Everyone left had gathered around, and Ariella paused a moment, gathering her thoughts, before she launched into the briefing.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen," she said in a clear and strong voice. "We have our first mission. I know we've had a long haul already, and little rest; but don't worry: you'll all have a chance to get a rest once this mission is flown. Once we do our part, the squids can take over for a little while".
She tapped a few touchscreen controls on the pads surface, and displayed a handful of maps with annotated notes and mission-relevant information.
"Here's the jist of it. Current intel following the attacks earlier this morning indicated that the targets in Southern Europe were all hit by aircraft flying from North African countries, or by missiles launched from the same area or over the Mediterranean Sea. With forces and bases in the area hit already degraded, it leaves the area open to a second wave of attacks if we don't take action quickly. As such, it falls to us to provide an accurate picture of our enemies' forces so that the Navy can drop its' rounds on target accurately. Additionally, any long-range anti-ship emplacements are targets for us to engage." She began to tap icons on the screen, which enlarged and showed the disposition of the squadrons' aircraft.
"Our first objective will be to recon the target areas shown on these maps. As we're down significantly in numbers, after having drop-outs and reassignments following the loss of pilots and aircraft in Southern Europe and a number of resignations after our first sortie, we're having to pull extra duty to fill in. I've got faith in you all though," she looked up. "After all - you all stayed with me so far, and you didn't back away from the challenges we're up against so far. So; the five aircraft-" she shook her head. They'd gone from almost a full squadron to barely a flight of aircraft will be tasked as follows. We've got a lot on our plate, so this is going to be a tough one." She paused again, absorbing the information before running down the list.
"Our first objective will be to recon the sites of anti-ship weapon emplacements, and airfields basing long-range strike aircraft, or missiles. The best aircraft suited to such a role are Excalibur Four and Excalibur Five. As such, you'll be toting recon pods on your centrelines for the mission, along with a secondary load of mixed self-defence and anti-air munitions. Excalibur Two, you and I will be acting as top cover, and will also carry a light secondary load of air-to-ground munitions. Finally, Excalibur Three, you'll be our primary 'heavy hitter' for the air-to-ground role against the anti-shipping emplacements, and will carry a primary load of anti-ground munitions, with a light self-defensive load. We'll all be heavily loaded, but will receive a refuelling after takeoff from the carrier, and then a second refuelling en route to target at the half-way marker by a long-range tanker aircraft. Our approach profile will be under total black out and at low-low altitude for terrain masking, with a pop-up only when we're over target."
She gave a serious look to the assembled men and women at that note, her features drawn with serious attention and a business-like demeanour as she spoke.
"Mark my words, and take a look at the facts: this is an exceedingly hostile environment we're going into, with masses of enemy air and ground defences. Our goal isn't hunting the bad guys - we're there to get our pictures, hit our limited targets, and then bug out. If we stick around, we'll get overwhelmed and ripped out of the skies. Defensive engagement only; we'll have a chance to get our fangs in later on, believe me.
"As you can imagine, since this is a recon flight, we don't have exact intel on the target. And we don't have much up to date, as the UNWO have been taking pot-shots at our recon satellites lately too. But, as this is home turf and both Egypt and Libya were supplied by Soviet states before the sky fell, expect lots of Eastern Bloc Greatest Hits, such as Fishbeds, Floggers and Fulcrums, as well as numerous SAM systems and triple-A. The local atmospheric conditions look to be good visibility with dry conditions and minimal weather disturbances. Local forces are hostile, and - god forbid - if you are forced to eject, consider yourself in hostile territory, and evade accordingly." She set the pad down on the table, and rested her arms on the cool surface, looking around at them all, taking in each face in turn, looking at the assorted features of the multi-national group around her. All of them had the same qualities she'd seen in her fellow pilots: Eager attentiveness, as the mind worked and evaluated. The edge of the sure smile and knowledge, the carefully trimmed and trained physique. And now she was about to send them off into danger for the first organized and briefed time, as opposed to the earlier chaos.
"You've got time to get your questions in. We launch in ninety minutes. Get yourselves prepped once dismissed; the life-support shop should have your gear all sorted and checked, and the ground crews are uploading the ordnance to our birds and fuelling them now. Last thoughts, comments, queries or quotes for the day?"

Miyoshi listened carefully as Ariella briefed the squadron on their next mission. A recon mission, hmm? she thought as the Colonel began. Excalibur Six was mainly recon, wasn't he? Alas, as the flight lead touched on the significant loss in numbers, she realized as she took a quick glance around the room that they were down to just five aircraft. We had at least a dozen back in Scotland, didn't we...? she thought. Surely the reassignments couldn't have been that extensive...I mean they need us at full strength, don't they? Mentally shrugging at the decisions of their superiors, she kept listening, noticing distinctly that she was no longer Excalibur Five - she was now the primary wingman.

She continued listening as her flight lead explained the gravity of the situation - this would be no cakewalk...not that the last sortie was. Summing up the situation in her head, she made some conclusions.

1) It was time to put her MiG-25PDX's promises of increased low-altitude usefulness, stability and speed to the test.

2) Should her and Excalibur One's cover be challenged, the Foxbat's dogfighting capability would also be tested. This was a mission that would thoroughly wring out her aircraft.

3) She hoped taking off from the Nimue would be easier than landing on it.

Not having any real questions to ask, she made a little motivational comment to fill the silence after the Colonel's call for response.

"I look forward to the debriefing," she said with a little smile.

Was she as confident as she made out to be? Well...yes. She was in the presence of four highly trained and highly skilled pilots, and was one herself. Would she be more confident if there were more of them and they had more up-to-date aircraft? Perhaps, but their restomods had proven their worth so far.

Matt soon learned that their next sortie is a recon mission. He wasn't a fan of these types of assignments, preferring action-packed dogfights and engagements much more. Of course, he knew that reconnaissance was an absolutely vital part of any long-term plan for success, he just liked to get his hands dirty and leave the "preparations" for others. Unfortunately, there weren't many others he could rely on in the squad, as their numbers - as the Colonel pointed out - dwindled greatly after the first mission and the following events. It was up to them, the five remaining pilots to fly deep into enemy territory, gather intel on their most valuable arms and come out unscathed, at least without losing anyone. Despite the harsh odds, Matt didn't let his spirit go down. He learned just how much mentality and a positive state of mind means when he was - undeservedly - kicked out of the HAF. He could've easily given up on his aviator career at that time. He didn't and now he's amongst the five people whom half the world counts on. There was much on the line for Excalibur and the UN, he needed to give his best at all times. No matter the situation.

After hyping himself up like that, he paid careful attention to the rest of the briefing. Given the Jaguar's versatility, it was assigned as one of the two toting the recon pods and thus even more depended on Matt's ability to fly undetected and take quality pictures for the Navy to use in upcoming strikes. Ariella made it clear that they should not engage offensively, as they will get overwhelmed very soon. AAA and SAM installations were also prone to make their life more difficult. He seeked thrill, excitement and danger - all these hazards should by all means give it to him.
I'll look up some maps and previous intel from our areas of interest...Good luck everyone. he said after the briefing. They've got 90 minutes until debrief and eventually takeoff, he needed to spend the time wisely. He took his tablet into hand once again and started digging into the topic.

Everett grimaced when the Colonel mentioned their reduction in size. It was drastic, going from maybe fourteen pilots and aircraft to just a handful, and for a moment he wondered if they were going to be able to be of any use at all. However, he quickly pushed that thought to a small corner of his mind - he needed to be focused and confident for the next mission, and doubting his own squadron was not going to help at all. It was going to be a reconnaissance mission, nothing Everett or Zola had never encountered before, but in Everett's case, he had never been the one toting the recon pod or camera or whatever device that was to be used. He had either been the one suppressing the enemy air defenses or providing top cover.

"I have never flown slow and level through enemy anti-air before, but I will give it a try." Everett said dryly with a nod. They were going to fly in low under the cover of darkness, but that could only go so far. Once they were above the enemy's heads, they were probably going to come under intense anti-air fire. He made a mental note to load up the Ghost with more air-to-ground armaments. Even if they were supposed to only fly defensively, Everett wanted to have the capability to eliminate enemy air defenses if they proved to be a significant issue.

"Oh, you would have hated my job." Zola said with a chuckle and shake of her head. "Flying slow, level and low through enemy air defenses. It was not fun at all."

She stood up and straightened out her clothes. They had ninety minutes to get everything sorted out and the first thing on Zola's list was to check the Ghost to ensure that everything was in perfect working order. She was sure that the ground maintenance crew on board the Nimue were skilled and certified, but it never did hurt to be extra careful. "I'll take my leave, then, Colonel. Going to give the Ghost a once over and check the ordnance." She said and offered a quick salute before leaving the barracks.

Everett remained on his bunk and picked up the tablet again. He wanted maps, even old ones, of the area, if only to get a feel for the terrain. He was going to have to fly the Ghost defensively, and the more he knew of any regions he could use to evade enemy fire, or even new avenues of approach, the better.

Ariella raised an eyebrow at Everett and Zola's banter. "You two won't have to be low and slow - I think you missed the briefing. You're doing all the ground attacks, since that's what your Fencer is built for, and it can carry so much. I'd say count yourselves lucky, but..." she left the sentence hanging, and grinned. "It's up to Swift and Musket to take all the pretty pictures so the Navy knows where to point all of its' guns. Halo and I have the glorious duty of covering all of your butts while you do your bit."
As Zola excused herself, the Israeli pilot returned the salute. The rest of the pilots began to get to the business of mission prep, leaving her to do the same. Like them, she looked up her charts and marked off the vital reference points for their run in, sharing her data with the others, before heading to the quartermaster to draw her survival vest, G-suit and other paraphernalia of fast-jet piloting.
Strapping into all the kit took a reasonable amount of time, and she made sure she'd hit the head before zipping into her 'speed jeans' and the heavy vest. As with all experienced pilots, she had a few of her own additions to the kit; a few minor personal survival items that could potentially come in handy. Given that they were flying over hostile territory as well, she was also provided with a sidearm and ammunition - although, should she get shot down, the thought of using it would be least in her mind. Escape and evasion was far more likely to be useful.
Most of the ninety minutes had gone by after she'd taken care of all of her business, and she was ready to walk out to the hangar by this point. Another siren announced the deceleration from Supercavitation speed, which was - thankfully - much smoother than the initial head-splitting acceleration, and was marked only be a series of moderate tremors and vibrations as the submarine slowed.
Making her way into the hangar, the pilot was surprised to see that the flight crews had managed to rearrange all of their aircraft as they'd armed and fuelled them. Every plane was ready for takeoff, and had been cleaned and whatever minor maintenance needed had been performed. All ground equipment was stowed, or in the process of being stowed, with only tow-carts and APU's around, whining their ear-splitting song as the engines of the planes were given initial power. The crew chief aimed a thumbs-up to her, and she returned one.
"Go do us proud!" he yelled and she nodded and gave a flashing smile back. "Sure thing, chief! We've got a lot of payback to chalk up before the books are balanced!"
Mounting the retractable ladder built into the Kfir, she settled into the cockpit and strapped in with some assistance, before accepting her helmet, handed to her by a crewman. A check of her watch showed time was up, and the mission was due to go.
A rumble sounded through the Nimue, and was promptly accompanied by a call over the PA by the captain for all crew to assume stations for surfaced ops, and for launch of aircraft.
The mission was about ready to go, and she felt excitement build, as the groundcrew shut panels and hatches on the planes, removed warning covers and tags, and the tow-tractor hooked up to her jet, and pulled it to the elevator. The canopy came down as the hydraulic platform lifted her to the launch deck. As the Kfir reached the end of the launching deck, the ceiling above her head split into two clamshell halves, and retracted down to either side, exposing the blue skies of a late Mediterranean afternoon.
Kalaxons sounded, and the tow tractor heaved the Kfir forward, hooking the nose gear up to the catapult bar. She went through the procedure taught a dozen, dozen times over in the training base for carrier launch, and practiced an even dozen more on an actual carrier in the atlantic. Throttles, instruments, checking outside the cockpit, engines, instruments-
She was as ready she was ever going to be. Then the light flash green, and someone yanked her hard from behind, as the Kfir with her aboard was slammed off the bow of the Nimue by the electromagnetic catapult. Back pressure on the stick, and the ocean fell away.
"Lioness, Excalibur One - Launch is good, and I'm taking up the hold pattern. Excalibur Squadron, let's get this party started".

Matt looked on the clock every now and then while browsing the database. Although there was still plenty of time left until the takeoff, he didn't even have his outfit on yet. He knew he cannot spend more time than he absolutely must. While he found plenty of image material on the areas, few could've been considered up-to-date, after-Heavenfall pictures. He did find a reasonably recent scout report on some of their possible targets, which gave him a fairly good insight on what he should focus on with the recon pods. Armed with this valuable knowledge, he quit the database, left the tablet on his bunk and walked off to equip his pilot gear. Or as he liked to call it - getting dressed for the occasion.

Once that was done, he immediately headed to the hangar. It was about that time another siren was heard, this time signing the Nimue's exit from supercavitation. Thinking they were already ready to deploy, Matt took on a quicker pace and shortly reached his destination. It looked - and felt - vastly different than when he was last here, the whole area buzzing with all sorts of crewmen, most of them around the aircrafts, which were rearranged and armed with appropriate ordnance for the upcoming recon mission. Matt was pleased to see that his Jaguar was repaired and cleared from the minor injuries it suffered from the previous battle. He climbed into the cockpit, took on his helmet and did the neccessary checks for safety. As the adrenaline levels started to rise in him, he felt ready. His hands on the grip, his eyes on the red light, he was only waiting for the go-sign.

"Let's rock!" he shouted as the Nimue shot him out in the open. "Excalibur Four successfully launched, moving to formation." he announced on the squad radio and took position behind Lioness.

After making all the necessary preparations with the rest of Excalibur, including getting her flight lead's data and suiting up, she made her way to the hangar. The squadron's now dwindled numbers still sat menacingly in the hangar, the aircraft seemingly eager to take flight. There were only five of them now - Lioness' sleek Kfir, the pilot/WSO team Sandstorm's fearsome "Ghost of the Straits", Swift's snarling Jagauar, Musket's poised Tigershark, and Miyoshi's own beloved "Massao" Foxbat. Reaching the MiG-25PDX, she gave it two friendly slaps and smiled at the Japanese kanji on the tailfin as she climbed into the cockpit. Soon she and her aircraft were towed up and out to the launch deck, and the clamshell canopy split open almost majestically.

Miyoshi had done carrier launches before, but she never grew tired of them. It was one of the many things she loved about being a pilot. Her excitement mounted as the Foxbat was prepped for launch, and she eagerly watched the light. "Here we go, Massao," she said to her aircraft. "Time to do what you were made for." One exhilarated yell and catapult launch later, Miyoshi was in the skies quickly forming up with her flight lead. "Excalibur Two in the air. I have your wing, Lioness," she stated over the radio with a little grin.

It did not take long for Everett to realize that with the squadron's reduction in size and the certain reshuffling of callsigns, roles and whatnot, his flight was no longer Excalibur Four. Sure enough, a quick check of the squadron's status on his tablet confirmed to him that the Ghost of the Strait was now Excalibur Three, rather than four. "Excuse me," He said curtly to the squadron before rushing out of the barracks. He hoped that the ground crew had not loaded up the aircraft yet - it would be troublesome and incur a needless delay if he had to have his aircraft disarmed and rearmed with the appropriate munitions. As he ran down the corridors, he made a mental list of the sort of weapons they were going to need. Top cover would be provided by One and Two, so Everett figured that he could afford to go heavy on the air-to-ground munitions.

Thankfully, Zola had only just finished briefing the ground crew when Everett skidded to a halt in front of his aircraft, much to Zola's amusement. "Slow down, Evy, there's plenty of time left." She said with a grin and nodded towards the ground crew and munitions around them. "I only just gave them the brief. Limited air-to-ground and only basic air-to-air for self-defense, yeah?"

Everett shook his head. "No, we're Excalibur Three now, so we're the 'heavy hitters' as the colonel put it." He said. "Go crazy on the air-to-ground and load us with just enough air-to-air to act as a last-ditch defensive measure. Let the main dogfights be One and Two's concern this time round."

Zola let out a frustrated sigh and scratched the back of her head. "Well, that briefing was a waste of breath, then." She said and took a deep breath. "So, then. What do you reckon?"

"We'll be hitting anti-ship emplacements, so I expect them to have some form of radar system active." Everett said. "Anti-radiation missiles should suit us fine, and we can turn them loose against SAM sites if they give us too much trouble. I'm not sure how many emplacements we're expected to eliminate, so I'm leaning towards cluster munitions for better coverage."

"So two anti-rads, three clusters, two air-to-grounds and two air-to-airs?" Zola asked.

"Sounds good to me," Everett said and nodded to the ground crew. "Zola and I will go get our kit on. You still have a little over an hour to get things straight, so don't bother rushing."

"Not sure if we have cluster bombs, you know how iffy these UN types are about those." The crew chief said. "But I'm sure we can scrounge something similar up. Don't you worry about that."

Zola laughed. "As long as it'll ruin the days of anyone within a large radius, it'll be fine." She said and waved goodbye to the maintenance crew before going off with Everett to get their flight suits on. It was a welcome breath of familiarity for Zola, from here on out, everything would more or less be the same as a ground-based operation. After all, there were only so many ways of getting an aircraft off the ground.

By the time they returned to the Ghost, the maintenance crew had completed arming the aircraft, true to their word. As the crew chief had predicted, there were no cluster bombs hanging from the pylons of the Ghost. Rather, they had been replaced by thermobaric bombs. They were devastating weapons, and Everett almost felt bad about unleashing them on the enemy. The bomb did not kill with shrapnel, rather it killed with the blast wave and the effects of a temporary vacuum that came with it. Of course, that was if its victims survived the initial intense heat of the detonation.

"Fuel-air bombs, ouch." Zola said and looked to Everett. "So cluster bombs are a no-no and these are?"

Everett shrugged in response. "Fuck if I know. Maybe we just don't have cluster bombs at the moment, who knows?" He said. Just then, another siren sounded and the two of them could feel the submarine's rapid deceleration, which was thankfully a lot more gentle than its acceleration. That was a sign for them that it was time to make ready and get the Ghost ready for the mission.

"You head up into the cockpit, I'll give it an external once over." Zola said.

Everett nodded and climbed up into the cockpit, getting himself into a comfortable position before strapping himself in and going through the pre-flight checklist. Zola climbed into the cockpit before the engines were even beginning to warm-up, which gave Everett reason to suspect the effectiveness of her 'external once over', but he kept whatever comments he had to himself. Zola was not a rookie pilot - she knew what she was doing. "Everything checks out, no scratches, pits or any sign of damage." She said. "Flight controls looked smooth from where I was standing."

"Good," Everett said with a nod. "Weapons systems?"

"One second," Zola said and strapped herself into her seat. "Right, carrying out pre-flight check now." She reported and flicked a few switches. She cycled through their weapons and pulled the trigger each time, and each time she heard a satisfying beep which told her that the controls were responsive and everything was as it should be. "Everything looks green on my end. We're good to go."

It did not take long after that for them to be towed to the elevator and brought up to the flight deck. Excaliburs One, Two and Four were already in the air and Everett could just barely make out the contrails left by their wingtips as they circled overhead. "Ever taken off from a carrier before?" Everett asked as he felt the familiar bump of the catapult latching onto the forward landing gear.

"Simulations, yes. Real life, no." Zola replied honestly. "But hey, it's just taking off."

Everett chuckled dryly. "One hell of a takeoff, though." He said and powered up the engines to takeoff power before placing his hand on the cockpit window to let the flight deck crew know that he was ready for launch. There were a few tense seconds of anticipation as the ground crew finalized everything before the Ghost was pulled violently by the catapult towards the end of the flight deck and flung into the air. "Gears up," Everett reported as he retracted the landing gear.

"Not sure what that says about you," Zola said with a smirk. "But that honestly feels no different than when you're dogfighting. A lot better, even."

Everett simply rolled his eyes at her remark and said into his mic, "Excalibur Four in the air. Sorry for the delay."

The changes within the so-called squadron was so quick that by the time Farid and his squadronmates were briefed for the mission, he failed to remember that he was now Five instead of Eleven. Only after he noticed that Eleven was never mentioned that he finally remembered he was Five, and tried to recall his role in this mission. What was Five's role...? he tried to answer the questions himself to avoid embarrassment. That recon, yeah, he said to himself with a bit of a smile before realizing that mounting recon pods would mean less self-defense weapons carried, and hence he must put more trust to his squadronmates.

Farid equipped his pilot gear and then spent some time with his tablet to give himself additional ideas for the mission. This time, he did not forget to teach himself on taking off from carriers, albeit only theoretically from reading some texts. He took his time to prepare himself and therefore he was the last to get inside the cockpit and take off. The takeoff itself was a near-failure as he almost failed to climb quick enough due to the acceleration from the electromagnetic catapult taking him by surprise. "Five is in the air, at last. Sorry for making you worried," he said over the squadron frequency, and moved into formation.

Knowing that Matt was the other pilot who was also assigned recon duty, Farid talked to him on the radio. "Four, this is Five. Before we initiate radio silence," Farid said, "Do you have any ideas on how are we both gonna split the job?"

Ariella responded to each pilots' declaration they were up with a firm and positive 'Roger' as they checked in. As Farid's F-20 formed up on the flight of aircraft, she lead them out of the holding pattern, and gradually increased speed, sending them off on course for the holding tanker over the Mediterranean sea, safely - or so they hoped - off the shores and territorial waters of Egypt and Libya.

The flight to the tankers' racetrack holding pattern was uneventful and quiet, with the early afternoon sun blazing, and visibility good for miles in all directions. As always, in the changed world post-asteroid and post-flood, the sea was alive with merchant shipping below, and while not choking from horizon to horizon, there were a good number of vessels about.
Finally, the tanker checked in with them, and Ariella lead the squadron into their holding position for the hookup with the VC-10, the elegant British-made aircraft flying a straight and steady course ahead.
"Pilots, check your planes and prepare for refuelling," declared the tankers' refuelling operation. "By the numbers, now, over"
"Roger, moving into position, over"
She ensured all the comms channels were synced up, with the squadron and the tanker on the same channel, before speaking to all present.
"Okay team. Five, you go in last - your aircraft has the shortest legs, with mine close behind. Three, you're most heavily loaded and had to take off with the most weight and least fuel. Go in first to top up. Two, you follow second. Then three, myself and Five."
She retarded the throttle slightly and took a high aft position of the formation, giving plenty of clearance to the others as they refuelled, talked in expertly by the tanker operator, who lead them on with patiently and quietly encouraging words in a clear tone.

Finally, her own turn came around, and the Israeli plugged the basket with the probe on the Kfir first try, having conducted numerous refuellings in her career.
Pounds of fuel were pumped over as she held the delta jet steady, waving back as the Englishman in the observation bubble waved to her as she hung in the air behind the converted airliner.
Finally, with a puff of liquid freezing in the air, the VC-10 pulled away and she dropped back, dropping and banking aside.
"Next," she called over the radio, mimicking a waitress. "Musket, you're up"

After the last aircraft had refuelled, the VC-10 crew broke away, and the big jet blinked its' navigation lights twice in farewell, before banking away in a gentle turn back towards the north, and the safer UN territory of Europe.
For the flight, Ariella banked the opposite way, heading them towards Northern Africa, and their eventual rendezvous with their mission.
"Okay everyone," she remarked over the radio, buckling up her oxygen mask. "We'll be crossing the territorial boundary in approx thirty minutes. Feet dry ten minutes after that. As soon as we cross the beach, we go low altitude and terrain mask until fifteen miles out from the targets for the recon. A sharp pull up to get the best recon picture then, and we split formation. Four and five, you drive in to take the photos, while the rest of us play decoy and crank up our ECM and make a lotta noise to keep them looking the other way. Once the photos are done, we bust out for the coast, and make a mess of the designated sites. Everyone understand the mission?"

"Copy that," Zola heard Everett said curtly as the squadron received their queue numbers for refueling.

Though she tried hard to just put her trust in Everett to pull off what was essentially a controlled collision two aircraft laden with material that were - and this was putting it lightly - prone to exploding, she could not help but feel a knot form in her stomach. It had nothing to do with the procedure, it was the lack of control that really played on her nerves. "When was the last time we refueled mid-flight?" She asked casually, though she was well aware that the company they had worked for had only a handful of tankers at their peak and they were rarely deployed. Most missions took place close enough to the established airbases or even improvised airstrips of cleared brushland.

"Simulators? Last week. A real one? Probably the years back when I was flying with the PLAAF." Everett replied with a shrug. "I wouldn't be too worried. It's like riding a bike - the first time is scary as hell, but then you never forget how to do it once you get the hang of it."

Zola shrugged, not showing just how nervous she was about the whole thing. "If you say so. At least if you screw up and we die, it'll be quick, yeah?"

"I have a gun somewhere in here, don't worry." Everett deadpanned, but continued. "Seriously, though. I have a gun somewhere in here. Just in case we crash."

"I saw. Not sure what good one AR-7 is going to do for the two of us, but glad you considered that possibility."

It took Everett a few tries, but eventually he managed to get his Fencer's probe connected to the basket. After that, it was just the simple task of maintaining his airspeed and altitude until the tanks were full - a task which both Zola and Everett could have done with their eyes closed. Once the tanks were full, Everett gave the crewman in the observation bubble a thumbs up and waited for him to return the gesture before pulling away and allowing the rest of the squadron to refuel. "Three's done. Who's next?" Everett asked as the Ghost fell back into formation.

Once the rest of the squadron was done refueling, the tanker turned and headed back towards friendly territory while the squadron continued on their way. The colonel's briefing sounded straightforward enough - the Ghost would be joining the others in drawing the attention of enemy anti-air for the first half of the mission, then once it came to the striking part of the mission, it would quite literally rain fire on the enemy. "We hear you, Colonel." Zola said. "We'll give the enemy triple-A something to shoot at, no problems at all."

After everyone took off - or, to say it more precisely, got thrown off -, the squadron started flying through the Mediterranean sea. They were set to refuel on a tanker there, before eventually moving into hostile territory. Thankfully, no enemy forces were present during their travel, everything looked quiet, only the trading ships were buzzing below them. The weather was great too, you could see for several miles. It was ideal for their mission and Matt felt relieved that at least he doesn't have to worry about that.

Before reaching the tankers, Excalibur Five, his recon partner by the name of Farid, asked him about their task.
"I'd say we need to spread out a little bit. We'll cover more ground that way and we'll be able to take pictures from multiple angles. Stay sharp and I'm sure we'll do just fine." Matt replied, giving a basic plan and some encouragement. After all, they're going to be in enemy territory and the two of them are pretty much defenseless while focusing on the targets. It was up to the other three members to keep the enemies away from them.

Matt soon noticed another aircraft before them, guarding the tankers just sailing below it. The Colonel checked in with the pilot and assigned the order of the refuelling. He was the third one, after Two and Three. He waited for the aforementioned members to get connected to the fuel probe, also observing how to do it precisely. Hungary had no seas or oceans, he never really had to do a refuelling from a tanker ship. Britain however had plenty around it and the time spent there gave him good practice on the field. He actually failed at first, but got it right for the second try, which was still an acceptable performance.

After everyone was done, Ariella gave the squad a rundown on what to do and when. The plan was good: him and Farid go in and quickly snap the pictures while the rest of the squad makes some noise and then they bail out immediately.
"Roger that. Those few minutes spent in the heat will be intense." Matt said, already thinking about the moment when all hell breaks loose. He initiated the recon pods for testing purposes, making sure it was functioning correctly. He really did not want to be the liability of failure. No-one did.

There were a few comments on the task to come, but as Ariella had expected, the others were aware of what the mission would require, and were prepared to do their part.
As such, they were headed in on course, the coastline visible as a dark band on the horizon as they crept ever closer.

Being aware of the mission was one thing - taking it on was another. Her concentration was consumed by that, and by the specifics coming up as she kept the jet on a straight-and-narrow heading toward the Libyan coast. Already, she was aware of height-and-range finding radars sweeping the skies, the Kfirs' instruments reading the seeking radio waves.
Rolling her shoulders and flexing her gloved hands on the instruments, the Israeli pilot took a long breath of air in her mask as the land began to resolve itself - before the radio burst to life with another message.
"Excalibur one, this is Central. Please be advised, we have an update to your mission. Other Avalon aircraft will be joining you on exfil. They'll be available to cover you upon your exit from the operational area. They'll be drawing off the enemy air on your departure from the airspace, leaving you to make a fast exit. They would've been with you sooner, but weather conditions and local problems at their location forced delays in departure. However, they will be joining you and squawking friendly, over"
Ariella muttered a few choice words at the surprise interruption, before toggling the transmit button in reply.
"Roger that, Central. We are to expect friendlies from Avalon on our exit leg from the airspace, confirm, over?"
"Yes, that's right. Also, be advised that long-distance readings indicate an unusual amount of comm traffic in the interior of the country, and a number of high-band radars in operation. We've also been monitoring a lot of IR emissions. It shouldn't interfere with your mission, but maintain awareness, over"
"Roger," she replied hesitantly. "Excalibur one, out".
She tapped her index finger on the throttle in thought. The help was great news, but the increased radar, radiation and chatter had her mind ticking over. Could the enemy be on to them? What did this mean? While sounding nearly useless, the advice from the orbiting AWACS was right: being aware of their situation would be the only thing to help them out in the end. Hitting the toggle to change to the unit frequency, she began to drop altitude as they neared the coastline.
"Listen up, team - slight amendment to our plan. Friendlies will be joining us to provide air cover on the exit leg from hostile airspace. I've also been advised that we might be expected, so keep your eyes and ears sharp, and stand ready for patrols or other hostile action before we stir up trouble. It might be nothing - maybe we just caught them running a test or an exercise. But whatever it is, it doesn't do to get caught short. Heads on a swivel, team".
The words said, she dropped another hundred feet, until the desert scrub was rocketing past only two hundred feet below the delta-wing jets' belly. Slight nudges of the stick were enough to gently rise and fall with the terrain and structures below, all of which flashed past. The Initial Point - IP - for the mission was rolling up on the HUD projected inside her visor, and she kept an eye on the two icons representing the recon aircraft of the group. Any moment now they'd rise in altitude, and she blast out ECM 'music' from her plane, giving them a chance to carry out their recon mission.
"Stand by, stand by..." she said evenly, with a note of rising tension and excitement in her accented voice, hand hovering over the ECM TRANSMIT switch.
"Mark!" she called, and jabbed one finger into the button, snap rolling to give the others clearance, and spread out the targets over the enemies' scopes.
"Go baby go," she muttered, willing the recon planes to be safe for the precious minutes it would take them to do their job.

Miyoshi had had plenty of practice in the art of mid-air refueling in both Japan and Libya, so her turn after the Ghost of the Straits had filled up went uneventfully. As the coastline got ever closer, she flew on in silence on Ariella's wing. She had pondered her reassignment as number two for a while. It wasn't that she was questioning the decision; she was only going through the gravity of her responsibility as the lead's wingman...and of course, the responsibility of the squadron as a whole.

It seemed that they would soon be put to the test as the Colonel got on the airwaves. Listening, Miyoshi got a one-two punch of boosted confidence with the promise of exit support, and anxiety at the possibility of the enemy being aware of Excalibur's presence. In all, she ended up about where she started emotionally after the radio transmission - wary, but fully eager to carry out the objectives right in the face of the enemy.

Ariella soon dropped even closer to the deck, and Miyoshi followed suit, remaining diligently at her post. When the Colonel called out Mark! and snap rolled, Miyoshi snap rolled with her. The two of them were on top cover duty, so it only made sense to stick with the flight lead until otherwise instructed. After all, no threats to their top cover were visible yet to Miyoshi. Get it, she quietly remarked off the radio to the recon planes in the squadron.

"Copy that, Four," Farid said as he acknowledged what Matt said on the radio. Refueling was an easy part of the job for Farid who have not been doing well lately in the squadron when landing and taking off from the carrier; he had practised that numerous times back in his home country. After Farid had finished refueling, Excalibur One relayed the orders to the rest of the squadron. "We trust you," was Farid's answer, knowing that his safety would depend on the three other pilots keeping enemy away from him and Matt.

After testing his recon pods for a while, Farid dropped his aircraft and started taking pictures of the target areas. The first area he went for picture taking was the area near the coast. It took a while, but eventually Farid found a coastal defense installation. He then positioned his aircraft in order to get the best picture of the installation. "First pictures from Excalibur Five is coming very soon. Our enemy has got mobile anti-ship missile launchers on the coast, most likely to be using Brahmos," he said as he took the pictures.

The AWACS kept on the line as the squadron carried out the mission. Excalibur Four had had to return to base on the final leg in; there had been numerous mechanical faults with his Jaguar, and the pilot had reluctantly headed for home. But the pictures and data coming from Five showed an enemy ready for a large-scale assault.
"Copy that, Five," the voice of AWACs controller replied as Farid reported the position of the missiles. "It all looks good. Your squad-mates are doing a good job of keeping the enemy confused for now, so keep at it- Wait one, we're seeing some increased activity in the air... Communications activity is peaking as well... Just-"
The channel filled with screeching and warbling static, and the radar scopes on all of the Excalibur aircraft filled with 'snow' as massive jamming began to dominate the airwaves.

Flying in wide formation with Mihoshi and the pair in the SU-24, Ariella winced as her ears were bombarded with the clicks, pops and squeals of static and the repeating noise of the jamming and interference, and her instruments ghosted with the high-powered electronic jamming.
Amidst the chaos of the electronic warfare barrage, the AWACS managed to cut through in bursts and stuttering conversation
"..ding increase.. ummincation levels. Looks like... taking off. Wait! There's-"
The line squealed and the radar warning receiver on the Kfir emitted it's harsh buzzing tone, echoed by the other aircraft in the group, and an aircraft small in size and moving at high speed flashed past, with another pair on it's tail. Accelerating fast and changing position rapidly, there was little doubt they were UCAV's.
"Shit!" spat Ariella. The jamming was beginning to level off somewhat, and she quickly hammered her ECCM system, trying to switch frequencies to get in touch with the others - but moments later the Kfir shook with an impact, warning lights glowing as the stick shook in her hands.
"I'm hit," she called out, checking over her systems. "Damage to my rudder and portside wing. Nothing too serious right now, but looks like we're under attack by bandits. I've lost contact with the AWACS as well. I recommend we bug outta here and head for the RV!"

At Farid's position, the situation repeated - a trio of the same UCAV's showed up, and began buzzing the Tigershark with hostile intent, locking on repeatedly to the aircraft and making near-miss passes.

Out over the ocean, the E-3 Sentry contacted the second flight of aircraft that were due to join the Excalibur squadron on their exit from the airspace.
With a strained voice, the AWACS operator spoke rapidly to Excalibur Six, Seven, Eight and Nine.
"Excalibur flight 2, this is AWACS. We've been hit by an unknown hostile, we have to bug out of the area. Excalibur flight one are under attack by bandits at this time-" the operator reeled off a string of co-ordinates and grid references. "Bandits seven in number, moving at high speed. Seems to be some other kind of hostile at work-" the transmission drowned out in a squealing pop of static, and the AWACS disappeared from radar.

Back at the first excalibur flights' location, the Unmanned Combat Air Vehicles flitted and darted through the skies, looping and wheeling at whim as they pressed their attacks against the Excalibur aircraft.

Jason snapped from his slight daze as the urgent voice of the AWACS came over the comm. Flight one was under fire and needed their support.
"Roger that AWACS flight two is en-route." he replied on insinct despite not knowing how the chain of command worked in this small flight. After clicking the radio off he grinned into his mask and looked around at the other pilots through the glass of the cockpits.
"Sorry if I broke chain of command but you heard them time to dance." he said still smiling as he adjusted the angle of his F-14's wings so they were flush with the body of the aircraft and poured on the throttle. moments later he was within range of the main body of the Excalibur group. He quickly obtained a lock on one of the aircraft and opened fire with his machine gun careful to avoid any Exaclibur aircraft.
"Sorry we're late but yall didn't have to start the party without us. he said taking out one of the aircraft and turning to find a new target..

(Short post sorry guys.)

Jackson Shaw

As Jackson listened to the AWACS operator, it became clear that there was some crazy shit going down. Before he could respond, the kid in the other F-14 did it for him. "Declaring yourself the leader of our little bunch, eh kid?" He said over the comms. He was just screwing around, but he hoped someone would correct him. He didn't have the slightest goddamn idea who was in charge. "Amy? I want you to mark that other F-14, I'm gonna watch his back." He said (Comms closed) to his A.I co-pilot. There was a soft beep as the other plane was marked with several blue lines.

He was about to speak again but he was surprised to find the other guy just blazing ahead. With a smirk, he poured on his own afterburners, easily keeping up with the slightly older model. Zooming ahead, he managed to acquire a lock on a particularly uppity... drone, by the looks, that looked like making his soon to be friend into a nice soft bullet sponge. He pushed his favorite button, sending a sidewinder (With 'Get Fucked' crudely painted on it) its way. "You may wish to conserve your weaponry, major." The A.M.M.I said, in its usual feminine monotone, chiding him for his overzealousness with his weapons. "Relax, it's just one." He flipped on the Comms again. "Hey, I'm all for charging ahead but you might wanna make sure you have a wingman before you do that," He sort of trailed off, obviously waiting for a name.

The stillness of the skies was suddenly shattered when the airwaves lit up with piercing static. Soon after, almost predictably, Miyoshi's radar warnings blared and, amidst Ariella's damage callout, Miyoshi jammed her stick up and right to avoid the assailing aircraft's initial attack. With her head on a swivel, she caught glimpses of them: judging by their speed, agility and general profile it seemed likely they were UCAVs. Whatever they were, they had Excalibur's number.

It was time to put Massao to the test, though at this point it was less about racking up kills than not getting shot down. So far, Miyoshi and her Foxbat succeeded, darting and weaving in and out of the darting and weaving UCAVs, who would not quit. Miyoshi tried to draw a bead on one of them in hopes of taking it out, but it became too risky so she went back to simply surviving (with the occasional salvo from the cannon at They had to get out of the UCAV hornet's nest immediately, but she couldn't just hit the afterburner and fly into the horizon. Although her modified MiG-25 had a significantly higher top speed than...well, pretty much anything else there, it wasn't fast enough to outrun the inevitable barrage of missiles that would be sent furiously towards the navy blue and grey MiG as soon as it attempted an escape.

At this point Miyoshi was watching for Ariella to suddenly break and head for the hills, at which time Miyoshi would follow suit. For now though, she was stuck trying to survive against the midst of UCAVs that were out for blood.

The UCAV's zoomed and zipped around the squadron, like a swarm of angered hornets. Finally getting a look at one, they looked not unlike slightly smaller Birds of Prey, but pilotless and with longer, forward-swept wings. None seemed to have any missiles, and they primarily attacked with rapid-fire cannon, diving towards the Excalibur aircraft in pairs, one flying aggressively and attempting to force the targeted aircraft into the path of the second attackers' cannons.

Once the technique was noticed, it was - almost - understandable, and noticable.
Ariella, punching through the middle of the furball and lashing into one of the craft with a burst from her cannon, found herself in a momentary 'clear spot', away from the action.
Taking a breath and assessing the situation, she slid her visor up and glanced around - and blinked as she saw one of the drones, flying solo and with red-striped wings away from the others. Almost immediately, the robot aircraft pulled a mind-boggling manoeuvre in mid-air. The diminutive yet futuristic aircraft hauled into a turn that would liquify a flesh-and-blood pilot, bringing it's nose around toward her delta-winged jet as she rolled into a wing-over and dived for the cover of her allies.
A radar-warning sounded on Ariella's aircraft, and moments later there was a blinding flash.
The Israeli couldn't help herself; blinded and feeling as though the left side of her face and body were right atop an open fire, she screamed over the open channel, preparing to warn the others and instead her pain going out to them.
Reflexively trying to escape the sensation, she pulled the Kfir hard into a left banking turn. The plane responded well at first, before a wrenching scream of tortured metal rang through the airframe, and numerous warning sirens sounded damage to the aircraft.
Heartbeats later, almost as soon as it had begun, the - literally - blistering pain died away, but stars still swam in front of her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she managed to make an assessment: the Kfir was on its' last legs, and barely airborne. She might, if she was able to disengage now and take no further damage, make it away from the operational area and back to the vicinity of the Nimue, if she was lucky.
"This is Excalibur one," she called over the radio in a hoarse and rasping voice, finally breaking through the jamming for a few heartbeats. "I've taken serious damage from an unknown weapon. I am breaking to disengage. All Excalibur aircraft, break and exit the area, disengage and RTB!"

Miyoshi's shots gave them an opening: The cannonfire from the MiG-25 hit home, and one of the UCAV's was shredded and flipped end over end before exploding. The momentary disruption had some kind of effect. The remaining aircraft regrouped, almost like a flock of birds - and then, Jackson's missile, heralding his approach and arrival, hit home on another, thinning the flock further and evening the numbers as he and Jason arrived on the scene. The jamming abated somewhat, though the circling craft broke into groups again and began to dive toward the Excalibur squadron a third time, even as Ariella popped chaff and flares, and headed for the deck, throttle wide-open.