Red Flag

Author: ShaViva

Rating: T

Content Warning: Coarse language mostly, some violence, adult themes and sexual situations.

Season: Set in February 2001, just over two years before Enemy Mine.

Summary: Operation Red Flag ... two weeks of advanced aerial combat training exercises. The friendlies - Blue Forces - engaging the hostiles - Red Forces - in realistic combat situations. For Captain Evan Lorne Red Flag would prove both challenging and confronting ... not to mention a hell of a lot of fun!

Classifications: General, aviation

Pairings: none

Spoilers for: None Stargate related. Spoilers for the IMAX movie: Fighter Pilot - Operation Red Flag.

Acknowledgements: The internet as usual, as well as the IMAX movie covering this event - awesome viewing, go check it out!

Disclaimer: The Stargate characters, storylines, etc aren't mine. I am unfortunately not associated in any way with the creators, owners, or producers of Stargate or any of its media franchises – if I was Lorne would have been in A LOT more episodes. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, equipment, etc are the property of whoever owns them. The original characters and plot and anything else I made up are the property of me, the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Copyright (c) 2009 ShaViva

Authors Note:

I'm back! Happy New Year everyone. And yes, we're back to pilot Lorne ... gotta love that! I stumbled across the IMAX movie all about Operation Red Flag and I could totally see Lorne being a part of that ... so of course my inspiration, not to mention the environment and general series of events is informed from that movie along with things covered in Wikipedia on the event.

This story follows on from Best Bachelor ... that one was March 2000 and this one is February 2001 ... I'll do some brief updates on what Lorne's been up to in that time as part of the story. I still have one more story planned to get us to my Lorne from Forlorn Hope - so I hope this background stuff is still interesting!!! Enjoy!

Mission One – Dog Fight

Captain Evan Lorne had an advantage over most of the people sitting in the large lecture theatre waiting for Major Robert Pace to arrive and give his opening statement. He was already stationed at Nellis air force base, north west of Las Vegas, Nevada ... had been for the past three months ... so the place at least was familiar to him. For everyone else it was all new ... pilots, ground crews, mechanics, engineers, radar specialists, all the people needed to run a war in the air had come from all over the country - all over the world in fact. U.S. personnel from Air Combat Command, Air Mobility Command, Air Forces Europe, Pacific Air Forces, the Air National Guard, Air Force Reserve, Army, Navy, and Marine Corps. Joining them were personnel from America's allied countries - Canada, Germany, Australia, the United Kingdom, Italy, and others. It was ... huge.

Looking around the room from his aisle seat near the front, Lorne tried to do a head count, coming up with somewhere around 2000 attendees.

Fresh faced and eager to prove themselves, they were all there for one thing ... Operation Red Flag.

It was an event steeped with history. During the Vietnam War U.S. Air Force pilots had performed poorly ... air combat over North Vietnam between 1965 and 1973 had resulted in an exchange ratio of over two to one - for every two enemy planes shot down the U.S. had lost one of theirs. Not only was that unacceptable but it was also much worse than performances in previous wars. Something had changed - the shift in training to general air safety because of what was seen as obsolete aerial combat manoeuvring in a world with beyond visual range engagements. If you could take down an enemy from so far away you didn't even have to see them then surely you didn't need to know how to avoid them in the air. On paper that had probably seemed sensible but it hadn't proven true in practice. As a result pilots were unversed in the basics of ACM - air combat manoeuvres - all the while being engaged by enemy planes who did demonstrate skills in those areas. Coupled with other research that showed a pilot's chance of survival in a career of aerial combat increased if they could complete at least ten successful combat missions the need for a realistic training scenario was clear.

And so in 1975 Red Flag was born ... the chance for pilots to fly ten realistically-simulated combat missions in a safe training environment with measureable results.

Lorne was in a unique position ... like every other pilot in the room he'd done all the training possible in his aircraft of choice - the F-16 flying Falcon – but hadn't flown it in active combat. He'd switched planes though - moving from his earlier career in the F-18 Hornet to the more common to the U.S. air force F-16 aircraft. So while he was unversed in real to life combat in the F-16 he did have experience in the F-18 - lots of experience. He could just as easily have done without being a part of this month's Red Flag Blue Force - the friendlies .... in fact he'd wanted to be a part of the Red Force - the bad guys. But the members of his squadron had done the 'rookie' ritual on him, telling Evan he had to do at least one Red Flag the traditional way before they'd 'let' him be one of the aggressors. It sucked, but there were usually four Red Flag operations run every year so it wasn't like he wouldn't get the chance in the near future. He'd just rather be a part of his own squadron with people he knew than a stranger in a room full of other strangers.

On the big display screen at the front of the room were the words "9th February Day Mission Air Boss Briefing" ... the first of what would be multiple daily briefings covering every aspect of every activity they'd undertake during the training program.

"This is huge," the guy next to Lorne muttered, also doing the curious look around.

"Yeah," Lorne grinned. "It's gonna be a nut house with all these people engaged in live exercises."

"I'm glad I'm not the one coordinating it!" the other guy replied, his blue eyes twinkling in a face browned by repeated exposure to the sun. That and the unfamiliar accent pegged him as one of the 'allied forces'. Holding out a hand he added "Captain Dominic Harper, RAAF. Everybody calls me Dom."

"Captain Evan Lorne - U.S. air force," Lorne replied, shaking the proffered hand firmly. "Australia right? You're a long way from home."

"You've got that right," Dom chuckled. "It was a long trip but now that we're here - this place feels almost familiar, weather wise at least." When Evan's brow rose interestedly, Dom continued. "Me and the boys," he gestured to the three men sitting on his other side, "are all stationed at Darwin airbase ... that's northern Australia, so it gets pretty hot."

"I'd rather it hot than cold," Evan mock shuddered. "Spent two years at Cold Lake in Canada ... in case you're wondering, they call it that for a reason. Now I'm stationed here at Nellis ... it's nice."

Grinning, Dom turned to nudge the man next to him. "Guys ... meet Captain Evan Lorne - he likes the weather here too."

Lorne leaned forward to shake hands with each, nodding as they gave their full name and rank in turn. Jason Bond, Riley Giles and Stephen Bishop were all Captains too - all four Australian pilots had a similar vibe to Lorne's mind even though physically they were different. Dominic the tallest with dark hair to go with those blue eyes, Jason with brown hair cut shorter than regulation demanded and brown eyes to match, and Riley the 'surfer' type - blonde hair a little too long, deep tan, muscular with lines around his eyes that suggested he spent a lot of time squinting into the sun. Stephen was the only one Evan wouldn't have immediately pegged as foreign – regulation hair cut and a crisp clean cut appearance – until he spoke of course. The Aussie boys were all different but still there was something alike about them ... a casual, laid back air with just a hint of their excitement for the coming days bubbling away under the surface.

"F-16 right?" Dom queried.

"Yeah," Lorne nodded, thinking quickly before hazarding his own guess in return. "F-18?"

"The Hornet ... best aircraft in the world," Stephen's tone was almost challenging as he looked for Lorne's response.

"Hey, you won't get any argument from me," Evan held up his hands placatingly. "I just spent the last three months doing a transition program to the F-16. Before that I flew the CF-18 for going on four years."

"What are you doing here then?" Jason asked curiously. "I thought this was for newly graduated or zero combat experience pilots."

"It is," Lorne agreed with a pained shrug. "You know how it goes ... new guy on a new squadron ... apparently I don't get full entry status until I've done one of these things."

Dom laughed. "That sucks mate," he said.

"It does," Evan shrugged. "But as a way to get up to full speed in the F-16 it's probably not a bad thing. And as long as I don't stuff it up I'll get to do the whole thing again next time - from the other side."

"Now that would be sweet," Dom agreed. Before he could say more their attention was drawn to the stage where their 'host' had arrived. Preceding him were the three older men Lorne knew to be the big wigs of Nellis air force base. They took their seats along the aisle at the front, the room slowly falling silent as everyone waited for the beginning.

"Good morning everyone ... take your seats please. I'm Major Robert Pace, Air Boss of Operation 1 for 2001. Welcome to Red Flag."

The Major had gone on to greet the pilots and crews from America and all the allied partners, pointing out in case it wasn't obvious that together the assembled personnel represented one of the largest combat air forces anywhere in the world right then. They had 14 days to undertake a simulated air war, their final tune-up before going into actual combat.

The first mission was both simple and complex. A B2 heavy bomber would ghost the battle field and take out the enemy's ground based missile launchers, hopefully before the opposition even knew a battle was coming. They'd have a pair of stealth F1-17's along for immediate protection. Providing additional bomber support was a squad of B1's. Once the enemy was aware of the attack they'd launch their fighters – 12 highly manoeuvrable F-16's piloted by the country's top pilots. Each country would run a squad of fighter pilots whose job it was to engage the enemy fighters until the battle was won.

That didn't sound all that complex until you added up the numbers ... a dozen fighter wings from the U.S. alone, three from Canada, two from Great Britain and Germany, and one each from Singapore, Italy and Australia ... 122 aircraft in the air at one time. What was about to happen in the first mission was considered by many to be more dangerous and high pressure than live combat itself.

After bidding his new Australian friends farewell with a promise to swap stories after the mission, Lorne went in search of his own squad. Nellis was the home of more than one fighting wing with a combined experience level that couldn't be beaten. They had training wings too but unfortunately for Lorne not a full four person squad. Rather than bring in extra pilots to make up one wing his superiors had decided to offer their own pilots to any wings missing a fourth member. For Lorne that meant joining one of the fighter wings of the United States Marines.

Before any of the squads could take to the air they each had to assess the playing field, and in particular the part of it assigned to their protection and give guidance to the Air Boss and his team on their intended flight path. Evan made his way to one of the small briefing rooms used for that purpose, not sure what to expect.

His arrival at the door drew the attention of the room's three occupants who all looked up with varying degrees of interest. They'd be flying team mates for fourteen days ... understanding each other would be crucial to that.

"Captain Evan Lorne," Evan introduced himself as he made his way inside, offering his hand to the closest person.

"Captain Piper Jones," the only female in the room smiled pleasantly as she returned his hand shake. She'd stood to greet Evan and he found himself looking up just a little – Piper was tall and solidly built and frankly just a little intimidating. Lorne would never be ungentlemanly enough to describe her as unattractive, but with plain, strong features and a very clear disregard for feminine trappings Captain Jones was never going to be accused of trying to get anywhere based solely on her looks.

"Lieutenant David Wilson," one of the men went next, shaking hands, his expression curious. He was slight, almost delicate and Evan wondered for a brief moment how he had the strength required to be fighter pilot.

"Captain Joseph Martinez," the last of the three concluded. "Joe," he added with a friendly smile.

"So, how'd you end up being a spare Captain?" Jones asked curiously, waving him to the remaining empty seat.

"Evan, please," Lorne replied. "Newly stationed to Nellis, relatively speaking," he explained. "Not enough newly trained F-16 pilots for a full squadron at the moment and I didn't want to wait for the next Red Flag."

"Their loss, our gain," Joe quipped with a grin.

"I hope you're still saying that at the end of the two weeks," Lorne shot back with a chuckle.

"So, flight paths," Piper drew them all back to what they were there for. "This is our designated area," she explained, circling a square region labelled Coyote Delta on the map on the table for all to see. "It would make sense for us to fly south west to north east in a wide sweep to cover as much ground as possible."

That sparked a few comments from the others until finally they'd agreed on a strategy and submitted their flight plans.

A few minutes later Lorne was walking down the tarmac, suited up with his flight bag in hand. It was an impressive sight, the mountains in the distance and the long runway with rows upon rows of aircraft from all the participating units. The city was visible from Nellis AFB too, the distance deceptive as it looked close enough to touch. Evan still hadn't gotten used to that feeling of being too close to civilisation.

He was walking past an impressive array of aircraft too ... Harrier jump jets with their massive half circle 'mouth' at the front, the smaller, compact Tornadoes flown by the German's and Italians. Then there was the familiar jets ... F-15 Eagles, F-16 flying Falcons and of course F-18 Hornets. Seeing those with the Canadian flag proudly displayed had him grinning nostalgically. Although he was happy to be flying the F-16, happy to be a part of air forces available for U.S. air force deployment, the Hornet would always hold a special place in his heart.

All those planes would be deployed inside of twenty minutes, a logistical feat that he both looked forward to and was nervous to observe up close and personal.

At his own F-16, Lorne did the pre flight checks with a familiarity that was second nature before climbing the steps and settling himself in the cockpit. All the remaining checks done he listened to instructions from air control, taxiing to runway five.

"Nellis tower, I have P four, runway five right," Evan reported, sliding his jet into position behind the rest of his squadron, designated Sigma Three.

"Sigma three one, Tower. Flight's turnout approved. Good luck on Mission 1."

"Sigma three one," Captain Jones's voice was transmitted to Lorne, Wilson and Martinez, "we are clear for take off. Let's go and have some fun."

Smiling, Lorne pushed the stick forward, his body pressing back into the pilot's seat as he quickly picked up speed. In formation beside him three other planes also got to takeoff speed, the four planes lifting off the ground in unison. From the ground it was a sight to see ... and hear ... each squadron taking off within minutes of the next and disappearing quickly into the sky.

"Sigma three one, Nellis tower, unrestricted climb approved," air control gave them the all clear moments later. Captain Jones was nominally their squadron leader, all commands pertaining to their wing as a whole would be addressed to her and heard by all four of them.

"Tower, Sigma three one, copy that," Piper replied.

There was nothing that could equal the thrill of cutting through the sky in an aircraft capable of doing Mach 2+ - 1500 miles per hour. Doing it in a squad of four in a sky already occupied with over a hundred other aircraft was real enough to have the adrenalin pumping. Coordinating all of that was the task of the air boss, Major Pace ... high above the battlefield on the edge of space a U2 was cruising, gathering intelligence and sending it to the AWACS (airborne warning and control system) surveillance aircraft, via the huge satellite dish sticking up from the back.

Lorne had taken a tour of the AWACS aircraft as part of his F-16 training. Its sole purpose was to detect aircraft, hence the high altitude and radar systems that allowed the operators to distinguish between the friendlies and the bad guys. As an offensive tool it allowed fighter pilots to be directed to their targets; defensively it was used to counter attacks ... all a part of the overall mission of surveillance and C2BM – command and control battle management. The inside of the AWACS was like geek heaven - rows of computer terminals displaying every aspect of the battle taking place below for the dozen operators monitoring the air war. Each aircraft broadcast real time telemetry collected and disseminated using the Nellis Air Combat Training System - NACTSys. On the screens small squads of planes, colour coded, moved through the air, different altitudes and paths of coloured lines trailing after them.

Major Pace took information from his crew to make the broad decisions about directions .... it would be a constant struggle of vigilance and attention to every detail to keep 100 plus planes from seven countries from smashing into each other.

For this pretend war most of the aircraft were the good guys, the Blue Forces. Opposing them were the Red Forces – twelve highly manoeuvrable F-16s flown by the finest fighter pilots in the American air force. Designated 'sniper' over radio channels, the twelve had one key advantage. As planes are hit and declared killed they turn white on the NACTSys screen. The good guys must then disengage and return to base. The aggressors however got to regenerate and return to the fight.

Five miles out from the enemy's defences they got the word that the fight was on.

"Fire missiles," Jones gave the order purposefully.

"Fox Two," Lorne fired off two heat seeking AIM-9 Sidewinders – unarmed but through the NACTSys system able to be tracked to a target as though they were.

As one the formation veered right, a trail of flares and the resulting smoke disguising their path from any return missiles.

"Sigma, flight," air control reported. "Group bullseye at 3,350." Translation – a group of bad guys was approaching at 3,350 feet.

"Flight, Sigma copies," Jones replied.

Two miles out the bad guys had tracked and corrected course and were still approaching. Using simulated rounds in the M61 Vulcan Gatling gun the battle between Sigma squadron and the bad guys moved into a classic dogfight.

"Sigma, spread formation." Jones gave the order and as one Lorne and the others dropped a wing, each heading off at 45 degree angles.

Evan scanned the sky, craning his neck to see behind him as he spun a 180, the ground now at his head. "Sigma three four, I am tally one," he said, spotting one of the Red Forces planes looping wide to drop in behind one of his team mates. "Sigma three three, threat, your six – 2 miles," he said, already altering course to provide support.

Martinez responded immediately, banking right, setting off multiple flares behind him. At that range it wouldn't confuse a visual confirmation of his position – any missiles already fired could be lured from him as a heat source though.

Lorne had come into the mini battle at a high altitude. Now he did a 360 degree roll, dropping quickly. He had a lock on the target seconds later and took it without hesitation.

"Good shooting Sigma three four," control came back. "Sniper two is down."

Down but not out of course. Lorne spared little thought for the quick success – regrouping to fly close formation with Martinez they turned and headed back the way they'd come. "Sigma Three One, what's your status?" he asked. They'd travelled some distance and were now 3 miles out from their team mates.

"Sigma Three One, I am negative at 6,000, defensive," Jones replied. She didn't have sights on the other aggressors and was flying a defensive position at 6,000 feet.

"Sigma Three Four, copy that," Lorne returned. "Sigma three three and I are flying formation and heading back to your position."

"Acknowledged," Jones replied.

Martinez spotted them first, three planes closing in on Jones. "Sigma Three One, Tally Three, bandits at eight o'clock," he said urgently.

Evan was fully engaged in the battle but still had attention enough to smile slightly at the younger man's energy. His tone said he'd settled in to the battle and was no longer nervous but everything was new and the excitement of that came through clearly.

Jones broke left, trying to shake her tails. Lorne and Martinez moved to intercept one sniper each, leaving her to fight off the remaining plane. At that point it became three separate battles. Radio traffic let him know how his team was doing but Evan could spare them nothing more than that.

The sniper on his tail was good ... really, really good. Using names and identifying themselves was an unspoken forbidden rule for Red Flag so he couldn't check to be sure but still Evan had a pretty good idea of who was trying to take him down.

Captain Tanya Reid.

Blonde, blue eyed, and beautiful she'd become the subject of quite a few male fantasies for Evan since he'd arrived at Nellis and met the members of other squadrons also stationed at the base. Tanya was friendly and easy going as well, not to mention supremely talented at her job. That made her a forbidden proposition for Lorne – he knew himself well enough to want to steer clear of temptation, despite the desires he might have. The regs didn't stand in the way – different commanding officers, different wings, and the same rank meaning there was no way either of them could bring the service into disrepute or show favouritism. No, it was Evan himself standing in the way ... not that he would have asked her out necessarily but he'd decided pretty quickly not to go there. He had a feeling any relationship with Tanya Reid would be intense .... captivating ... and therefore to be avoided at all costs.

Refocusing on his current situation, Lorne broke left, pulling significant G's as he kept the turn as sharp as he could make it, hoping his opponent wouldn't be able to match it. It was close; he gained a little ground but didn't shake them off.

He switched it up, breaking right and then executing a flawless half Cuban eight that put him heading straight for the other plane but at a higher altitude. Before they'd closed the gap, Lorne did an Immelmann, Roll-off-the-top; half loop, half roll that gained him more altitude. His opponent tried to follow but the quick stringing together of unfamiliar aerobatic manoeuvres was too much. Evan only had to do a Split S – a reverse Immelmann – to convert his altitude into airspeed while switching direction again to gain the position he'd wanted – now he was on his opponent's six and closing fast. He didn't wait for them to regroup – pressing to lock on the target he fired, taking down his second sniper for the day.

It was all done with the Nevada ground as the backdrop ... brown earth, large crevasses and the Colorado River carving a deep path through the land. Above him it was all blue sky and white fluffy clouds – a scene that had him itching for a paint brush almost as much as he wanted to keep flying through it.

"Sigma three four, Sniper is down," he reported as he once again took a heading back to where he thought his team should be, waiting to get something back from them.

"Sigma three One, good job," Jones replied. "Sigma three two and three three are down and on their way back to base."

"Damn," Lorne muttered. For a rookie to an air battle, even one on a lesser scale, it was only a matter of time before the more experienced pilots trapped you into a mistake and then made you pay for it. Still, he'd been hoping to help even the odds a little and keep everyone in the game longer. "Sigma three Four, acknowledged," he replied.

"Sigma Three, Control," air command broke in, "group bullseye, 4000, three o'clock." Hopefully a smaller group of Red Force planes had themselves regrouped and were back to take out the rest of Sigma squad.

Glancing at his watch Lorne realised with surprise that they'd already been up in the air for 45 minutes. With the load of fuel they'd taken on board they only had five, maybe ten minutes before they'd have to return to base or risk becoming a brick dropping out of the sky. Refuelling mid fight would be something they'd do before Red Flag was over but it wasn't a component of Mission 1.

"Sigma Three Four, let's see if we can keep them guessing for five," Lorne suggested to Jones, the grin and the mischief evident in his voice.

"Sigma Three One, sounds like a plan," Piper replied, still all business but Evan was sure there was some excitement of her own bubbling away there. You didn't become a fighter pilot unless their current situation got your juices flowing .... in a positive way!

"Sigma Three Four, go high," Lorne requested. "I'll lure them away leaving you -,"

"- to drop in behind them," Jones finished, her agreement for the plan implicit.

Evan took his plane into another tight loop, getting the G's up to 7.5 as he put himself right into the path of their oncoming foes. He was past them in a flash, at a safe distance but still close enough for the wake of his turbulence to shake them around a little. There were only two of them this time and clearly that tactic wasn't what they'd expected ... it seemed like everything paused for a moment before both planes duplicated his tight turning manoeuvre, leaving Jones alone in that section of sky. He'd put out the challenge and it had been accepted.

Lorne put that F-16 through its paces as he held off a direct attack. He'd done enough hours at Nellis to be somewhat familiar with the terrain but nothing on the scale of the pilots following him. They knew every canyon, every turn of the river like the back of their hands and that was a definite advantage. That was part of the reason why Evan had been sent to fly on the other side – both because he lacked the local knowledge needed to be 'the enemy' and because it gave him a crash course in getting that knowledge. Lucky for him he did have a few advantages of his own ... most notably his aerial acrobatics training and experience. He skimmed at very low altitude, spun and rolled, keeping one step ahead of the bad guys.

"Sigma Three One, tally two," Jones told him. A few moments later she let out an uncontrolled "Woo Hoo!" followed quickly by a more professional "Sniper is down."

"Nice work," Lorne returned. Glancing at his watch again he let out a reluctant sigh. "Control, Sigma Three Four," he said. "Fuel is low ... breaking away from the battle and returning to base."

"Sigma Three Four, Control, acknowledged," one of the crew in the AWACS aircraft replied. "Red Forces have been informed to disengage. Good work."

"Thanks," Lorne grinned. Captain Jones also reported her need to return to base, the two planes banking low and heading back to Nellis.

"That was some awesome flying man," Joe Martinez greeted Lorne exuberantly, heading across the tarmac as Evan dropped from the ladder of his plane and landed lightly on the ground.

"Thanks," Lorne grinned. "You weren't exactly shabby yourself there pal."

"Got a long way to go," Joe countered good naturedly. "Everyone's already regrouping in the main lecture theatre for the debrief."

Nodding, Lorne walked beside the other man, the two soon joined by Jones and Wilson. The group walked into the lecture theatre noisy with the sounds of pilots and crew discussing their own actions during the mission. Mistakes were lamented, triumphs celebrated. Red Flag wasn't a competition between pilots – it wasn't about who got the most kills, who lasted the longest. It was about training and ultimately about saving the lives of every person in the hall. Red Flag air bosses walked the line between making it real enough to count and minimising the resulting risks that were also very real. It was all about pushing the limits in a controlled environment.

Everyone made mistakes – it was a necessary part of the process of learning. The key element was never making the same mistake twice and fixing the ones you did make – that was the only way any of them were going to get through the two weeks.

"Hey - how'd it go today?" Lorne looked up from the cold beer he'd been enjoying to see Dominic Harper approaching, grin firmly in place. He'd come down to one of the outdoor areas specifically set up to allow visiting crews to socialise and Dom was the first person he'd spotted that he actually recognised. The noise level was high with multiple conversations all going on at once – with only a seat here and there free and many standing, Lorne had been lucky to get a table to himself.

"I survived," Evan said simply, motioning for the other man to join him. "You?"

"Shot down in flames," Dom said easily. "Gave them a good fight though."

"That's the main thing," Evan returned with a smirk. "And we all learned something valuable right?"

"Yeah, don't get shot down in flames," Dom stated straight faced.

The two were still laughing when a new person approached their table.

"Nice flying today Ace," Captain Tanya Reid stood beside their table, her expression faintly teasing.

"You too," Evan narrowed his eyes, telling himself internally to ignore the fact that even in standard uniform Tanya was very attractive ... okay, hot. "Don't go there," he thought firmly. "I thought we weren't supposed to know who was doing what up there?" he queried aloud.

"True ... but your moves are pretty recognisable, up in the air anyway," Tanya returned, looking curiously at Evan's companion.

"Right," Lorne wasn't sure what to make of that statement so he let it drop. "Let me introduce you to Captain Dominic Harper - RAAF. Dom, this is Captain Tanya Reid ... Red Forces, at least for the next two weeks."

"You're one of the snipers?" Dom asked in surprise.

"What, I don't look like I could kick your ass in the air?" Tanya arched a brow royally.

"No ... I mean yes, you do," Dom stuttered but regrouped nicely. "You're just a lot prettier than I expected the enemy to be."

"Well just remember this is practice Captain," Tanya said with a smile. "I'm nobody's enemy ... isn't that right Evan?"

"Sure, yes," Evan looked at her curiously, his expression a little confused. She seemed a little ... peeved ... was that because he'd shot her down today or for some other reason?

"So, has Evan told you all about the fun things to do around here?" Tanya asked Dominic, the hint of flirting obvious enough to have Lorne feeling uncomfortably close to jealous. Not that he had any reason to be jealous of course - Tanya thankfully had no idea of how often he thought about her in an entirely non professional way and he had every intention of keeping it like that.

"Not so far," Dom laughed. "You mean there are actually fun things to do?"

"Of course," Tanya reached out to touch his arm lightly. "I could show you some of them right now."

"Ah -," Dom's eyes shot to Lorne's, the unspoken question clear. Did Evan have a claim here? Shaking his head subtlely, it pained Lorne to give the all clear. He didn't have a claim to Tanya's time nor the right to stop her from spending it wherever and with whomever she chose.

"Sure - that would be great," Dom replied, standing up next to Tanya.

"I'll meet you outside then," Tanya smiled, staying where she was. Dom looked from her to Evan and back again and then with a casual nod of farewell turned and left the two alone.

As soon as he was out of earshot Tanya leaned in closer to Evan until she was practically whispering in his ear. "Assuming you don't object of course. Do you ... object?"

"I -," Evan shifted back, his blue eyes locking with hers.

"Because if you do, I'll gladly show you those fun sights instead ... Ace," Tanya smiled in a way that was sexy and teasing and hell on Lorne's resolve.

"Tanya," Lorne's tone held a warning for her not to tease him.

"I didn't think so," Tanya straightened abruptly and spun on a heel, intent on heading for the door.

"Not so fast," without really planning it Evan shot out a hand and grabbed her lightly, the surprise alone enough to draw her to a stop. "What game are we playing here Tanya?"

"Any game you want Evan," Tanya said simply, letting him keep his hold on her.

"And do these games have any rules?" Lorne asked, voice low and ... purposeful.

"No winners, no losers," she leaned in closer again. "No promises."

"Why now?" he stroked a thumb down her wrist, smirking when she shivered slightly.

"Because you beating me in the air today was ... hot," Tanya smiled, "and we both know there was no way you'd approach me." Her blue eyes sparkled knowingly. "I've seen you looking though ... because I've been looking too. We both like what we see ... right?"

"No promises?" Lorne repeated, torn between the desire to take what was very clearly on offer and his prior misgivings about getting involved with a woman like Tanya Reid.

"No promises," Tanya confirmed. "Life is too short."

"Okay," Evan made the decision abruptly. He made to stand but stopped when Tanya put a hand on his shoulder.

"I just need to fix something first," she said. Lorne watched with amusement as she walked away, stopping beside an attractive brunette and whispering in her ear while gesturing towards the door. The other woman nodded and then made her way across the room as Tanya returned to him.

"What was that all about?" Evan asked curiously.

"Making sure your new friend still wants to talk to you tomorrow," Tanya explained. "Stacey is a nice girl - she'll help him play tourist, show him those sites I promised. No hard feelings."

"You were using him to make me jealous," Lorne concluded, shaking his head.

"Not exactly ... I just wanted to prompt some action," Tanya held out a hand, pulling Evan up when he took it. For a moment their bodies swayed too close together before he got his balance and stepped back. "So, shall we?"

"Sure, why not," Lorne agreed, letting her lead him off.

"Pinball," Evan laughed as Tanya drew him towards the bank of machines in the officers club. "This is your idea of fun?"

"Wait until you see how I play," Tanya was all promise as she took up a stance at the first machine and pulled back on the leaver. The ball was in play ... bouncing and ricocheting off surfaces as she moved in a flowing dance that was about battle and winning and taking what you wanted eyes wide open. Flippers made contact with the ball as her pelvis made contact with the machine, her whole focus on making it last as long as possible. There were noises she made while playing too ... growls of satisfaction when the ball went just where she'd planned, and a low hum of effort as she struggled to keep the game going.

Lorne had no idea how long she kept that one ball in play ... when she finally turned from the machine, challenge on her face, he had to blink himself back to the present.

"Your turn Ace ... let's see what you can do," she invited, stepping back.

Lorne rose, closing the distance between them slowly until they were toe to toe. "If you think I can concentrate on anything but you after that display you've seriously overestimated my pinball playing abilities," he said.

And then his hands where in her hair and he was drawing her up to him, the kiss that followed intense enough to steal their breath away.

"Quarters," she broke away to pant out that one word ... request, order, plea, whatever it was Evan reacted immediately. Grabbing her hand he urged her from the room and out into the night air. She took the lead then, dragging him across the courtyard, weaving a path through buildings until they'd reached crew quarters where all Nellis base personnel participating in Red Flag were stationed for the duration. "Yours," she demanded, stopping to pull him down for another intense exchange.

Lorne backed her against the nearest wall, lifting her slightly as he shifted from her mouth to traverse her throat until he was breathing hotly into the space between shoulder and neck. Breaking away before he totally forgot where they were, Evan looked around, got his bearings and then pulled her along beside him. Moments later they were inside his room and it was no holds barred.

When the alarm went off at five am the next morning Lorne wasn't surprised to wake up alone. Running hands through his hair, still tired, Evan yawned even as he pulled on jogging clothes and sneakers and headed out.

At that time of the morning it was like a ghost town on base ... until you got near the tarmac. As Lorne ran a circuit that tracked parallel with the main runway for almost a mile he was accompanied by 30 people slowing walking the runways. They did it every morning at 5 am ... 30 people spread out evenly in a single line across the tarmac, scouring the runways looking for even a single pebble blown onto the surface overnight by the desert winds. Every now and then one of the thirty would stop, bend, pick something up and pocket it before falling back into step with their fellows. It seemed almost graceful the way they moved in sync – graceful and deadly serious. The smallest object left on the surface had the potential to get sucked into an engine, causing a crew to lose their aircraft and their lives before they'd even left the ground.

Evan was distracted by the sight for a time but as soon as he broke away from the edge of the runway he returned to thinking about the previous night. He and Tanya had shared an intimate compatibility that had made the experience the best he could recall ... but it was purely based on the physical. Tanya hadn't rolled off him and out the door in quick order but she hadn't hung around either. They'd come down from the high, arms around each other, still enjoying being together. Then she'd regretfully turned to him, kissed him firmly and told him she wished she could stay but they both had an early start. She'd casually dressed, thrown him a wave at the door with a cheeky "Next time Ace," and left him to his thoughts.

He had no idea what to think ... but maybe thinking was overrated. Maybe it was time Evan Lorne just let himself go with the flow ... and let the future sort itself out. He'd always had trouble with that approach - being in control was a big aspect of his personality. But he'd give it a go ... after all, what could possibly go wrong?

Authors Notes:

I spent ages pondering whether to write this story (all done bar the editing by the way) because it feels a lot like Call Sign ... hopefully people will see the differences, the development of Lorne's character, and not think this a boring rendition of the same theme.

For those interested, the following details how each country is represented during Red Flag missions.

Great Britain; NACTSys colour coded dark green; designated alpha squad; flying Harrier jump jets
Germany; NACTSys colour coded purple; designated beta squad; flying Tornadoes
Italy; NACTSys colour coded yellow; designated gamma squad; flying Panavia Tornadoes
Canada; NACTSys colour coded orange; designated delta squad; flying F-18 Hornets
Singapore; NACTSys colour coded red; designated epsilon squad; flying F-15 Eagles
Australia; NACTSys colour coded brown; designated zeta squad; flying F-18 HornetsUSA; NACTSys colour coded light blue; designated subsequent greek letters; flying various, F-15 Eagles and F-16 Falcons mostly.

It's pretty late here but I wanted to get this story started so please forgive any errors that might have eluded me.