Fallen Angels

Chapter One

"I haven't had this good pork since I was in Rockville." Francis stated. The pork was fatty, soggy, and full of salt, I wasn't even sure if it was edible. "Oh shut up." I replied to Francis. "It's like the pig was smashed flat onto the floor, taken out and then canned in sea water." Francis laughed, along with the rest of the crew. "That's exactly what I'm saying! Rockville's pork was terrible!" This sparked another laugh from the group. Baker nearly spit up the food in his mouth. Partially it was from the joke, but I think most was because it was horrid. McKenzie wasn't even eating, she didn't give a fuck about it. But, really, I didn't think any of us did.

Francis was a humorous guy, he tried making jokes in random situations. Most of the time it failed, but it didn't matter. In a time of stress, even his failed jokes make us laugh. He was my wingman, and it made me smile just to have him around. I am not sure if I could trust him with my life, but that didn't matter. Then there was Baker. He was second in command of the squadron. He had just as much experience as me, but he never get a higher score then me in the officers test. He was pretty well as a pilot, and almost outmatched me in a simulation. Then there was McKenzie. She was a hard working woman, despite the gender related bullshit. She was a good pilot on the field, or at least during the tests. We are all FA-18 Pilots of Devil One, or Fallen Angels. We earned the nickname after we researched a flight technique. I think it was called the Cobra, something like that. It would only work if someone were behind us, though, but it was still a sneaky kill. We would lift the nose of the aircraft and reduce speed almost into a stall. Then we would wait for the enemy to pass, and we would drop our nose and fire our missiles. It usually didn't give the enemy a chance to launch flares since we were too close.

We got the maneuver from the Russians, and it only worked for certain aircraft. Luckily, we got an updated version of the FA-18 hornet that allowed us to do so. I used to have a printed copy of the diagram, but it's probably tucked away in some random drawer. We got used to it, anyways, so we can use it whenever we want. We were stationed on the super carrier USS Typhoon, a carrier armed to the teeth with warplanes of all kinds. It also was armed with one 16 inch cannon in front just below the flight deck. It had horrible traversing, though, and would require the ship to turn in order to aim anything past a 45 degree firing angle. It could carry as many as 60 aircraft. 

We were on our way to Bolivia, a country in South America. We launched from a large island base operating just below California, off the grid to satellites and civilians. It was mainly a warship manufacturing plant and coastal ship base. There we were brefied on the situation and geared up.

So we were here in the mess hall, complaining about the food. Francis trying to make a joke, as always. I took another bite of the pork, and for an instant it tasted like rubber. I continued chewing and evetually it tasted like the normal trash. "I swear, this shit is scrap metal." Baker said as he lifted his fork in the air. The fork was falling apart, and only had two points to stab meat with. We all laughed some more. Suddenly, a speaker from the ship burst to life. 

"Attention all personnel, we have passed the northern most coast of Chile, South America. All pilots are to be in the aircraft within the next ten minutes. All other personel must..." A large explosion echoed through the ship. The ship shook dramatically, knocking people over and tossing food around. The speaker continued in a more frantic pace. "Previous order cancelled. All personel, to your stations! The Chinese have taken Chile. I repeat, the Chinese forces have taken Chile!" 

I heard everyone yelling and running to the doorway leading out of the mess hall. I threw my food aside and started yelling at everyone to move. "Baker and McKenzie, go through Hall E to get your hornets. They should be in the lower decks. Francis, with me!" I ran to the doorway and pushed a couple of others out of the way. Francis literally pushed a man to the ground, who started cursing his name. Francis continued running with me. We evetually made it to our aircraft, which were patiently waiting for us. The gleaming silver shined as the sun reflected off the aluminum. There were three men there. Two were holding our gear, the third was holding the red beam sticks for takeoff. I ran to my hornet, and one man gave me my gear. I put it on, snapping the air mask. "Ready, Francis?" I asked. He raised his hand and gave me a thumbs up.

I walked up the small stairs and into the hornet.  I looked at the devil insignia on the side of my 30 millimeter cannon. It gleamed pride and profound glory. There were many other craft on the runway in front of me, which were slowly taking off one by one. "Thunder One One through Stalker One Four, your clear for takeoff." Moments later four F-35s flew off the carrier as an artillery shell hit the ship, shaking it. "Vortex One One through Vortex One Four, your clear for takeoff." Another few seconds later and four F-16s take off, one of them firing flares as a SAM missile fires in its direction. The flares work, and the missile changes coarse. 

"Devil One One, this is Devil One Two." Devil One Two was Baker. "I'm here with Devil One Four, and our aircraft are on the carrier deck." I acknowledge this as the radio sparks to life again. "Predator One One through Predator One Four, go!" Four F-22 raptors scream off the deck heading the same direction as the others. "Devil One One, change of plans. You are to go right past Chile and move into Bolivia." My radio speaks. I turn it on so I can talk to the general radio. "Copy, command. Devils, you getting this?" Everyone acknowledged this. Immediately after, an artillery shell hits the command bridge. "Devil One One through Devil One Four, get the hell off the runway now!" I engage thrusters and zoom off the runway.

I fall a little, almost hitting the surface of the ocean. I lift the nose of the hornet up, clearing the ocean and moving to the sky. "Devils, on me!" I yelled. Francis gets behind me and to my left, while Baker and McKenzie get behind and too my right. A missile lock-on suddenly blared through my headset, freaking me out a little. "Hold on, missile lock on. Deploying flares." Francis, Baker and McKenzie turn away from me as I deploy my flares. Slowly, the missile lock fails and stops. "Clear." Francis states and rejoins me. The others soon follow. "Head to the cloud cover then head full west towards Bolivia. We have a fight to catch up with." I engage afterburners and head full straight towards Bolivia. "Here we go." I hear McKenzie say as we fly past the clouds.