>>1149248
>>Have Sakamoto aid your sister with the F-4 driver providing her top-cover, you'll help Weiss.
You doing better, Thunder?

>>1149248
>Bounce the fuckers who are after your sister, have the F-4 pilot give you cover while Sakamoto helps Weiss.
Yo buddy, still alive?

>>1149265
>>1149272

I'm doing better, thanks for asking. The doctors knew their stuff.

Anyways, I need a tiebreaker.

>>1149314
I'll switch over.

Good to have you back.

>>1149248
>>Have Sakamoto aid your sister with the F-4 driver providing her top-cover, you'll help Weiss.

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"Phantom guy, what's your callsign?" you asked as you continued to track Weiss through the furball, a task that was made much harder by the fact that there were so many aircraft darting around.

"Kumo, sir." The pilot responded professionally, his voice hardening as you addressed him.

"Understood. Shirotori 1-1, assist 1-2. Kumo, provide top-cover for the princess. I'm breaking off to cover my wing-mate." You ordered as you broke off towards the furball. A quick glance into your rear-facing mirror got you a decent view as Sakamoto quickly rolled into a dive on full afterburners while Kumo maintained his position, waiting for a target.

You quickly flipped over to the wingmate only channel, and called out to Weiss. "Weiss, I'm inbound supersonic. Set me up a gun-run."

"Fucking finally! You too busy playing about with the princess to fucking help?" Weiss bitched as she pulled up into a near vertical climb, the shock diamonds from her tomcat marking out her accent. The fullback behind her mirrored her move, barely a kilometer behind her. But the distance began to grow greater in the few seconds it took to get into range. The heavy fullback was not a good climber, but it made a good showing for something designed as a strike aircraft.

As you entered range however, the fullback crew saw you coming, and quickly pulled over onto it's back in a vain attempt to spoil it's shot and get a shot on you as you passed. Alas, it wasn't to be as you quickly adjusted your shot and let off a quick burst and pulled up into a climb. The fullback simply didn't have the manoeuvrability to track up after you, and instead decided to continue it's flop down to earth, deftly missing the shells that were meant to swat it from the sky.

"Thanks boss, now it's my turn!" Weiss thanked you as she dived past you, you rolled over in time to get a good view as she made her pass. The 20mm burst snaking down the fusalage for the jet, from it's abnormally long stinger tail, over past the where the cannon would be, and terminating over the left side of the cockpit.

The fullback entered a dive after this, and although it's position was great for a passing burst, it's lack of a cannon doomed it. And the remaining crew member make the right choice to ride the rocket. As you considered making a pass of your own, the canopy of the aircraft was blown away by internal bolts, and the pair of seats rocketed away, one of the seats cartwheeling away as only one of the rockets ignited.

Unsurprisingly, the one that began to cartwheel off was the left-hand seat. The one that Weiss had strafed.

"... any aircraft, this is AWACs, reinforcements have arrived on-station and are engaging. Any damaged or ... aircraft are to return to base." The voice of the AWACs controller that had vectored your flight in announced, his message interrupted by a burst of static.

>CONT

>>1149553

"You heard him, we should RTB." Zeus recommended as you checked your own dials, you were now down to just above 200 rounds for your cannon, and fuel was beginning to run out. Though if you were any judge, you still have enough fuel to stay in the fight for another minute or so.

>Immediately head for home, you don't want to risk it.
>Get a situation report from your squadmates, help them if you need to.
>Take a few more swipes at the Soviet fighters before leaving, it would be a shame to come home with ammunition left, right?
>Other (write in)

>>1149559
>>Get a situation report from your squadmates, help them if you need to.
As much as I don't wanna run out of fuel in a dogfight, we should at least get an idea of what the situation is.

>>1149559
>>Get a situation report from your squadmates, help them if you need to.

>>1149559
>Get a situation report from your squadmates, help them if you need to.

>>1149559
>Get a situation report from your squadmates, help them if you need to.

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As Weiss began to form up with you, you flipped over to the squadron channel, a channel now devoid of many of it's voices since that first devastating missile volley. But in spite of this you were glad, as while the first volley had forced many of your squadmates to turn for home, they still flew. Nobody had died. Your squadron had collectively dodged a bullet.

Part of you wondered if your luck would continue to hold.

"All Freelancer and Shirotori elements, give me a sit-rep." You asked as you looked back at the furball. A flight of F-16s dived in from around 5000 km above the furball and quickly got to work.

"Shirotori 1-1 to Freelancer 2-1. I'm at angles 3 and climbing with 1-2 and Kumo. We have no missiles but we still have gun ammo." Princess Sakamoto reported calmly, you winged over and looked down towards the ocean, sure enough you saw the trails of 3 jets climbing as fast as they could.

"Freelancer 4-2, I'm on the tail of a MiG-21, standby." The radio was silent for a couple of seconds, before responding a couple of seconds later. "Got 'em. I've got a sidewinder and half guns."

"3-2, I'm on 4-2's tail. I'm bingo ordnance." Durendal reported, the tiredness in her voice telling you that something was wrong.

"Understood, all elements are to return to base. We don't have the ammo or fuel to make a difference. Form up with me if possible, if not then RTB at your own pace." You ordered, before then turning for home.

"Understood, if you could please hold up for us then we can make it up to your altitude." The princess asked as you turned for home.

"Understood. Kay, Durendal, do you need help disengaging?" You asked as you levelled off, Weiss keeping her position off your port side.

"Negative, the air force pukes have our asses. We're about 20 seconds off your ass." Kay replied as you looked over your shoulder, and sure enough you had a pair of birds heading towards you, their IFFs confirming that they were your wingmates.

"Got it." You replied simply, before cutting your mic and sighing with relief, you hadn't lost anyone. In spite of everything, you hadn't lost anyone.

If this kind of worry was what Dredd felt after every engagement, then you wanted nothing to do with more promotions. You didn't want to have to worry so much during every fight. You didn't want the responsibility of the lives of your comrades on your back.

>Check in with a squadmate, see how they are doing (who?)
>Get a situation report from AWACs, you want to know more about what happened.
>Just keep quiet and continue back to base. You want to keep your strength for running from your crew chief.
>Other (write in)

>>1149826
>>Check in with a squadmate, see how they are doing (who?)
Durendal

>>1149826
>>Check in with a squadmate, see how they are doing (who?)
Durendal

>>1149826
>Check in with a squadmate, see how they are doing (who?)
Durendal

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"Durendal, you doing good?" You asked as Kay and Durendal's flight joined up with yours, Kay taking position on your starboard flank while Kay sat just behind and above you. The formation taking a diamond formation.

"I'm doing well, just a bit tired." She replied, before yawning over the radio.

"You know, I've heard that Razor's bed is always open to cute young women~" Kay announced mockingly, taking the chance to rib the both of you.

"Really? Is that how things are done in America?" Sakamoto asked curiously, Apparently having taking Kay;s insult as fact.

"No, Kay's just being lewd." You clarified calmly as Sakamoto's flight began to get closer and closer, their IFFs betraying their position, even though they were obscured from your view by your own jet.

"Really? Well shame on you Kay, you should know better than to speak ill of your own squad mates." The princess began to chastise Kay, her voice taking on the air of a true noblewoman. Meanwhile, you switched your conversation with Durendal over to a private link.

"Have you heard anything... about your-" You began to ask, your voice soft as you asked the very personal question. But you were cut short as Durendal replied.

"No. I have sent a letter to my parents back in France, asking them about what is happening. But with everything that's going on, I doubt that I will get a response for many weeks." Durendal replied quickly, cutting you off mid sentence.

"Understood. Just remember that I'm here if you need to chat." You reminded, before switching back to the squadron frequency. The thought that Durendal's RIO, bats, could twist your offer into something more lewd.

You glanced into your rear-facing mirror just in time to see the french-crewed jet perform a brutal cobra, it's many air brakes popping out as Durendal tried her hardest to punish her RIO.

"Am I the only person who finds Durendal's punishment of Bats to be a bit ironic?"Zeus asked you over the crew-only channel. The internal link between you and him.

"Nope." You replied calmly as you looked back at Zeus, finding him engrossed in another one of those Japanese comics that he was so fond of.

>Check in with a squadmate, see how they are doing (who?)
>Get a situation report from AWACs, you want to know more about what happened.
>Just keep quiet and continue back to base. You want to keep your strength for running from your crew chief.
>Other (write in)

>>1150154
>>Get a situation report from AWACs, you want to know more about what happened.

>>1150154
>>Get a situation report from AWACs, you want to know more about what happened.

>>1150154
>Get a situation report from AWACs, you want to know more about what happened.

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"AWACs, this is Freelancer 2-1. Requesting sit-rep." You asked after switching frequencies, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Understood 2-1. Sit-rep will follow, hold for 1 mike." The AWACs controller replied, and you waited for a minute with your microphone open. And soon as a minute passed, your radio began to crackle.

"Situation report is as follows. The Soviet bomber formation has been destroyed down to the last aircraft. Their escort group is in full retreat. However, as far as we know the attack was a diversion. According to intercept groups, many of the bombers were old TU-4s. Soviet copies of the B-29. Apparently they were being remote controlled by some of the other bombers. While they were attacking, the Chinese made a massive push in Korea. IJN and American forces in the area have been forced to retreat to the southern coast for evacuation. Additionally, Chinese forces have made landings on Taiwan. Local forces are holding them at bay while the IJN cuts the Chinese force off. There is also a buildup in Kamchatka that has defence analysis worried, though we aren't sure if they are going for Japan of if they are going elsewhere." The AWACs crewman reported calmly.

"How the hell did our distraction cause the chinks to launch such an offensive?" You growled out your question. The fight having left you a little on edge.

"Simple, they just flooded the sky with old jets, they had the numbers advantage. They just launched hundreds of MiG-15s and 21s with heat seekers and kept them over their troops. We lost too many CAS units in their first runs." The AWACs controller replied with a sigh.

"How many?" You asked as you entered a holding pattern above the airbase, Zeus radioing the tower to get you in the line for landing.

"Around 50, mostly A-4s and A-7s. Though we also lost a number of A-10s and F-1s." The AWACs controller replied, before then adding. "Not to mention damage to a further 40 birds, and around half of them won't fly again."

"Well... damn... thanks for the report at least." You replied as Zeus tapped you on the shoulder and signalled that it was time to land.

"No problem." The AWACs crewman replied, before then cutting the link. You quickly made your landing approach and descended with your engines idling. Your jet touched down hard, a single bounce made before you finally stayed down. The fumbled landing telling you even more that you were tired, or distracted. You could chalk it up to either one right now.

It took you a couple of minutes to reach your hanger, and another few minutes for the aircraft tug to push your jet into the hanger and for you to shut everything down. The gaze of your crew chief switching between you, and the ugly damage to your jet's fuel tank.

>CONT

>>1150772

"Please tell me that the damage is just cosmetic..." Your chief asked as you climbed out of your jet, your flight gear held under your arm.

"Unfortunately not. We took some shrapnel from a missile. Though that should be the worst of it." You replied as you walked over to one of the lockers by the wall of the hanger and dropped some of your stuff inside. You kept your helmet and pistol with you for personal reasons.

Like if you either got into a bar-fight, or is someone tried to kidnap you. Both of which have happened in the past.

>Head back to the barracks and sleep. You've had enough of this shit for one night.
>Try and find one of your squadmates. (who?)
>Other (write in)

>>1150776
>>Try and find one of your squadmates. (who?)
Svetlana.

>>1150776
Hell, why not: >>1150786

>>1150776
>Try and find one of your squadmates. (who?)
Svet

"So, where to?" Zeus asked as you closed your equipment locker. The sound of you slamming the door was drowned out by the sound of passing jets, a pair of F-16s taxiing past your hanger on their route to the runway.

"Barracks, that's probably where we can find Svetlana, and Dredd." You replied as you walked out of the hanger. A jeep following behind the F-16s stopping just in front of the hanger. You quickly took the unsaid offer and climbed into the back of the jeep's cargo bed.

"You looking to find out that other problem that Dredd was gonna say before the attack happened?" Zeus asked as the jeep moved forwards another couple of dozen of meters, only to stop in front of Durendal's hanger. Both the French pilot and RIO walking towards the jeep.

"Yeah, plus I might have to sort out the whole dress situation, as awkward as it may be." You added as Durendal climbed in, Bats following close behind.

"What's this about dresses?" Durendal asked as the jeep started forwards again, only to stop once again in front of Kay's hanger.

"We've been invited to some kind of ball at the Imperial Palace. We're meant to go in our dress whites, but because Svetlana lacks any kind of formal wear I'm meant to take her off base to get a dress." You replied as Kay and Rekker climbed in, filling the back of the jeep to capacity.

"If you would like, I could go with you... I happen to know a few things about fashion." Durendal offered calmly. Bat's eyes seemed to glimmer with a couple of seconds as a joke sprung to her mind, only for her not to say it. The bruise on her forehead telling you that she had already suffered the wrath of her pilot.

>Accept her offer, you don't know shit about fashion.
>Decline her offer, you've got this... right?
>Other (write in)

>>1152903
>>Accept her offer, you don't know shit about fashion.

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>>1152903
>Accept her offer, you don't know shit about fashion.

>>1152903
>>Accept her offer, you don't know shit about fashion.

"Sure, I don't know shit about dresses and the likes." You accepted with a smile and a small shrug.

"Bien, how long until you plan to leave?" Durendal asked with a smile. The jeep taking a detour around the runway as the F-16s made their way to the runway.

"Probably tomorrow, dependent on how long it will take for Svetlana's ground crew to fix up her bird... and if we can get some leave papers signed." You replied, pausing for a few seconds as the F-16s screamed overhead, the heat from their afterburners warming your skin as they passed a scant 200 meters above your head.

"That sounds good. Just find me when you are about to leave." Durendal nodded again. Her smile visible even in the dark spots between the sparsely placed lamp-posts that dotted the service road.

"Heh, first you start sharing a bed with Svetlana, and now you're buying her clothes? What's next, a date to some fancy restaurant?" Kay asked jovially from her seat near the bed-door. Her hair slightly frazzled from the recent flight, a bad case of helmet-hair.

"No, we've got that ball to go to and she doesn't have a dress. I've got to escort her while she gets one." You clarified calmly, Kay seemed to stare at you for a couple of seconds, before snorting.

"Nobody told me about this bullshit-ball, why do we have to go anyways? Does nobody know that there's a fucking war going on?" Kay bitched as the jeep stopped in front of one of the large hangers, you quickly took this as your cue to get out.

"Well it's being hosted by the Emperor of Japan, and CINPAC has told us that we have to go." You explained as the rest of your unit disembarked, the jeep's driver waiting for a few more seconds before continuing off back towards the armoured aircraft shelters on the other side of the base.

"Great, so it's a publicity stunt." Kay huffed dejectedly, before then shrugging. "Still, I suppose it's a break from the normal ops, if only for a bit."

"Amen to that..." Rekker agreed as he made his way off, leaving you and the rest of the group alone for a bit.

>Head over to one of the payphones, you need to make a call (to who?)
>Head over to the barracks, you want to talk with Svetlana, and Dredd.
>Head over to the post office, maybe you have mail?
>Other (write in)

>>1153218
>>Head over to the barracks, you want to talk with Svetlana, and Dredd.

>>1153218
>>Head over to the barracks, you want to talk with Svetlana, and Dredd.

>>1153218
>Head over to the barracks, you want to talk with Svetlana, and Dredd.

While part of you wanted to phone your parents to see how they were doing, your priorities lay with your newest wingmate. Svetlana. Her jet had taken a hit during the first volley of missiles, and she had been forced to return to base. And from the sounds of it, she had been loath to do it. As such, you wanted to check up on her.

The walk over to your barracks was pretty short, though you were stopped along the way by a pair of air force pilots who had just transferred in. But aside from them, you didn't have any other distractions. You spent the journey chatting with your squadmates about how many kills you had all managed to get during the battle. You had managed another 6 confirmed kills, mostly with guns. Your attack with the AIM-54s hadn't been counted as nobody had been able to track who had killed what during the initial phoenix volley. The closest behind you was Kay, who had managed 4, followed closely by Durendal who has scored 3. In spite of their high number of kills, you knew that your section had scored the most, you had personally witnessed Weiss scoring at least another 2 kills.

As you entered the barracks, you found Dredd and Ahab watching CNN, the near 24/7 coverage of the war now detailing how the middle east was going to shit too. Iraq had invaded Kuwait, and Saddam Hussein had appointed his cousin as the head of the puppet state. While many western countries had jointly condemned the invasion, with the war going on there wasn't much anybody could do to stop him.

"Razor, good to see you back. How'd the fight go?" Dredd asked as you entered, tearing his gaze away from the TV. He watched you as you made your way over to the coffee machine and poured yourself a cup.

"It went pretty well, all things considered. We were able to take out a good dozen soviet birds." You replied as you filled up your mug, taking the coffee black with no sugar or milk. You just wanted caffeine so you could stay awake for a bit longer.

"Sounds good, and from the looks of it we didn't loose anyone. Well done." Dredd congratulated you as you sat down on one of the couches.

"Thanks boss, you know where Svetlana is? I want to talk with her." You asked as the news switched over to the sports, and how the Navy VS Army football match had been cancelled due to the war.

"She's up in her room, probably sleeping. She seemed a bit tired." Dredd replied, before turning and pointing at you. "You should hit the sack too. I want you to help Svetlana get her dress for the ball. Your crew chief said that he will have to give your jet a pair of replacement engines soon, and considering the furball you just came out of, I guess that he might have to bump that up in his schedule. You should at least have until the evening off while Svetlana's bird gets patched and upgraded."

>CONT

>>1154001

"Sounds good. Though we'll need leave cards." You replied as you looked over to the TV, the results of recent Superbowl matches popping up on screen.

"I'll have them for you by tomorrow." Dredd replied calmly, before yawning and standing up. He nodded to you and Ahab, before then taking his leave, heading for the stairs up to the bedrooms on the floor above.

>Hit the sack, you're still pretty beat from the fight.
>Stop by at Svetlana's room, see if she's up.
>Continue watching the news.
>Head to one of the payphones, you need to make a call. (to who?)

>>1154211
>>Hit the sack, you're still pretty beat from the fight.

>>1154211
>Hit the sack, you're still pretty beat from the fight.

>>1154211
>Stop by at Svetlana's room, see if she's up.

>>1154211
>>Stop by at Svetlana's room, see if she's up.

In spite of the delightfully warm coffee, you still felt tired and worn out form the battle. You glanced over at Zeus, who had just taken a coffee of his own and was now frowning at it.

"It's de-caff... who the fuck got us decaff?" Zeus bitched as he made is was over to the sink. A few seconds later, the sound of liquid going down a drain told you just what he was doing.

"No idea, I didn't stock this place." Ahab returned bitterly, apparently none too pleased about the coffee situation as well. Then again, coffee was just as much a fuel to a pilot as JP-8 was fuel for your jet. A pilot couldn't fly without energy, and coffee gave pilots that energy. De-caff coffee was practically fake coffee as far as pilots were concerned.

Either way, you quickly downed you fake-coffee and got up, regardless of how the coffee burned on it's way down. You quickly bid your comrades goodnight, before then climbing the stairs up to the bedrooms above. But before heading for your room, you made a quick detour. A few more paces and you were outside of the room that contained the person you wanted to talk to, you politely rapped you knuckle on the door to get the occupant's attention.

"Svetlana... hey Svetlana, you awake?" You asked through the door, your voice quiet, but still loud enough that the person on the other side of the door would hear you. You waited for a few seconds more, before gently twisting the door's handle, and opening the door slowly.

Svetlana was the first thing you saw, lying on top of the bed. Her helmet discarded on the floor. She lay on the bed hugging a pillow, in the same manner a child would hug a teddy bear. The soft snores and the gentle rising and falling of her chest telling you that she was asleep. Svetlana's room was relatively bare, but in her defence she didn't own very much. In spite of that, she still made do. On the wall above her bed was an American flag, pinned up and showing in full. On the small table by the bed sat a framed extract from a newspaper, showing both her original flanker and your F-14E. Both of them sat on the runway on the faithful day when you saved her life.

You stood there watching her for a couple of minutes as you decided what to do with her. You didn't want to wake her up, but at the same time, you didn't want to leave her to simmer and stew, not knowing if you had survived the battle or not. Eventually however, you decided to gently extract the blanket from under her. Your plan was to take it out form under her, and lay it on top of her. Unfortunately however, it took you nearly 10 minutes to do it without waking her up. Every time you were making progress, she would stir as if she was about to wake up, causing you to stop and wait for her to settle. Thankfully however, you managed to roll back the blanket without her noticing. And from there it was simple to gently lay it over her and leave without her waking up.

>CONT

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>>1154676


As you closed the door, part of you wondered if you were being too generous to her... sure she was your squadmate, but wasn't what you just did bit too far?

Nah, you'd do it for anyone in your unit... well most of them anyways.

Regardless, from there it took you less than half an hour to clean up and change before heading to bed, after ensuring that you gun was somewhere close by. The soft mattress giving just enough give to have some modicum of comfort, yet firm enough to give you the support you needed to sleep properly. You spent a couple of seconds adjusting your position before you succumbed to sleep, your tired body willing it so.

When you opened you eyes however, everything was different.

Thankfully, nothing was on fire, like in the last few dreams, nor were things going to absolute shit. Instead, you found yourself in bed. Or rather, in a bed that was not your own.

This bed was comfortable, far more comfortable than the one you had just gone to sleep in. It was the kind of softness that you could only find in beds that cost as much a small aircraft. The sheets were silk-soft, and was warmed the presence of a pair of bodies, yours and the one pressed up against you. The feminine body pressed up against yours was immediately recognisable, along with the characteristic humming of a woman satisfied.

You slowly cranked your eyes open, if only to confirm your surroundings.

You found yourself in what you could mistake for your apartment back in San Fran, except that this version was far cleaner, and was furnished with the kinds of fancy appliances that you would expect in a house that cost more than what you earned with your yearly pay-grade. The window looked out over a naval base, with the sunrise silhouetting the assorted warships in port.

And laying on top of you, her head nestled on your chest, was Lauren Mercer. Her golden hair unkempt, flowing down to just below her shoulders. Her body covered by a thin, silk night gown. That fucking weird-ass stuffed-doll sitting on a nearby side-table, watching with it's fake eyes.

>Wait for her to wake up...
>Get up and walk around...
>Wake her up... with a kiss...
>[WAKE UP]
>Other (write in)

>>1154685
>>Get up and walk around...
As long as it's just a dream, we don't have to worry, r-right?

>>1154685
>Get up and walk around...
DIS GUN B GUD

>>1154685
>Get up and walk around...

I'm going to call the thread for tonight here folks. We'll continue tomorrow...

>>1154816
Thanks for running!

>>1154816
Be sure to dream of blondes.

As you lay there, your mind connected a couple of dots. Firstly, you were dreaming, that much was obvious. It was something that you always had a gut feeling on. Secondly, there was nothing holding you in place. So you were free to get up and walk around. But from there, you spent another couple of minutes weighing up the pros and cons of actually getting up and walking around. This was just a dream, so you wouldn't really be gaining much from looking around. But at the same time, it was better than just waiting around to see if Lauren would wake up.

Eventually, your curiosity got the better of you. You slowly extracted yourself from the phantom that had latched onto you, quickly filling the void that you had left in her arms with a pillow. The phantom of your ex mumbled something ineligible, before hugging the pillow closer as you climbed out of the bed. Thankfully, you still had some clothes on. An OD shirt and your boxers, the clothes that you normally wore to bed.

A quick glance around told you that the room was larger than the bedroom in your apartment, if only by a few feet. The centre of the room was occupied by a king-size bed, it's white and red striped covers ruffled and untidy from recent and current occupation. Sat either side of the bed was a bedside table, with a lamp on each. You opened up the drawer of the table on the side of the bed which you had woken up on. Unfortunatly, it didn't contain what you were looking for.

Then again, what were you looking for? Your gun?

You smirked as you closed the drawer. Even in a dream, you still only felt comfortable with your .45 problem solver. You quietly turned on your heel and left, your bare feet making little noise on the carpeted floor as you walked out. But when you opened the door, you saw just how much this apartment was to your humble abode back in San Fran.

After all, your apartment didn't sprawl across two floors. And it didn't have a massive set of windows that gave you a great view over the occupied harbour, the city sprawl and the sea beyond. The low sun casting a warm, orange glow across the room.

The bedroom you had just left was on the top floor. The room to the left of you was closed, leaving you to guess at what was inside. Below you, the "bottom" floor was laid out into a joint lounge and dining room, but from the balcony that you were stood upon you couldn't see what was beneath you.

>Investigate the other room on the "top floor".
>Investigate the "bottom floor".
>Take a good look out of the window, what's in the port?
>[WAKE UP]
>Other (write in)

>>1156555
>>Take a good look out of the window, what's in the port?

>>1156555
>Take a good look out of the window, what's in the port?

>>1156555
>>Take a good look out of the window, what's in the port?

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While the room opposite to the bedroom was certainly interesting, if this apartment had been designed by Lauren then the room was probably a giant bathroom, with a hot tub and one of those massive showers with way too much room for a single occupant.

Instead, you slowly made your way down the wooden stairs -the laminated oak not even slightly creaking as you moved from step to step- as you made your way to the window. You didn't have to be a civil engineer to know that the windows were thick, probably double-glazed to keep the heat in and the wind out. above the windows was what looked like a set of rolled up blinds, a button on one of the walls probably controlling them.

The cityscape outside was familiar, yet alien. It seemed to take hints of both San Fran and Tokyo, but with the various skyscrapers towering high above the smaller buildings that covered the land between your building and the harbour. These skyscrapers seemingly made a wall of steel and concrete around the smaller buildings and the harbour. The harbour itself was a natural lagoon, with docking berths lining the areas where the land met the sea. Drydocks sat deeper inside the harbour, and each one was occupied with a ship of varying size.

The harbour itself was packed with warships, each one arranged into neat rows by their classes. Huge aircraft carriers sat alone at their berths while frigates were lashed side-by-side in neat rows. The port was occupied by all manners of both American and Japanese ships, just like Tokyo Harbour. The super-battleship Yamato sat just in front of the USS Nimitz, her guns facing out to sea as if to shield the carrier from aggressors.

You couldn't help but smile at the irony of the arrangement. An obsolete ship attempting to protect it's better from something that it couldn't even defend itself against.

In the skies above, dozens of aircraft circled in patrolling patters. They sat at such a range that they were mere spots in the sky, some slightly larger than others.

In the silence of the morning, you could just barely hear the ruffling of sheets. And the sound of a woman yawning.

>Head back up to the room and say good morning to Lauren.
>Keep looking out of the window, something seems a bit off...
>Investigate the "bottom floor" a bit more.
>[WAKE UP]
>Other (write in)

>>1156862
>>Keep looking out of the window, something seems a bit off...

>>1156862
>Keep looking out of the window, something seems a bit off...

>>1156862
>>Keep looking out of the window, something seems a bit off...

In spite of the sheer number of docked warships, you couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. Why were they all docked here? Why weren't they out on patrols? The itch on the back of your neck was slowly growing more and more noticeable as you began to worry. You couldn't see any details from this distance, you needed to see as much detail as possible in order to understand why.

You quickly tore your eyes off the from the window in search of something, hell, anything to help you get a closer look at the fleet. And all too quickly, you found a pair of binoculars sat upon a nearby table. Part of you found it a little disconcerting that you had managed to find them so quickly. But than again, this was one of Lauren's abodes. You were just thankful that you hadn't found anything worse.

Regardless, you quickly brought the binoculars up to your eyes and looked out towards the harbour. Your attention focused on the larger ships first, moving from those closest to the mouth of the harbour back to those in the dry docks. And it didn't take you long to start finding what was wrong.

The Yamato had taken a beating, either by artillery, bombs or missiles. The massive ship's superstructure was pockmarked with craters from where explosive warheads had attempted to blow through the ship's armour, only to be stopped in their tracks. The hardened AN/SPY panels near the top of the ship's superstructure had been shattered. And the ship's other fire control systems were also worse for ware. Many secondary batteries had been blown wide-open, leaving only the ship's main guns intact. Regardless of the damage however, work along her hull continued. Repair crews worked to remove the turrets that were too damaged to be fully repaired. Welders worked hard to patch holes, and fix the buckled armour plates.

Just behind the Yamato, the Nimitz looked worse for wear. The solitary elevator facing towards you was in the process of being cut away from the ship. The now useless slab of steel being lofted away by a harbour crane. Work crews made their best efforts to patch up the ship's flight-deck, towards the bow an entire steam catapult was being torn out of it's mountings. The titanic carrier's reactors were obviously offline, as evidenced by the large cables snaking from the shore up to the ship's hanger. The great, nuclear powered carrier sat in binds as naval engineers worked to patch the holes in her great, grey body.

This trend continued with many of the other ships, with damage control ranging from simply having a new lick of paint, up to one ship in dry dock having it's entire bow replaced. But in all honesty, you couldn't tell if it was a repair job or an upgrade. Most Spurance class destroyers didn't have VLS cells. However, for every damaged ship,there was another undamaged ship. Hell, amongst the American warships, sat the IJN Hōshō. The oldest aircraft carrier in the world, now played host to a roost of Hueys. A stark contrast to the Soviet ship behind it.

>CONT

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>>1157252

The Soviet ship caught you off guard, and for good reason. The ship was previously owned and operated by your enemy, it was defiantly a shock to see the ship in port. And to make things even more confusing, it was completely undamaged. Activity near this ship was muted, but still visible. The black tinted SUVs of some alphabet agency sat on the dock next to the boarding ramp. A US flag was hung off the ship's bow, obscuring it's name from view. Another flag flew from the ship's mast, a position normally reserved for the Soviet hammer an sickle. Aside from that however, there was no activity from the ship. It's guns were covered and all of the lights were out.

You stared at the ship in confusion for a few seconds, and completely missed the sound of someone slowly making their way up behind you. Your only hint of company was when a pair arms wrapped around your chest, and a pair of soft but insistent objects pressed against your back. Less than a second later, your company placed their lips on the back of your neck. The exact spot which would itch whenever something was wrong. The lips stayed there fro a few seconds more, before leaving, their place being filled by your assailant's head as she leaned on you lazily.

"Good morning darling~" Lauren greeted you as she hugged you tighter, intent to keep her position for as long as possible. "Did you sleep well?"

>Bid her good morning, and then get back to looking at the boats.
>Bid her good morning with a kiss of your own.
>Ignore her, continue looking at the ships.
>[WAKE UP]
>Other (write in)

>>1157255
>>[WAKE UP]

>>1157255
>[WAKE UP]

>>1157255
>Bid her good morning, and then get back to looking at the boats.
Y'all must be homosexes.

>>1157321
We will meet her soon enough.

>>1157339
No, I mean what kind of queer do you have to be to willing peel yourself away from boats?

>>1157357
ohh

>>1157255
>[WAKE UP]
As much of a hardon as I have for botes, we've been dreaming long enough.

As you made to greet the phantom of your ex, you felt something tugging at you. Something you always felt near the end of your dreams. The gentle tug of wakefulness trying to pull you back to reality. Back to the war, the brutal grind of combat, the nagging worry about the safety of your sister and your squadmates. The battle to stay alive long enough to return home.

If you were quite honest with yourself, you wanted nothing more than to stay asleep for a bit longer. To stay away from the war for just a minute longer. Surely it wouldn't hurt?

With a sigh, you shook your head. Reguard less of your desire to rest longer, you still had your duties. Besides, you had the day off to get Svetlana that dress for the ball. And check up with your crew chief to see what the damage to your bird was. And so, with your dream now melting away, colours beginning to run like a picture in the rain, you put your hand on top of Lauren's, and gave it a small squeeze. You closed your eyes and let the blackness swallow you. The dreamscape dropping away into darkness.

You groggily awoke back in the real world to find the room completely dark. The rumbling tone of Zeus's snoring radiating from the other side of the room. The small amount of light in the room barely trickling past the heavy blinds which Zeus must have drawn closed before going to sleep. It didn't take you long to get cleaned up and dressed, this time wearing the BDU set that you carried around for the few times where weren't wearing your flight suit, but still couldn't wear civilian clothes. You carefully made your way downstairs, careful not to make too much noise in your pursuit of coffee.

Downstairs, you found that you were not the first person to wake up. In fact, you were the third. Dredd and Rekker both sat in front of the TV, watching the news as it discussed the war.

"Morning boss, Rekker." You greeted you squadmates as you came off the stairs and made your way towards the coffee machine.

"Morning. We've got normal coffee now, none of that decaff bullshit." Dredd greeted you, before then turning his attention back to the television. Leaving you free to take all the coffee you wanted, short of the entire pot.

>Watch the news, maybe there's something on that Soviet fleet.
>Head out to the payphone, you have a call to make (to who?)
>Head off to the hangers, you might as well see what the damage is to your bird.
>Head to the post office, maybe you have mail?
>Other (write in)

>>1157594
>Watch the news, maybe there's something on that Soviet fleet.

>>1157594
>Watch the news, maybe there's something on that Soviet fleet.

>>1157594
>>Watch the news, maybe there's something on that Soviet fleet.

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"...thank you Rob. And now, back to our main story today." The news anchor finished talking to his colleague, before turning back to the camera as you sat down on one of the old sofas that had been appropriated for your squadron's use.

"Today, at 3 AM in the morning. Soviet troops began an amphibious invasion of Alaska." You had to force yourself not to spit out your coffee at the report, the shock of the sudden change of the Soviet offensive taking you off guard. "Local military units, supported by national guard units, along with civilian militiamen have managed to slow the Soviet advance at Lake Iliamna, buying time for people to evacuate Anchorage. As of right now, we can conform that American forces have been pushed back to Anchorage."

You glanced over at your squadmates as the news report began to show American forces massing at Elmendorf Air Force Base. From the expressions on their faces, this was also the first that they had heard of this. Rekker himself looked particularly distraught.

"Thus-far, the Soviet advance has not been slowed down by the snowy conditions. Instead, they have been slowed down by the ingenious tactics of the US Army's sole armoured division in the area. However, in an interview with Commander Holtznecht. The commander openly admitted that losses have been high amongst the armoured units as their Sheridan light tanks do not possess the armour to go toe-to-toe with the Soviet tanks in the area. We'll bring you updates on the situation as it progresses." The news commentator continued, before then taking a pause while he took a swig of coffee. This gave you enough time to hear someone opening the door.

"Bonjour mes amis." Durendal greeted cheerfully as she walked in, closing the door behind her. A letter held in her free hand.

"Uh... hi?" You replied cautiously, you honestly had no idea what the fuck she had just said. You didn't learn French.

"Hello Razor. Did you sleep well?" Durendal asked as the news reporter continued on, now talking about the war in Korea.

"Yeah, you can say that." You replied as she sat down on the couch next to yours.

>Continue talking with Durendal, what's in the letter?
>Turn your attention back to the news, you still haven't heard anything about that damn fleet.
>Talk with Rekker, he looked more concerned about Ivan in Alaska than both you and Dredd.
>Other (write in)

>>1157927
>>Continue talking with Durendal, what's in the letter?
Hopefully it's good news. We need that right now.

>>1157927
>>Continue talking with Durendal, what's in the letter?

>>1157927

>Continue talking with Durendal, what's in the letter?

>>1157927
>Continue talking with Durendal, what's in the letter?

>speaks fluent slavtongue
>"what the fuck does bonjour mean"
Damn it, Razor.

"So, what's in the letter?" You asked rather bluntly, before taking a sip of your coffee. If Durendal was annoyed with the invasion of privacy, she didn't show it. Instead continuing with her small smile.

"It's a letter from mon famille." Durendal replied, before then clarifying her French. "My family."

"Well don't let me stop you, go on ahead and open it up." You pressed her on with a smile of your own. You couldn't imagine being in her position right now, stuck half-way around the world from your family, not knowing if your sibling was still alive.

One of the pros with having Shirotori and Freelancer flights merged together, you could watch your sister and come to her aid. And if one of you was shot down, then the other could avenge them.

Durendal gave you a parting smile before tracing her hand down the inside of her leg, taking it slow to make sure that you were watching. As she reached her ankle, she pulled up the leg of her BDU trousers, revealing a serrated combat knife. She gave you a sly wink as she pulled the knife from it's sheath, before letting her trouser leg fall back down. She took the tip of the knife and carefully cut open the letter. And with a flourish, she tossed the knife back over her head, and into the dartboard on the other side of the room. The knife slamming home with a resounding thud. And with her knife now out of her hands, she pulled out the letter and began reading it.

The smile on her face seemed to falter for a bit as she read, her eyes slightly glazing over as tears began to form. But from there, the smile returned, the tears in her eyes beginning to fall.

"You good Durendal? You're crying." You asked cautiously, you didn't want to sound nosy. But you knew that something had to be going on if she was both crying, and smiling.

"My brother... he's..." Durendal began, before stopping for a second to wipe her eyed. "He's safe. His tank wasn't destroyed!"

Durendal began to chuckle at the news. "I'm so happy, I cannot believe that I was worrying over nothing."

>Write in.

>>1158211
>That's a relief!
>Where's he at right now?

>>1158211
>>1158277
This

>>1158211
this>>1158277

Ya know, this all seems awfully familiar somehow! can't quite put my finger on it though...

Haha! Keep it up man.

>>1158354
Thanks Ghost. Though in my defence, I gave people the option of choosing to head to Europe and be Air Force. But they weren't about it.

>>1158422
All good man! all good. haha! I'm having fun, and as long as your guys are too, that's all that matters, yeah?

>>1158433
Amen to that.

>>1158422
Well there's your problem, who the hell wants to be Chair Force?

>>1158487
F-15 fanboys?

>>1158487
Guys who want to fly Raptors and Black Widows.

>>1158354
What quest do you run again?

"Well that's a relief!" You stated as you reached over and clapped Durendal lightly on the shoulder. Your broad smile reaching your eyes. "Do you know where he's posted?"

"Apparently he is in Paris right now on leave. His unit was mauled in the initial Soviet offensive. Thankfully, he is being assigned to an Abrams tank that has been loaned to the Armée de terre... the French Army." She explained as someone came down the stairs behind your little group, Durendal smiled up past you as the newcomers made their greetings.

"Mornin' all." Zues announced as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Weiss and Svetlana following behind him.

"Good morning. Ah, Svetlana, it's good to see that you're up. We can finally get this show rolling." Dredd announced as he reached into his pocket and pulled out 3 cards. a pair of day cards, and what looked like a credit card with the US flag stamped on it's front face.

"Razor, Svetlana. These are your day cards for you little trip into town, and the government expense card. I want you both back by sundown, and for you to only use this card sparingly. Don't go out and have some lavish meal, or spend it all on gambling as I can't bullshit that through. And if you're both going off base then change into your civvies and take your sidearms and ID cards. Just in case something happens." Dredd instructed the pair of you as you walked over and took the cards. You made sure to grab the government credit card and pocket it quickly.

"I... I don't have any civvies. I only have the clothes that were issued to me." Svetlana pointed out as she took her card.

"Oh, don't worry. I will give you some of mine!" Durendal announced as she leapt up, managing to cross the space between her seat and Svetlana's side before anyone could respond. Her arms wrapped around the russian's waist. "We both have the same rough sizes... well, you're a bit smaller in some places. But I'm sure we can make it work!"

If Svetlana had any complaints the enthusiastic French woman offering to play dress up with her, then she was too red to complain as Durendal lead her towards the stairs.

"Hey boss, would it be possible to-" You began to say as Durandal lead her shocked prey back to her nest. But Dredd interrupted you with a raised hand.

"Let me guess, you want me to issue Durendal a day-pass too as you have no idea about women's fashion." Dredd stated, his tone of voice telling you that he already knew the answer.

"In fairness, does anybody here know much about fashion?" Zues asked as he poured himself a mug of coffee.

"Point taken." Dredd replied simply, before then turning back to you. "Luckily for you however, I have a spare day-card ready. I'll have it ready for her by the time you're changed and ready."

>CONT

>>1158622

"Thanks boss. I owe you one." You nodded to your C.O. before making for the stairs.

You took the steps two at a time, and in no time at all you were in you room with your clothes coming off as quickly as you could take them off. Leave in a war was something that your family knew well to enjoy, and to never waste by staying at your post for longer than absolutely necessary. In less than five minutes, you had changed into the few civilian clothes that you had packed. A leather bomber jacket, an OD green T-shits, black jeans and sneakers. Your pistol tucked into your jacket with a pair of spare magazines. Not that you expected to need it, but than again, it's always better to have and not need than to need and not have. Your fast change earned you more time to sit around and watch television while Durendal forced your unit's pet defector into different clothes that she had brought with her. Eventually however, the pair came downstairs at the same time. Svetlana looking rather red at wearing someone else's clothes. Durendal on the other hand looked very happy about her work, and wasted no time showing it off.

Thankfully for your fellow comrades, Dredd had managed to finish the leave-card just as Durendal had come off the stairs. A quick throw and a calm reminder was all it took to snap the French pilot from her boasting. And with your last card acquired like the final key in some video game, you set out for the base's gates. Your few hours of leave ticking down as the sun moved across the sky.

==================================

I'm going to call the thread here folks. Sorry about having missed the last few weekend slots, but I was in hospital. Unsurprisingly, drinking games do have their risks.

Anyways, if you have any questions then feel free to ask them. I'll answer them as well as I can without spoiling things to come.

>>1158623
See you next time!

Concerning >>1158531
Should I read into what this implies or are you just saying people like super fancy bleeding-edge fighters?

>>1158715
That depends on what you think I was implying.

>>1158610

I don't anymore, good sir, I don't. It finished up about... a year and a half ago. But that's all offtopic and I don't want to detract, so I'll shut up and drop trip now. Just wanted to needle the AWACS a bit!

>>1158717
That this is an extra-special timeline in which the YF-22 and YF-23 will both drop the Y prefix.

>>1158723
As much as I would like to confirm or deny if BOTH the YF-22 and YF-23 will enter service, I can't without spoiling things.

I can however tell you that if you had chosen to go for the USAF, then you could be flying either of them in combat.

>>1158759
Jesus fuck, I'd feel bad about seal clubbing if dirty commies were actually people.

>>1158759

Thanks for running Thunder, poor Alaska, but good on the civilian militias

>>1158531
Pst, they had plans for naval undercarriage for the widow...

>>1161503
Seriously?! I'm surprised that big b*tch would fit on a carrier! ;)

>>1163758
Yeah, much like the king/strike raptor concepts and the naval raptor pipe dream, they came up with a bunch of ideas but never went anywhere further than "well it's totally possible and here's how to do it, but we don't have time or want for that"