"Thanks, Overwatch, but I'll settle for getting home in one piece." Everett said in response to the AWACS' controller's praise, a slight grin on his face. Shooting down two bombers and a fighter in rapid succession had been unprecedented, but it was certainly a grand way to start out his career in Excalibur squadron. However, the job was still far from done. There were still enough payload-carrying bombers to absolutely wreck RAF Lossiemouth. Biting his lip, Everett glanced at the watch he had taped to the arm rest of his seat. It had barely been fifteen minutes since the fight began, but a Tu-95 could cover plenty of ground in that time. They were running out of time to intercept the remaining bombers before they released their own cruise missiles.

"Firing R-77," Zola said, snapping Everett's attention back to the task at hand. "Oi, you're not dozing off on me, are you?" She said and nudged Everett with her elbow.

"We're running out of time," Everett said grimly just as the missile disengaged from its hardpoint. "Excalibur Four fox-three." He reported in a monotonous voice and pitched his nose up to fly up and above the enemy bomber formation. The enemy interceptors were slowly, but surely getting ground down by the squadron, but there were still enough to pose a threat, or at the very least, a distraction from his task. A distant flash of orange told him that their missile had indeed struck its intended target, but as for whether it was a killing blow or not, Everett left that up to Overwatch to inform him.

Just then, Everett saw the bay doors of another two bombers open. Two huge cruise missiles fell out of the bomb bay and their engines ignited once they were clear of the bombers, streaking straight towards the airbase. "Excalibur Five and Six, I have visual confirmation of two more missiles launches!" Everett shouted out and glanced at his radar screen to check for any fighters headed for him. Curiously, his scope was relatively clear - there were contacts, but the blips were either closely following the maneuvers his fellow squadron-mates or were peeling away from the bombers. "Five and Six, be advised that I'm seeing hostile radar contacts peeling away from the bombers. They may be attempting to intercept you two before you intercept their missiles. Take caution, out." Everett said, just to be on the safe side.

A series of alarms sounded in the cockpit once again. "Going evasive," Everett warned before pulling off a sudden immelmann maneuver, successfully evading the missile that had been fired by an enemy to their front. They leveled out far below the enemy bombers and immediately Everett began a steep climb to intercept them. There was no time to play around with the enemy fighter, which, according to their radar, was making an attempt to follow them. "Zola, how are we doing for coutnermeasures?"

"We've got enough," She replied. "Focus on the bombers. We should let the squadron get their share of the fun, eh?"

Everett smirked. "My thoughts exactly," He replied just as they got a positive tone from their R-77s. "Fox-three," Everett said over the mic as Zola fired the missile, and it was not a second too soon, as the cockpit filled with the sound of a now all-too familiar alarm. "Excalibur Four has bogey on our tail!" Everett shouted out and turned sharply as Zola released chaff and countermeasures. The alarms stopped, but it was almost a dead certainty that the enemy fighter would try again. "We're focusing on the bombers, can anyone get rid of the bandit on our tale?"

The element of surprise was running out for the Excalibur Squadron as the disoriented bombers started to pick up the pace and started to spread out, looking to evade their fire so that they can unleash their payload. After securing Eight by taking down a bandit looking to assault them, Matt and his Jaguar were looking for a new victim. He just saw a pack of bombers splitting, one of them taking a small nose dive in order to get below him. Instead, he quickly got on his tail, firing small bursts from his ADEN. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to make much of an impact. Seeing that he is too close for long range missiles, he switched to the R.550 Magic rockets. By the time he did that, he and the bomber were flying pretty separated from the rest of the fight.

A one-on-one scenario would favor him because of his aircraft's superior mobility and his opponent's weapon advantage was mitigated by the fact that he was the one chasing. Making sure the bandit has no way of getting behind him, he fired. "Fox Two!" he reported as the missile hit its thrusters and ending that Bear's ride for good. "Kill scored for Seven" he announced in a cool tone, like it's no big deal. However, this confidence would soon backfire as he realized he got separated from his allies and earned an Su-27 on his tail looking for the kill. "All right, let's party!" he said to himself and started evading the fighter's fire while thrusting closer to friendlies.

Once he was in range for the Excalibur fighters to strike back on the bandit, he reported on the squad channel: "Got engaged on by a fighter, completely focused on me, should be an easy one for someone else." So far, he had done an excellent job in evading, only taking one or two rounds, which didn't make any impact. He didn't let his confidence take over him again though, as he kept respecting his opponent's firepower. The fact that he was almost taken down by the same type of aircraft back at the HAF, only helped him with that.

Ariella let out a brief sigh of relief as her 6 was cleared by one of the paired Foxbats from long range. 6 claimed the kill, his accent thick and tone professional as he spoke, and she answered with some relief creeping into her tone.
"Roger, Six. Thanks for the assist, over"
Farid called in, and the Israeli pilot craned her neck to get a view as he spoke, seeing the Tigershark gracefully carving air as it weaved and tangled with a much heavier and larger Flanker, a missile explosion nearby marking the battle.

"Dammit. Bandits engaging me two-on-one,"

"Roger, Eleven - hold tight, moving to assist!"
Ariella hauled hard on the stick, the nose of the re-engineered Kfir coming around. The canards deflected hard, working in tandem with the thrust vector panels on the engine to haul the nose of the delta-winged jet around onto the same heading as the Tigershark and its' ominous pursuer. The airframe rattled and clattered as she came around, the light, grey and dismal as it was, threw shifting shadows around the cockpit, and then the Kfir was on an intercept to the Flanker, cutting in close to the pair.
Too close for missiles, she thought in a snap moment, the helmet-mounted sight changing pipper as she selected her ADEN cannon. The gunsight lead the target, and her gloved finger squeezed the trigger. A low thrumming drummed through the airframe as the twin lines of tracer lanced out through the air and intersected the blue-grey shape of the Flanker at her call of 'Guns'. Debris cascaded off of the aircraft, and smoke bloomed into life, threaded with dark oil. Then the sight was lost as she blasted past, the flanker slowly rolling off of the F-20's tail, and onto its' back before the canopy blew clear and the pilot ejected.
"One off of you, Eleven, and I think the other is having second thoughts. Overwatch, sitrep, over?"
"Roger, One. Five and Six just took down two more ALCM's, Over half of the bombers are down, only three remaining. However, there are eight bandits still in the area, and on the hostiles. They can't go much longer this far from home though, Excalibur. Push them and let's get this finished!"
"Roger that!" replied Ariella, hauling the nose around to form up on Excalibur Eleven's wing. "Eleven, let's go persecute the enemy. Sounds like Four and Seven need our help with these guys, and we should keep their tails clear so they can take care of business!"

With the SU-24 and Jaguar occupied by the hostiles, the remaining Bears dived to gain speed and confuse the radar, looming above the steel-grey seas. However, the coastline was in sight. The lead Bear dropped its' missiles, the six Kh-55 missiles dropping from both wings and igniting their turbojets in a blaze of yellow flame. This time the journey would be much shorter, a handful of minutes, for the missiles to cross the ocean and make shore.
And this time they wouldn't be as predictable either - the six miniature aircraft spread out, accelerating as they did and moving on to a wide spread of courses to approach Lossiemouth from multiple directions.
"Six more missiles inbound!" said Overwatch. "Bombers are five miles from target. No more cruise missiles on their wings; looks like they're carrying internal bombs as well. Fighters still inbound too! Air defence fighters are five minutes away, keep at it Excalibur!"
"Roger," replied Ariella, her voice tight in her throat. "We're doing well guys, just keep on 'em. We're almost there!"

"Copy that, Overwatch." Everett replied as calmly as he could. The past few seconds, or even milliseconds, had felt like hours as he tried in vain to shake the bandit off his tail. He had completely forgotten about his planned attack on the bombers - every time he thought he had a window of opportunity to make a quick run on the bombers, the enemy fighter would immediately get a missile lock. Countermeasures counted for little when the enemy was directly behind you and could kill you with guns as easily as with missiles, and that meant that Everett had no choice but to break off his attack and initiate evasive maneuvers. It was infuriating, but Everett had to hand it to the enemy fighter, they were nothing if not determined.

The missile lock alarm sounded in the cockpit again; by now it was beginning to feel like an annoyance more than anything else. "Countermeasures away," Zola said nonchalantly.

"Evading," Everett said and pulled the Fencer up into a climb. As successful as they were in frustrating the enemy's efforts to shoot them down, they could not go on like this forever. They had to shoot down the bombers before they even had a chance to bomb the airfield. Thankfully for Everett and Zola, the Ghost of the Strait still had one trick left up its sleeve. "Zola, fire up the plasma stealth system. I'll inform the squadron and Overwatch." Everett said grimly. Plasma stealth, while not a new concept, was still a rather new technology to be used in the field. It relied on hundreds of electrodes placed around the aircraft to heat up and ionize the air around it, effectively encasing the aircraft within a cloud of plasma. In theory, the cloud would deflect, absorb or even simply disrupt any electromagnetic waves entering it, making the aircraft invisible to almost all forms of detection.

Of course, it was all a theory.

"On it," Zola replied with a nod and starting flicking a number of switches, even reaching over to Everett's side of the cockpit at times. "System primed. Go is on you."

"Overwatch and squadron, be advised that Excalibur Four is activating plasma stealth. We will be off communications and off radar for the duration. Out." Everett said quickly over his mic and waited for a second before hitting the switch that would activate the system. The only sign that it came online was the momentary flickering of the electronic flight instruments and the sudden messages flashing across Zola's HUD informing her that the locking system of their missiles were either defective or being jammed. It made sense, the plasma stealth system, being a first-generation system, blocked all outgoing electromagnetic waves as well as incoming ones. Even their radar was displaying signs of being jammed.

However, it worked well enough to give Everett a rough idea as to where the bombers were. "Right, Zola, switch to guns." He said and turned the aircraft around. Their efforts to shake off the enemy fighter - which was still following them, in fact - had brought them ahead of the enemy bomber formation. "We'll be hitting them head on. How's our friend doing behind us?"

Zola smirked. "Not too well. Good for us, eh?" She said just as a burst of cannon fire flashed across her side of the cockpit. The Fencer even shuddered from taking one or two hits. "Fuck! Can't say he's not doing his fucking best to shoot us out of the sky, though." She grumbled.

Everett shrugged. "At least it will be easier evading cannon fire than missiles." He said. They were closing fast on the enemy bomber, and from what little Everett could see, they were quite literally going to be attacking it head on and from slightly above. It was the best angle Everett and Zola could ask for; they were essentially going to rake the entire length of the bomber with cannon fire, guaranteeing a hit on something vital.

"We're in range, I'm firing!" Zola shouted out.

"Don't stop until we're clear of the tail. I want to be sure that we've blown them out of the sky." Everett said, his tone dripping with determination.

"Just like ground attack, got it." Zola said with an almost manic grin as she pressed down on the trigger, firing the Fencer's cannons in several long bursts as Everett carefully piloted the aircraft to ensure they struck as much of the bomber as possible. The first burst punched clean through the cockpit as well as riddling the wingbox with holes. The second struck the bomber in the midsection, but it was the last two bursts that brought it down. The third and fourth burst ravaged the entire empennage of the Tu-95, reducing the elevators and rudder to just shreds of aluminum hanging onto a metal frame. With the loss of such vital flight control surfaces, the bomber lost control and fell into a deadly, unrecoverable spiral towards the earth.

However, Everett still had the enemy fighter to worry about. "Disengaging stealth. He won't try a missile kill here." Everett said and flicked the switch to turn off the plasma stealth system. At the speed they were going, it did not take long for the plasma cloud to dissipate. "Excalibur Four confirms one more bomber kill. Bogey still on my tail." He reported. "I'm flying among the bomber formation, he won't dare attempt a missile kill there."

Miyoshi was not at all surprised when the report came in of six more missiles being launched. She was certainly pleased to hear that these were also the last six, but there were six missiles to take care of in not a lot of time. Fortunately, the subsonic Kh-55s were significantly outclassed in speed by both Deep Blue and the missiles it carried. That didn't mean it would be easy, though. The missiles spread out a great deal as soon as they were launched, meaning Miyoshi and Six would have a lot of distance to cover to down all the missiles in time...or at least, their missiles would. Miyoshi wasn't planning on trying to pick off all of them with guns like she had the last two. Time was of the essence.

"All right, Massao, let's do this," she said to her aircraft. Locating the three missiles closest to her, she sprang into action. First, the necessary radio calls. "Roger, Overwatch. Moving to intercept cruise missiles, over," she responded to the AWACS. Her radio responses often had a receptionist-like tone to them - almost robotic. "Six, I'll take the right three, you take the left three. Let's knock 'em out!" she said, more animated than when she had responded to Overwatch. As soon as she clicked off the radio she pulled hard up on the stick, executing two successive Immelmanns to get behind her three missiles.

The missiles were indeed quite spread out - if she was going to go for guns the quickest way would be to cross them all in a single angled run. She still had five long-range R-37Ms left, as well as two medium-range K-77Ms and four short-range K-74M2s, so she elected to use the missiles for time's sake. Flicking the fire selector over to the K-77s, she came in behind the missiles. They were far, far in front of her, which was deliberate so she could see and target them all instead of having to weave about. Targeting the first one, she fired off the first of two K-77s with a "Fox Three" on the radio. Switching to the second missile, she did the same. Out of K-77s, she switched to short range K-74s and pushed the throttle forward. This gave her insurance in case the first two missiles didn't hit their marks for whatever reason, and also allowed her to be in range for the short-range missiles. In a matter of seconds the fast Foxbat was within firing range, and with a final "Fox Two" the K-74M2 left its hardpoint and streaked towards the third missile. Looking out of her canopy, Miyoshi could still see all three missiles with her peripherals, and waited for her missiles to connect.

All the jinking, sudden stops and changes of direction were beginning to take their toll on Zola. She was not getting airsick or even uncomfortable, far from it. She simply hated the idea of being forced to run rather than taking the fight to the enemy, though she could see the sense in Everett not attempting the same stunt they had pulled previously when they were being chased by another fighter. It had been a good move, but the Fencer would be an easy kill during the part where they had to reduce their speed. In a one-on-one scenario, as it had been previously, it would have been fine as there was no one else to target them. Here, in the middle of the bombers and their escorts, it would be simply suicide.

Suddenly, in the midst of a sharp, high-G turn, she spotted Excalibur Twelve, still trying to shake the bandit which had latched onto his tail. "Evy, you think we should try bailing Twelve out of trouble?" She asked once they leveled out. "He's to our five o'clock and high. None of us are doing any good just flying around trying not to die. The sooner we get each other's bandits off our tails, the sooner we can get to doing some real work."

"It could work," Everett said and turned sharply to the right, bringing them to a direct course towards Excalibur Twelve. "Excalibur Twelve, this is Excalibur Four. We're on the way. Just do us a favour and splash our bandit once you're clear." He said over the radio and flew in a series of 'S' shapes in order to prevent the bandit on their tail from getting a solid lock while continuing to close the distance with Excalibur Twelve. Everett had no idea whether it was a testament to Twelve's flying skill or a demonstration of the UNWO pilot's lack of skill that Twelve was not shot down yet. The two of them had been playing catching since the early stages of the engagement.

To an outside observer, the entire scene must have looked almost comical - A bandit on Excalibur Twelve's tail, followed by Four on that bandit's tail and a bandit on four's tail. Zola could have laughed at the visualization of that scene were it not obvious to her that one slip up would easily mean their deaths. "R-74s armed and ready to go." She reported, but was unable to get a lock due to Everett's evasive maneuvers. "You've got control of the flares?"

"Yes," Everett replied with a nod. "I can give you maybe ten seconds of level flight before the enemy gets a lock, is that enough?"

"You underestimate me, I'm hurt." Zola said with mock disappointment in her voice, followed by a short laugh. "More than enough, Evy."

Everett grunted in response and leveled their aircraft out, at the same time releasing another load of chaff and flares to buy them some time while the R-74 missiles took their own sweet time to get a lock on the bandit chasing Twelve. "Locked-" Zola began, but was quickly cut off when the enemy fighter released its own flares, lighting up the sky for a split second. "Son of a bitch!" She swore and shook her head. The R-74s began to attempt another lock, but the alarms in the Fencer's cockpit was already going off. Everett fired another load of countermeasures, but it only stopped the alarms for a few split-seconds.

"Zola..." He said in a warning tone.

"I've got this," She replied, her lips in a thin line of determination. The alarms in the Fencer continued to blare.

"Zola, we're going to fucking die if we don't move!" Everett shouted.

"Locked!" Zola reported and pressed the button immediately after. The R-74 missile streaked forward and struck the enemy fighter in the wing. The explosion tore the enemy fighter in two and pieces continued to fall out of its eviscerated fuselage as it fell to the ground below. Everett did not waste any time and pulled the Fencer into a steep climb right after they managed to confirm the kill. The alarms stopped, but the flash of light from a missile streaking past underneath told them just how close they came to being shot down. "Told you I could do it," Zola said and looked to Everett with a smile.

"Don't get too cocky," Everett said curtly. "We've still got someone on our tail."

"Right," Zola said and got on the radio. "Twelve, Excalibur Four just cleared your tail. Mind returning the favour?"

Matt wasn't the one who managed to earn a bandit on his tail. At least two others were in the same situation as him, as he heard from the squad channel. Because of this, the bombers they were supposed to shoot down managed to launch six more missiles, giving the interceptors more work to do. It was the time he got tired of being the one chased. His opponent's aim was not the best, but his aircraft was agile and it was hard to turn on it once it's onto you. Seeing that he won't be able to lose the bandit by himself, he decided to help out someone else while keeping up with his manouvers. He just heard that Eleven got engaged on by not one, but two hostiles. Locating the F-20 Tigershark and starting to speed towards it, he announced his intention on the comms: "Eleven, Seven's coming to help. Be aware that the engage might come slower than usual. I have a bandit problem as well, over.", also notifying him about his situation.

He quickly reached his squadmate and the two fighters on him, a Flanker and an MiG-29. They were manouvering like hell, which made gaining a lock-on a lot harder. Not to mention the pesky bandit still relentlessly firing behind him. He felt the real heat for the first time in this fight. After a few minutes which seemed like a few seconds for him, he almost gave up on trying to strike with the Meteor missiles. Already attempting to get closer for the R.550s, he suddenly noticed that the Flanker perfectly lined up for him momentarily. Almost missing the opportunity, he hastily locked on and fired. "Fox-Three, Fox-Three!" he shouted with the feeling of pumping adrenaline in his voice. The missile didn't disappoint as it mercilessly brought down hell like a real meteor on the bandit. Yeah, take that! he said, feeling a sense of achievement. However, he still had plenty of work to do as Eleven was still in trouble and himself got rounds flying increasingly closer to him as well.

Being close enough, he switched to the cannons again and started firing longer bursts this time. Most of them missed, but he managed to land a few crucial shots on its wings, making it harder for the bandit to manouver. Slowly losing control over his aircraft, the MiG's pilot stopped chasing Eleven and blasted out straight ahead. Not giving him a chance to escape, Matt shot an R.550 at him to finish the job. "Whew, this was exciting, bandits down." he told Eleven and the rest of the squad. Meanwhile however, his chaser managed to land a few shots on the fuselage, not resulting in any loss of function yet, but being too dangerous to ignore. Dammit, I still have a fighter on me...

Because Farid deliberately conducted maneuvers so as to bring him to his comrades, backup came rather quickly although his maneuvers failed to shake off the bandits. Soon later, one bandit was down and the other disengaged. Farid changed direction while looking for targets to engage. The first one he found were none other than the enemy Su-27 Flanker behind Seven, now on his eight. "Thanks for the help, although getting scratch damage," Farid told Seven and the rest of the squadron. A few bullets hit the F-20, although the performance of the aircraft was still as good as always.

After noticing the bandit behind Excalibur Seven, Farid turned to gain a firing position on the bandit and then accelerated his aircraft. As soon as he gained a lock, he fired a Sidewinder at the Flanker. "Eleven, Fox Two," he said over the radio There shouldn't be much time for the enemy to react, but in case the missile failed to destroy the bandit, Farid had already prepared to fire his Pontiac cannons.

Firefly continued to dodge the bandit's cannons as he was flying in between some of the bombers. The bandit continued to press on after him, even with all of firefly's training he couldn't shake this one. He clicked his radio on and said "I really could use some hep over here!" As he said that he fired his cannons hitting the cockpit of one of the remaining bombers. He proceeded to make a tight left turn. The bandit followed him through the turn. As he completes the turn he slams the throttle back and hits his airbrakes. The bandit goes flying forward and Firefly arms a missile "Fox one" He fires the missile as he says it and the bandit explodes.into a ball of fire. Firefly then flips the air brakes off and increases his speed. He spots the same bomber he hit in the cockpit, locks the target, "Fox two" as he fires out his second missile. The missile hits the front of the bomber tearing it off and it goes crashing down. "Splash two bogeys and a bandit overwatch." He says over his radio looking around the skies for his next target.

The Bear ravaged by cannon-fire from the Fencer plunged into the ocean, though close enough into the shallows that it cartwheeled and tumbled through the waves and surf to scatter debris onto the land. The remaining pair of bombers began a hard bank, lining up to come in to Lossiemouth from the east-to-west and unload their bombs on the runway, the airbase now visible in the distance.

Fortunately, Miyoshi's missiles found their mark, and the trio of cruise missiles were swatted from the sky, leaving dirty fireballs in their wake, or missiles thrown off enough that they plowed furrows into the farmland below. However, on the opposite heading from her, Six had not made a move, and the three missiles began their terminal dive toward the base, popping up and plunging down toward the base. The three missiles hit targets of importance; the bases' radar station, the fuel tank farm and the operations building each received a missile - fortunately, with the previous volleys of missiles being wiped out by the interceptors, or their launch aircraft down, the barrage was nowhere near as damaging as it should have been, and the base remained in operation.

More bandits were swept from the skies as the squadron ramped up their aggression and teamwork, interlacing their courses and headings to sweep the skies of the hostiles on their tails. Farid's missile flew directly in toward the bandit on Matt's tail, and the detonation of the warhead blasted the pursuing fighter into a cloud of scrap, swiping another bandit from the skies, while Firefly's attack on another of the Bear's sent the plane rolling slowly into a wingover, before it collided with the ground, its' wingtip catching the earth and sending it in a flat cartwheel across the landscape, tearing itself apart in a fiery pyre. The enormous aircraft set acres of ground aflame with burning components, but the base was spared the damage of being bombed, the only bit of wreckage striking the base being components spewing themselves over the outlying areas.
The final bomber and the remaining fighters regrouped,

Ariella zoned in on the fighter on the tail of the Fencer, and got a solid lock, the enemy boring in after the swing-wing ground attacker had gone level to target the persistant bandit. Lockon tones sounded in her ears, and she let fly with another Python.
"Fox two!" she declared, as the missile sped away. The MiG banked and rolled, avoiding a direct hit, but the damage tore through the empennage of the fighter, and as she watched, the UNWO pilot fought to level out over land, before ejecting.
"Tail's clear, Excalibur Four. Good stuff"
"All aircraft, this is Overwatch. Only one bomber remaining, the rest of the fighters are bugging out. Take the last one down, and we're in the clear!"

The last bomber climbed in altitude, and the doors on its' silver-grey belly yawned open as the airfield came into sight. Below, the personnel scrambled to get to cover in anticipation of the bombers' attack and the rain of high explosive from above.

"Assist appreciated, Excalibur One." Everett said, immediately feeling the relief of not having to worry about an enemy fighter on their tail. Looking up and to the right, he spotted the last Tu-95 climbing to altitude while opening its bomb bay doors. It did not take too much imagination on Everett's part to visualize just what would happen to RAF Lossiemouth should the bomber be allowed to drop its deadly payload. "Excalibur Four has last bogey. We'll take it down with everything we've got." He said and flicked off his radio to talk to Zola. "Use whatever you want. As long as the target's burning and not bombing, I'm happy."

"Honestly, did you really think you have to tell me that?" Zola asked with a chuckle, shaking her head. "Just get us on a steady course and I'll take care of the rest."

"I'm serious. No 'maybe's, 'if's or 'perhaps's. That bomber has to be as dead as dead can be." Everett said and turned their aircraft to initiate an attack run on the Tu-95. "How are we on weapons?"

"Sufficient," Zola replied simply and switched to the Fencer's R-77 radar-guided missiles. With no other fighters in the air, it would be a piece of cake for Everett to keep them on a straight and level flight, and the R-77s were a lot harder to fool than the R-74s. If Everett wanted the bomber as dead as dead could be, then Zola was only all too happy to deliver. The slow and lumbering bomber did not stand a chance once it was within range of the Fencer. "Firing," Zola reported and pressed twice on the trigger. Two missiles streaked towards the bomber, one after the other. Without missing a beat, Zola swapped to the R-74 and upon getting a solid lock, fired that as well.

Everett kept the Fencer flying straight towards the bomber, and just as they were about to enter cannon range, the three missiles struck the Tu-95. The first two missiles struck the fuselage and the third struck an engine, sealing the bomber's fate. It was on fire and going down, but that was not good enough for Everett. At its current position and low angle of glide, there was a chance that it would still crash into the airbase with its bombs still on board. "Zola, fire guns. I'll try to get us a shot at the bombs. Chances are that they're armed and ready to go."

"Man, you sure want that bomber dead. I almost feel sorry for the crew." Zola said with a shake of her head. "Guns armed."

"Right," Everett muttered and adjusted their heading to follow the stricken bomber. He dove underneath it and pitched up, allowing them both a clear view of the bombs still hanging from their pylons.

"Firing," Zola said and fired several bursts into the bomb bay. The first few did nothing and Everett was almost prepared to give up the pursuit, but then a few cannon shells scored direct hits on the bombs themselves and that did the trick. They exploded and ripped the Tu-95 to pieces; the shockwave was so powerful that the stall alarms in the Fencer blared for a moment as it streaked past the air where the Tu-95 was previously.

Everett let out a long breath. He felt no enjoyment from killing the last bomber, it was perhaps even overkill, but it had to be done. The explosion itself told him that the bombs were armed and allowing the wreck to crash into RAF Lossiemouth was as good as letting the bomber do its job, if not worse. Still, Everett could not bring himself to celebrate destroying a stricken aircraft. It was like shooting a dying man. "Excalibur Four splash last bogey." He reported after a few seconds of silence.

Matt tried to keep his aircraft reasonably steady as Eleven went after the bandit on his tail. Soon enough, he heard the explosion behind him, signalling the success. "I thank you too, over." he told him on the squad channel. Now free, the Jaguar boosted out, looking for another prey. He didn't want to celebrate until the fight was over. This event shouldn't be too far off, as he heard from Overwatch that there are only a few bombers left. The fighter count must've been diminished as well since that report. All in all, he knew the end was very close and that the squad will soon have their first mission success in the bag.

His thoughts were confirmed as One announced that there is only one bomber left and the remaining bandits are all retreating. His eyes were on the left off Bear as it tried to make one last move before its inevitable end. Already preparing to go for it, he suddenly heard Four saying that they're already in range and they will be the ones taking it down. Taking their decision into account, he decided to back off and watch while making sure none of the fighters decide to come back. Seeing that the Tu-95 was about to unleash its payload and thus the bomb bay was exposed, he was ready for a large explosion. When Four finally struck the fatal blow however, the detonation was a lot larger than he expected.

"All right, this is it then. he said after the deed was done. "Great job everyone, it was a pleasure flying with all of you, looking forward to more." he continued, now on the squadron channel. And really, it was a demonstration of force by the Excalibur Squadron. However, this engagement was deep in UN territory and the fight was still very close at certain points. He knew that as they venture into the UNWO's countries, the challenge will be a lot bigger. For sure he was looking forward for it.

The TU-95, already stricken and falling, was virtually atomised by the explosion of it's payload. The massive fireball and concussion blasted out windows for a mile around, set off car alarms and burglar alarms and smashed the few remaining leaves off of trees. Not to mention knocking over many person standing outside, and resulting in more than a few ruptured eardrums.
The falling wreckage scattered over the base, setting alight to vehicles and structures, and causing large-scale minor damage - but it was far less than if the bomber had delivered its' payload on target, and much less than if the cruise missiles had hit and done their job. The runways and other major facilities remained undamaged, and the base remained operational.

There was a moment of stillness as the situation sunk in, and then the radio crackled to life with a message from the AWACS.
"All bandits are down, or no factor. Great job, Excalibur squadron. Orders are coming in, please take up a hold pattern over Lossiemouth in the meantime".
"Roger, Overwatch," replied Ariella. "Excalibur, form up on me. We'll move twenty klicks south to take up a holding orbit".

The Kfir lead the way past Lossiemouth, and over the green rolling hills of Scotland below. Given a moments' respite at last, the Israeli pilot undid her oxygen mask, allowing it to hang at one side of her face, and slid her visor up, wiping sweat from her eyes with one glove. The dry, cold oxygen of the mask had left her mouth parched and given her the tang of rubber on her tongue. A sip of water would've been welcome. Craning her neck, she looked at the aircraft slowly forming up around her.
All of them had done amazingly well, given the situation. Taking off and diving straight into battle, without so much as a ground class together, let alone a training mission. All the same, they had meshed well enough, given the circumstances.
Holding the mask up to her mouth, she spoke over the squadron frequency.
"Okay, everyone. We did well out there. The base took some damage, but we all came back in one piece, and the base is still operational too. That counts as a victory on my side, and the UNWO are going to be smarting from it. Pretty good for a first step".
Indulgently, she did a lazy aileron roll in place for celebration, and then stayed on course, banking at the far end of the '8' in the air that formed the holding pattern.

Miyoshi observed the last Bear going up in an extraordinarily large explosion. It was, perhaps, a fitting firework to end the squadron's first sortie together. She was far away from the rest of the squadron, having successfully chased down the cruise missiles, so she had a bit more ground to cover. Putting her plane into a lazy series of turns, she found her way to her flight lead's six. Listening to Overwatch and Excalibur One give their sitreps and air debriefings, Miyoshi couldn't help but smile as she looked around and saw the rest of the squadron forming up around her. It was such a random hodgepodge of planes and pilots from all over the world who had never flown together before, and yet they had succeeded in thwarting a deadly attack force. Sure, each one of them was a very skilled pilot, but it had still come together remarkably well, and she and her Foxbat had provided a crucial piece of the puzzle.

The final bomber was not Farid's job because someone else had already dealt with it. Said bomber detonated midair with a large furball, surprising him but relieving him as well, knowing that the threat was mostly over. Upon Overwatch's instruction to form a holding formation, Farid turned his plane in two dimensions to meet the rest of the squadron. Once he was in formation, he made sure his fingers were positioned well enough so as not to accidentally press buttons that launch any kind of weapon. "Thanks for the warmth, it's cold outside the cockpit," Farid told the rest of the squadron while deliberately avoiding the word 'everyone' because he hadn't know every member of the squadron very well.

As the squadron pulled into a third circuit, the radio came to life with another incoming message from Overwatch.
"Excalibur, new orders have come in. It looks like this was a diversionary attack, I'm sorry to say. The real target was in Europe - the UNWO launched an attack against military facilities all across Southern Europe and the Medeterraenean. Toulon Port, Gibraltar, Istres Air Force Base, Bases of the Spanish Air Force, Navy, Army, Italian Air Force Army, Navy... they've been hit with long-range missile or air strikes and even bombing runs in some cases. You're to report to your carrier immediately, which is heading south now from Plymouth toward the Medeterraenean now. Further information will be incoming. Good luck and godspeed, Over"
Ariella gave a hissing sigh and clicked her mike in response, before buckling her mask back into place, and speaking up to the squadron.
"Roger, Overwatch. Okay, Squadron. You heard the man - come about to a south heading. We'll get a vector from AWACS to the south and pick up air traffic control en route to the carrier. Stand ready in case we get a further tasking"

The AWACS vectored them southward, handing them over to another traffic controller as they flew at medium altitude down the length of England, passing over the industrial heart of the country in the North and Midlands, and then over the rolling green of the rural south. Large sprawling grey dotted the landscape with the cities below and smaller towns, before the south coast loomed into view, and they banked farther toward the west , heading out over the English Channel.
As the miles rolled by, they were picked up by the carriers' air traffic control at last, and directed onto a heading to land.

Whatever Ariella had been expecting to see when she saw the carrier, it wasn't what was steaming below them now. Wake streaming to both sides, the vessel was anything but a conventional aircraft carrier.
Arrowhead-shaped and sleek, the front section of the hull was split and opened aside into two clamshell-like covers, revealing a carrier landing/launch deck. To the rear was a raked-back sharks' fin-like shape of a conning tower/command tower. Visible beneath the water were further spread-out fins and hull-shapes of what was no ship, but instead a leviathan-like submarine, easily the equal in size of a much larger ship or carrier.
"Oh my," she said quietly to herself, even as the landing officer began talking them into the pattern.

The approach was a lot more hair-raising and unique than other carriers - for a start, one had to approach the ship from the front, rather than the rear, which lead to the thought of what would happen if you missed - and indeed, she had to wave-off the first time around, intimidated and nervous. Boosting power, the Kfir behaved well and climbed away, before she steeled her will and managed to bump down the second time around, slammed forward against her straps and rapidly towed aside and dropped down an elevator to a below-deck hangar more cramped and low-ceilinged than any on another carrier.
PA systems blared overhead in a constant chatter as the canopy motored open and the jets' ladder extended. Ground-crew swarmed to secure the aircraft and make it safe, while others readied themselves to receive the rest of the squadrons' aircraft.
Looking around as she unbuckled her straps and lines with the help of the crew, she caught sight of a V-22, stowed at the rear of the hangar along with a helicopter, and an F-14 Tomcat in splinter camouflage, already tied down and with maintenance crew at work.
Levering herself out of the Kfirs' seat, she climbed down, taking in the smell of heavy oil, fuel and other mechanical work, and waited for her squadron to arrive. The Tomcat evidently belonged to another member of the squadron; she quietly wondered where he - or she - had been delayed, and whether they'd seen action in the major thrust of the battle, rather than the diversionary assault that the squadron had dealt with - and whether he had any information and intelligence on their next heading.
Of course, all this in part was dwarfed by the realization that they were onboard a submarine, capable of acting as an aircraft carrier. The size - despite being somewhat cramped - was nonetheless astounding. What else was waiting to surprise them? She couldn't wait to find out.

Farid took some time to thinking about the enemy attack. The only military with that capability is Russia, isn't it? Have the enemy seized its entire military, including its nuclear arsenal? There would be a lot more questions to come and conspiracy theories to arise, which this time unfortunately may well be right.

As the squadron were ordered to fly south, Farid checked his fuel tank and tried his best to save fuel, especially since he did not carry drop tanks. A few hundred kilometres after that, Farid made it to the carrier, and it was nothing like in the movies. From which video game did this idea came out? Farid thought, compeletely not believing someone would be mad enough to design such a carrier. As the squadron leader attempted to land on the carrier, he quickly noticed that he's in trouble. "Any squadron member, please help me. I've never landed an aircraft on a carrier, for my country has never possessed an aircraft carrier. Can anyone give me a quick tutorial on how to land on one?" he asked.

The period of slow, lazy circling over RAF Lossiemouth was a welcome break after the hectic dogfight. Everett brought them into a comfortable orbit over the airfield and activated the aircraft's autopilot. He released the controls with a sigh and looked out the window on his side, wincing as he saw the small fires that were a direct result of his final attack on the Tu-95. Part of his mind knew that had he not destroyed the aircraft, the damage would have been a lot worse. However, that did little to ease his guilt of having opened fire on a stricken plane. It was made even worse by the lack of admonishments from his fellow pilots - during his days in the PLAAF, it had been frowned upon for pilots to pursue damaged aircraft for a kill unless they had a specific order to do so.

"It had to be done, Evy." Zola said gently, as if reading his mind, and placed a hand on his arm.

"I know," Everett said with a sigh. "It's just the uncertainty of it all and hindsight playing its games in my head. Those bombs could have still been unarmed, or the aircraft could have cleared Lossiemouth."

"It was combat, there was no time to consider all the possibilities." Zola said and smirked. "Come on, Evy, you've been a pilot long enough to know that."

Their radios sparked to life before Everett could respond, and what he heard only dampened his spirits even further. The skirmish had been nothing more than a distraction thrown halfheartedly at them by the UNWO. It was a minimal loss, maximum potential gain for them - if the bombers made it through, they would have leveled one more UN airbase and thus score a victory. If the bombers were lost, as they were, it would just be a minor defeat. Those few aircraft were by no means going to put a dent in the UNWO airforce, not by a longshot. "So much for a victory," Everett muttered.

"I wonder how the UNWO got so far into UN territory, though." Zola wondered aloud and furrowed her brow. "Last I checked, Gibraltar's pretty far into Europe."

"Maybe they hit the Spaniards while they were having their siesta." Everett said dryly, earning him a snort of laughter from Zola. "Either way, it's not our job to wonder how, we're here to just defend whatever the UN has left." He placed his hands back on the control column and turned sharper towards the heading specified by their AWACS controller. It suddenly made sense to Everett as to why the Avalon Institute had steadfastly pushed for an upgrade to the Fencer for carrier-borne operations; they had been flexible with just about every other arrangement. "Ever took part in any carrier-borne operations?" Everett asked.

Zola shook her head. "Nope, but I'm not the one putting us down." She said and patted Everett on the back. "Just don't splatter us against the ship and I'll be fine."

"Say until like easy liddat." Everett murmured beneath his breath, slipping into the broken form of English that was widely known as 'Singlish'. Even after countless years away from his home nation, he found it hard to drop the creole or even the accent, though the latter had been greatly tempered by his years going from country to country. He flew them on a straight and level course towards where the carrier was, the two of them chatting intermittently about anything and everything along the way, as they used to do when they flew alongside one another in Africa, though this time it was in person rather than over the radio. It was all routine - they exited the range of their AWACs and were picked up by the carrier's on-board air controllers - but what they saw was far from normal.

The carrier looked liked someone had taken a proper aircraft carrier and smashed it into a submarine, creating something that looked vaguely like both. "Fuck me, we're supposed to land on that?" Zola said, her eyes wide with surprise at what she was seeing and voice filled with incredulity, voicing both her's and Everett's thoughts. "Which genius thought up this fucking thing?"

Everett did not reply, too busy trying to figure out how he was going to approach the carrier. They were going to have to land from the front, rather than from the rear like conventional carriers. He had to do it right the first time as well - aborting the landing too late or overshooting the runway would result in them being smashed against the submarine like a bug against a windshield. "Well, we're going to have to land on it." Everett said and mentally prepared himself for the task ahead. It would be like landing on the various PLAN aircraft carriers during his time with the PLAAF, only in the opposite direction.

Like Excalibur One, when it came to their turn, Everett did a few trial runs to find the best way to approach the flight deck. "Excalibur Eleven, the runway will be approaching you, so take care to reduce speed at a greater rate than you are used to. Remember to deploy your arrestor hook and try to put your aircraft down close to the front end of the runway and you should be fine." Everett said over his radio and gulped. The time for practicing was over. "Well, Zola, ready?"

"As ever as I'll ever be," Zola said uncertainly and shook her head. "Goddamn, I feel more nervous than when I'm entering combat."

"Right, then." Everett said and went on final approach towards the runway. "Excalibur Eleven, follow my lead and you'll do fine."

As the Fencer closed the distance between it and the runway, Everett reduced speed accordingly, reducing and increasing the rate based on how much distance he had left to cover. At the same time, he kept an eye on his airspeed indicator to avoid falling below stalling speed. "Nearly there," He said, more to reassure himself than anything else, and lowered the landing gears. He pitched the nose of his aircraft up and raised the spoilers, feeding some power to the engines when his speed was decreasing too quickly for his liking. Not long after, he felt a rough bump as the Fencer touched down, followed by another one when the nose gear hit the runway. Then, he felt a short, sharp jerk as the arrestor hook grabbed onto one of the cables.

"We're down. Powering down engines." Everett said and began the drill to power down his aircraft as they were towed to an elevator which brought them down to the cramped hangar below decks. By the time the Fencer was towed into its designated spot, Everett had completed his landing checklist and popped the canopy open once he felt his aircraft come to a complete stop. The ground crew hurried ladders to both sides of the cockpit and Everett and Zola wasted no time in exiting the Fence, eager to stretch their legs.

"Well," Zola said once her boots touched the floor of the hangar. "That was exciting. The landing, I mean."

"More than the dogfight, I'll say." Everett agreed with a nod and looked around him. Their squadron leader's aircraft was already in the hangar, and now they were just awaiting the rest of their squadron to land before the expected debriefing. Until then, Everett was content with just standing in front of his aircraft and enjoying the benefits of remaining stationary.

Miyoshi flew in silence to the carrier. For one, there wasn't much to say, but she was also thinking about Overwatch's words about how the entire attack was merely a diversion. She wondered where the squadron would be sent next, and if for the entirely of the war they would merely be playing defense, trying to prevent the UN forces from being completely wiped out by the UNWO attacks.

As the squadron entered the carrier's control range, Miyoshi expected a normal aircraft carrier, like the ones she had landed on many times while in Japan. What she was greeted with was far different, appearing more like something out a science fiction novel than an aircraft carrier. In addition, the squadron learned that it would have to land going head on for the carrier. Mistakes, it seemed, would be a one-way ticket to Heaven. Worse, Miyoshi had carrier experience, but never flying something as massive as her Foxbat - even her lightened, combat-ready, carrier capable Foxbat. At best, the ride would be hairy. It seemed the squadron was developing a trend of doing a few practice flybys before actually attempting the landing, and Miyoshi gladly followed suit. After she was as prepared and confident as she thought she would become, she began her final approach.

Remaining completely silent as she bled altitude and airspeed, she soon had her landing gear down and began to pitch up, feeding a little power sporadically when necessary. Fortunately, she stuck the landing, catching an arrestor cable and safely decelerating. The plane was towed to the elevator as Miyoshi began powering down, and was soon in the hangar. It was definitely more cramped than a normal carrier, as her squadron mates had already observed. Arriving at a complete stop, she climbed out of her plane which was by now completely powered down, glancing at the rear tail and patting the fuselage twice as she went down.

Looking around and seeing the two other Excaliburs that had already landed, Miyoshi stood idle and did what they seemed to be doing - watching the rest of the squadron land.

After the dust has settled, the squad got into formation again, awaiting orders or just general information from the Overwatch. Matt was thinking about the battle, mainly looking for points of weakness and space for improvement. His overall handling was fine, his manouvers too; the Jaguar barely took damage. The base, Lossiemouth, on the other hand did get some missile impacts in important spots, making day-to-day operations even harder, but still sustainable, for the ground personnel. He noted that he could improve on target prioritization.

His analysis was cut short when the radio finally came into life. The Overwatch announced that the bandits they just destroyed were only for decoy and diversion, while the real force struck multiple targets in Europe, mostly Southern Europe, including Italy and Spain. Truly, Matt was surprised when he found out that the UNWO could reach this far into UN territory, but the fact they had the resources to just basically abandon numerous Flankers and Su-27s along with Tu-95s armed with missiles capable of destroying bases, blew his mind. Now he totally understood why the UN would authorize the creation of a squadron like Excalibur and he started feeling even more committed to the cause. The more time they spend destroying these bastards, the more lives they save and the closer they get to reunification of the world.

In light of these news, the squad was redirected to another carrier heading towards the Mediterranean area, the place of the UNWO's airstrikes. Soon enough, they would arrive to the aforementioned carrier, which became the second surprise Matt had in a short period of time. It was unlike anything he has ever seen. Sure, he heard about the UN's and the Avalon Institute's new prototype carriers, but he didn't think they'd look like that. The main problem was however, that they had to land on this thing. "But...how? Where to even start?" he asked himself. The runway was on the front end, not the rear, as he would've expected and because it was obviously in motion, the landing zone was basically approaching them. He watched how One and the others ahead of him attempt to land. To Eleven's request, Four gave a basic explanation, which helped him as well.

After doing some tries like the rest, he finally decided to go for it. Deploying the arrestor hook and eventually the landing gears, he carefully, but continously reduced his speed until he reached the runway and the aircraft stopped. For a moment he thought he flied too fast but in the end it was slow enough. "Seven landed. Phew." he said on the radio and got out of the Jaguar as the personnel on the ground made sure it was secured.