AWACS Gravestone: "Angels, RTB - SAR is on the way for you sorry folks on the ground."
"Roger, Gravestone. Angel-4, RTB"
Scott eased the A-10 into a gentle bank toward the base. As he turned the straight-winged attack jet onto the runway approach, the gear came down and locked and the wingtip airbrakes split to slow the jet for a smooth approach with the nose high.
"Tower, this is Angel-4; three down and locked and on the approach, over"
The plane sank gently toward the runway, and Scott put the jet down smoothly with a minimal squeak of rubber, right on the piano keys among the numerous rubber smears from previous landings.
Landing lights blinking, he popped the canopy as he steered the jet along the taxiways. The smell of smoke and fire lingered in the air, a sobering reminder of the attack as it drifted from the areas that had been bombed or where aircraft had crashed.
Scott used the toe pedals to guide jets' nosewheel into position, parking up on the apron. He shut the engines and systems down, the twin turbofans winding down to a halt with a vacuum cleaner whine and the jets' ladder extending.
The jets' maintenance chief came over, reaching up to take his helmet as he passed it down. She looked over the jet with a measured nod. "Managed to bring my jet back in one piece then, eh?"
"Yeah," he replied with a grin. "Managed to put her to good use too. Get yer paints out; half a bomber needs to go on the side of the nose"
"No fucking way," she said with an eyebrow reaching into her hairline. "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely," he said, swinging over the lip of the cockpit and down the ladder, hopping to the ground. "TU-160, hit it with a Sidewinder. Didn't kill it in one hit, but definitely hobbled it. If Gravestone can confirm the hit, then heck yeah; paint it on there." He frowned. "Also strafed one of those ace bastards planes into confetti with the Avenger, but they'd already ejected... no idea what the heck that counts as..."