso than the rest of us. Isn't that right, Eugene Morris?" Tabloid teased Count from across the table.

"Aw shut up Tabloid. Don't make me reach across the table here," Count grumbled.

"Eugene? Your real name is Eugene?" I asked stifling a laugh of my own.

Count threw up his hands in exasperation and shook his head while the rest of us shared a laugh until Tabloid spoke again and produced his own ID.

"I will say this. It is nice to have our real names back… to have someone call me Steven Pope again."

"Well don't get too used to it, son. We've still got a war going on here," came a familiar deep voice. We all turned in surprise to see the veteran airman Major Wiseman, who also served as the flight leader of Cyclops Squadron. With him was another Air Force Major. He looked to be a middle aged man with a heavyset built and a trim dark brown mustache. Wiseman gestured to his stocky companion and said, "Everyone, I'd like you to meet your new AWACs controller. He goes by the name Long Caster. Major, these are some of our new pilots."

We all murmured our greetings to him and Long Caster gave a calm friendly smile along with a nod, "Nice to meet you all. Would you care to join us for a meal?"

"Actually, we were just finishing up here sir," Tabloid said, "We heard we were going to be a shipping out on some transports later and then head for a new base near North Point. We were going to make sure the last of our paperwork and cargo was in order."

Major Wiseman nodded, "All right. As for you Trigger and Count. I'd like you to report to our temporary HQ in about an hour or so. I want you both to sit in on an important meeting."

"Yes sir. I'll do that as soon as I grab some food to go," I said giving a hasty salute as I left the table with my friends. As we walked off, Long Caster called after me.

"Captain, I recommend their salami and pepperoni sandwich here! Trust me, your stomach will thank you for it!"

Judging by the couple extra inches on Long Caster's waistline I guess I had no reason to doubt him. I gave him a friendly wave before walking with Count toward the chow line, "Well... he seems friendly. Definitely a step up from Bandog."

"Psh. Bandog? Anything is a step up from that salty bastard," Count chuckled idly, "What I'm really curious about is this meeting that Wiseman wants you and I to attend. What do you think that's all about?"

I shrugged as I took a tray and the nearest salami sandwich, "No idea. But I guess we'll find out soon enough."

Erusean Air and Space Administration
Experimental Testing Facility / 68th Exp. Squadron Base

Meanwhile on the other side of the continent, Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise made her way down a hallway of the EASA testing facility that she was visiting and rounded a corner. The young Erusean royal couldn't help but feel a little out of place in this remote government facility that doubled as an airbase for one of the kingdom's experimental squadrons. A girl done up in makeup with an expensive white dress and blazer combo was a far cry from the grimy mechanics, the sweaty pilots, and the haggard looking scientists that populated the place. Rosa opened a nearby door and entered one of the building's empty hangers. There she could see the main doors were already open letting in the morning light and she made her way across the enclosure to where she found the person that she was looking for, one of her classmates that she was visiting here. "Ionela! There you are!"

The young brunette woman in a dark blue dress turned around in surprise and greeted the blonde haired princess with a faint smile, "Rosa... hello. I didn't hear you coming. You're up early."

"I could say the same to you," Rosa said as she joined her classmate by the hanger doors. She noticed Ionela seemed preoccupied and kept her eyes toward the skies as if keeping a quiet vigil, "He's flying again... isn't he?"

Ionela sighed and gave a nod. Her grandfather Mihaly A. Shilage was an older nobleman of Erusea and had distinguished himself as an ace pilot in their air force. Despite his advanced age, Mihaly had shown remarkable resilance and retention of his unparalleled piloting skills. It had caught the attention of the Erusean government and he continued to work with EASA and their scientists to gather data. It was suspected that data was being used in their drone programs but Mihaly did not seem to care much about the agendas of EASA. He was a stubborn old man who was wedded to the skies and just refused to leave. It was this persistent refusal to retire and leave the skies that had caused his granddaughters Ionela and Alma so much concern and was part of the reason they were there at the facility. They had come to care for him and see to his health when he had episodes after stressing his body in his test flights.

"Grandfather seems all the more determined these days to practice and sharpen his skills," Ionela said absently looking toward the bright clear blue skies that hung over the salt flats.

"Because of the war currently going?" Rosa asked.

Ionela shrugged, "Yes, but there's more to it. He told me that he wanted to be ready when he meets the pilot with the three scratches."

Rosa looked curiously to her friend as she explained, "Grandfather was flying a mission not too long ago, in the Yinshi Valley. The skies were dark and stormy and he came across a group of Osean fighter planes. He said that among those Oseans, there was a pilot who dared to challenge him in a duel. Grandfather said that pilot was exceptionally skilled and showed great courage. Based on the radio chatter, he said this pilot sounded like a young man and on the tail of this fighter, it had three distinct lines painted."

Rosa was intrigued. She knew that Mihaly was an unmatched pilot who had never lost a fight and she wanted to hear more of this Osean pilot, "What happened?"

"They fought each other to a draw," Ionela answered, "They parted ways and Grandfather said that fight made him feel more alive than he had in a long time. He said it made him feel young again and more determined than ever to defeat this man with three scratches."

Rosa nodded and looked up to the skies with her friend. Although Rosa was no expert when it came to fighter planes and aviation, she was familiar enough with some of the jargon and the sight of the Flankers which often escorted her family's transport planes. While she had no desire to become a pilot as well, she had always admired the skill of great pilots in their air shows and the graceful way that they made their aircraft seem to dance and soar in skies. In way, Rosa couldn't help but feel a little guilty that Mihaly was pushing himself so hard and that her friend Ionela continued to worry for her grandfather. This war against the Osean Federation was being pushed and supported by her own royal family so she shared some responsibility at having become the war effort's figurehead. She knew Ionela didn't blame her, but it still weighed on her mind. Maybe that was part of the reason Rosa was staying here too? A sense of guilt and loyalty to her friend who she was making suffer?

Rosa pushed aside the thought and put a comforting hand on her classmate's shoulder, "Come on. Let's get you something to eat. When your grandfather comes back, I'll help you see to him."

Before she departed, Princess Rosa looked to the skies one more time wondering how the war was progressing, where Mihaly might be today, and just who this mysterious young Osean pilot might be.

Bulgurdarest Air Base

Later that afternoon, Count and I headed over to the air base's central administrative building which served as the temporary HQ of our people there. We made our way into a large spacious briefing room that looked like a small auditorium where we were joined by a few dozen of our fellow Osean pilots. We didn't really recognize anyone else there so Count and I stuck together and sat off to the side waiting until Major Wiseman and Long Caster entered. By the looks of it, those two were going to be giving some sort of mission briefing as the lights dimmed and the main display screen pulled up a tactical map of the Usean continent along with the dispositions of Erusean and Osean forces.

Major Wiseman spoke first in his deep commanding baritone, "All right, settle down everyone. I've got some announcements to make. Two of the squadrons here will be flying as escorts for the transports making their way to our new base near North Point. You have your orders already so you can stick to them. As for the rest of you, I want to let you know that we're going to be getting some new blood. Captain Richter? Lieutenant Morris? Please rise."

Count and I looked to each other in surprise and rose hesitantly before all the eyes in the room turned to us. I normally didn't mind these kind of things or getting singled out, but right now I couldn't help but feel a little self conscious... maybe more than I wanted to be. Wiseman continued, "These pilots go by the call signs Trigger and Count. Boys, we've received official confirmation about what we're going to do with you. I made it abundantly clear to the brass that I'd like for the both of you to officially join our unit. This is an unprecedented move and they assented so it seems like you've got people looking out for you. Based on the reports I've been given, I believe you'll be an asset to us. Now to the heart of the briefing. Long Caster?

Our new AWACs officer stepped forward and took control of the presentation, "For a long time, our counteroffensive has been slowed by the Erusean drones' auto-intercept system. Any aircraft entering Erusean airspace without the proper IFF is marked as hostile and drones are scrambled. However, we have discovered that the intercept system has a blind spot. We acquired this valuable information from other squadrons who went on dangerous missions to scout the borders and they suffered great losses. If we don't act now before the enemy can fill that blind spot, our pilots' sacrifices will have been in vain."

At that, both Count and I tensed and recalled the similar ambush we had experienced in the Wiapolo Mountains against those dreaded drones. In our few short encounters with them, the drones had been directly and indirectly related to the deaths of several members of our old penal unit Spare Squadron.

Long Caster continued, "That said, we've been ordered to carry out a campaign of long-range strikes. We will operate separately from the main Osean forces as the LRSSG, or the Long Range Strategic Strike Group. Cyclops and Strider Squadrons will be tasked to sortie deep into Erusean territory and carry out specialized long range attack strategies. We will carve our way through the territories of northern Usea to the Erusean capital of Farbanti attacking major targets along the way."

I stared at the screen in amazement as I followed the projected course outlined. It was a very bold and audacious plan. In a sense, they intended for this LRSSG to act as a Special Forces style unit of air warfare. Despite the risks, it was possible that this plan might work too. I couldn't help but wonder what sorts of odds and wagers the late High Roller would be placing on all this right now.

"The first operation will involve striking the enemy's main naval force, the Njord fleet which is gathered in northern Usea. We've known for some time there is a large supply base utilized by the enemy fleet in the waters around Snider's Top. At present, that is where they are concentrated. We believe they intend to use it as a staging ground to attack eastern Usea where Osean forces are currently stationed. If we can surprise the enemy with a long range attack, we could potentially do devastating damage to them. Remember, while aircraft and ammo can be replaced, the lives of our pilots cannot. We don't want any casualties out there. We have a lot to do so make sure your aircraft are prepped and ready to go. Good luck pilots."

Count and I rose from our chairs feeling a rush of exhilaration and excitement. Did this mean what we thought it did? We were really going to be going back to flying combat operations, and with an elite task force of pilots as well. Even more, Osea was once again taking the initiative and asserting itself in the war. After all the recent sorties Count and I had flown, it was good to finally be back on the offensive again. Before we could go, we were stopped by Wiseman who gave us careful scrutiny as he approached, "Hold on a minute you two. I have a few more things to add. I'm going to be in need of a new flight leader for Strider Squadron. Trigger, I'd like you to head that up on the coming operation."

I blinked in shock, "I'm sorry... me? You want me to lead Strider?"

"Kid, I've seen you fly out there and I remember how you took on Mr. X too. If what I heard about your skill and leadership with Spare Squadron is true, then I have no doubt the Striders will be in good hands."

"I... thank you Major," I said dutifully.

"What about me?" Count asked in mild disappointment.

Wiseman turned to him, " Count, you will be be assigned to Cyclops Squadron under me as Cyclops 2. Hope that's okay with you."

"I guess the number 2 spot's not a bad place to start off in an official squadron," Count sighed before looking to me and giving me a light elbow in the side, "I guess I'll let this one slide Trigger."

"Gee, how magnanimous of you," I retorted with a mild eye roll at my friend's trademark vanity. I patted Count's shoulder and moved for the door, "Come on. Let's get to work and prep our aircraft. If we're going to be flying with this new unit, we'll have to dress to impress."