The early morning sky overhead is ripped asunder by the sound of arriving jet engines.

Standing beside one another on the tarmac of the former Clark AFB, Doug "Matrix" Danko and Mike "Tramp" Scott grin at one another as they hear the sound of approaching thunder. The two men are the leaders of the ETF’s support groups,. Mike, a six-foot-four man of African-American descent, scans the sky slowly, his polo shirt bulging from the big man’s muscular arms and chest, his sharp brown eyes, hidden behind black wraparound sunglasses, are looking intently for the aircraft the two friends can hear approaching. His mouth, surrounded by a thin black goatee, stretches in to a grin as the Commanding Officer, or C/O, of the Raptors spots a small speck on the horizon. Beside him, Doug is six inches shorter, but has a similarly muscular physique and black goatee, but the former Marine, and C/O of the Cavalry, has his head shaved as it is easier to care for this way, since he tends to spend a lot more time in the field than his taller compatriot. Doug’s facial structure makes him appear much younger than his thirty years.

The Cavalry and Raptor leaders arrived with their teams here in the Philippines earlier in the day, and have many of their total force of aircraft stored in the hangars on the base, having left a couple open for the later arrivals. Now, as the single dot on the horizon, which is splitting into a number of specks as it approaches, can attest, the rest of the combat package is arriving.

Neal "Mukey" Hirsch scans his instruments in the cockpit of his three-tone green F-15E Strike Eagle as he spots the landmass of the Philippine Islands ahead.

"Repercussion flight, this is Lead. Our boys and girls are down there waiting on us. Form up on me and let's show 'em what force projection is all about."

"Roger that, two's in." Ryan "Vyper" Wakefield calls as he pulls his red, white, and blue Thunderbird schemed F/A-18C Hornet into position on Neal's left wing, snapping a picture of the F-15E as Neal's WSO, David "Warlock" Samuelson, flips him off.

Pulling into position on Neal's right wing in his F-15C Eagle, Wahren "Wolf" Morast checks his separation, then looks back over his shoulder to watch as Aaron "Valder" Fieldman pulls his A-10 Thunderbolt II onto the F-15C's right wing.

The A-6E Intruder II of Scott "S.B." Barrister and Eric "Red" Wayne pulls up on Vyper's left wing, and the last two positions in the composite inverted V are filled in when Terry "Tron" Carson and Matt "Shaba" Hunter pull their A-4M Skyhawk II and F-16D Fighting Falcon onto the left and right ends of the formation, respectively.

Looking over his left shoulder, Warlock can see Vyper, S.B., and Tron lined up on each others' wings, while Wolf, Valder, and Shaba are keeping formation on the right.

"Thanks for saving me a spot, boys." Suzanne "Daphne" Wagner calls out as she increases throttle slightly on the massive REB-36D Peacemaker II and pulls the modified bomber into the slot position of the formation.

The large, black aircraft's nose is between the A-6E and A-10A, and all three of the NAWCC's cockpit crew, Suzanne, John "Wizard" Terrance, and Melissa "Mel" Pana, as well as the Aircraft Commander, Matt "ElTitoBendito" Bendix in the removable jump seat, have great views of the seven warplanes arrayed around and in front of them.

"Smile you guys." John calls from his co-pilot's seat as he snaps a series of shots of the aircraft arrayed around the NAWCC. The conference room aback at Gorilla Mountain, the ETF’s headquarters, is covered with such snapshots, as quite a few of the team members are also amateur shutterbugs.

In formation, the eight aircraft roar over Clark at a little better than five hundred feet altitude. After buzzing the airfield, the seven smaller aircraft peel off for landing, two at a time, beginning in the rear and working up the formation. As they peel off, each aircraft turns one hundred and eighty degrees and heads back towards the designated approach zones to the airfield's main runway.

Soon all that is left of the formation are the REB-36D and the F-15E flying just ahead of it. Neal and David's Strike Eagle's wings wiggle as Neal tells the NAWCC he is about to peel off also, then he increases throttle, rocketing ahead before pulling back on the stick, going vertical and over on his back, putting the Strike Eagle inverted, roaring back over the top of the Peacemaker II, heading out to set up for final.

Grinning at Mukey's display, Suzanne flips off the NAWCC's autopilot and pushes all ten of her throttles to the stops.

Once the big bomber has gained enough speed, Wagner pushes her fighter-style flightstick to the left and banks the '36D in an amazingly tight turn, a maneuver that belies the aircraft's awe-inspiring size.

On the ground, members of the Cavalry and Raptors have gathered to watch the ETF birds arrive, and, almost as one, all of them stare in open amazement when the huge black shape of the recon platform roars by, all six pusher props and four jet engines howling at full throttle. The sight is enough to eclipse the sun rising to their east for a moment while the REB-36D flashes by. Having shown off enough, Suzanne gently brings the huge black bomber down, the eight main gear gently kissing the tarmac of the former air base and pulling to a stop near the crowd that has gathered to watch the Eagles arrive.

The REB-36D crew exits their one-of-a-kind intelligence aircraft, the normal six women, Suzanne, Melissa, Hera "Shorty" Steel, Alayne "Phantom" Engleslause, RaeAnn "Sis" Harris, along with Marie "Cleopatra" Cordova an one man, John. This is the Eagle's Nest's normal crew, however, today the aircraft has some hitchhikers, namely Stacy "Immortal" Anrak, Carmen "Mikki" Ritter, Mitch "Maverick" Vannell, and Kristine "Golden Eagle" Vermes, who are going to be onboard Cavalry and Raptor aircraft during the mission, both for communications and command reasons, and because no one on the team would have been able to keep any of them away.

Adam "Mayhem" Mason and Robbie "DoughBoy" Sandler are already in the area, as they deployed to Clark yesterday with the Cavalry advance team, and have come onto the tarmac during their friends’ arrival. After all of the talked for a while and gotten the ETF aircraft under cover, and themselves reacquainted, the three C/Os, Doug of the Cavalry, Mike of the Raptors, and Aaron of the ETF, decide to take a tour around the base and look over the vehicles the three teams have deployed for this mission, as well as more firmly hammer out the minute details of the attack plan for late the next night.

While Stacy and Suzanne tour around the base with Aaron, Doug, and Mike, Stacy notices that the Raptors have three MC-130H Combat Talon IIs, a C-141B Starlifter to carry their provisions and ground equipment, and an AC-130H Spectre gunship on the base. The Cavalry have brought almost their whole aerial arsenal, including the twin AH-1W Super Cobras, two AH-64A Apaches, a CV-22A Osprey, the MV-22A Pave Eagle, PAH-2A Tigre, UH-60G Blackhawk, MH-53J Pave Low, RAH-66A Comanche, Mil-24D Hind, and the C/O’s AV-8B Harrier II.

Walking the airfield and inspecting the various forces assembled around Clark, the three team commanders talk over their plans to liberate the trapped Delta troops in Vietnam, Stacy and Suzanne remaining mainly silent as they digest the information being hashed out by the leaders of the three facets of this attack.

The Delta boys went into North Vietnam to rescue a captured American diplomatic envoy that was reportedly being held in the area. Delta infiltrated the compound where the hostages were purported to be, and walked right into a joint Rising Sun and Asian Military Coalition Forces, or AMCF, ambush.

Satellite photos over the last twenty-four hours have shown that the Delta commandos managed to make it out of the ambush and retreat to the coast, where two AMCF Hatakaze-class air defense destroyers, formerly of the Japanese Navy, have halted their escape, and, since they cannot escape and have managed to find a shelter where the soldiers attacking them cannot get to and have yet to ferret out correctly, the situation has become a standoff.

The rest of the five hundred ground troops of the Asian Coalition now have them surrounded.

Hence the ETF/Cavalry/Raptor joint deployment. When the secret teams get into a situation where it is politically untouchable, bet on BlackOps to be there. And the ETF are as Black as BlackOps get.

Stacy and Suzanne occasionally add their suggestions to the Commanders' discussion, as the two women will be coordinating he overall attacks once they begin, Suzanne as Command and Control in the REB-36D, and Stacy as a more local controller in the lead MC-130H.

A battle order plan is agreed upon, and will be shown to Mayhem and DoughBoy once they return from their recon in the Cavalry Mi-24D Hind. This will allow the two men to add suggestions to the plan and their integral part in it, as soon as they get back from their foray to determine the opposing troop concentrations, vehicle strength, and AAA emplacements.

Michaela "Ember" Davis banks the newly-repainted Mi-24D attack helicopter, which now sports Vietnamese markings and camouflage, swiftly to the right as she reacts to a threat from an SA-2 Gadfly battery below, which her gunner, Kelly "J.T." Kirkland, has called out to her.

In the troop area of the Hind, Adam "Mayhem" Mason and Robbie "DoughBoy" Sandler hang on to the track of the open right-side door for dear life as Ember maneuvers the Russian-built rotorcraft through fifty degrees of bank.

Though the vehicle is wearing Vietnamese colors, they have not had the time to get the latest radio codes for the Asian Military Coalition Forces, and are flying over the emplaced troops in the hope that they will not be queried, as none of the four people on board can speak Vietnamese.

"I ever tell you how much I hate flying?" Adam inquires of Robbie as the Mi-24 rolls back level, low enough for the fixed main gear to hit an occasional tree.

"Every time we get in an aircraft." Robbie grumbles while he takes pictures of a group of T-72 main battle tanks cruising down a road towards the inlet where the Delta troopers are hunkered down.

"Ember, one more pass over that southernmost arm, then let's RTB." Adam calls over the interphone to the cockpit, using the acronym for Return to Base he has picked up from the pilots in the group.

"Whassamater, the big, bad Mayhem afraid of some SAMs?" Michaela chides in response.

"No...I'm afraid of being cleaned out of this heap with a hose if you fuck up. Besides, we're no good to the attack group dead."

"All right, but you're spoiling all my fun." Davis states as she banks the Hind to the south to overfly the troops Adam has mentioned.

"Damn, I like her. She's beautiful, can fire a gun, and ain't afraid of nothing." Robbie comments with a gleam in his eye.

"And doesn't know you exist...but good luck with that." Mason replies with a roll of his eyes.

While they are overflying the southernmost arm of troops, they hear a query in Vietnamese over the radio, and another Hind can be seen approaching them from the north.

"Oh, shit, we've been caught. Ember, get this thing moving, we don't have the time for a dogfight." Robbie comments while Adam looks through the equipment lashed to the floor and back wall of the troop compartment.

"Where is it.....ah, here we go!" Adam comments as he pulls an M-16A203 out from one of the weapons lockers and loads a grenade into the launcher.

"Ember, get over the ocean, and get low. Then let this SOB come up alongside." Mason calls up to the cockpit.

"Tell me you have a plan." Kelly calls back.

"Don't you worry, blue eyes, I've got me a great plan....if it works."

"I'm already not loving this plan." Kelly quips.

"None of my ideas have ever gotten me killed." Adam replies as he waits for the other Hind to catch up.

"Yet." Robbie amends under his breath.

"Who asked you?" Adam replies with a look at his longtime partner, who has momentarily forgotten how good Mayhem’s ears are.

Three minutes after crossing the coast and heading out over the South China Sea, the AMCF Mi-24 catches the Cavalry 'copter.

From the cockpit, Ember and J.T. can clearly see the Vietnamese pilot of the other Hind motioning them back to land, accompanied by chatter over the radio.

Michaela smiles and waves in reply as she comments over the radio to Adam, "Whatever you're gonna do, do it now."

"Yes, Ma'am." Adam replies as he steps into the doorway, hefts the grenade-launcher-equipped M-16, and grins.

"Smile, you fuckers." He quips as he fires at the other helo.

When Adam steps into the doorway, the side door on the AMCF Hind opens, and the troops inside begin firing.

There is a succession of rapid "ping" noises as bullets slap the metal armored sides of the Cavalry Mi-24, but the fusillade is short lived as Adam's grenade round slams into the other Hind's weakest spot, the main rotor shaft.

When the grenade explodes, the results are messy and immediate.

The AMCF Hind starts to nose over, only managing to dip fifteen degrees before the nose slams into the water, crushing the gunner’s station with the force of the impact, and the Russian-built attack helicopter starts to cartwheel, tearing itself apart.

"On second thought, I like that plan." Kelly amends as the burning parts of the AMCF gunship settle into the ocean.

"Glad you approve. Let's go home." Adam comments with a grin as he and Robbie close the troop door and find places to sit for the ride back to Clark.

Once the Hind touches down, Aaron, Mike, and Doug sprint towards it to meet the Terror Twins, as Robbie and Aaron are known in the group, who jump out of the Mi-24’s side door while a Cavalry ground crew rolls the Russian-built attack copter into a hangar. Spotting Aaron, Adam fires off a mock salute, then greets the ETF Commander.

"Via con dios, shithead." Mayhem states.

"Missed you too." Aaron replies while the old friends shake hands. "Find out anything interesting?"

"Yep. It was a dusty flight." Adam responds with a grin while Doug tosses a cold beer his way. "Also, we found out Robbie has the hots for Michaela, and that the troops over there are missing a helo." He comments while Robbie watches the Hind pilot’s hindquarters as she walks away from the helicopter.

"And that those girls can fly." Robbie adds, seemingly only half-listening to the others, at best. He then notices Doug has beer and grabs on for himself. The pleasantries out of the way, the five men start to discuss the AMCF/Rising Sun’s troop concentration, and Adam and Robbie's Intel is analyzed, with subsequent modifications being made to the attack plan, set to go into motion later in the night.

The noise at Clark is deafening as the first aircraft of the strike group warm up their engines, their crews congregate for last-minute briefings, and friends take a moment to come together for a last taste of camaraderie before heading into battle.

Doug Danko steps back from beside the RAH-66A Comanche as he finishes squaring away last-minute details with Paul "DaBoyz" Massey, the '66's pilot. After checking with his gunner, Patrick "Sorcerer" Eddings, Paul closes his canopy and locks it, then does the specialized dance with the collective and cyclic that all helicopter pilots come to do as second nature, while the computer advances the throttle, lifting the prototype Comanche into the sky. On loan from the Army....although they don't know it yet, the Comanche is on its first official combat flight, having made its first flight outside the U.S. after being offloaded of a C-5 here at Clark, after having been modified at Grumman, per Doug’s request, with a retractable refueling probe. This is actually the second RAH-66A prototype, slated for structural testing, where it will go after this mission, since the next stealthy helo, the first research and development version of the Comanche, will be rolling off the assembly line soon. Though, if Doug has his way, it will be written off as a "training accident" and the Comanche will join the Cavalry inventory after this mission.

On the left side of the space Paul has just vacated, the Cavalry's new MV-22A Pave Eagle, the fourth production aircraft, crewed by Jen "Scope" Van Hove and Tracy Plumhoff, lifts off as well, the special command and control version of the standard Osprey, which is in limited use with all four services, will act as the forward controller for the Cavalry. Just after the Pave Eagle lifts into the night, the PAH-2A Eurocopter Tigre revs up and soon lifts into the night sky, crewed by Janine "Jayhawk" Vivin and her gunner, Michonne "Bronco" Koening. This Eurocopter was originally just a proof-of concept demonstrator that the company created for the Paris Air Show two years ago, then discarded when they began work on the prototypes. Doug found the aircraft in an out-of-the-way hangar in France and purchased it, bringing it back to the US and refurbishing it to his and Paul's specifications while in the Mountain.

These three aircraft are the Cavalry's advance scout group.

Doug salutes his forward team when they fly over in formation, the former US base's lights helping everyone see almost like it were daylight, then the three scouts are gone, heading west for the Vietnamese coast.

Doug looks around, realizing that all around him, the strike package aircraft are warming up, friends wishing each other luck as they separate to go to their aircraft. He wonders how many of them won’t be coming back this time. Every time they set out on another mission, Doug, and, he is sure, most of the original Eagles, thinks back to that day back in 1983 when the first incarnation of the Eagle Task Force launched on their very first mission. The man known as Matrix shudders involuntarily, then turns to see Adam Mason looking in his direction, and the intel operative nods, understanding, and sharing, the memory.

Stacy "Immortal" Anrak and Carmen "Mikki" Ritter settle into, respectively, the pilot and co-pilot seats of the lead MC-130H after they leave Aaron, Matt, and Ryan to head their own ways.

Stacy's hands fly over the controls, and the aircraft is soon idling, all systems in the green.

"You've done this before, I take it." Carmen comments with a look at the taller woman beside her.

"No, the layout is actually quite different from the AC-130s I used to fly, but it all feels strangely familiar." Stacy replies as she releases the Combat Talon II's brakes, and taxis into position behind the REB-36D. Behind her, the MC-130s piloted by Byron Shue and Mike Scott, as well as Ann Horn's AC-130, taxi into line to take off after Stacy.

With a thunderous roar, Aaron "Valder" Fieldman rips down the runway, lifting into the night in his A-10 Thunderbolt II, clearing the runway for the massive NAWCC REB-36D to depart.

Aaron will circle the airfield as cover until all the other aircraft are away, using his big GAU-8/A cannon if threatened by outside forces.

Once all the other aircraft in the strike package are off the runway, Aaron will land and top off his tanks before joining formation on the group.

The sweet music of six R-4360 reciprocating pusher engines increases in volume while Suzanne "Daphne" Wagner and John "Wizard" Terrance advance the throttles, and starts the massive black aircraft rolling towards the main runway. Steering with the nosewheel, the REB-36D turns onto the runway and sits for a moment, seeming to stare down the length of Clark's runway as it prepares to depart.

Feet firmly on the brakes, the Eagle's Nest pilots bring all six propellers up to full throttle, then the roar of four Pratt and Whitney J79 turbojets joins the fray, and the massive aircraft starts to vibrate with restrained power, sitting on the end of the runway, begging to be airborne.

Grinning nearly from ear to ear, Suzanne looks over at John and gives him the thumbs up, and both of them release their toe brakes at the same moment.

With a chirp from the twin eight-wheeled main gear, the converted bomber surges forward, gaining momentum with every foot that it rumbles down the runway.

When they reach one hundred and twenty miles an hour, John flips a switch on his side of the instrument panel and sixteen JATO (Jet Assisted Take Off) rockets fire, eight on either side of the massive fuselage, just behind and beneath the trailing edge of the wing root. With a flash of fire from the sixteen pods and an increase in noise, the shuddering Korean War-era aircraft leaps into the air, Suzanne pulling back on her flightstick until the massive flagship of the ETF is climbing at a thirty-degree ascent angle.

For a moment, none of the other aircraft that are lined up on the taxiway move, simply because all their pilots are staring in awe at the diminishing point of light that is the REB-36D. Rarely have any of these battle-hardened warriors seen a sight such as this spectacular night takeoff. That, and the glare from the sixteen JATO pods has effectively killed everyone’s night vision, and it takes a moment for the humans, and the night vision equipment on the aircraft, to compensate.

"Well, I guess that's our cue." Stacy comments after that moment, and taxis her MC-130H Combat Talon II onto the runway, advancing the four Alison turboprops' throttles to their stops before rumbling down the runway, Byron swinging his Talon into her vacated space once she does so.

Within moments the three MC-130s, each with their twenty-five paratroops onboard, are airborne and forming up in a loose formation, and the AC-130H Spectre is rolling down the runway to join them.

Once Ann "Ice" Horn has lifted the Spectre off the tarmac, Ryan "Vyper" Wakefield pulls his F/A-18C Hornet onto the runway, waiting for Neal "Mukey" Hirsch and his WSO, David "Warlock" Samuelson, to pull up beside him in their F-15E Strike Eagle. As one, the Hornet and Strike Eagle's twin engine exhaust nozzles open wide and four pillars of blue-white fire shoot rearward when the multi-role fighters engage their afterburners, and the sleek jets start to accelerate down the runway, still side by side.

"Vyper, rotate on one. Three, two one, now." Neal calls out while the two twin-tailed aircraft rocket down the runway, both nose gear lifting off the runway on the count of "one", and climbing for the heavens, still glued to each other’s wings.

Aaron wags his Warthog's wings at them when the rocket past his orbiting altitude and head for thirty thousand feet, at which height they will await the arrival of those aircraft departing after them.

"That leaves us mud-busters next." Scott "S.B." Barrister quips to his BN, Eric "Red" Wayne, while he maneuvers their A-6E Intruder II into position beside the pale blue A-4M of Terry "Tron" Carson.

"Let's do what we do best. You in, Tron?" Barrister asks the other former Marine, the two aircraft straining against their brakes.

"I'm in. Let's rock and roll." Carson replies, and on that signal, both attack aircraft release their brakes and roll down the runway, their departure speed much lower than that of the high-performance jets that just left.

Once both aircraft have attained their appropriate take-off speeds, the pilots pull back on their sticks slightly and lift off, retracting their landing rear and racing over the terrain at treetop-height until they are out of sight of the airbase.

"Not bad, guys." Wahren "Wolf" Morast calls from the cockpit of his F-15C Eagle during the departure while he and Matt "Shaba" Hunter, in an F-16D Fighting Falcon, roll onto the runway for their takeoffs. "But I think we're gonna get to Vyper, Mukey, and Warlock before you."

"Gee, there's a safe bet." Scott calls back as he banks his A-6 around a hill before climbing towards the radar contacts that designate his friends above, knowing his aircraft’s climb rate and top speeds, and Terry's, are way below those of Shaba and Wolf.

"We'll lend ya a hand. Meet us at angels fifteen, almost directly above your current position, let's see if we can wipe that smug smirk off Wolf's face." Ryan replies, he and Neal rolling their aircraft to dive for fifteen thousand feet, while also flipping off their transponders.

Meanwhile, afterburners lighting up the night, Wahren and Matt roll down the runway and into the gloom, heading for the airspace their radars last told them Vyper and Mukey were orbiting.

Not surprisingly, they don't find either the F-15E or F/A-18 there, at least, not immediately. About a minute after Wahren and Matt reach cruising altitude, the four other jets close in around them in formation, and the Eagles can see Matt and Wahren shaking their heads inside their cockpits when the four other jets suddenly seem to materialize out of nowhere with the simple act of turning on their formation lights and transponders once in formation.

Last to leave Clark is the Cavalry strike group, the C/O's AV-8B Harrier II leading the MH-53J Pave Low of Lee Ochen and Doug Shawly, with fifteen ground troops aboard. Following them are the UH-60G Blackhawk flown by Rebecca "Vision" Moore and Shannon "SpiderWoman" Meyers with their complement of fifteen more troops, and by the CV-22A Osprey flown by James "Cateye" Duffers and Derek "Archer" Flynn. In the cargo area of the tilt-rotor are two zodiacs, Adam "Mayhem" Mason, Robbie "DoughBoy" Sandler, Mitch "Maverick" Vannell, Kristine "Golden Eagle" Vermes, and all the weaponry they can carry. The three troop-carrying aircraft are covered by a pair of AH-1W Super Cobras, both modified to be single-seaters, and crewed by Laura Turnkey and Jessica "Harley" Davidson.

The last aircraft to leave the tropical base are the heavy hitters, the Mi-24D Hind and the two AH-64A Apache gunships. Joe "Apache" Strano, with Deanna "Incoming" Waite as his gunner, pilots one Apache, the other has Sean "Chilly" Winters piloting, with Chris "Slim" Schweitz in the gun pit. Like usual, Michaela "Ember" Davis, and gunner Kelly "J.T" Kirkland, pilot the Mi-24D. The Hind has been hastily patched since its mission earlier, and the silver patches over the bullet holes stand out on the big attack chopper while it follows the Apaches into the night.

Once these three formidable helicopters are off the ground, Aaron cranks his A-10 over in a dive and sets up for landing, touching down and rolling in a fast taxi towards the waiting fuel truck. Two of the reserve members of the Cavalry quickly hot-refuel the Thunderbolt II, then Aaron is on the runway again, soon winging his way westward to catch the rest of the attack group.

In the lead MC-130H Combat Talon II, Stacy Anrak checks their position and estimates the Cavalry scout group's fuel load.

"DaBoyz, this is Immortal in Bartender One, how's your glass looking?" She calls over the secure channel that the attack team is using for this mission.

"Gonna need a drink within the next half hour or so, you guys got any Daiquiris?"

"Sure do. We'll be overtaking you in five at one hundred AGL." Anrak comments while pulling her night vision goggles on, a move Carmen repeats in the seat beside her, then shifts the NVG-friendly cabin lighting over. She then increases the MC-130's throttles and dives the modified Hercules lower towards the ground, using the aircraft's AN/APQ-170 radar to keep them from becoming a smoking crater or, as the case in this point, a large geyser in the night. The AN/APQ-170, which uses two transmit and receive antenna systems, an X-band unit for terrain avoidance, and back-to-back Ku-band antennas, which provide three hundred and sixty degrees of ground mapping, weather mapping, and beacon location, works in conjunction with the Texas Instruments FLIR (Forward Looking Infrared) system, located in a turret under the Talon's nose.

This combination allows the MC-130H to fly into hostile territory faster, lower, and in more inclement conditions than any other variant of the venerable C-130, and this aircraft is more at home "in the weeds" than any other large aircraft in any military inventory in the world.

Looking over her highly-automated displays, Stacy notices that they are overtaking the Cavalry aircraft at too high a closure rate, so she throttles back a little while setting the MC-130H into a descent profile that will drop them just over the three-aircraft scout formation, setting them up perfectly for a low level in-flight refueling.

Paul Massey looks around outside the cockpit of his Comanche, which is skimming the treetops just ahead of the command and control bird for the Cavalry, the MV-22A Pave Eagle.

Pulling rear guard on the little scout troop in her PAH-2A Tigre, Janine Vivin, callsign Jayhawk, is the first to see the Combat Talon II approaching.

The slate-gray aircraft roars overhead, about two hundred feet off the ground, in a shallow dive, nearing the lowest safe refueling altitude.

Stacy pulls back on her control yolk when the C-130 variant passes the bright red Tigre, never actually having seen the helicopter with the naked eye, since all the aircraft in the attack group are flying without lights, but she did see the Eurocopter's twin exhausts, mounted on top of the fuselage, through her thermal sights on the NVGs.

The MV-22's exhaust tunnels, one at the end of each variable-attitude engine nacelle, also show up clearly in Stacy and Carmen's night vision goggles, and just ahead is the more diffused exhaust of the stealthy Comanche.

Looking over his head, Paul can see the gray aircraft slowly pass over his stealthy attack-recon helo, the dark gray paint scheme only a little lighter than the night sky.

Patrick Eddings, the gunner in the RAH-66, flips a witch on his console and the Cavalry-specific refueling probe extends from the left side of the helicopter's nose into the slipstream.

The Cavalry have modified all of their helicopters to have in-flight refueling capability, a fact that makes them able to deploy anywhere in the world in much less time than other helicopter units, in addition to enabling them to take on missions of longer duration and range than any other helicopter group.

This also makes the pilots a little less than ecstatic, since they are now able to be in the cockpit until their endurance wears out, an ability they now share with the fighter, cargo and bomber communities.

Paul watches the MC-130H lower further and further towards the ground until it is flying at a hundred feet above ground level.

While Stacy stabilizes the aircraft at this altitude, Carmen flips a switch and the twin refueling hoses extend out of the refueling pods, which are outboard of the engines on each wing. The two hundred foot long hoses reel out, and the basket of the left-most hose stops only fifty feet in front of the RAH-66, although about twenty feet higher.

"Slick move, Immortal. Coming to pre-contact." Paul calls out while he maneuvers his Comanche above the basket, so that he can lower towards it without worrying about getting his rotors in the way. To his right, he can see the PAH-2A pulling up to the right hose, while the MV-22, which has bigger fuel tanks, hangs back to await its turn.

Catching a moving drogue with the probe on an aircraft is hard enough at normal altitudes, but doing such with the increased turbulence of low level, a helicopter’s whirling rotorblades overhead, and their subsequent downwash, makes this seemingly simple routine quite hair-raising.

Luckily for the crews involved in the operation tonight, it is not raining, snowing, or extremely windy, since this would make refueling near impossible.

Amazingly, Paul manages to put the Comanche's probe into the always-moving drogue basket on the third try, and Carmen starts the fuel flow to the rotorcraft.

While the fuel transfers from the Combat Talon II into his Comanche, Paul notices, with a grin, that it is taking Janine considerably longer to hook the Tigre onto the drogue on her side.

With the two other Cavalry formations, similar scenes are taking place as the rotorcraft get refueled, Doug "Matrix" Danko flying around all three formations in his AV-8B to check on their progress, though most of his time is spent with the Cavalry's strike package.

In the REB-36D, all twenty-two aircraft involved in this secret mission are being tracked by the highly sensitive passive and active systems onboard the aircraft.

Suddenly, more batwings denoting positive aircraft contacts appear on the NAWCC's BSD on the Defensive Systems bank of displays.

The BSD is the Battlefield Situation Display, a composite moving-map display that integrates the Eagle’s Nest’s FLIR, SLAR, and Doppler radars, as well as the terrain mapping sensors, and each ETF, Cavalry, and Raptor vehicles' passive transponder information into a comprehensive display that shows the countryside, all heat sources, and all vehicles within a one-hundred-mile radius of the strike force.

This display's information can also be relayed, via satellite, back to Gorilla Mountain.

What the display is telling the REB-36D's Defensive Systems Operator, Alayne "Phantom" Engleslause, is not good.

"Damn. Suzanne, John, we have twenty inbounds on the strike group, eight MiG-23 Floggers and twelve MiG-21 Fishbeds. At this time they do not, repeat, do not, appear to have acquisition on our friends, appear to be on a training flight. Sending a Twinbee to intercept. At this time the hostiles are ninety miles away at a bearing of three-two-zero degrees."

"Okay, thanks Alayne. RaeAnn, give the gang a head's up and start passively jamming those MiGs." Suzanne calls out from the pilot’s position.

"Yes, Ma'am." RaeAnn "Sis" Harris replies before switching from intercom to the strike group's radio frequency. "Repercussion Flight, be advised, you have inbound hostiles nine-zero miles, three-two-zero degrees. These aircraft, a mix of Floggers and Fishbeds, do not seem to have you acquired, but will be upon you in ten minutes."

"Understood, thanks for the head's up." Wahren Morast replies from the cockpit of his F-15C.

"Shaba, what say we take a looksie?" He calls over to his wingman.

Matt Hunter grins at him from the F-16's cockpit, his Fighting Falcon glued to Wahren's right wing. Even though Wahren can't see him, he knows the elder man is grinning.

"Wolf's got lead, Shaba's on your wing. Let's roll." Matt replies vocally.

"Don't stir up anything you can't handle, boys." Stacy comments, watching the three specs of orange light turn blue in the sky off to her right, signifying the twin Eagle and single Falcon engines going into afterburner as they race off to the northwest.

"Who, me?" Wahren's voice comes back over the airwaves, his attempt to sound innocent evident.

"Vyper, go into defensive spread around the choppers, I'm gonna keep an eye on Nest." Neal Hirsch tells the F/A-18 pilot as he pulls back on his flightstick and heads for the REB's orbiting altitude of sixty thousand feet. The reply is a double-click over the microphone from the F/A-18C.

"Tally-ho, I've got a visual on the bandi.......oh, shit." Wahren comments as the distinctive "beedeedeedeedeee" starts up in his headphones.

"Attack team, go to ground now, all possible speed. We have hostiles inbound and engaging." Matt calls out as he flips his F-16D over on its back and dives for the ground, two of the MiG-21s following him, one of which looses an AA-8 Aphid after him.

"Oh, the nerve of some people." Matt wisecracks while he rolls the Fighting Falcon back upright and pulls back on the side-stick, pumping flares at the same time. He then rolls the fighter over on its left wing and pulls into a high-G combat turn.

The Aphid loses its lock on the juking F-16 and roars off into the night, looking for another target. Once its fuel runs out, it will fall harmlessly to the ground below.

After Carmen has reeled in the refueling hoses, Stacy sets the terrain-following systems on the MC-130H for the lowest possible safe altitude and the other two MC-130s form up on her in a loose formation as they speed just over the treetops, leaving a storm of leaves and twigs blown up by their passage.

Mike Scott pulls his Combat Talon up to Stacy's left wing, pulling into formation a moment after Byron Shue has done the same on the right side, and the three Hercules variants increase throttle to their maximum airspeed of three hundred miles per hour, the trio of one hundred foot, and ten inch, long four-engined Special Operations aircraft strip the paint off their lower fuselages with their low-level run in to the target, still almost a hundred miles south-southwest of their current position, literally skimming the tops of the trees in the way a surfer skims the water.

On the right side of the Combat Talon II formation, Byron "Lee" Shue winces when a large tree branch flashes past his cockpit windows on its way over the aircraft, having been kicked up by Stacy's aircraft ahead of him.

"Fighters have you acquired and they're closing." Sis Harris calls down to them.

"Even better news." Shue comments as he flips on his CD player, which he has fastened to the top on the instrument console, and the sound of "Invisible" from Anthrax's "Sound of White Noise" album floods into the cockpit through the mini-speakers also attached beside the CD player.

"Let's do this." Byron comments as he banks right slightly to increase spacing between the other MC-130s, Mike doing the same thing on the left side, which spreads the formation out a bit, decreasing the chance of all three aircraft being taken out by one lucky shot, or from taking each other out with the debris they are kicking up.

Matt Hunter grins as the second Aphid explodes harmlessly, having tracked onto the flare he has ejected from his F-16D.

Matt's elation is short lived, however, as he notices three MiG-21s closing in around him.

This is not really a problem for the man known as Shaba, for he is the Eagle pilot with the most flight time, both in peacetime, and in two stints in combat.

In combat he flew his missions with the F-117A Nighthawk, in which he flew forty-eight sorties in Desert Storm and an attack run in Just Cause. Being shot at and outnumbered in an aircraft is nothing new to Hunter.

While Matt rolls the Fighting Falcon and kicks it into a left turn to spoil the lock of the MiG-21 in front of him, he smiles a wry smile.

This time, he can fire back.

Matt completes the tight 9G turn and finds himself chasing two of the MiGs, the same ones that a moment ago had been trying to sneak up on his tail.

Hunter selects his cannons and lines the left Fishbed up in his pipper, allowing a little bit of lead for wind and airspeed, then he fires.

There is a satisfying growl from the left side of the aircraft as the Vulcan 20mm cannon fires. Even more satisfying is watching the cannon’s bullets chew the Vietnamese MiG-21’s rudder and right horizontal stabilizer up.

The Fishbed starts into an uncontrollable spin as Matt lines his sights up on his victim's wingman after first checking to be sure the third MiG isn't lining up on him.

Moments later the second Fishbed disappears into an enormous fireball as Hunter fires his cannon and the bullets slam through the Russian-built interceptor's fuel tank.

Performing a quick victory roll, Matt Hunter looks around outside his Falcon's bubble canopy, attempting to acquire the third Fishbed, but the Vietnam War-era fighter is nowhere to be seen.

"Great, where'd he go?" Matt muses as he turns his F-16D towards the Raptor and Cavalry aircraft still to his southwest.

"Motherfucker!!" Wahren comments as the air-to-air missile flashes past over the top of his F-15 Eagle. "You'd better hope I don't get this bird turned around, 'cause if I do, there's gonna be a beating."

"Wolf, Shaba, sitrep?" Ryan "Vyper" Wakefield's voice comes over the radio. Morast can tell by tone of the younger ETF pilot's voice that he is itching for a fight.

"Oh, we're okay, Vyper, ten to one is no big deal. Heck, Shaba and I have already taken a few down."

"What do you mean we, pal?" Matt asks the F-15 pilot with a grin.

"Go ahead, V, we're all clear here." Aaron Fieldman calls from his position orbiting the attack group, Terry Carson's A-4M on his wing. "Unless Mukey minds, that is." Aaron amends, referring to Neal Hirsch, whose F-15E is the other REB-36D escort, sharing the duty with Ryan's F/A-18C when the Hornet is not doing perimeter sweeps around the attack group.

"I'm all good here, just chillin'. How 'bout you, ElTito, you cool?" Neal queries the Aircraft Commander of the large black Peacemaker II filling the view to the left of Neal and David’s two-tone green Strike Eagle.

"Get outta here, Vyper, you're makin' me edgy weaving that Hornet around." Matt Bendix replies from his seat, a removable jump seat beside Melissa's flight engineer position. Normally Bendix wanders around the aircraft checking all positions, but he has to sit down some time during the Eagle’s Nest's missions.

"Thanks Valder, Mukey, NAWCC, I'm gone." Ryan comments as he stokes the Hornet's throttles into afterburner, following the vectors "Sis" Harris gives him to the nearest of the approaching MiGs.

"Vyper's inbound, save me some bandits." Wakefield calls over to Hunter and Morast as he sees the flash of a missile being fired, though the trajectory is all wrong to have been aimed at him.

"Oh, I think there are a few to go 'round." Wahren comments as he puts his Eagle on its left wing, slicing between two MiG-23s to avoid the Archer missile Ryan has seen. This missile has been fired from one of the MiG-21s following Wahren, trying to lock onto his F-15C's twin exhausts.

"And he said let there be light, and lo..." The man called Wolf quips as he pops flares while roaring between the Floggers.

The two Vietnamese pilots try to maneuver to avoid the Eagle, flares, and missile, but are blinded by the blaze of the phosphorescence Wahren has ejected, and turn towards one another in the confusion.

The missile strikes at almost the same time the two swing-wing aircraft collide, and the resulting fireball can be seen by the attack group.

"...there was light!" Wahren finishes as the sky erupts into fire behind him. "Will you look at that, Shaba, we're tied for kills and I haven't fired a shot yet!"

"Keep talking, wise ass." Matt remarks as his F-16, in full afterburner, roars under Wahren's F-15, heading for the MiGs behind the long-haired aviator, which have started to turn to attack the slower helicopters and transports of the attack group, having realized they are no match for the two fighters they have been tangling with.

The MiG-21 in front of Hunter suddenly erupts into a ball of fire as Matt lines up for a Sidewinder shot.

Matt snap-rolls is aircraft inverted and dives under the explosion, hearing Ryan call out over the radio at the same time, "Oops, sorry Shaba, didn't realize you were so close."

"Just look for friendlies first next time, Vyper, that's all I ask. Wolf, you joining us today?"

"Roger that, Shaba, closing on your six, I have Vyper pulling a high-G turn to close up at nine-o'clock high."

"Roger that. Valder, Tron, you boys have company on the way. Fifteen MiGs are inbound, our trio are a minute out." Hunter calls to the two attack aircraft flying cover on the formation.

"Understood Shaba, thanks for the head's up." Aaron calls out as he starts to see orange lights wink on and off in the night sky to his left, an indication that the lead MiGs are firing. Moving as if part of one mind, Aaron and Terry turn their jets towards the attacker and increase throttle to meet them head-on.

"Heads up, you two, let the artillery in on the fun." Ann "Ice" Horn's voice comes into their ears over the radio.

Instants later, as the shapes in the night sky start to become recognizable as the Vietnamese Floggers and Fishbeds they are, indicating they are about a quarter-mile away, and the tracers start to whiz past the two American attack aircraft, a large, dark gray form flashes past in front of the A-10A and A-4M, six of the foremost MiGs disappear in a half dozen brilliant explosions.

"Hot Damn!" Wahren exclaims as he watches the AC-130H Spectre fly right into the path of the MiGs he, Ryan, and Matt are chasing.

The Hercules-variant gunship tilts to align its weapons, two M61 20mm Vulcan cannons, one L60 40mm Bofors cannon, one M102 105mm howitzer and one 25mm GAU-12 gatling gun, on the onrushing MiGs, who think they suddenly have a nice, slow, fat transport in their sights.

When the wall of fire erupts from the left side of the Spectre, the six foremost MiGs don't have enough time to even start evasive maneuvers before the wall of different caliber lead tears into them, leaving nothing but fluttering metal, flesh, and fire to mark the places they had been moments before.

Where less than two minutes ago twenty fighters had been approaching the attack group, only nine remain now to press that attack, and five ETF jets are closing in on them.

The former Vietnamese MiGs stand no chance of winning, and start to yell into their radios to request backup. However, this attempt is in vain, as the REB-36D crew has had their radios jammed since the MiGs first appeared on the NAWCC's sensors.

Perhaps sensing their imminent demise, the nine remaining MiGs, six Floggers and three Fishbeds, advance into afterburner and dive towards treetop level, heading towards the gray forms of the speeding MC-130s.

"Valder, Tron, those bandits are going after Bartender flight, see if you can't distract them. Immortal, Lee, Tramp, be advised you have nine inbounds. We're closing on them, but suggest evasive maneuvers anyway." Wahren calls ahead to the three Combat Talon IIs racing along the treetops, using the attack group's radio channel as the three fighters punch supersonic and split up to follow the MiGs, which have grouped in four pairs and a loner to attack the Special Ops transports from five directions.

"I've got the left-most group, Vyper, take the second, Wolf, your the fastest, take the two on the far right. Valder you've got the one on a one-six-zero heading, Tron, your pair is at one-three-zero. Let's get 'em, guys." Matt Hunter calls out as he banks his Fighting Falcon to chase down the pair of MiG-23s he has assigned himself.

Matt putts his Falcon in a thirty-degree dive, which, at his current speed, should allow him to overtake the Floggers before they get in range of the MC-130s. He hopes.

Within moments, Matt's flight computer informs him that it is tracking the rearmost of the two MiG-23s, and, an instant later, that it has a good lock with a Sidewinder.

Matt depresses the trigger on his side-stick and the AIM-9L on his Falcon's left wingtip rail fires, the flame of its exhaust blinding in the night sky as the air-to-air missile starts to home in on its target.

A little over a second later, the second MiG-23 is in range, as well, and a second Sidewinder leaps off its rail, this time from the right outboard pylon.

Ten seconds later, two explosions light up the night.

"Shaba, splash two Floggers." Matt calls over to Wahren.

"Damn, four! Old man's at four MiGs!" Wahren mutters as he rockets across the night sky in his F-15, steadily closing the gap on the pair of MiG-21 Fishbeds skimming the trees less than four miles ahead, yet still managing to stay out of his missile lock.

"Hmmm...might be time to earn my pay." He comments as the lead Fishbed breaks the missile lock for the third time.

Wahren accelerates still more and drops down to treetop level himself, his hot exhaust plumes in afterburner starting fires in the treetops as he roars over them.

It seems as if the F-15's powerful twin Pratt and Whitney F100 turbofans have him closed up to gun range on the two Fishbeds almost immediately after he drops altitude.

Wahren switches over to guns and lines his shot up carefully, firing his 0mm Vulcan cannon into the first Vietnamese aircraft's exhaust, the 20mm projectiles slamming into the engine, which dies quickly.

At this altitude, a fighter without an engine is about as useful as a tissue-paper umbrella in a brick storm, and Morast has to swerve his Eagle to avoid the Fishbed as it slows and plows into the trees.

"Three for Wolf, on the way to four." Wahren calls as he pulls back on the F-15's flight stick and stands the large fighter on its tail, roaring skyward after his last MiG-21, whose pilot seems to have the mistaken impression that the Fishbed can out zoom-climb the Eagle.

Though the MiG is well ahead of Wahren, the Eagle quickly loses the gap and i soon right on the Fishbed's tail, and Wahren lets his Vulcan cannon do the talking, shredding the MiG's left wing.

While the stricken Vietnamese aircraft goes into a tumbling dive, the canopy fires off and the pilot ejects, his seat leaving the aircraft on a trail of fire as the rocket at the base of he seat fires the aviator into the night sky.

"Happy landings....unless you're the guy who fired that missile at me earlier...in that case, hope you land on a church steeple." Wahren comments to the rocketing man, then flips on his radio mic. "That's four. Anybody need some help?"

"Woo-hoo!!" Ryan yells as he dives toward his pair MiGs, one -23 and one -21. An AIM-7 Sparrow rockets off the conformal launcher under his left intake and roars into the night, impacting on the hot exhaust of the lead Fishbed's engine some 15 miles away. The second MiG, the Flogger, obviously unsure where Ryan is, banks up and away from hi exploding wingman, directly into Wakefield's gun sights.

A short burst from his cannon into the Flogger's cockpit sends the AMCF spiraling back towards earth.

Ryan pulls a quick victory roll, then turns to the southwest and lines up on the last known position of the final MiGs as he hears Wolf and Shaba call out their tallies.

The old men are good, but Vyper knows he is better as he roars through the night sky, and intends to show the elder pilots how this dogfighting game is done.

Aaron places the A-10 right down on the deck as he heads the tank-killer in the direction Hunter has indicated. He is actually flying BELOW tree-top level, following dirt roads that are barely wider than his wingspan as he closes on his prey, a MiG-23 Flogger, which is heading straight for him, obviously not aware of the attack aircraft in amongst the trees.

Soon the MiG is upon him and he pulls the Thunderbolt II out of the trees, aiming hi massive GAU-8/A cannon at the Flogger, and letting the sixteen-inch depleted uranium shells tear into the MiG's intakes and wing roots, narrowly avoiding the swing-wing aircraft as it tolls towards the trees just in front of him.

Looking behind him, Aaron expects to see a furrow through the trees caused by the Flogger's impact, and is more than a bit startled to see the MiG, smoke billowing from its exhaust, still heading for the MC-130s and racing along the tops of the trees.

Aaron cranks the tank-killer around in a tight turn and attempts to line the stricken MiG up for a missile shot.

Hearing the growl of a missile lock in his ears, Aaron grins as he lines up one of his aircraft's two AIM-9 Sidewinders on the retreating aircraft's tailpipe, and fires.

The missile roars off the left outboard pylon and streaks across the night sky. Unfortunately, there is no satisfying explosion as the wounded Flogger pumps flares and chaff and weaves away from the missile, and the Sidewinder takes the bait, making a fireball almost fifty yards behind the MiG-23.

Worse, the AMCF pilot's aircraft is now out of missile range for Aaron, and the subsonic A-10 has no chance to chase down the supersonic Flogger, even if it is partially incapacitated.

"Ah, bartender Flight....one got past me." Aaron Fieldman calls to the MC-130s ahead.

Terry Carson rolls his A-4M Skyhawk II wings level at three thousand feet, scanning the night sky for the pair of MiG-23s Shaba has assigned him. He sees nothing, and they are not popping up on his radar, either.

Must've gotten smart and turned off radars and running lights The man known as Tron muses.

"Nest, little help?" He calls to the NAWCC crew above.

"Tron, looks like they're being sneaky. One has broken south, the other is five degrees to your left. I don't think there's a way you can get them both." RaeAnn Harris comments from the communications position in the REB-36D seventy thousand feet above the ground.

"Maybe not. Mukey, do you have a lock on the southern one?" Terry asks the Strike Eagle pilot.

"With our radar, yeah. With our missiles...he's JUST out of range." David "Warlock" Samuelson, the WSO of Neal's F-15E, replies.

"How fast can you guys be in range, Warlock?"

David does some fast arithmetic with the F-15E's acceleration speed, distance to target, and missile range.

"Thirty seconds or less." He replies.

"I'm going to go scrap with the closer one, you take the southern guy, and I'll join on Nest as soon as my guy is worm food." Terry comments as he roars to the left and accelerates his subsonic attack aircraft to its top speed of six hundred and seventy miles and hour.

"Nest?" Neal calls over to the ETF flagship.

"Go. There are no other hostiles in the area and we have to protect those Talons." Matt Bendix replies, and watches the Strike Eagle accelerate away smoothly.

Terry's light blue A-4 dives on the barely-discernable shape of the MiG-23 Flogger hugging the treetops, heading his direction.

The two aircraft are approaching each other nearly head-on, as the MiG has gone into a climb to acquire a lock on the larger, slower MC-130Hs a few miles ahead.

"Come to poppa." Terry mutters as he closes in on the rising Vietnamese fighter. He lines the other fighter up, then fires his cannon as he rapidly closes the gap between himself and the Flogger.

Many of Terry's bullets shred into the '23's intakes, which funnel the bullets straight to the engine, causing it to flame out immediately, moments before the gas tank ignites and the climbing aircraft catches fire. Terry dives as soon as he finishes firing, hoping to get back to the safety of ground clutter before heading back to Eagle's Nest's altitude.

"Oh shit." Terry mumbles as the swing-winged hunk of junk falls out of the sky, and Terry realizes it is falling right into his path.

Carson dives closer to the trees and passes under the burning fighter, which has just enough forward momentum left to continue flying for enough time for the A-4 to scoot underneath.

This reprieve also gives the Vietnamese pilot enough time to eject from the mortally-wounded MiG, which explodes moments later.

Once he is safely clear of the burning Flogger, Terry pulls back on his flight stick and climbs to form up as cover on the REB-36D.

"Fire away, Mukey, we've got a lock, Sparrow ready to fire." David calls up to Neal from the F-15E's back seat.

"On the way." Neal Hirsch replies as the nine-foot-long air-to-air missile drops from its resting spot against the Strike Eagle's conformal fuel tank and rockets off after the as-yet unseen MiG-23.

Less than six seconds later, an explosion marks the spot where the AIM-7 meets up with the Flogger's fuselage, and the flaming shrapnel from the collision drops into the trees, starting a few fires in the forest.

From their altitude, Neal and David can see the wreckage of many of the twenty MiGs involved in this attack attempt, the fire Wahren's F-15 has started, and the majority of the attack group convoy.

The missile launch warning screams in Byron "Lee" Schue's ears as the only surviving MiG locks onto his MC-130H.

"Aw, hell." Byron swears as he pulls back on the Combat Talon II's yolk and banks the aircraft towards the MiG-23 while his co-pilot, Keith "4077" Mash, fires off chaff and flares to try an throw off the missile that has been fired in their direction.

"4077" Mash scans the night sky ahead of them as Shue banks the Hercules variant, and Kieth sees a faint light and smoke trail growing larger.

"Missile sighted, eleven-thirty high, inbound." Mash calls out, then adds, "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Relax, I saw this in a movie once." Byron replies as he raises the MC-130's nose in a shallow climb, then drops it rapidly to dive under the missile.

The deck crew of the Talon II, Byron, Kieth, Justin "LastSmurf" Wright, and Tim "LawDogg" Lawson, can see the Cyrillic writing on the side of the missile as it roars past just over the cockpit windows, missing the top of the four-engined cargo aircraft by less than three feet.

"Out of the frying pan." Byron mutters as he sees flashes of light ahead of him, and tracers start to arc their way towards his aircraft, passing just beneath it.

Shue banks the SpecOps bird hard right, almost standing the cargo aircraft on its right wing as he tries to avoid the MiG's bullets.

While the MiG maneuvers to re-acquire the propeller-driven aircraft, Byron puts it into a dive towards the woods below, regaining his former tree-skimming altitude from before he started evasive maneuvers.

There is the distinctive "ping ping ping" of bullets meeting metal as the MC-130H levels out.

"Engine two's smoking." Mash comments as he looks out his side of the aircraft to the outboard engine on the right wing. "Extinguisher active. No fire. We're okay to continue."

"Good enough, anybody see where that fucker went?" Byron asks with a growl.

"Kept going, he's heading for Immortal's bird." Wright, the MC-130H’s EWO, or electronic warfare officer, answers.

"Immortal, you've got a hot date heading your way. Good news is, i think he's out of missiles." Byron's voice states in a deadpan manner over Stacy's radio.

"All right, thanks for the update, Lee. You guys okay?" Carmen Ritter replies.

"Yeah, he shot up engine number two, put a few holes in the wing, and scared us pretty well shitless with a near miss with what i believe was his last missile, but we're nominal."

"Okay, form up on Tramp and let him take a look for ya, we'll keep on the lookout for that bandit." Stacy Anrak tells the Raptor pilot, the tone of her voice hinting at an order more than a suggestion.

Less than ten seconds later, the missile lock warning starts sounding in the ears of Stacy and her deck crew, and she begins maneuvering the Combat Talon II through a series of jinks at treetop level, trying to break the Flogger's lock.

For a few moments, a maddening game of cat and mouse ensues as the MiG-23, wings fully extended in the slow speed forward position, slips ever closer to cannon range, trying to scare the MC-130H crew into doing something stupid.

"All right, that's about enough of that. Mikki, gimme chaff and flares." Stacy calls out.

Carmen hits the appropriate controls to pump the requested items out to the rear of the aircraft, and as the counter-measures are ejected, Anrak pulls the MC-130H into a steep banking turn.

The missile lock stops screaming in their ears as the MiG's pilot is momentarily blinded by the flares spilling out either side of the Talon II's fuselage.

Unfortunately, though the Flogger's intakes do ingest a few strips of the chaff, the thin aluminum strips are not enough to cause the Flogger's engines to flame out, and the MiG is soon re-acquiring its target.

Now out of gun range again, the Vietnamese AMCF pilot locks his final AA-9 onto the maneuvering transport.

Acquiring a lock, the Flogger fires, and the supersonic missile falls off the left inboard rail before accelerating towards the MC-130H.

"Head's up!" Ryan Wakefield calls out as he sees the missile rocket off the Flogger's rail.

"How about picking on somebody your own size, motherfucker?" Matt Hunter adds as the two fighters split around Stacy's MC-130, Ryan's F/A-18C roaring under the Combat Talon II a second or so before Matt's F-16D roars over the top of it, inverted.

Once Ryan has passed under the MC-130's tail, he pulls his flightstick back towards his stomach, kicking in the Hornet's afterburners and roaring straight up on twin pillars of blue fire less than two hundred feet in front of the Flogger's AA-9, which senses the F/A-18's hot exhausts and climbs to follow.

The Hornet and missile flash by in front of Matt's Falcon, heading down into the sky as Hunter watches the top of the Combat Talon II's gray fuselage slide by above him.

After clearing the SpecOps aircraft, Matt starts firing his 20mm Vulcan cannon, rolling his Fighting Falcon upright as he closes on the Flogger, who has just experienced a sudden case of role reversal. Where instants ago he was the hunter, now he has become the hunted. The AMCF pilot starts to weigh his options, while in the F-16, the ETF pilot grins.

"Let's party." The veteran pilot comments as he closes on the Vietnamese MiG-23, who wisely chooses to bug out and get away from the MC-130H.

The Flogger banks away to the left, receiving a few bullet hole along the right side of the fuselage as it does so, and Matt extends his Falcon's airbrakes, which are located on either side of the fuselage between the horizontal stabilizers an the engine exhaust and open in a vertical clamshell, slowing the F-16 and keeping the MiG ahead of him.

"God I hope this works." Ryan states to himself as he pumps flares and pulls the Hornet inverted, pumps more flares and pulls a tight left turn, them pumps a few more flares and dives for the ground, shutting down his engines as he does so.

Looking behind him as the Hornet, for all intents and purposes, falls out of the sky, Wakefield can see the AA-9 avoid the first two groups of flares, wavering slightly at each of the brightly-burning decoys, leaving a twisting smoke trail through the night before finally taking the bait of the last group of flares.

At just over a thousand feet above the ground, Ryan re-starts both engines, remembers to resume breathing, and builds up speed before heading back to his escort duty on Eagle's Nest.

"Ah, Cavalry, this is a general head's up warning, I'm chasing a Flogger, heading your way. He doesn't know you guys are out there, so keep your eyes open and be ready to move." Matt Hunter calls out as he skims the treetops at barely under the speed of sound, chasing the MiG-23, who is trying to save his butt, Matt occasionally taking a potshot with his Vulcan to remind the AMCF pilot he's still being chased.

"Thanks for the head's up, Shaba, need a hand?" Doug "Matrix" Danko asks from the cockpit of his AV-8B.

Naw, I'm just toying with him. See you in a second, Matrix." Matt calls out as the first three Cavalry vehicles, the RAH-66A, PAH-2A, and MV-22A come into view on his FLIR screen. Matt fires at the Flogger again to give the Cavalry birds a visual cue as to his foe's position, as both the chased and the chaser are running without lights, as are all the aircraft in the attack group.

The three Cavalry rotorcraft all fire on the MiG-23 as it approaches, being able to see him through their MFDs through a crosslink from the F-16 and the NAWCC's sensors.

Seeing a blanket of tracers coming at him from three separate points ahead, the Flogger pilot aims his jet between the right-most streams of fire, and moments later flashes between the Tigre and Pave Eagle.

Matt banks left and shoots the gap between the Pave Eagle and Comanche, closing back on the Vietnamese MiG's tail jut as the second Cavalry group, the AV-8B, MH-53J, UH-60G, and CV-22A appears on his FLIR screen. Matt again fires at the Flogger, and this time the AMCF pilot puts his variable-geometry wing aircraft into a climbing right bank.

Once he is sure they are well clear of the Cavalry vehicles, Matt closes up on the Flogger and lets his cannon chew apart the rear end of the MiG.

The MiG-23 quickly rolls over as the engine explodes and the Flogger loses airworthiness. The pilot, realizing his situation has gone from bad to terribly, punches out...straight into the trees below.

Matt winces as he sees the ejection seat fire almost straight down while the aircraft rolls.

"Shaba, think we should try and pick him up?" Derek "Archer" Flynn asks from the pilot's seat of the CV-22.

"Don’t bother, there's probably not enough of him left to fit into a ziplock." Matt replies.

Ten minutes later, the three MC-130s are approaching their targets, and the three pilots slow their transports and vector their aircraft towards the pre-planned drop positions.

In the rear of the three Special Operations cargo aircraft, the seventy-five Cavalry ground troops, evenly split at twenty-five per '130, are making sure all their equipment is securely attached as they approach the infiltration point.

"Jumpers, one minute." The three loadmasters for the Combat Talons, Joe "Hoser" Santos in Stacy's bird, Cameron "Schwartz" Park in Mike's MC-130, and Byron’s LM Kate "Tigger" Scarron, call out as the aircraft they are in start to climb to the minimum safe jump altitude.

While the three Hercules variants start to level out over their target drop zones, the rear ramps of the three troop-carrying aircraft begin to open.

The jump light on Mike Scott's aircraft is the first to turn green, and his parachutists start diving into the night sky, followed instants later by those on Stacy Anrak's aircraft. Byron Schue's aircraft, still suffering from the MiG-23's attack, is the last to arrive on station, one engine lightly smoking. After a few moments, all the jumpers on this aircraft have cleared the hold and the rear cargo door is once again closing as the three MC-130Hs clear the area.

Meanwhile, Adam "Mayhem" Mason, Robbie "DoughBoy" Sandler, Kristine "Golden Eagle" Vermes, and Mitch "Maverick" Vannell are assembling the two black Zodiac watercraft in the back of the CV-22A, which is flying so low that the four Eagles can occasionally only see foliage out the windows as the Osprey skips across the tops of the trees, occasionally dipping between them to follow a road.

This portion of the Cavalry crew has the has the most dangerous job, as the two-aircraft group of the CV-22 and AV-8B is going to sneak around the AMCF ground forces to drop the four Eagles behind the trapped Delta troops, into the ocean.

Using jamming coverage from the REB-36D as cover, the CV-22A is feet wet, or over the sea, two minutes later, and heading out to five miles offshore before turning north to head for the inlet the Delta commandos are trapped beside.

Two and a half miles out from Delta's position, Flynn puts the CV-22 into a hover, Danko mimicking the maneuver with his Harrier, and the Osprey starts to lower towards the water.

Flynn settles the CV-22 into the water up to its landing gear housings, the ocean entering the rear of the aircraft via the open cargo ramp.

Adam starts up the small outboard on he and Robbie's Zodiac as they enter the water, and the their Zodiac takes off towards Delta's position, clearing the way for Mitch to slide the inflatable that he and Kristine will be using into the water, as well, and the second Zodiac is soon away, following Adam and Robbie’s small wake into the dark bay.

In ten minutes they will be nearing the two warships moored just outside the inlet, the closest the deep-bottomed warships can get to the shallows Delta are trapped beside.

By the time the two Zodiacs and their four Eagle crew make it to the ships, the rest of the strike team should be in position.

"Valder, that airfield is coming up just to our east." Suzanne calls down to the low-skimming A-10 from the NAWCC’s lofty seventy-thousand-foot orbit.

"Understood Nest. Spotted any hostiles?" Aaron replies as his targeting systems receive the information download from the Peacemaker II

"Unknown. If they’re there, they’re being real quiet. Nothing has moved since we got on station."

"Well, if anything decides to rear its ugly head, I’ll just have to use the ol’ sledgehammer approach." Fieldman mutters as he banks away to the left, pulling his Thunderbolt II out of the formation he has been in, along with the A-4M of Terry Carson and the A-6E of Scott Barrister and Eric Wayne.

Aaron drops his tank-killer into the clearing surrounding the airfield, actually managing to fly beneath the level of the treetops, the ETF Commander is flying low enough that an NBA draft choice would be beheaded by the attack aircraft’s wing, that is, if such a person happened to be standing in the middle of North Korea.

Aaron lines up on the centerline of the obviously little used runway, and roars down it at eye level, daring anyone to come out and take a potshot at him.
No one does.

It appears that the airfield is, in fact, completely abandoned, like Suzanne had surmised. Just to be sure, Aaron lines up a run towards the main structure on the airfield, which is apparently a barracks, and fires a quick burst from his Volkswagen-sized cannon.

No one comes diving out the windows. In fact, nothing at all happens.

Aaron grins at the lack of response.

"Bartender Flight, you’re clear to land. I’ve got top cover until the Cavalry can secure the area." He calls out at almost the same time he sees the MC-130s appear upon his REB-36D-linked displays.

Following the Combat Talons in, but at a lower altitude, are the helicopters of the Cavalry, led in by the MV-22A Pave Eagle.

The Cavalry ground troops arrive in the CH-53 and MH-60G, which land at the edge of the airfield, and the troops from both helos unload and fan out, surrounding it and forming a perimeter. Waiting until the perimeter is secured, the MC-130s come in for a landing, then their pilots pull their aircraft into parking positions at previously-agreed upon positions around the airfield, where they will remain, on standby, until either the Cavalry helos arrive with the rescued Delta commandos, or the operation heads south and they all need to bug out.

Once the MC-130s and the AC-130 are parked in their positions, Aaron lands his A-10 and hot-refuels the tank killer, the loadmaster from Byron Shue’s Combat Talon helping speed the process. While the Warthog is being refueled the Hercules variants’ ground troops all disembark from the aircraft, fully two thirds of them heading due east into the woods to get into position.

Fifteen minutes later, the A-6E Intruder piloted by Scott Barrister roars out of the partly-cloudy night sky, and drops a pair of napalm canisters on the main body of the AMCF troops just in front of Delta.

Burning soldiers are running left and right as they try and escape the liquid fire, looking for all the world like demented torches or half-sized demonspawn sent down to earth.

Seeing this conflagration on shore, the two Hatakaze-class destroyers start to train their guns inland as all the sailors on board rush to the landward sides of the ships, straining to see what is going on against the dark outlines of the coast. This means that no one is looking to the rear of the twin warships, where the four Eagles are almost to the destroyers’ decks in their Zodiacs, which are stealthily gliding forward.

Within moments, at the left-most destroyer, Mitch hoists himself over the edge of the grey-painted warships deck, reaches back behind him to clasp Kristine’s wrist and hoist her onto the ship with him, doing so with only one arm, then the large man, after smirking at Vermes’ awed look, turns and runs to the base of the nearest gun turret.

Overcoming her awe of her lager teammate’s strength, Kristine accelerates to a sprint, passing the first turret he is approaching and heading for the next.

Both Eagles, as well as their counterparts on the second destroyer a quarter mile away, carry a knapsack full of C-4, an M-16, and their personal choice of handguns, in addition to ten grenades each.

Mitch attaches a block of C-4 to the base of the turret, looks at it for a second as if trying to come to a decision about something, shrugs, then moves around the turret, places another C-4 block, then attaches detonators to each.

The big man then turns and gives Vermes a thumbs-up to signify his charges are ready, and she grins back at him.

The two black-clad Eagles run for the stern of the ship, where they click off the safeties of their machine guns and hold them at the ready.

Taking a glance at his teammate to make sure she is ready, and pleased at what he sees, Mitch sets off the detonators.

The explosion is enormous, and the front end of the ship buckles and raises at least a foot out of the water when the two forward turrets effectively vaporize in the explosion.

"Damn," Mitch mutters to Kristine, "Did you see that? Woohoo!" He exclaims as the two saboteurs watch AMCF soldiers pile out of the bridge to begin attempting to put out the blaze.

Mitch and Kristine lay more blocks of C-4 along the rear of the ship and equip them with detonators before heading towards the bridge.

Once they are at the bridge, but before entering, Kristine pulls the pins on two grenades, then throws them through the door.

An explosion rips across the bridge, followed and instant later by another, debris and smoke blasting out the bridge door. Once this has passed, the two ETF members wait a moment to see if there is going to be any return fire, then the two warriors sweep onto the bridge, weapons drawn.

No one inside the warship’s command area is moving, so Mitch and Kristine quickly attach the last three of their C-4 bricks to the main bridge controls, then set the detonators.

This task accomplished, both Eagles sprint for the through the bridge door, then across the deck to the side of the ship, where they dive over the side, narrowly missing their Zodiac as they plunge into the water.

Once the two commandos are aboard their inflatable transport, Mitch powers up the outboard engine, a move that quickly gains the attention of the sailors on deck, who rush to the destroyer’s edge and start firing down at them.

Mitch flips them off with one hand, while mashing the remote for the detonators with the other.

The result is spectacular, and the explosion this time is gargantuan, the ship fairly jumping out of the water with the forces of the five explosions rocking it from bow to stern.

Almost immediately the large warship starts to roll to one side, and begin to capsize. This startling development means that Mitch and Kristine are effectively forgotten about by the sailors, and Mitch aims the Zodiac for the shore, passing the burning and sinking destroyer at almost the same time he sees the ETF and Cavalry aircraft engaging the AMCF ground forces on the land.

On the other Hatakaze-class destroyer, Adam and Robbie aren’t quite as lucky.

While the two men climb onto the deck from their Zodiac, a sentry who has stayed at his post sees the two dark-clad men clamber onto the ship, and immediately yells for help. He barely gets the alarm out as one shot from Robbie’s M-16 drops him to the deck.

Whichever direction the two men look on the ship, they can see North Korean sailors charging at them.

"You’re left, I’m right." Adam mutters to his teammate while the two men pull the pins on their first grenades and throw them into the oncoming masses.

This makes the sailors, who are unarmed, stop and think about their actions for a moment. A moment is all the time Robbie and Adam need to throw two smoke grenades into the sailors’ midst, which serves to confuse the AMCF naval men, as well as double a few of them over coughing from smoke inhalation. With a glance at one another, the Terror Twins rush into the mass of sailors, the two men throwing punches left and right as they sprint through the confusion among the grouped sailors. The North Korean sailors strike back, like the Twins expected, but most of the return punches land on other sailors nearby, as the two Americans are already past. By the time the smoke clears, both Robbie and Adam are past the mass of AMCF men and on their way to the bridge, whilst a number of brawls have erupted within the two groups of sailors.

"Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll all take each other out." Adam quips when the two men meet up on the opposite side of the deck from where they started.

"Yeah, you wish." Robbie returns while the two men place their weapons at the ready and prepare to enter the bridge.

Robbie pokes his head around the hatchway into the bridge, only to retract it swiftly, the "ping" of bullets striking metal following.

"I think they saw that coming," Robbie comments while rolling his eyes at his partner, "got any bright ideas?"

"Yup, let’s get the hell out of here." Adam responds while pulling two bricks of C-4 out of his bag, plunging detonators into them, and placing them beside the hatchway.

He then tosses the explosives into the bridge just before he and his partner dive back to the deck, a good ten foot drop. Adam sets off the detonators right before he lands, mashing the button on his remote.

The bridge is leveled in the resulting explosion, the shockwave of which nearly throws Adam and Robbie overboard, while also knocking the sailors still standing on the deck flat.

Wasting no time, Adam and Robbie pre-prep the rest of their C-4, then rush back towards their zodiac on the other side of the destroyer, sprinting across the deck and tossing the bricks and attached detonators liberally around the ship, aiming as many towards the ships’ big guns as possible.

While the night sky lights up with the explosion of the destroyer Mitch and Kristine have attacked, Robbie and Adam dive over the side of their destroyer.

The fireball of the first Hatakaze ship gains the attention of all the sailors on the ship the Terror Twins have just departed, allowing the two intel operatives to slip unnoticed into their Zodiac.

While Robbie starts the engine of the inflatable and steers them towards the shore, following Mitch’s Zodiac in, Adam counts off the distance from the destroyer, then triggers the detonators.

The last of the AMCF destroyers is engulfed in flames less than a minute after the first, and both ships are badly listing while taking on water when Adam flips on his portable radio.

"You’re all clear from this end." Mason calls over the secure channel to the rest of the strike group.

In response, Aaron’s A-10 roars over the two Zodiacs on his way in for a strafing run on the AMCF ground troops renewing their efforts to wipe out Delta.

Scott "S.B." Barrister pulls up after releasing his napalm canisters and banks to his right, inland, clearing the way for the next aerial attacker, Neal and David’s F-15E, to make their run on the massed army below.

In the seat to Scott’s right, Eric "Red" Wayne is already locking up their next target, and setting up the Mk 84 Rockeyes to be dropped.

Neal "Mukey" Hirsh wags his wings before banking around the egressing Intruder, and David "Warlock" Samuelson tells him that they are locked onto their primary target, a pair of ZSU-23 anti-aircraft guns just to the south of the Cavalry troops, after attacking which they will follow the AMCF lines to two more of the AAA gun mounts.

"We’re good." David tells him from the WSO pit, and Neal kicks the rudders left to point the Strike Eagle’s nose more squarely at the first ZSU, then mashes his pickle, releasing the first two Rockeyes from the rack on the right wing.

Earth, machinery, and people fly through the air when the two warheads hit their marks, destroying the AAA gun.

Their next ZSU shows itself as tracers whiz past, down the F-15E’s left side.

"Whoo…somebody’s angry at us." Neal comments glibly while rolling the Strike Eagle to the right, avoiding the tracers reaching up for him.

"I’m getting sick of this lightshow, Mukey." David comments from the rear pit, informing his pilot that the next pair of bombs are locked on and ready.

"Would you like me to cut their power, then?" Neal queries at the same time he releases the next set of bombs, momentarily stopping his juking to line up on the ZSU-23 that is firing into the night sky in a blind attempt to hit them, since the REB-36D is rendering the AMCF’s search radars useless. This is also the reason no SAMs have been fired at any of the aircraft in the strike package.

While the second ZSU is reduced to a smoking crater by the Rockeyes, a series of flashes emerges from the trees nearby to the north, and the loud "fwiip" of passing large-caliber rounds surrounds the Strike Eagle.

"Yo, Valder, get over here, I’ve got some friggin tanks shooting at me. Ballsy bastards, I’ll give ‘em that." David mutters as he slaves the F-15E’s LANTIRN (Low Altitude Navigation and Targeting Infra-Red, Night) pod to look in that direction, and spots three T-072 main battle tanks, or MBTs, in the cover of the woods.

"They may be ballsy, but I wouldn’t give them dick for odds on a long life." Aaron cracks while the F-15E crew watch his A-10A roar in from the west, having just taken off again after filling up his tanks at the Raptor-held airfield. "Batter up!!!" The ETF’s C/O comments as he starts his run in on the trio of tanks.

Knowing Fieldman and his Warthog will make short work of the T-72s, Neal lines his Strike Eagle up on the last ZSU-23, which is at the northern edge of the AMCF ground forces.

The burst of tracers, reaching up like blue green fingers of some hellish demon out of the trees, narrowly miss the F-15E’s cockpit while they are setting up for their attack run, and a few impacts can be felt by the jet’s two-man crew.

Neal puts the McDonnell-Douglas built multi-role fighter through a series of aileron rolls while the tracers whip past them, jockeying the stick and throttle to vary their altitude and attitude in relation to the gunners below, but still continuing his dive on the target, a grim smile on his face.

"Clear and hot." Dave calls.

"Thank you." Neal replies to his whizzo’s indication that the weapons are ready to go, and the pilot releases the last of the Rockeyes before pulling up into the black sky, rolling up and over Terry’s nimble blue A-4M when the smaller craft’s pilot commences his own strafing run on the AMC troops. Right after the aerobatics rolling pass, the destroyers in the harbor explode in succession.

The fifteen Delta commandos watch in confused amazement as the trees in front of them explode, tracers start tearing into the sky from anti-aircraft guns nearby, the sky above them suddenly seems to fill with aircraft, and, one by one, the tracers stop as their sources explode, as do a group of tanks nearby, and the bay behind them starts to burn in two spots where the destroyers used to be.

Though the Delta troops have no idea who is systematically wiping out every obstacle to their escape, nor why, all of them, at some point, think the same thing, An enemy of my enemy is my friend at least once before rushing out of their sheltered area on the edge of the bay, charging into what is now the rear flank of the AMCF/Rising Sun forces that, until moments ago, had them outnumbered and surrounded.

Never have fifteen men waded into battle with such high spirits.

"Okay, all the big targets are down for the count. Hammer, you’re on." Aaron calls out to the AC-130H, which is inbound towards the action from the captured airfield. "Please be advised that Delta has entered the fray below, stay away from the shore on the first pass, and our boys should put two and two together." He adds.

"Let’s hope they don’t come up with six." Ann "Ice" Horn quips while she banks the Spectre towards the shoreline, circling around so that the AMCF and Rising Sun troops are on the left side of her aircraft before giving her gunners permission to open fire.

Once she has given this command, the whole aircraft shakes as a wall of lead roars out the left of the converted Hercules, the two M61 20mkm Vulcan cannons, single M102 105mm howitzer, L60 40mm Bofors cannon, and lone GAU-12 25mm gatling gun roar their fury as they fire rounds down into the troops below, the might of this combined fire enough to force Ann to readjust her rudders, less the recoil from the guns right her aircraft or alter her flight path.

After making two passes along the length of the enemy ground troops, of which her run decimates over three hundred, the Spectre banks away, opening the way for the Cavalry ground troops to move in and engage whatever survivors feel brave enough to attack them, covered by their helicopters and the ETF’s aircraft.

Jen "Scope" Van Hove hovers the MV-22A Pave Eagle just behind the Cavalry ground troops as they advance, waiting for them to give her the signal that it is okay to land.

Adam Mason looks to the other boat as his Zodiac overtakes Mitch’s, and the four-Eagle sea team race towards the shoreline, where they can see the Delta troops starting to advance into the Rising Sun and AMCF lines, fighting their way to freedom.

Now being attacked from five sides, since the Cavalry ground troops are converging from the north, west, and south, Delta from the east, and aircraft from above, the AMCF and Rising Sun soldiers who have survived AC-130’s fusillade of fire fight like cornered rats….which, not surprisingly, is exactly how their opponents view them.

Charlie "Pheonix" Clark, one of the Cavalry ground teams’ squad leaders, levels his M-16 at a pair of AMCF soldiers that are firing towards his teammates to the right, and he snaps off a quick burst. The two Asian men crumble to the ground.

Five men appear form the scorched trees, their weapons at the ready, aiming at Charlie and his team.

Something about this quintet of armed men looks different to the squad leader, and Charlie pulls out his mini-maglite from a pocket on his hip and turns it on, pointing it at the US flag patch on his shoulder.

He does this because he is not sure if the other men are wearing NVGs as his team are, and because he knows his team has him covered should his hunch be wrong.

The five approaching men all stop at the same time upon seeing the flag, lower their weapons, and pull down velcro flaps on their shoulders concealing similar patches sewn to their black BDUs.

Delta and the Cavalry have made contact.

Five minutes later, Jen "Scope" Van Hove settles the MV-22 to the bomb scarred, fire ravaged, blood soaked, and body-littered ground that used to be a battlefield, the CH-53, CV-22, Mi-24D, and MH-60 approaching out of the darkness behind her. While these transport helos touch down to pick up the Cavalry and Delta troops, the two AH-64s, twin AH-1Ws, lone AV-8B, RAH-66, and PAH-2A circle the action acting as top cover, with Aaron in his A-10 occasionally roaring over, lighting up some portion or another of the god-forsaken jungle with his cannon whenever he is alerted of a non-friendly presence. The ETF Commander seems to be enjoying his job quite a bit, from the little aerial displays he puts on after each explosion he causes.

"I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going for some beer, pizza, and hamburgers back at base." A thoroughly soaked Adam comments to the Delta troops as they, and the rest of Adam’s waterlogged team, board the CV-22 Osprey.

"Best idea I’ve heard all week. In fact, I’m buying." The Delta leader replies.

"By the way, who the heck are you guys…wait….I know two of you guys. You’re DoughBoy, ran Commo with us a few times back in the early eighties!" one off the Delta troopers comments, pointing to Robbie, then, shifting his finger to a tall member of the Cavalry ground team with black hair and a black goatee, "And you’re Dono, you were with Recon a few years back." He finishes.

Patrick O’Donnell nods back at the Delta troop in affirmation, as does Robbie.

"We’re the guys they muckety mucks sent in to rescue you. Do you really want to know any more?" Patrick replies as he shifts his M60 across his knees when the Osprey starts to lift off.

The young Delta commando’s eyes say yes, he would love to know more, but, after obvious thought, the man shakes his head no.

"I think I just got lost on vacation." He mutters to a teammate, who laughs, knowing that this is probably a better cover than what the Pentagon will come up with for the time they have been missing, if they are ever asked.

Out the windows of the CV-22A, the Delta commandos, five Cavalry troops, and the four soaked Eagles can see the other transport helicopters lifting into the air around them, ferrying survivors back to the airfield, and the idling MC-130s waiting there.

Once all the troops and helicopters are clear of the area, and the MC-130s are headed back for Clark, Aaron’s A-10, Terry’s A-4, Scott and Eric’s A-6, Ryan’s F/A-18, and Neal and David’s F-15E dive on the battlefield once again, dropping all the canisters of napalm they can carry, which had been loaded to the aircraft at the airfield, complements of the C-141 making a delivery. Soon, according to the overhead imagery captured by the REB-36D NAWCC, the entire battleground is ablaze with liquid fire, and no remains of any bodies or machinery are left behind to tell the tale of any battle here, just a large area of mysteriously scorched earth, which will be reported in by the press for the next week.

Inside the MC-130s and a few of the cargo-able helicopters, 20 of the Cavalry troops are returning to the Philippines injured. Six never left the now-charred battlefield. None of the AMCF or Rising Sun troops will ever see another sunrise.

The whole rescue has taken less than three hours from departure of the strike force from Clark to its return, and the attack itself over the rescue area took less than thirty minutes.

No one will ever know this rescue took place, since the survivors aren’t telling anyone about it, the North Korean government will never admit the loss of so many troops in a lopsided battle, especially after denouncing the area as a freak forest fire, and you can’t find it in the history books. But the ETF, the Cavalry, the Raptors, and Delta know. Which is exactly what the Eagles are discussing as they fly away from the Clark economic Zone.

"And that is enough, really, isn’t it?" Ryan Wakefield asks over the radio as he pilots his F/A-18C Hornet back towards Gorilla Mountain alongside the REB-36D, after having watched Delta get into the C-141 for home.

"That’s plenty for me." Terry comments from his A-4.

"Besides, we don’t really like fighting these battles, it’s just all we’re good at." Adam comments from inside the NAWCC, where he, Stacy, Carmen, Robbie, Mitch, and Kristine are lounging in the rear crew compartment, hitching a ride home.

"I dunno, Valder’s pretty good at getting in trouble." Wahren comments with a grin.

"How about all we’re trained for, then?" Adam amends.

"Sounds good to me." Matt Hunter comments from his F-16, "Who’s got some tunes to make this flight go by a little quicker?"

"Try this on for size." Matt Bendix replies as he inserts a CD into one of the players he has jacked into the Eagle’s Nest’s communications gear. Soon the sounds of "Judgement Day" from Van Halen’s For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge fill the ETF’s secure channel as the eight aircraft fly steadily back towards Colorado.