The lands to the north of the Expeditionary Force from Earth's base were much like the northern reaches of the home planet of humanity. Mountain ranges, hills, and hardy vegetation began to take over from the greener, prettier and more temperate plants, and the trees became more evergreen and less deciduous. More grey rock and bare dirt pervaded the landscape; though the soaring peaks, shallow, fast, white-capped rivers and thick swathes of trees had a beauty all their own, and the stillness and untouched perfection of the landscape was breathtaking.
All of this was not lost on the survey and reconnaissance team weaving it's way back from a weeks-long trip to the scattered Avalonian settlements and sites of special interest, established by satellites launched from the Expeditionary Forces. However, with their latest revelations from the information they'd uncovered, they were in decidedly more of a hurry, and less concerned with the landscape.
The small convoy of vehicles splashed through a shallow river and ground through grass-covered banks, driving south with determination.
Aboard the lead MRAP of the group, the specialist-sergeant in the passenger seat chewed his thumb nervously, and again scanned the skies, agitation plain in his fidgety movements and darting eyes.
"Sir," the driver started, flicking his eyes sideways to him. "Is there anything-"
"Keep your eyes on the road, Raymore," the Sergeant replied. "Looks like there's a snowstorm rolling in... and we're still more than twenty miles from the nearest forward operating base."
"Try the radio again," urged the voice from the backseats. "There might be better reception now".
The Sergeant glanced back over his shoulder at the Avalonian in the back seat, who had a pleading expression in her eyes.
"We have to get in touch with someone," she pleaded. "If the Yerrill-"
There was a shrieking whistle, and something split the sky above them, flashing over the convoy, leaving contrails in its' wake, and whipping the trees back and forth. A rumbling followed, from their rear and growing closer. All exchanged glances, and the driver gunned the engine. One of the passengers in the rear scrambled to climb up onto the MRAP's turret-mounted .50 cal, while the sergeant clawed for the radio microphone.
A dark shadow fell over the fleeing vehicles.

At the Forward Base, calls went out as garbled radio messages came through. Alerts were raised, co-ordinates established and assets polled... and the Expeditionary Force reached an impasse; there weren't enough aircraft or forces in the area to vector a full squadron or flight.
"What have we got in the area?" asked the officer in charge of the area through gritted teeth, dragging a cigarette down to the filter in one stressed breath, before fumbling to light another, his fingers twitching.
The junior woman in charge of the screens and consoles tracking all of the forces' assets tapped controls with fingers that moved with a pianists' precision and grace, and looked back over her shoulder.
"There are two aircraft not assigned to any flight; they're both armed and on their way back from other assignments-"
"Who and what?"
"Uh, Major Valentine in an A-10C, and Lieutenant Ericsson in an F-2"
"Vector them in, and give them the lowdown; that convoy needs to make it back to base. THey need to hold long enough for reinforcements to make it"
"Yessir!"

***

"This is FOB Corona to Major Valentine and Lieutenant Ericcsson. Urgent assistance required for close air support and aerial cover for a convoy unit under attack, co-ordinates incoming..."

Scott's eyes widened under his helmets' visor as he received the orders. He'd been on his way back from an uneventful CAP for a research outpost, and now this... He was glad he'd taken on fuel, and expended no ordnance.
"Well... this is Heartbreak. Send me the info... I take it you're not sendin' me into the meat grinder on my own, over?"
"Negative, Heartbreak. We got you a dance partner. Lieutenant Ericsson is en route too. She should be there to cover your ass, over".
"Well, all right then... best get moving quick, it looks like there's a storm comin' in".
Scott rolled the A-10C onto the new course, angling over the landscape below, shifting in his seat as the dark steel-grey of the clouds above formed a tense ceiling to the impending sortie. All of a sudden, the situation had changed from a routine flight into plunging into danger to save others. It might be a walk in the park; it might be a dice with death. Either way, it was something different, something new - and exactly what he was trained for.
Switching radio frequencies, he tried to establish radio contact with his impromptu partner as the miles rolled down on his instruments.
"This is Heartbreak One to Ericsson. Looks like we have some souls that need saving down there. What say we get this show over with before the snow starts falling, and get a couple of drinks back at base to warm us up, over?"

Nadia hadn't expected one of her first flights to be a patrol. But her enthusiasm made her hope for something to fly through the airspace she was stationed in. But that was earlier in the patrol. Nothing had happened for a few hours. Except for a mid-air refuel to keep her plane in the air. She wondered if she had over-hyped the idea of being a pilot. It all seemed boring so far, the past few hours seemed to reinforce the idea. Then her comms crackled with life.

"This is FOB Corona to Major Valentine and Lieutenant Ericcsson. Urgent assistance required for close air support and aerial cover for a convoy unit under attack, co-ordinates incoming..."

It surprised her really. Having come to terms that she'd never see much action. And now suddenly being thrown right towards combat? It excited her to say the least.
"Ah~ Yes, finally. Something more to do than sit around and do lazy turns." Nadia spoke before turning on her own comms to respond. "Yes, this is Lieutenant Ericsson. Send me the info and I'll be on my way. Over."
"Sending it now. Over"
As the info arrived, a puzzled look appeared on her face. "Uh..Is the major equipped to handle ground targets? Over"
"Don't worry, Heartbreak is. Just keep him safe from enemy air. Over"
Nadia shrugged, rolling her F2 into her new course. Keeping her plane level to go a get speed, but to also keep any altitude she had, in case it gave her an advantage.

After flying some distance, her comms crackled to life again. A different voice this time.
"This is Heartbreak One to Ericsson. Looks like we have some souls that need saving down there. What say we get this show over with before the snow starts falling, and get a couple of drinks back at base to warm us up, over?"
"I like how you think, lets do it. Over." She took a small pause before speaking again. "I'm thinking of meeting up with ya. Give ya an escort in anyway seeing as I'll be your guardian. Over" She looked at the info again and took a guess to the route he'd be taking in. But waited to adjust her course in case he wanted stay separated till they were at the target.

"I'm thinking of meeting up with ya. Give ya an escort in anyway seeing as I'll be your guardian. Over"

Scott grinned at the casual tone of his newly-assigned wingman. "Nice to have a helpful eye in the sky," he replied in the same playful tone she'd adopted. Her gave her his heading and co-ordinates, descending to be below the thick cloud layer as he closed in on the floodplains where the battle was taking place. Keeping a steady cruising speed, they'd be there in only a handful of minutes. He scanned around the skies, hoping to catch sight of Ericsson as she closed in for the rendezvous. He was curious about what she was flying, and anxious to get on with the mission; every minute they were delayed was one the people on the ground had to hold out for, and he didn't want to let his allies down. People dying because of him just didn't sit right, even if it couldn't be avoided.
He kept the A-10 straight and steady, frowning out at the thick, steel-grey cloud forming a canopy overhead. Vague white flurries danced past the canopy; the snow had started to fall.

Once she had gotten his heading and coords, she quickly redirected to intercept him. Punching the afterburner briefly for a burst of speed towards him. Her mind spaced as she flew to form up with Heartbreak. So Nadia had forgotten to watch the time during her flight, and as such, quickly scrambled to see what time it was. And let out a sigh of relief. Her brain having panicked and thinking over 5 minutes had passed. But due to the speed of her bird, less than 3 minutes had passed. She lazily turned her craft to make a correction in her flight path, and figured it was time to dip from the clouds to help her make visual contact with Heartbreak.

After a few more seconds, she saw a blip on her radar. IFF said it was friendly, so she rolled towards it. Hailing him at the same time. "Glad I'm finally here." She said as she flew past his craft, then turned to form up. Using the turn to bleed off extra energy and speed, so she wouldn't over-shoot when forming up. Taking up position on his left and slightly above. "Shall we double time it now?" She asked while looking at his craft. A hog. Well, Corona wasn't lying when they said he was equipped to handle ground targets.

As the F-2 closed up into formation, Scott waggled his wings in greeting and acknowledgement. He trimmed the A-10's course slightly settling into a close formation with the new arrival.
"Roger that," he replied at her question. "Those folks down there are well overdue for our help; best get there quick as we can. We oughta split up; what say you handle the air targets and I harass the ground-pounders? Keep 'em off my back and I'll make sure you don't take any hits from below".
Corona's voice chimed in, the AWAC controllers' voice calm and reserved as ever. "Good job linking up. I'm designating you as Storm Flight; Heartbreak, You're Storm 1, Ericsson, Storm 2. Stay on course to hit the target area; I'm reading three enemy fast-movers, and two heavies in the air; radar's having problems picking out ground targets, but what I could get on the radio from friendlies indicates three units of infantry supported by medium walkers. Ground forces will mark their positions with IR strobes".
"Roger that," he answered, his voice becoming more clipped and terse. "Ericcsson, let's go; I'll back you up as much as I can on the air targets, but I'll concentrate on the ground threat. Break and engage!"

The snow flurries had grown to a steady snowfall, dropping visibility. Scott switched his targeting systems, the SNIPER targeting pod under the A-10's wing coming to life. The FLIR sensor built into the pod lit the view up into shades of thermal grey; almost immediately he saw the blinking flashes of the allied forces' strobes, and the thermal spots of the enemies' engines, weapons, and exhausts. Streaming flashes crossed the area as fire was exchanged, and flitting traces ghosted through the air as the hostile aircraft cris-crossed the area; even as he watched, they reformed and began diving toward he and Ericcsson's incoming jets.
"Moving in to engage," Scott announced over the radio, adjusting the A-10's throttle and dropping altitude. He nudged the stick and rudders, the ungainly A-10 moving swiftly onto course at its' preferred low altitude. He thumbed the controller for the SNIPER-XR pod, and bracketed up the nearest spider-like walker that was sending streams of firepower toward the nearby cluster of friendly blinking lights. He jinked and waved the A-10 as it dropped lower, engine howling in the thick air and rearing the jet into a high, banking turn. At its' apex, he thumbed the weapon release, and two Paveways dropped from the wings of the A-10, fins springing open as they glided toward the target. A bank in the opposite direction threw off any anti-aircraft fire, and a spread of chaff and flares dissuaded the insistent blare of the radar warning receiver.
"Bombs away," Scott growled over the radio, circling at low altitude. "How's it going up there?"