November 18
0800 Hours
Emilie stood at attention inside the adjacent base commander's office, her posture rigid but her jaw tight with frustration. Commander Maksim leaned back slightly in his chair, steepling his fingers together.
"Thanks for coming, Emilie," he began, his voice steady. "I just need a statement from the flight lead about what happened with Captain Megistus."
He leaned forward. "How did Megistus get shot down?"
Emilie exhaled sharply through her nose, the tension simmering just beneath her skin.
"We had finished wiping out all enemy targets that day," she said, her voice flat. "We were providing top cover for Sea Monster One, Two, and Three during their extraction."
She paused, eyes narrowing slightly.
"As we circled the camp, Megistus suddenly broke formation without warning. I had given her explicit instructions en route: once the helicopters touched down, stay in formation, maintain altitude, and avoid doing anything fucking stupid around a hot LZ."
Emilie shook her head, her fists clenching at her sides.
"Despite my orders, she peeled off, dropped low and slow right over the camp. Exposed herself. Made herself a goddamn target. A hidden SAM site lit up and fired a single missile at her."
Maksim's brow furrowed. "Did the SAM show up on IFF?"
Emilie shook her head. "No, sir. It was cold. Completely masked. But one of the Sea Monster helicopters managed to spot it and engaged with gunfire. Took it out after Megistus got hit."
Maksim leaned back in his chair and exhaled heavily, running a hand through his short-cropped hair.
"Right..." he muttered. "That's it for now. Thanks, Captain."
Emilie gave a tight nod, turned on her heel, and left the office, her boots striking the tiled floor with sharp, angry steps. She crossed the hallway and entered the briefing room, sinking into a chair beside Ayaka with her arms crossed, her mouth set in a deep scowl.
Ayaka gave her a concerned glance.
"You don't seem pleased, Emilie."
Emilie shot her a flat look. "No shit, Sherlock."
Before Ayaka could respond, Base Commander Courbervie turned on the main display, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Alright. Let's get started," he said.
He tapped a few keys, and a map of the Deshret Desert appeared on the screen, red markers blinking faintly.
"We've successfully tracked Captain Mona Megistus through her distress beacon," Courbervie announced. "With that, we are greenlit to launch the search and rescue operation."
He gestured at the map.
"Ground units in Deshret report clear skies. Visibility is excellent. Conditions are perfect."
He pointed at several marked enemy positions.
"Reports indicate that Captain Megistus, along with the downed Sea Monster Three crew and a number of POWs, are on the run. Enemy ground forces are pursuing them. She's still transmitting her beacon... but the signal is weak. Real weak. We can't pinpoint her exact location until you get closer to the source."
Courbervie turned, fixing Emilie with a firm gaze.
"Captain Emilie. Your F-14A is equipped with a rescue homing receiver tied into emergency locator beacons. That's your only reliable connection to Megistus. Once you home in on her signal, relay the coordinates immediately to Rescue Team Sea Monster One."
He paused.
"Keep your eyes sharp for enemy ground threats and possible air threats. You are not there to dogfight. You are there to get Megistus the hell out of that desert alive."
Courbervie's tone hardened.
"Escort the rescue helicopters out of Deshret airspace once they pick her up. And bring her back. Don't make us give her a posthumous two-rank promotion."
Emilie shot up from her seat without a word, grabbed her helmet off the chair next to her, and stormed out.
Teppei called after her, "H-Hey! Captain!"
Emilie stopped at the doorway and glanced over her shoulder, her voice cutting.
"Are you done gawking at the Commander? Or are we here to execute a goddamn rescue operation?"
Teppei stumbled over his words. "O-Of course! Just—just wait up!"
Emilie scoffed. "Then don't wait too long."
Without another word, she stalked down the hallway toward the flight line. Behind her, Courbervie folded his arms behind his back and muttered under his breath, "I wouldn't keep your flight lead waiting, fellas."
Teppei and Ayaka exchanged a nervous glance before snatching up their helmets and jogging after Emilie.
Outside, the sun beat down mercilessly over the tarmac, shimmering heatwaves rising from the concrete.
Emilie marched toward her F-14A, the towering fighter gleaming under the sun like a sleeping beast. Ground crews were already making final checks. She barely acknowledged them.
Teppei and Ayaka caught up.
Ayaka reached out and gently placed a hand on Emilie's shoulder.
"Captain... are you okay?"
Emilie blinked once, then replied, "Oh, I'm fine."
Teppei frowned. "That tone doesn't sound like you're 'fine'..."
Emilie flashed a cold grin. "Oh yeah. I'll be fine... once I speak with our dearest Captain Mona Megistus when we haul her ass out of there."
Teppei gasped, flustered. "C-Captain?!"
Emilie smirked wider. "Don't worry. I'll be easy on her. After a lecture on keeping your goddamn ass glued to my fucking tail where it belongs."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and climbed up the F-14's ladder. The metal burned hot under her gloves.
Sliding into the pilot's seat, she strapped herself in, pulling the shoulder harnesses down and clicking them into place with practiced precision. Her helmet rested on her lap for a moment before she slipped it on, pulling the oxygen mask snug over her face. The canopy hissed as it lowered, locking with a heavy clunk that sealed her inside her war machine.
She signaled the ground crew to pull external power and bleed air.
The crew chief flashed a thumbs-up, crouching under the fuselage to disconnect the lines. Once clear, he gave another thumbs-up and ducked away.
Emilie flipped the right engine start switch.
The TF30 engine began spooling up with a rising whine. As it hit 20% RPM, she eased the throttle into idle. The turbine caught, roaring to life. She repeated the sequence for the left engine, her hands steady, her mind razor-focused.
Both engines stabilized with a deep, rumbling growl. She toggled the flight controls — ailerons, rudders, elevators — checking for full, clean movement. Everything responded like clockwork.
She eased off the brakes and began taxiing, her Tomcat rolling forward with a low, thunderous rumble.
Teppei and Ayaka followed suit, their own F-14As moving into position behind her.
The three Tomcats taxied in formation, heavy and lethal as sharks cutting through water.
At the end of the runway, Emilie held the brakes, waiting for clearance.
The tower's voice crackled in her headset.
"Wolfsbane flight, you are cleared for takeoff. Altitude restrictions lifted. Good hunting out there."
Emilie keyed the mic. "Wolfsbane copies. Rolling."
She shoved the throttles forward into full afterburner. Twin columns of fire erupted from her engines, the entire aircraft vibrating with unleashed fury.
Speed bled in quickly:
122 knots... 137... 145... 156... 169...
At 174 knots, she eased back on the stick. The Tomcat's nose lifted gracefully, and she roared off the deck, gear tucking up cleanly moments later.
One after another, Teppei and Ayaka followed, their Tomcats clawing into the sky.
Three F-14As banked westward, the desert sprawling wide beneath them.
Their mission had begun.
They were going to get Megistus back.
Or burn half the goddamn desert trying.
In the span of just thirty minutes, they were back over the arid expanse of Safhe Shantranj.
The three aircraft — battered but still airborne — reformed into a tight triangle formation at 1,300 feet AGL, same altitude as before, skimming low over the cracked earth and jagged rock formations below. Their wings shimmered under the harsh midday sun, heat haze rippling off their exhausts.
In the cockpit of her F-14A, Teppei keyed her mic, her voice sharp with urgency.
"Alright. We've arrived. Come on — let's go find her before her beacon goes dead!"
In the adjacent Tomcat, Emilie gave a brisk nod, narrowing her eyes behind the dark visor of her helmet.
"Right."
With a smooth motion, Emilie trimmed her control stick, adjusting course to home in on the locator beacon — a steady, rhythmic beep pumping into her headset.
She nudged the stick gently to the right, careful to maintain altitude and spacing in the tight formation. As she banked, the tempo of the beeping suddenly quickened, the pitch climbing.
Closer.
Leveling her wings, she peered out over the barren landscape — and spotted movement.
Two fast-moving contacts on the edge of her visual range, glinting in the sunlight.
F/A-18 Hornets.
Her heartbeat spiked. Emilie's gloved thumb flicked over the master arm switch, snapping the weapons system hot. Her HUD populated rapidly: XLAA missiles selected, targets auto-designated.
The Tomcat's radar painted them, and the familiar shrill lock tone filled her helmet.
She didn't hesitate.
"Fox Three."
Two XLAA missiles detached cleanly from the Tomcat's underbelly, their rocket motors igniting with a muted roar. The long-range active radar-guided missiles streaked away, leaving pale contrails arcing upward toward the unsuspecting Hornets.
Seconds later —
Two bright flashes bloomed in the distance, followed by expanding plumes of black smoke. The F/A-18s, completely oblivious, had been caught clean and obliterated midair. Shattered wreckage spiraled earthward, debris trails marking their graves in the sky.
On the common enemy frequency, a sudden burst of static and frantic voices crackled into life.
At the same time, their allied frequency came alive — Mona's voice, faint but steady, cut through the noise. Background noise — running footsteps, heavy breathing — echoed on the open mic.
"I'm okay... I can keep on going..."
Teppei, glancing down from her canopy, squinted hard at the terrain below. Something caught her eye — movement, maybe?
"Hey Raven! I think I saw someone! Can you confirm?"
Emilie shifted her gaze downward but saw nothing — just endless desert and broken rocks.
"Have you gone senile, Herring? I didn't see shit."
Teppei scratched the side of her helmet, sheepish.
"Huh. Weird... I thought I saw someone..."
Emilie sighed heavily, adjusting her grip on the stick.
"Don't tell me you've gone schizophrenic, Herring..."
The locator beacon's tempo began to slow, signaling they were veering off course. Emilie instinctively corrected, easing the plane into a gentle left-hand turn, feeling the slight shift in G-forces.
But then — the pitch of the beeping climbed sharply again.
Closer.
She banked right again, cautiously tightening her turn. The locator tone increased in tempo and urgency — beep-beep-beep — and the pitch climbed higher.
She rolled wings-level, stabilizing.
On the enemy frequency, another voice broke through — tense and panicked:
"Enemy planes above! Do you see them?"
"Yeah — but sounds like they shot down our only air cover."
Another voice, grim:
"Doesn't matter. Doesn't sound like they've detected us on IFF."
"And that poor bastard that ejected last night? Probably only has a pistol left..."
The allied frequency buzzed to life once more. This time, Mona's voice had a smug edge to it, even through the strain.
"Protect Raven? Heh. I'm the one being protected!"
Emilie scoffed, muttering under her breath.
"Heh. Let's see if you're still smug after this bullshit."
She scanned her radar and surroundings again, noting multiple ground contacts moving erratically. Anxiety clawed at the back of her mind.
"Fuck this mission. Fuck this mission... Honestly, it's so fucking avoidable."
In her Tomcat, Ayaka keyed her mic, her voice calm, an island of tranquility amidst the chaos.
"Keep your spirits up, Captain. This will be over soon."
On the ground, Mona pressed forward through the cracked desert, half-carrying a wounded crewman from Sea Monster Three. Around her, the other survivors and POWs stumbled along, sun-beaten and dehydrated. Sand crunched under their boots.
Over the howl of the wind, Mona heard it — faint at first, then rising.
The distinctive whine of a turbofan engine, growing louder.
She stopped and lifted her head toward the blistering sky.
Grabbing her battered survival radio, she keyed it.
"That sound... is that who I think it is?"
"And is it even on our side?"
Her free hand tightened into a fist. Despite everything — the pain, the exhaustion — she smiled faintly.
"It's okay," she whispered to the wounded man beside her. "I know Emilie will come for me... and the crew."
Another voice crackled to life over the comms:
"Sea Monster to Wolfsbane Leader! We're honing in on your signal! It's getting stronger!"
The tempo of the locator beacon beat faster and faster.
But then—
It stopped.
Emilie slammed her palm against the device, frustration boiling over.
"God damn it! It's being jammed!"
She snapped her head up, eyes locking onto a new blip on the radar.
"Hey! A jammer—E-3 Sentry, one o'clock high!"
Without hesitation, Emilie shoved the throttles into full afterburner, her F-14A roaring as it clawed skyward, chasing the lumbering E-3.
The airframe shuddered as she pulled a steep climb. Closing in fast.
Then—
A lock tone.
"Fox Two!"
Two Sidewinders detached from their rails with a sharp hiss, streaking upward on pillars of smoke. Emilie inverted the Tomcat with a smooth roll and yanked the stick back, diving away at full throttle.
Above her, the Sidewinders struck true.
A bright flash.
The E-3 split in half midair, its wings ripping free, spiraling down like burning leaves.
From her perch, Ayaka spotted the explosion.
"Jammer craft down!" she reported.
The enemy radio scrambled again, voices tense:
"Eleven o'clock! I spotted movement ahead!"
Emilie nosed her Tomcat down low, skimming just above the dunes. The locator's tempo snapped back, fast and frantic.
Got you.
But then it shifted—moving again.
Emilie banked right, adjusting carefully.
The signal strengthened, beating louder.
Then a familiar voice crackled through the allied frequency—raw and tired, but unmistakable.
"I... I heard that engine before... Emilie... is that you?"
Gunshots echoed faintly over the open channel.
The enemy radio scrambled again:
"You idiot! Hold your fire!"
"Sir! She's shooting back!"
From her canopy, Emilie spotted them—movement across the sand. A group waving frantically.
Down below, Mona looked up and spotted the unmistakable silhouette of an F-14 banking overhead.
"Emilie!!" she called out.
Emilie keyed her mic, eyes scanning the ground.
"Sea Monster, this is Raven. We've located Captain Megistus and the downed Sea Monster Three crew."
The Blackhawk crews responded immediately:
"Roger. We're en route."
Inside the helicopter, one of the crew chuckled over the comms:
"Say... is this Megistus a looker?"
Emilie scoffed.
"Why don't you rescue our little princess and see for yourself."
Laughter buzzed on the net.
"Heh. If she's hot, I'm asking her out."
As the Sea Monster helicopters closed in, one pilot spotted movement near a dune.
"Hey! I see them! Looks like our teammate is waving us in!"
"Looks like Captain Megistus is holding someone at gunpoint..."
The Blackhawk hovered, kicking up a vortex of sand as it descended.
"This is Sea Monster One. Preparing to land."
The helicopter touched down with a light bounce, the sliding doors slamming open as the crew poured out.
On the ground, Mona tightened her grip on her Beretta, finger hovering near the trigger.
"Tell me! Why are you attacking us?!" she demanded, voice sharp.
The Natlan soldier, sweating and scared, raised his hands.
"Look, I don't know! I swear! Even our military's having doubts about this war! There's too much suspicion about how this all started! I swear, that's all I know!"
From the helicopter, one of the Sea Monster crew called out:
"Captain Megistus! We're your rescue team! Come on! Leave him!"
Mona stared the soldier down for a heartbeat longer—then, with a slow breath, she clicked the Beretta's safety on and backed away.
"You better start running."
The soldier took the hint, sprinting into the desert.
Mona turned and scrambled aboard the Blackhawk, the crew helping her up as the doors slammed shut.
"We're all aboard! Let's get the hell outta here!"
The Blackhawk clawed back into the sky, banking eastward.
"This is Sea Monster. We've got them. Thanks for the assist!" the pilot radioed.
Emilie keyed her mic.
"Roger. And tell Mona..." she narrowed her eyes slightly, "I need to have a word with her once we land."
The crew relayed back, chuckling:
"Roger, Captain."
Teppei keyed in, his tone half-joking:
"Hey, don't you think that song would be perfect for a time like this, huh?"
Emilie exhaled sharply.
"Not today, Teppei."
Teppei groaned dramatically.
"Whaaaat?! I thought you liked that song!"
Emilie shook her head, leveling her Tomcat into formation.
"No. I said the genre isn't my type... and that rock and roll shit you're always blasting definitely isn't."
The F-14s formed up smoothly, banking together in a slow, coordinated turn back toward the east.
Back toward Petrichor.
Hours later...
The planes and helicopters touched down at Petrichor Air Force Base.
The F-14s sat idle once again, the roar of their engines replaced by the heavy silence of the airfield.
But Emilie was still tense.
She jumped down from her F-14A, boots hitting the tarmac hard, and immediately started walking toward Mona, who was already approaching from the other side.
They met halfway — and Emilie was the first to speak.
"What the fuck, Mona! I told you yesterday to stay in formation!"
Mona tried to explain, her voice tight.
"But—"
Emilie raised a finger, cutting her off sharply.
"No buts! You are my responsibility as the team leader of this squadron. Just because you're a Captain doesn't mean you have the fucking seniority!"
Her voice sharpened, frustration boiling over.
"This would've happened to you last month if Candace hadn't stepped in to save your sorry ass! You need to get your emotions in check! Especially when it comes to Candace! If you stay soft, it's gonna make you lose focus!"
"You could've died out there yesterday!"
Mona looked down, guilt washing over her.
"I... I'm sorry, Captain..."
Emilie's anger faded slightly into something more worn — more pained.
She sighed.
"The reason I'm talking to you like this... is because I care."
She stepped closer, her voice lower, more grounded now.
"You said it yourself... You don't want to see any more men and women die in this pointless war."
She paused, locking eyes with her.
"And you could've become one of them."
Mona bit her lip, eyes stinging.
Emilie continued, her voice steady.
"You made a vow, right?"
Mona nodded silently.
"You said you didn't want to lose another flight lead..."
Emilie's hand tightened into a fist at her side.
"...and when I agreed to take the lead, I made a vow too."
She took a breath.
"And that's to not lose my wingman."
"You are my wingman, Mona."
"You are Wolfsbane Two."
Mona wiped at her eyes and gave a shaky nod.
"Y-Yeah..."
Without another word, Emilie pulled Mona into a hug, wrapping her arms around her tightly.
"Please, Mona..." Emilie whispered against her shoulder.
"No more dumb shit like this."
Mona clutched Emilie back, burying her face against her.
"I promise, Emilie..." she breathed.
"No more."