Hey guys. I'm so sorry for the delay between chapters. I've just been tremendously busy with university and work, so much that it kind of sapped my will to write. Which sucks because I really want to keep this story alive!

I can't guarantee any frequent updates at this time, maybe when things settle down again I might start writing more.

Until next time, see you!

Rendevous

Fighters may encounter three or four aircraft and only need to deal with one or two. Bombers might only need to hit a section of an airbase to do the damage. Attackers and CAS only need to deal damage to the point of giving the boots on the ground the edge. A single AWACS aircraft and crew, in one mission, can come across up to a hundred individual contacts of all types, have to find out who's who, what poses the biggest threat, where certain elements need to go, all at the same time.

It's a stressful job, and it's no wonder that the bulk of sales in relation to stimulants, stress-relievers, and therapeutic massages go to those involved with controlling the airspace and by extension the battlefield. It takes a special type of person to work in this environment, where a single mistake could cost others their lives and turn the tide of an engagement.

"Command, Aircrew. We're coming up on station time plus two hours." The voice of the co-pilot shook me from my thoughts. Our crew were over the Eaglin Straits, in North West Osea, providing airspace control as three of the Osean Maritime Defence Force's Hubert-class aircraft carriers moved to rendezvous with each other. The skies above and around the straits were filled with fighters, both from each of the carriers' embarked squadrons and land-based squadrons sent to support them.

"Command, Airspace. The fleet have reached past the maximum range for any form of air attack. We're home free and safe now." Good, now we can start sending the fighters home, and then we can head home.

"Airspace, Command. Copy that." I switched over to the broadcast frequency. "This is Thunderhead. We're arrived outside the range of enemy air attack. Permission granted to return to your assigned bases in sequence. You may refuel for the return trip if required, just hold above the carriers for the tanker." I switched back to the inboard channel. "Radio, Command. Begin vectoring flights home, liaise with Airspace and Texaco for those who need fuel."

"Everyone's leaving. Can we go yet?" I was about to chastise the crewman who said that, but realised that it was one of the fighters. I looked at a section of the radar display and noticed that Wardog were starting to vector away on their own.

"Wardog Squadron, wait for the tanker plane above the carrier." The pilot grumbled more before going silent, with the corresponding blips returning to their original course. Then, on the edge of my display, a group of white blips appeared. I hit refresh, to see if the blips were a glitch, and they disappeared.

"Airspace, Command. I had some phantom blips to the north, a refresh cleared them up. Keep an eye on that space though." As Hall acknowledged, the blips returned. "Wait, blips have returned. I've got three contacts, bearing 350 from the carriers, heading towards them." It also seemed that we were not the only ones who saw the contacts.

"What is that? Is my radar playing up?" The voice of the pilot from earlier spoke up, unintentionally confirming my fears. Another pilot chimed in and said that he had seen the contacts as well.

"Command, Airspace! We've got solid contact on those three threats. No IFF readback, returning Yuke signals. We've got an enemy air attack! Shit, more contacts, bearing 090 and 270 from the carriers!"

I switched my radio over to the area communications frequency. "This is AWACS Thunderhead. Enemy approaching! All units, return to combat air patrol sectors! Protect those carriers! We have three of them, do not let them sink even one!"

"Command, Radio. We're received signals from the three carriers that they are relaunching interceptors now, estimated time until they are up is seven minutes. The majority of land-based aircraft are winchester or have passed bingo state and are unable to assist."

"Ok, Airspace, who do we have that is combat effective?"

"We have those four aircraft from Sand Island Air Base, Wardog Squadron. They appear to be combat effective and, by the looks of it, are already moving to engage the inbound threats."

I watched the screen as the four jets from Sand Island sped towards the new wave of contacts, accelerating to meet the enemy. A set of four launch signals emerged from the blips of their aircraft and tracked towards a set of four enemy contacts. Within seconds, the enemy contacts faded from radar. Wardog then split up into pairs and moved to engage two more separate waves.

"Command, Radio. Chatter is coming in that all carrier-based interceptors are now airborne and are forming to engage the remaining threats."

"Command, Airspace. New friendly contacts in picture, moving to engage. New enemy contacts in picture, not as strong as the other contacts, must be a form of stealth. They might be packing anti-shipping missiles."

"This is Thunderhead. Multiple bandits on radar, they may be carrying long-range anti-ship missiles. No sooner than I spoke, Wardog sped towards the new contacts. But as they approached, a set of launch signatures traced their way from the bandits towards the ships. I could only watch as the blips merged with the blips of our ships, some of them fading from radar. Thankfully, the carriers that got hit still remained on screen.

"This is the aircraft carrier Vulture. We've had a missile strike off our bow. Severe shockwaves, but we're still alive."

"Command, Airspace. Picture is showing clear of all enemy aircraft." I pondered whether to call it.

"This is Thunderhead. All enemy attack planes destroyed, area has been sanitised. Wardog, your air defence mission is complete, hold for the tanker aircraft above the Kestrel."

"All stations, Airspace! We've got a massive contact approaching the fleet! Bearing 047 from the carriers, heading straight for them! Wait, shit! It's a ballistic missile!" I felt the aircraft pull up and bank in response to the message that Captain Hall had broadcast. I flipped to the emergency broadcast channel.

"Ballistic missile incoming! Everyone climb and evade!" I watched in terror at the screen, willing the fighters outside to climb above the danger. Radar contacts related to the missile drew closer to the fleet and escort fighters, the range counting down steadily. I clicked on the missile, and then added the carrier battle group to the selection, generating a time-to-impact counter. Twenty seconds... fifteen... I opened my mic.

"Ten seconds to impact, eight, seven..." I counted down with the clock, providing everyone in the area with a heads up. "Three, two, one, impact!" The warhead separated into multiple smaller warheads, evident by the fragmentation of the contact on my screen. Then as the warheads detonated, the contacts disappeared. A split second afterwards, the entire aircraft seem to shake violently as the shockwaves from the missile's payload reached us. I sat frozen in terror as multiple air and surface contacts with the fleet and the escorts vanished, the screams and shouting on the radio clear as day. I filtered to the surface radar, and scanned the remnants of the fleet. Only the Kestrel, Excalibur, Andromeda and a handful of vessels had survived. All that bloodshed at St Hewlett just so we lose seventy percent of the fleet in one blow that we didn't see coming until it was too late. A voice over the radio pulled me from my thoughts.

"How... how could this happen to our fleet?" It was one of the carrier pilots, Captain Snow. He must have survived the blasts. I switched to an aerial scan and saw that only a fraction of the launched and airborne aircraft had survived. Among them were Swordsman and the pilots from Wardog.

"Two aircraft carriers lost, I can't believe this is all that remains of our force." Another pilot said over the radio. It was one of the Wardog pilots, the new number 4. Word was that he joined the squadron in the midst of an air raid on Sand Island AFB.

"Command, Aircrew. Due to that blast and our evasive manoeuvres, we're past bingo fuel for our primary AFB. You think you can find us an alternate?" I scanned my map and looked for possible bases to land at. Only one was really practical for us to use, but I dreaded having to go there.

"Aircrew, Command. Take us to Heirlark AFB. I'll see if we can expedite the refuel so we can get out of there ASAP."

"Copy that Sir." I felt the aircraft bank and set its course for the air base. On the radar, I saw Wardog had taken up an orbit pattern around Kestrel, while Swordsman commenced a landing. Unfortunately, the fighters that Wardog were using were unable to land on carriers, and I figured they'd be needing fuel soon.

"Hey Thunderhead, we're almost out of fuel here, we can't get back to Sand Island on fuels, can you get us a tanker?"

"Wardog Squadron, this is Thunderhead. We can't get a tanker aircraft over to you, proceed north east and follow us to Heirlark Base. Rearm and refuel there. Thunderhead out." I took off my headset and made my way to the resting station up near the rear of the aircraft. I didn't realise my hands were shaking until I reached for a water bottle in the small fridge we had. As I sat down, I found myself not sitting on one of the small bunks, but at a radio console of an E-3 Sentry aircraft. The console was going berserk, with error lights flashing and warning messages appearing on-screen. The interior lighting of the aircraft was a dull red glow, and the cabin was quiet from chatter, the only noise being the drone of the engines and the radio chatter over my headset. I could make out a snippet of the chatter, words like "nuke" and "Belka" being used repeatedly. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looked to who it belonged to.

"Major, are you okay?" I found myself back in the resting station of the E-767, and Bianca had followed me back here to check on me. "Kelly?"

"I'm... I'm not." I couldn't hold it back much longer, and I started to cry. I held my head in my hands as Bianca closed the curtain that separated this space from the rest of the cabin. "Those voices, Bianca... it was just like June...

"Kelly, listen to me. You're going to be fine. Once we get to Heirlark, you can get off this plane, have a rest. Aircrew contacted command in your absence and tried to get clearance for a hot-tank, but got denied. We're staying overnight, and fly out first thing in the morning."

"Are you sure Bianca? That missile-"

"Was non-nuclear. It was big, but it wasn't nuclear. The warheads were thermobaric fragmentation weapons, and have the same kind of output as our MOABs. We don't know where they came from just yet, but we'll find out soon. Look, I'll get Marshall to take my station while I step in for you. You stay here and get some sleep, ok?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan." Bianca got up and was about to leave. "Bianca?"

"Yes Kelly?"

"Thanks. For everything. I'm glad we can both look out for each other." She smiled and stepped closer to me. She planted a small kiss on my forehead before she stepped back and replied.

"That's what friends do Kelly."

"Walters! Do we have any long range communications still active?" The control room was haywire, everyone was in some form of panic.

"No sir! All our long range antennae were fired by the EMP burst from those warheads." I replied, reading off our instrumentation for the radio systems. "All we have left are short-range UHF and our onboard ICS!"

"What about datalink?" I pulled up the datalink info and saw that it was in a form of reset, something I've never seen before.

"Datalink is inoperative. We're pretty much deaf and mute here!" I started to run diagnostics on the communication systems, trying to find any way at all to reach out and speak to someone. But my attention was distracted by one of my team members, Second Lieutenant Bianca Hall. She started to cry and hyperventilate slightly, the shock of what had just happened starting to finally sink in. I looked at the console and saw the diagnostics were still running, so I removed my headset and lowered Bianca's to her shoulders.

"Hey! Lieutenant! Look at me and listen! We're ok, we're still flying. We just can't talk to anyone, you understand?" I held onto her face with my hands, to make sure she was paying attention to me. She was still somewhat hysterical, so I shook her gently and spoke louder to her. "Bianca! I asked if you understood! Do you?" This time it seemed to register, and she slowly nodded at me, tears still streaming from her eyes and body still shaking. I needed to get her away from this for a while, might help her regain her composure. I donned my headset and tuned directly to the crew commander.

"Command, this is Lieutenant Walters from Radio. Lieutenant Hall appears to be experiencing a severe traumatic shock reaction, I'd like to move her to the rest station so she can calm down."

"Lieutenant, I can't get you to move her right now, we need as many people on station as we can right now. If she-"

"Sir, I respect that, but if she stays here, chances are that she'll develop acute PTSD and not be able to function at all. I'm moving her to the rest station. Radio out." I removed my headset and took Bianca's set from her. I helped her up, and she wrapped her arms around my chest, holding me tight. She was a few years younger than me, and we hadn't really talked or associated much with each other before this mission. Now she held me tight, afraid to let go. I led her past the command console, where the crew commander was waiting to give me a verbal ripping. But upon seeing how distraught Bianca was, he moved ahead and opened the door to the rest room for us.

Once we got inside, I helped her into one of the small bunks onboard, then went to fetch a bottle of water for her.

"Hey, it's Kelly, right?" She said weakly.

"Yeah, it is. You feeling any better?"

"A little," she replied, wiping her face with her sleeve. She was still visibly shaken from the experience. "How about you?"

"Don't worry about me right now. Let's focus on you for the time being." I said. "How long have you been with the squadron?"

"This is my first tour actually, been with the squadron for three months now. I think this is my fifth mission."

"Ok. Looks like we've got something in common, this is my first tour too. But I was with the squadron since before they deployed. I've probably been on twelve missions now. Always on the radio team." Bianca smiled at little at this.

"I can see why, you're quite the talkative person." I laughed that this. I also noticed that she seemed to have calmed down more now.

"That's actually kind of true. Hey, I'm going to go back to the cabin, see if they need any more help out there. You stay here and rest. It's been an ordeal for you." I got up and made my way to the door, but stopped when she said my name.

"Kelly?"

"Yeah Bianca?"

"Thanks. For looking out for me. I appreciate it." I walked back towards her, and hoping this would calm her, kissed her gently on the forehead.

"That's what friends do Bianca."