"Set heading 090," Commander Ryan Seigins maneuvered the ZP-6 Antares onto an easterly heading, as he broke below the clouds at 1500m, a beautiful day over the Inner Baskay. Flying on Antisubmarine patrol for Task Force 62-1, the ZP-6 had flown from Fish City an hour prior, and having flown through the Neutral Zone between East and West hook, began its search pattern. Working east-west, his track slowly took him closer to East Hook, away from the Task Force. Other ZP-6s were sweeping north of the force, but his task was the less enviable of the two. Not only did his search pattern put him on a direct course for Basil, but an indirectly closer path to the fortress of the Baskay - East Hook. No one knew what was defending it, but there were rumors of antiair systems and interceptors waiting to shoot down an errant military aircraft that violated their airspace.
His search was uneventful for the most part. Another routine patrol, tagging targets, cross-referencing the SONUS line and the data recieved from PLAID sensors accross the Baskay, and relaying information to the Task Force commander. He sighed a breath of relief as he knew his time near East Hook would be coming to a close.
"Hey, what's THAT?" Came an ICS call from the copilot.
His head snapped around to the right, and looked down at the water where LTJG Nedfry Gerdon was pointing. A glint of red debris bobbed in the swells to the east, just a few miles from the beach on East Hook. It was too small to be a boat, life raft, or trash. "I dont know Ned, maybe a towel? Looks about the side of a door." Peering over, he continued his circle, as more objects began appearing in the ones and twos scattered around the sea. A torn white sheet, some large bottles and what looked like bits of lint floating amongst the water.
Then, he saw it.
As the plane's shadow passed below, and the sun glinted down on the water, he saw long, brown trails in the water. He was trained as a sailor to know what seaweed looked like to avoid beaching ships on shoals. This wasn't seaweed. It was film. Thousands of feet of it, tangled, drifting, and writhing like impossibly thin eels. It was everywhere.
"Do you think-" Ryan's voice trailed off as his copilot and him looked at each other. "I think it is Seig." Both their hearts sank. There was only one thing the film debris could mean. Stormchaser IG-99, the plane that had gone missing, had gone down here. They had inadvertently found the remains an hour earlier, a suspiciously large but inconsistent MAD signature on the seabed which matched no known SONUS hits from PLAID.
"Call base, let them know we're exending patrol 15 minutes. We're going to circle here and get some data."
"Sir, we've got a new air contact, designate F-05. From East hook, FL002 and climbing. And FAST. Bearing - 2-5-0. It's heading straight for us." Ryan broke into a cold sweat. The basilians were coming up to meet them. "Crew, assume crash positions and brace for impact. Give me mil power Ned"
The AL-27 roared past the Antares, banking left and coming around into a prime firing position. "I lost sight of him!" Came the call from the copilot. Ryan knew they'd have at most 30 seconds to get into the water, and if they started now, they may get the plane down before the Basilian pilot got a missile lock. But he didn't want to risk an incident if it wasn't absolutely necessary, and his gut told him to keep the plane flying steady and see what happened.
The Basilic fighter closed the range, cutting the circle to the right, its black silhouette getting ever closer to the Antares. Within a minute it was alongside, closer than 25m and the pilot was looking over their aircraft. Ned got on the radio: "Unidentified aircraft, this is WELLER 13, A Zokesian Aircraft out of Fish Island. We are conducting search and rescue maneuvers and request positive identification. We carry seven souls aboard." The basilic fighter did not reply. "Shit Ned, call the Crater. Get us an escort if you can."
- screenshot36260.png (1.94 MiB) Viewed 64 times
"Crater Base, this is WELLER-13, we've got company, request assistance."
"WELLER-13, Crater Base, we've got two Crickets coming, 5 mikes out. Standby. Comply with any requests but DO NOT LAND in basilic airspace."
"Roger Crater Base, standing by for Crickets, WELLER-13"
The next five minutes of Ryan's life felt like eternity. Flying in a right hand circle over the debris, the two aircraft continued to stare at each other, not sure of the other's intentions.
Soon enough, the Radar Operator in the back of the Antares came on the ICS to report two contacts moving south at 600 knots. The cavalry was here. Ryan wondered if the basilic aircraft would see them as a threat or not, but regardless, he felt much safer knowing if anyone was to start shooting first it wouldn't be at him. As the Z-40s closed in, the lead broke off and began maneuvering in to position on the left wing of the Antares, opposite the AL-27. The other Z-40 flew over the pair of them, afterburners roaring, before performing a 360 wide and right to come in behind his wingman. It was standard procedure to prevent the Basilic aircraft from maneuvering onto both their tails as they formed up - if he shot at lead, the wingman would be fast and high and able to shoot him out of the sky.
- screenshot36269.png (2.75 MiB) Viewed 64 times
"WELLER-13, This is KEGA-04 flight of two, good to see you. What's your fuel state?"."
"KEGA Flight, good to see you, we're at 56 looking to depart the working area home in five. Care to walk with us?"
"WELLER-13, we'll hold your hand if you're scared of the dark" The pilot of the Z-40 chuckled as he talked. "We've got you as far south as the Hooks and then we'll hit bingo."
"Roger KEGA, much appreciated."
Switching Radios, Ned called up West Hook Center.
"West Hook Center, this is WELLER-13, looking to deviate flight path into your airspace for our return trip. We've got something of a stowaway off our right wing." The Center controller replied back in the cool, professional voice the Fortisian ATC was known for.
"WELLER-13, Radar Cahn-tact got you 2-0 miles east of our position, climb right heading 265 expect further clearance when you are 10 miles clear of the Strait.
The ZP-6 rolled out of its turn heading 265, bound for the slot between the hook islands, 20km away. The formation now consisting of four aircraft followed as he began a climb up to cruising altitude back home. Five minutes later, they reached the Neutral Zone and began flying west, into Fortisian Airspace. The Basilic aircraft saw this, and as if exasperated, banked hard right and lit burners, roaring into the blue sky and back to the north. "They must not be able to fly into Fortisian airspace, huh?" Ryan said. "Yep, looks like he's goin home." The Z-40s followed the ZP-6 until it turned left and across West Hook, south for home.
"WELLER-13 this is KEGA flight breaking off, seeyuh"
"KEGA flight thanks and have a safe flight back, seeyah"
They'd take the long way around Ikonia, but they'd be able to with gas to spare and avoid another chance of Basilic interception. "Guess we got em this time, huh" Ned said. "Yeah, but next time we may not be so lucky. We'll have to keep our eyes open."
- screenshot36283.png (2.63 MiB) Viewed 64 times
