801 T.T.S. Airbats Fan Fiction ❯ Japanese Bat, American Eagle, North Korean Dragon ❯ So it Begins ( Chapter 2 )

Iruma Airbase

Hangar 41

23 April 2005, 0430 hrs local

 

Marx started his walk around and preflight of Cheetah in its hangar. Cobb called down from the backseat. “Scooter, nav's up. Course and waypoint information for our orbit. We've also got a full load of gas and O2, and coordinates for in-flight refueling.” Some wise guy, more than likely MSgt. Reyes, had put five stick-on meatballs under the cockpit sill.

“How's connectivity with the training munitions?” Marx asked, as he hung from the outboard blue painted Sidewinder. It resisted movement.

“Connectivity good, no loose wires.” Cobb replied, as Marx continued his walk around. He inspected the port stabilator and exhaust nozzles, and made sure that the vanes also resisted movement. The starboard side proceeded just as quickly.

Marx climbed up and, after removing those meatballs from the fuselage, climbed into the cockpit. He looked over to his opponent. Mitaka was just starting her first walk around on the aggressor F-15EJ. She looked at him and smiled. Marx gave her a thumbs up and a wink. “I'll see you in the air, Arisa.”

“And I'll see you in flames, Major.” Mitaka grinned.

“Man that's a screwy relationship, Scooter.”

“But it's worth it, Brian. Its worth it.” Marx put his hard hat on and plugged into the fighter. “Computer, continue alert start no external support.”

“Alert start continuation. Anti-collision lights on, brakes set. Batteries at 95%, air tanks at 100%. Standby for alert start.” Compressed air shot into the left engine, around the fourth stage turbine blades. Fuel was injected and the igniters sparked. The fuel caught and the computer automatically advanced the throttle and brought the engine up to idle speed. Instrument lights flashed as power was transferred to the generator. “Engine one at idle. Power transfer to generators successful. Starting engine two.” Power was transferred to the cold engine, and startup continued. The engine roared to life and set at idle power. “Alert start completed. Engine power set at 10%. Fuel consumption nominal.”

Marx keyed his radio. “Iruma Tower, this is Genesis Four Zero Fox. Requesting permission to taxi.”

“Four Zero Fox, you are cleared to taxi to Runway 20 and hold short for clearance.”

“Roger, taxi to Runway 20 and hold short Runway 20. Four Zero Fox copies.” Marx released the parking brakes and advanced the throttle. Cheetah advanced out of the hangar, and three security vehicles took positions in front of the aircraft, their headlights on, and Cheetah's taxi lights and navigation lights off.

As the formation reached the runway, the security vehicles pulled away and cleared the run up area. “Iruma Tower, Four Zero Fox. Holding short Runway Two-Zero.”

“Roger Four Zero Fox. You are cleared for departure Runway Two-Zero. See you in a few hours. Contact Tokyo Control for clearance and vectors to holding area.”

“Roger that, Iruma. Four Zero Fox departing.” Marx released the foot brakes and taxied on to the runway. He advanced the throttles to afterburner, and the prototype fighter rocketed down the runway, the actinic white of the afterburners ruining the night vision of anyone watching. Halfway down, Marx pulled back on the stick and hauled the fighter into the predawn sky.

“Tokyo Control, this is Genesis Four Zero Fox, military flight of one. Requesting permission to climb to Flight Level 42, and clear Tokyo airspace.”

“Genesis Four Zero Fox, Tokyo Control. You are not cleared to FL42, other military traffic at that level. You are cleared direct at FL36.”

“Roger Tokyo. Clear direct at FL36. Good day.” Marx leveled off at 36 thousand feet, and headed west towards the Sea of Japan.

 

KOREAN DMZ

0550hrs local

Just north of the 38th Parallel

 

General Evgeni Spivakov looked out at the air armada around him. “This is the way it should be, not laying down and begging for scraps from the West,” he said into his facemask. MiG and Sukhoi fighters and fighter-bombers and their Chinese equivalents orbited at various altitudes to keep from flying into each other. Some aircraft were camouflaged, others, especially the older fighters, were polished bare metal, glinting faintly in the moonlight. All of them lovingly maintained by their ground crews for this decisive day.

The veteran of fighting in Afghanistan and Chechnya looked at his chronometer and keyed his mike. “Comrades,” he said in heavily accented English, “begin your crossings now.” The North Korean Air Force crossed the DMZ in advance of the ground forces, heading to strike the ROK and American air forces on the ground.

 

* * *

 

“Comrade General, we are ready to liberate the South from the oppressive capitalistic regime.”

“Excellent, Colonel. Begin the invasion at once. I predict there will be a repeat of 1950, but we will be victorious.”

 

Engineers placed explosive charges on the overhead rock. With a roar, the ground collapsed on tunnels all along the DMZ. North Korean Army T-80s and BMP-2s of the lead elements, units loyal to the old regime, pulled out of the tunnels and up the rocky incline and began firing on the entrenched ROK and US Army forces on the southern side of the DMZ. MiG-21's, -23's, and -27's as well as Su-25's and Mi-24 “Hind” attack choppers flew in support of NKA ground forces, bombing and strafing the embattled allied ground forces. Deep penetrating Su-24 Fencer fighter-bombers, escorted by the North's supposedly precious few MiG-29 Fulcrum and Su-27 Flanker fighters, flown by former members of the Voyska PVO, reeked havoc with the South's four frontline airbases. Only a few ROK and American F-16s managed to launch, but even fewer managed to survive the onslaught and score a few kills. One of the deadlier aircraft that was within the North Korean arsenal was the Su-37 Firebird. This aircraft only came out to eliminate anyone with the number one in their callsign. And it proved to be deadly to the allied airmen. Within minutes of launching, the squadron commanders from Suwon AB were all flaming wrecks off base. Firebird disappeared north, its first real combat test a success.

In Seoul, amid wailing air raid sirens, the ROK president and the Commander, US 8th Army began calling up reserve and militia forces throughout the peninsula. On television, the ROK president made his statement. “Countrymen! The North has once again attacked their brothers in the South. On the eve of a treaty ending fifty years of unremitting hostility that our brothers in the North can no longer afford, we have been viciously attacked by elements of the People's Democratic Liberation Army and Air Force.

“As of this moment, a state of war exists between the Republic of Korea and the People's Democratic Republic of Korea. All active reserve, inactive reserve and militia are hereby called to active combat duty. The Republic of Korea also requests all allies to provide support in accordance to United Nations Resolutions from the First Korean War.”

 

Washington, D.C.

The White House

22 Apr 2005 1945 hrs

 

Secret Service agents swarmed into the ballroom, as the Chairman of Joint Chiefs answered his secure cell phone. “I see… How many casualties so far? I see. What forces are in the immediate area? I see. Activate the Air Battle Force and get as many fighters, fighter-bombers and bombers to forward deployment bases at Okinawa, Japan, and Guam. You said this was a bolt out of the blue? I see… I'm going to talk to the President now.” The Chairman closed his phone and walked over to the President.

“Mr. President, there has been an incident. I need to speak to you in private.”

“General, what do you mean there has been an incident? I would like to know now, or I'll have your stars.”

General Arnold cleared his throat. “Sir, I do not think that your wife or your guests have a need to know right at this moment.” The General glanced around and saw the Ambassador to the Republic of Korea suddenly stand and make his way to the door, not quite running but walking very fast. Secret Service agents also swarmed around the table of the new Ambassador to the People's Democratic Republic of Korea.

“Alright damnit. I'll come, but this better be good General.” The President stood and made his apologies to his wife and immediate guests. Two Secret Service agents flanked the President and General, as they made their way to the President's day to day office. With the door closed and anti-listening device jammers on, the President asked “Alright, what is so damn important that you had to pull me away from a state dinner honoring the reunification treaty with North and South Korea?”

The General composed himself. “Sir, at 1845 hours, Eastern Standard Time, forces of the People's Democratic Republic of Korea crossed the 38th Parallel in an act of aggression last seen in 1950. Allied forces along the Demilitarized Zone gave better than they got, but it was a mechanized assault from underground tunnels and caught our forces unprepared. At last report, elements of the Fifth People's regiment were passing Uijanbo, and heading for the Seoul suburbs. Elements of the 6th People's regiment have started to occupy the Namansansong Provincial Park, cutting off Seoul from the retreating 8th Army forces.

“Kimpo, Osan, Suwon, and Kunsan airbases have also been bombed and are reported destroyed. We lost Det. 3, 9th Reconnaissance Wing when Osan was hit. Right now, we have no tactical recon in Korea.”

“My God. Does Congress know about this?”

“Members of my staff are on their way to inform the Congressional leadership at this time.”

The President sat down hard in his chair. “So the peace initiative started by my predecessors was all a hoax.”

“To our knowledge, Mr. President, there had been a `forceful' change of government in February, to a new government that we still haven't recognized, by elements of the North Korean High Command. They stated in a press release that Kim Jong-Il was tried and convicted to death for `crimes committed by his father during the Korean War.' Apparently it was this faction that carried on the peace initiative as a hoax. President Kim was apparently all for peaceful reunification with his brothers in the South.”

“Then its safe to assume that there is a state of war between North Korea and the United States?”

“That's a valid assumption, sir.”

“What units do we have in the region?”

“Sir, besides the 8th Army in Korea and PACAF elements getting mauled there, the only naval presence is the TR's battle group at sea. I want to redeploy the Enterprise to the Korean theatre from Gonzo Station. JDA will be going to a higher state of readiness, and our air forces in Japan are also moving to Threatcon Charlie. We also have some Genesis elements already at Iruma. I've also taken the liberty of activating the Air Battle Force. Fourth Fighter Wing out of Seymour-Johnson AFB and the 31st Wing out of Mountain Home AFB will be deploying, along with 8th Air Force elements from Ellsworth, Minot, Whiteman, and Barksdale Air Force Bases and units from Alaskan Air Force Reserve and Air Guard. We'll also have Genesis elements deploying to Anderson Air Force Base in Guam and Naha Airbase in Okinawa. There is also a contingent of First Air Force birds from the 57th FS deploying as part of the ABF, sir.”

“General, specifically what aircraft will be deploying?”

“B-1s, B-2s and B-52s of the 8th Air Force; Eagles, Falcons and Strike Eagles from Seymour-Johnson, Mountain Home, Eielson, and Elmendorf Air Force Bases. As well as six EB-52s, two EB-2's and one prototype F-15F from Elliot Air Force Base, those are the Genesis elements. The F-15F, code-named `Cheetah,' was already deployed to Iruma Air Base for JASDF's anniversary airshow, as per SECAF. There is also a flight of Raptors from the 57th FS with the 4th FW as part of the Air Battle Force.

“We're also redeploying our tanker force to do the fighter drags. The only problem is with the KC-135s. Most of those birds don't have the capacity to self-deploy and do a fighter drag, even the ones with the fanjets. So we're going to deploy them in a `rest stop' capacity before sending them in-theatre.”

“I see. If that's the case, then, I want those fighters going the Great Circle route. West Coast to Alaska to Japan. Looks like I've got a war during my administration. Just freaking great.” The President hit the intercom. “Get me the ambassadors of China, Japan and Russia in here. And clear out my appointment book for tomorrow. And get the British Prime Minister on the line, as well as our ambassador to the United Nations.”

“Yes Mr. President.”

The President looked at the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “General, make no mistake. I do not want a single aircraft, bullet or missile to cross the Yalu River. China is too large to fight, and I don't want to make the same mistakes that got the Chinese involved in the first war. Do I make myself clear?”

“Of course, Mr. President. I'll make sure that gets into the brief.”

“General, also alert NORAD. Tell them to move us up to DEFCON 1.”

“Any changes to the rules of engagement, Mr. President?”

“Standard acceptable targets, of course. We conduct ourselves according to the Geneva Convention, General. You should know that.”

“Of course, sir. Just making sure that we have a free rein in this war.”

“General, we've learned our lessons from Vietnam. This government will support the military 100%.”

 

USS THEODORE ROOSEVELT

250 Miles south of Iruma

 

CAG woke up to the sound of the alarm gong. “General quarters, general quarters. All hands to general quarters, air action.” He immediately pulled on his khakis from the day before, and headed for the bridge.

“Captain, what's happening?” CAG asked as relief Tomcats launched.

“Tom, it's war in the Koreas again. The order just came in to start heading to the Sea of Japan. Right know we're the only PACFLT carrier close to the hot zone. Enterprise is leaving Gonzo Station and making flank speed for the west coast of Korea. The Stennis is tied up over in the Arabian Gulf because of Iraq.

“What's the status of the air wing?”

“Full strength, except for the VF-103. The Rogers' have a bird on the beach that blew an engine the other day.”

“Damnit get them back here as soon as possible.”

“Aye sir.” CAG looked out the viewports to the HMS Invincible. “And what about the Brits?”

“JCS is talking to the President about that. Hopefully, they'll fight. In the mean time, let's go talk to the old man.”

“Yeah. Who knows how he'll react though.”

“All I want to know is why did this come as a bolt in the blue? Or at least that's what the boys from the Farm are going to say it was.”

Down on the deck of the Roosevelt crewmen began swarming around aircraft on chained on the deck. Missile and bomb carts began appearing on deck, and the crew began manhandling them to aircraft. HARM and AMRAAM missiles were being loaded onto the Leopards of the attack squadron; AMRAAMs and Sidewinders were loaded onto the Hornets and Tomcats of the fighter squadrons. The alert-5 fighters roared off the forward catapults into the predawn darkness, and another pair of fighters, Tomcats from VF-103, were taxied into position on the forward catapults for stand by launch. A pair of KS-3 Vikings appeared on the starboard aft elevator, buddy stores on the pylons. One of the Ospreys was spooling up, ready to replace the overwatch chopper.

The Teddy Roosevelt was as ready for war as the crew could make her. Off the port side, the Ticonderoga was barely visible, a pair of gleaming white SM-2ER Standard missiles hanging on the rails. She was the closest battlegroup to the war zone. Even though of the east coast of Japan, the Teddy and her escorts were taking this very seriously, especially since Naval Intelligence and the CIA had up-channeled an unconfirmed report that the North Koreans had an Oscar-class guided missile boat.

 

CHEETAH

International Airspace over the Sea of Japan

 

Marx sat back in his ejection seat, letting his mind go blank. Cheetah's autopilot maintained the fighter's 10 mile orbit just outside Japan's ADIZ. There was the thinnest sliver of sunlight was just peeking over the horizon. Cobb chuckled at the intermittent static coming over the intercom, knowing full well that the digital system was functioning properly.

“Scooter, hate to wake you up, but I'm getting a lot of ground traffic on the Army bands in Korea. From what I've been able to determine, looks like there's an invasion going on. Nothing from satellite intel on this one yet.”

“Genesis Four Zero Fox, this is Skywatch Two-Zero-Seven. Authenticate Alfa Lima. And come up on button seven.”

“What's up with this?” Marx looked at his authentication chart. “Skywatch 207, Genesis Four Zero Fox. I authenticate Victor Echo.” He punched up the secure channel.

“Four Zero Fox, good morning. North Korea has invaded South Korea this morning. JASDF and JDA are going to higher alert status. All US Forces, Pacific, installations have gone to Threatcon Charlie or Delta. Return to Bingo Base India immediately for instructions and rearming.”

“Skywatch, has this been confirmed?”

“Affirmative Four Zero Fox. Orders come from Genesis One via JCS. Tokyo Control has been ordered to grant you direct clearance to Bingo Base India.”

“Roger Skywatch. Returning to Bingo Base India. Four Zero Fox out.” Marx terminated the communication and keyed the intercom. “So much for a pleasure flight. Cobb, you got us a course yet?”

“Yeah, Scooter. Turn to course 090. We're cleared direct to Iruma.” Marx racked the fighter around and lit the afterburners.

 

IRUMA AIRBASE

0530 hrs local

 

Ringring. Ringring. Ringring. Ringring. Ringri--. “If you're not a beautiful, well-endowed fighter pilot, I'm hanging up.” A rudely awakened flag officer spoke into the secure phone. Alarm sirens began sounding throughout Iruma Air Base, as were they at all major JDA installations.

“General Tskumoto, this is the JDA staff duty officer. At 0450hrs, local, forces of the People's Democratic Liberation Army and Air Force crossed the 38th Parallel into the Republic of Korea. As of 0455, a state of war has existed between the Republic of Korea, the United States, and the People's Democratic Republic of Korea.

“As a result of northern aggression, all units of the Japanese Self Defense Forces are now at Defense Condition 2.”

This brought the General to full wakefulness. “I understand Major. Thank you.”

 

Stalker suddenly woke up. Yoko was curled up on her side, snoring softly, but that creepy little bat was flying around the room furiously, squeaking. The pounding of feet outside in the corridor, Japanese being spoken through the PA's, and alarm klaxons and whistles could be heard through the door and exterior walls. He pulled a sheet around him, and opened the door. Punisher had his head out the door as well. “Hey Punisher, you know what's going on?”

“No man. All I know is that I was having this great dream about white women. You know how much I love white women, Stalker.”

Stalker ignored Punisher's last comments and turned to Yoko, who was now just beginning to stir. “Yoko, what are they saying over the PA system?”

“I don't know... Oh wait a minute.” Yoko listened for a minute or two. “We're going to alert status. Oh no.”

Stalker started pulling on his flightsuit. “Yoko, get that jar of instant coffee out and some chocolate. I'll get Punisher up.” Stalker zipped up his flightsuit and crossed the hall, his hand unconsciously placing a cigarette in his mouth. But I don't want to leave, damnit. I like it here.

“Punisher, get your ass up. We've got to get back to the boat. Coffee is brewing now.”

“When we leaving, Stalker?” Punisher asked sleepily, when Stalker stormed through the door.

 

HANGAR 41

 

Mitaka was sitting in the cockpit of her fighter, dozing, when the alarms sounded throughout the base. She woke up with a start at the first scream of the siren. Outside the open hangar door, a panel truck with a weapons trailer attached pulled up and dozen guys jumped out, and manhandled the trailer over to the F-15. “Sergeant,” the chief ordinance NCO called, “get out of that airplane!” Mitaka scowled at him, but climbed down anyway, when she saw the orange cone in front of the plane. The ordinance guys began removing the blue painted training munitions, and that's when she saw the white painted Sidewinders, with yellow bands on the body.

“Chief, what's going on?” She asked, looking around and noticing the drum being loaded with 20mm ammunition with different painted tips. She also noticed that the Air Force and JASDF cops outside the hangar were now wearing Kevlar and body armor, instead of normal field gear.

“Don't know. All I know is that an order came down from the Central Division commander to arm this Eagle with live munitions.”

Isurugi ran into the hangar. “Mitaka, there you are. General Tskumoto has called a meeting the break room. I think he's going to say what's been going on.”

“Alright, I'll be right there.”

 

* * *

 

“Sgt. Mitaka, so nice of you to join us.” Kengamine said. “Now maybe the General can tell us exactly why the airshow has been cancelled.”

“Major, perhaps you would like to discuss our plans in case of mean people attacking?” General Tskumoto asked, as he walked up to the podium. “At 0550 hours, North Korea invaded South Korea. Since that time, a state of war has existed between the two nations. Japan has been at Defense Condition 2 since the attack. The United States has gone to DEFCON 1 immediately after the attack, and state of war also exists between them.

“This base, and every base around the country is going to be getting very busy.” The General looked around. “This unit is now on active combat duty. That also means that all personnel in this squadron are to comply with military dress and personal appearance regulations. That includes no beards.” The General's gaze zoomed in on Konishi. He nodded, inwardly crying about losing his masculinity--the loss of his beard.

“Whatever fighters we can get will be sent here. The aggressor Eagle sitting in Hangar 41 will be assigned to Sgt. Mitaka.

“Sgt. Isurugi, what is the possibility of mounting Sidewinders on the T-4?”

“Well, sir, its never really been done before. Unfortunately, there are no hardpoint provisions for pylons. At least none that I've seen in the TMs that we have here. But then, we were never an active combat unit. Until today that is.”

“I see. Well, until we get more combat aircraft here, all pilots will be flying in the Eagle. Sgt. Mitaka, you will be escorting our guests from the United States Navy back to their ship, so you'd better change into green, when our guests from the American Air Force return.

“Sgt., your rules of engagement are as follows. Fire only if fired upon, but do not place yourself in a position to be attacked. Dismissed.” The Airbats started filing from the conference room, each going over what the diminutive General said; each with their own thoughts about the new war on the Asian continent.

 

“Iruma Control, Genesis Four Zero Fox requesting clearance to land.”

“Four Zero Fox, Iruma Control. You are cleared to land Runway 13. Winds are calm, no advisories on the ground. Contact Tower on 124.5 upon rollout. Welcome back.”

“Roger that, Control. Four Zero Fox out.”

Cheetah touched down, and taxied over to the 801st's ramp. With the chocks in place and parking brakes set, the computer ran up the engines and shut them down. MSgt. Reyes opened the access cover on the interface and plugged his laptop into the port, running a quick diagnostic. He hit three command buttons on the interface panel and the access hatch for the 20mm ammo drum opened. He motioned to the Japanese ordinance men. Multi-colored tip rounds were being loaded as two live pairs of JASDF Sidewinders and AMRAAMs replaced the training munitions on the racks.

McLanahan was up on the boarding ladder almost as soon as the canopy was up. “Major, we're at war. North Korea has invaded the south again. Your first mission is going to be escorting Navy back to their carrier. When you get back, we'll brief you fully.

“Understood?”

Marx nodded. The ammo drum retracted, and the weapons MFD showed 620 rounds and 8 missiles. “General,” he asked, “will we be getting supplies from Elliot?”

“I've got a 141 and a 17 already on the way. It's loaded with spare engines, a few pallets of Phoenixes and more maintenance personnel. Your parent unit also is being deployed to Misawa. You and your backseater will be returned to them, and of course you'll be taking Cheetah with you.”

 

* * *

 

Punisher finished his walk around of the Tomcat, and climbed up into the cockpit. Stalker was stalling, checking the individual weapons on the hard points, missiles that had never been removed since they landed there. “Stalker, hurry up man. They're waiting for us on the boat.”

“Hey, I'm making sure that we don't lose anything. These missiles are very expensive.” Stalker looked around. He saw Yoko walking over and smiled. She was carrying a couple of bags.

“Alan, I packed you and Punisher something for lunch. Do you really have to leave?”

“Yeah, we do.” Stalker was lingering, holding Yoko's hand.

“Stalker, get in the damn plane man.” Punisher called down from the cockpit.

“I'm coming, I'm coming, damnit.” Stalker slowly walked over to the boarding ladder, almost as if he has marching to the gallows. One of the AGE guys started up the external power cart. Punisher hit the switches for the nav lights and anti-collision beacon.

Yoko looked at Stalker with her big eyes. “Promise me you'll stay safe?”

“I promise.” Yoko jumped up and gave Stalker a big kiss. “I'll be back for these.” Stalker handed Yoko his dress NFO wings, the nameplate from his flight jacket, and his second dog tag.

“I'll be here.” Yoko handed Al one of her nameplates and a photo of her and Chii-chon. With his heart somewhat lightened, Stalker boarded his fighter.

“It's about time you got up here. Our escort's been waiting for us, while you've been dragging feet.” Punisher hit the engine starters. The left engine spooled up, as he advanced the throttle to idle. The radar screen flashed as power was transferred to the generators, and the power cart was removed as the right engine spooled up and the throttle advanced to idle.

“What escort?”

“Over there.” Punisher pointed over to Cheetah and the JASDF F-15 idling on at the run up area. Punisher plugged into the aircraft and dialed up Iruma Tower. “Iruma Tower, this is Victory 207. Requesting permission to taxi.”

“Victory 207, Iruma Tower. You are cleared to taxi. Echo Flight is standing by at the end of the runway. We hope you enjoyed your stay.”

“Roger that, Iruma Tower. Thanks for the hospitality. Victory 207 taxiing.” With the parking brakes set, the ground crew pulled the chocks out. Punisher advanced the throttles and unswept the wings, under the guidance of Isurugi. When signaled clear, Punisher released the brakes and began taxiing. As he pulled his fighter into position for takeoff, Mitaka and Marx pulled out of the run up pad and held short.

“Victory 207, Iruma Control. You are cleared for departure; Tokyo Center has cleared traffic for direct to Rough Rider. We have also received a message from Rough Rider. You are to return to the ship, speed is buster.”

“Roger that, Iruma. Victory 207 departing.” Punisher closed the radio and pushed the throttles into afterburner, while standing on the brakes. “Hey Stalker, I ever tell you just how much I love white women?”

“All the…” Punisher released the brakes and the Tomcat rolled down the runway. “Not again.” Shock cones formed in the exhaust as the fighter closed to rotate speed.

Marx keyed his radio. “Iruma Control, Echo One. Requesting departure clearance for Echo Flight.”

“Echo One, Echo Flight is cleared for departure.” Afterburners on both fighters lit up, the roar rocking maintenance vehicles nearby. As soon as the Tomcat neared lift off, both pilots released the brakes. Cheetah's computer configured the ship for short take off, compressing the main gear while extending the nose gear with thrust vectoring. Cheetah departed the runway in 450 yards, Mitaka left at 500, but on the edge of a stall.

“Nice takeoff, Arisa.” Marx needled. Mitaka replied with a not too successful raspberry, before she pulled in front of Cheetah. Marx dove to avoid a collision. Cobb held on in back, shaking his head.

“Looks like those two are at it again, Stalker. Guess that's why I need a white woman. I just love white women.” Punisher advanced the throttles, and lit the burner cans. The wings swept back, as the fighter passed the speed of sound.

“Sometimes, Punisher, I don't know why I bother.” Stalker looked out. That weird hybrid of an F-15 and the JASDF F-15 in that funny paint scheme were keeping easy pace with the Navy fighter.

 

“Victory 207, Rough Rider. We have you on radar, with Echo Flight.”

“Rough Rider, Victory 207. Roger. Requesting permission to enter the pattern.”

“Victory 207, you are cleared to enter the pattern and cleared to land. Welcome home.”

“Roger that, Rough Rider. Echo Flight, thanks for the entertainment.”

“That's a roger, Victory 207. See you after the war. Break, Echo Two, form up for flyby.”

“Affirmative, sir.”

“Rough Rider, this is Echo One. Requesting permission for flyby.”

“Negative, Echo One. You are not cleared for flyby.”

“Did not copy that Rough Rider. Echo Two, take starboard, I'll take port. Standby for crossover.” Both F-15s formed up line abreast a mile aft of the carrier. “On my mark, three…two…one, break.” Marx touched the afterburners and got enough clearance for Mitaka to cross behind him. As they passed the TR, Marx put Cheetah into a slow eight point hesitation roll, showing off the Air Force's latest toy to the swabbies. There were looks of confusion and awe from the crew on the deck at both Cheetah and the F-15 with the disruptive camouflage, meatballs on the nose and the cobra on the tail. VADM Cunningham, standing on the wing of his flag bridge, saw the flyby and shook his head. He wasn't going to send any derogatory paperwork on those two pilots up the chain of command. The way he saw it, this would be the last day for some fancy flying without having to watch out for the bad guys.

 

“Echo Flight, this is Shamu 37, with you at Flight Level 23.”

“Shamu 37, this is Echo One. Roger. You've got two thirsty Eagles here. Echo One is at 6.5; Echo Two at 4.2.”

“Roger that, Echo One. Echo Two will tank first, then Echo One. Boom deploying. Echo Two you are cleared to tank.”

“Roger that, Shamu.” Mitaka replied. She looked at Cheetah and held up two fingers. Marx changed the radio to button two. “Major, I haven't done a refueling since flight school.”

“Mitaka, just relax and follow the guidance of the boom operator.” Marx changed the tone of his voice, softening it. “Arisa, you can do it. Just let the tension drain from yourself. Be the aircraft.”

“I will, Chris.” Marx smiled into his mask, as he changed the channel back to the tanker freq. “Shamu, Echo Two. Moving in to tank.”

“Roger that, Echo Two. Open receptacle. 10 feet… 5 feet… 2 feet… Up two feet. Good. Left a foot. Good connection. Transferring fuel.”

“Computer, tanking configuration. Match speeds with Shamu.”

“Tanking configuration. Velocity matched with Shamu 37.” The canards sloped to a level plane, as the thrust nozzles opened on the top and bottom and slowed the fighter down to match the KC-10.

“Echo Two, you're full. Clear the boom. Echo One, you are cleared to hook up.”

“Roger that, Shamu.” Marx maneuvered the fighter right to the boom.

“Echo One, good connect. Transferring fuel.”

“Roger that, Shamu. Fill it up with super, check the oil and clean the windows.”

“Wilco, Echo One.”

 

After the uneventful return flight, Echo Flight touched down at Iruma, and taxied into sandbag revetments that had been hastily thrown up during their flight out to and back from the Roosevelt. A pair of F-104J Starfighters, still in Air Testing Wing colors, touched down and taxied into another set of revetments that were currently being thrown up.

As soon as the engines were shutdown and safety pins inserted, McLanahan moved to the boarding ladder of Cheetah. Marx pulled his bone dome off, when he noticed McLanahan was wearing BDUs with subdued stars. “What's up sir?” Cobb was climbing down after.

“Marx, Cobb, its official. The brief I had Skywatch give you earlier this morning was accurate. We're in a shooting war with the North Korean Armed Forces. JCS placed US forces at DEFCON 1, as of 0650 this morning, Tokyo time. Rules of Engagement are weapons free; engage any and all hostile targets of opportunity, assigned ground target or air target. But make sure that your targets are legitimate and of military value.

“I don't like it, but you two and Cheetah will be returning to your parent squadron, which is enroute to Misawa Airbase. I'll also be sending maintenance personnel and special munitions from Elliot with you and the fighter.

“Gentlemen, I need not remind you that this will be the improved F-15F's trial by fire. As you know, we've made a lot of special improvements since I flew the first prototype. So, I want you to take care of this aircraft. Understood?”

Both officers nodded and headed for the showers when McLanahan said “Dismissed.”

 

Marx stood in the shower, hot water running over him, letting the heat soak out the aches in his back. War, he thought. It's going to be a shooting war. Damnit why did this have to happen. Suddenly my life seems to be getting back on track, especially since I met Arisa. And we at least share something in common- we both like airplanes.

But, I don't want to leave her. Marx's conscience was warring with itself. You have to, Major. That's how you wound up here. Playing for war. And now it's the real thing.

Do I really have to? Yes you do, Major. It's your job as an officer of the United States Air Force to do your duty for God and Country. We don't like it, but it has to be done.

Marx's train of thought was derailed by his backseater. “Hey Scooter, save some hot water for the rest of the base. What'd you do, die in there?”

“Just thinking, Brian. Just thinking.”

 

Onboard the Teddy Roosevelt, Stalker was lying on his bunk, staring up at the overhead, a partially completed triple-7 on his desk, from before he left on his patrol that wound up with him on the beach. War, he thought. It's going to be a shooting war. Damnit why did this have to happen. Suddenly my life seems to be getting back on track, with the death of the wife and not having to worry about a son. And now especially with meeting Yoko. And we share something in common- we both like airplanes. But that creepy little bat, ugh.

But, I didn't want to leave her. Stalker's conscience was warring with itself. You had to, Commander. That's why you were here. Playing for war. And now it's the real thing.

Do I really have to fight? Yes you do, Commander. It's your job as an officer of the United States Navy to do your duty for God and Country. Besides, now that the rumors are that the President will be officially declaring war, and you are in a war zone, there's no chance for resignation.

Punisher barged into Stalker's quarters. “Stalker, skipper wants to everyone in the ready room.”

“What for?”

“He said he'd explain then.”

 

* * *

 

Marx paused in his mirror. The civilian button down shirt and khaki trousers had some wrinkles in them, but not many. He thought it fortunate that he'd thrown a few pairs of nice civilian clothes into his bag.

Marx was an unpretentious, non-stereotypical type for a fighter jock. Whereas the other pilots and backseaters in his parent squadron wore chronographs that cost the better part of a mortgage and drove fast cars, Marx wore a simple, but accurate Timex and drove an old Volvo P1800. The only flash was with his Army OCS ring. He'd had the clear red stone replaced with a blood red ruby when he pinned his wings and got his slot as an F-15 driver, after transferring back into the Air Force Reserves.

He stood there fiddling with the ring, debating. He'd already made the reservations at the restaurant, had gotten Arisa off alert status for the night and had Cobb sign out a Jeep; but he was getting fighters doing high-G maneuvers in his gut. What's the problem Marx, no balls? You had them in spades the other day when you and Mitaka were swooping all over the sky. And that night, at the bar down the road from the Nekohanten, when Mitaka confided in you, and cried on your shoulder. And later that night in these quarters, on the bed over by the window, when the two of you fell asleep entwined together.

“Damnit, I'll do it.” Marx said to his reflection in the mirror. Thanks to some finagling the alert schedule with Captain Konishi, Marx had gotten Mitaka off the alert roster for the evening, but was getting cold feet as the night progressed. The building shook slightly. Marx looked out his window and saw a trio of F-4's flying overhead on final approach. He took one last look in the mirror, straightened his hair and left his room. He walked down the corridor to Mitaka's room.

“Come in,” she said as he knocked on the door. Marx did as he was bade. “What brings you here, Major?” Mitaka was lounging on her bed, still in her flightsuit.

“Geez, two days ago I asked you not to call me that. Yesterday, I asked you not to call me that. And today, I finally get you to use my proper name.” Marx smiled, even though she had called him by his name the other day in the hangar, he still felt like teasing her. “Anyway, I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner. Someplace other than the chow hall, that is.”

Mitaka sat up and smiled at Scooter, but the smiled turned to a frown. “I'd like to, but I'm on alert status tonight.”

“No you're not.” Marx said as he pulled two passes out from his shirt pocket. “I managed to get us a pair of passes for tonight, Arisa. Courtesy of Captain Konishi and General McLanahan. And, thanks to Isurugi, I got us reservations at one of the better restaurants in Tokyo.”

“You didn't.” Mitaka had a most interesting look on her face.

“I did. Besides, I go rejoin my official squadron tomorrow. This could be our last night together.”

“So it's `Sleep with me tonight, for tomorrow I may die,' right?”

“Nothing like that. Just dinner and maybe some dual player time at the arcade.”

“Fine then. Let me get changed. What does the winner get, Christopher?”

“Besides the satisfaction of knowing who's the better pilot?”

“Yes, besides that.”

Marx smiled, a wicked gleam in his eye. “I'll think of something.”

“Uh huh. So I guess it's going to be `Sleep with me tonight for tomorrow I may die.'” Mitaka snorted.

Marx shrugged his shoulders and smiled innocently. “I'm like the ant that moved the rubber tree plant. I have high hopes.”

“At least it's an honest answer.” Mitaka stood, and began removing her flightsuit. With the first zip, Marx began to turn beet red and started moving for the door. “What's the matter, Major? You didn't seem to have this problem the other night.” The zipper reached the swell of her breasts. “What, Air Force guys can't handle a little female flesh? Maybe I should have gotten together with one of the Navy guys. But, then again, you didn't seem to have a problem last night.”

Marx halted and swallowed hard. “No,” he squeaked. He cleared his throat. “No. I used to be in the medical field. I'm used to,” he swallowed again, “the female anatomy.” The first glimmers of pale breast could be seen.

“Good. Because I was hoping that what happened the past week hasn't been a fluke. Like you, Christopher-sama, I also have high hopes.” Mitaka smiled at Marx. The past few days to her felt that something special was happening between the two of them, and she didn't want it to end.

 

USS THEODORE ROOSEVELT

VF-103 Ready Room

 

There was a general din of noise when the squadron CO walked in. The noise of conversation quieted down. “Gentlemen, this is a general situation briefing. As I'm sure you've heard, the forces of the People's Democratic Republic of Korea crossed the 38th Parallel this morning. As it stands now, Kimpo, Osan, and Kunsan airbases have been destroyed. Cheng-Du and Taejon Airbases are under heavy attack. Seoul is currently besieged by two NKA armies. The ROK army and US 8th Army are hard-pressed, and retreating.

“Our task force, including the Brits, is moving into the Sea of Japan. We will be the only air wing in the area until the Enterprise can get into position. What that means, gentlemen, is that we will be doing continuous traps and launches, and running continuous MiG-CAP and BAR-CAP.

“And when the Enterprise gets in position, it does not mean that we can relax. The global situation is not the way it was back in '91. Three decks are tied up at Newport News, undergoing a SLEP. The Stennis is tied up with Saddam in the Persian Gulf. The Truman is tied up in the Adriatic. The Eisenhower, as we know, suffered a flightdeck crash, which burned a quarter of her air wing.” Everyone cringed when they heard that. No naval aviator can forget about the flight deck fires on the Forrestal in the `60's and Nimitz in the `80's. “She's on her way back to Newport News for her own emergency repairs and refit. Maybe she'll be able to join us, but don't hold your breath. And one of our newest carriers, the USS Revolution is tied up in the Baltic; and her sister, the Serapis, hasn't received her crew assignments yet.

“Orders are to engage any hostile air targets, the farther away the better. We will also be doing escort and possibly Bombcat missions if the Hornet and Leopard boys are getting hammered; we will be kept informed of same.

“Gentlemen, crew rest has been ordered for the whole squadron. At 0600 hours, this squadron goes on combat alert. All aircraft will be fully operational, and fully armed. Dismissed.”

 

Imperial District, Tokyo

2100 hrs local

 

The Mitsubishi M-151 pulled up in front of the restaurant. Cobb left the engine idling as Scooter and Arisa got out of the jeep. “Scooter, I'll be at the USO. Give me a call there when you're ready to head home.”

“Yes Dad,” Marx replied. Cobb shook his head and drove off.

“What was that all about?”

“Inside joke, Arisa. Cobb and I go back ten years, at a previous civilian job. We rode together in an ambulance for eight hours a day, five days a week. In a job like that, you have to joke around, or you lose your mind.”

“I see. So, are there any other inside jokes that I won't get?” Marx held the door open for her. “Thank you.”

“Not really. Well, maybe a few others. But nothing too serious.” He followed Mitaka into the restaurant.

In his best attempt at Japanese, Marx informed the maitre'd that he had a reservation under Marx for two. Mitaka smiled, but gave Marx an A for effort. “Arisa,” he said quietly, “I think you should order for the two of us. I never got that far in the tapes.”

“No problem. At least you've been trying.” Mitaka smiled. What is happening to me? I'm usually more self-reliant than this. But I've gotten myself into this tangle. Why? The waiter arrived, and Mitaka ordered something not too dangerous, but delicacies nonetheless, for the two of them.

Dinner was spent in idle chitchat, nothing too dangerous to discuss out in public, like the Toho release of the latest Pyogra movie, and comparing it to big budget Hollywood movies, like the Emmerreich release of Pyogra: The Movie. After the dishes were cleared away, and desserts and tea brought out, talk shifted slightly towards favored tactics.

“Arisa, there is something I want to ask you.” Marx said, changing the topic.

“Yes, what is it?” Mitaka asked, a puzzled look on her face. What's his game? He's probably going to say that he's got a wife and six kids back in the states; that he only wants me for a comfort girl.

“Arisa, tonight's my…our last night together, with any semblance of pre-war normalcy.” Marx looked at Mitaka. You're waffling again, son. He cleared his throat. “What I'm trying to say is I don't want to leave you. The past week has been an almost whirlwind type romance. But something happened that first day. When we were fighting in the air and almost on the ground.

“I saw a kindred spirit in you. Someone who's a good person, with a pure heart, who also happens to like airplanes.” Marx smiled, and pulled off his OCS ring. “Arisa, this is my promise to you that I'll return for you when this thing is over.”

Arisa let Marx slip the ring on her finger. “One condition, Mister. You return to me intact. No missing limbs, understood?”

Marx smiled. “Yes ma'am. But I want you to do the same as well.”

 

When Marx and Mitaka staggered back into the barracks, well after 2 am, they headed straight for his quarters, laughing like a pair of drunks. They fell through the door to his room, and barely made it to the bunk before they passed out. As they slept entwined in each other's arms, Marx dreamt. His sleep was less than restful, however.

Waking with a start, Marx rubbed his eyes, and looked at his watch. It said 0430. God, what a crazy dream. Must have lasted two and a half hours, he thought. He looked over to Mitaka, stirring quietly in her sleep, and stroked her hair. What would my life be like if I'd never met you, Arisa. Would I go to my grave a bachelor, or would I have found someone else. Perhaps. And would you have gone being bitter and resentful at the world, had I not bested you in mock combat? We will never know about the roads of “If.” Marx got out of bed and stood by the window. Maintenance personnel were swarming around one of the Phantoms, fixing something that may have cropped up.

“Christopher,” Mitaka called sleepily, “what's wrong?” She sat up on the bed, the work lights on the runway, highlighting her curves.

“Nerves, I guess. I've spent most of my military career in the rear areas. First time in the Air Force in Security Forces, then in the Army in a support unit. We got deployed to a few problem areas while I was going to school, but never in the front area. Even my time with the Chiefs, we weren't really called up for combat. We were on Operation Northern Watch, and nothing happened. We practiced; we played at war. Hell, we even won Green Flag a couple of years. I trained pilots; Cobb did the same for the backseaters. We gave our trainees realistic scenarios and training…

“But I've never fired a live shot at another person in anger.”

Marx paused in his pacing, and looked out the window. In the revetments, maintenance was going over Cheetah one last time before the deployment to Misawa. One of the drop tanks from the ferry was being fitted to the centerline hard point. The C-141 from Elliot had arrived earlier, and two crates were dropped off, before the cargo bird headed for Misawa. Two gleaming white AIM-54D Phoenix missiles were being attached to the underwing hard points. His magnificent fighter, the one he had quoted Adolph Galland after his first flight, was being turned into what it was supposed to be—an instrument of war. “`It was as though angels were pushing.'” He said as he sat back on the bed.

“What was that,” Mitaka asked.

“When General McLanahan asked me how Cheetah felt to fly, that's what I said. It's the quote that the first person to pilot a jet said.”

Mitaka scooted around and placed her hands on his shoulders. She began rubbing lightly, the beginning of a massage. “You're tense,” she said, and started to work harder to relieve the tightness. “You need to relax, Chris. You go into battle like this tomorrow; you may not make it out alive. And I didn't pledge my love to a corpse.”

 

WASHINGTON D.C.

United States Capitol

22 Apr, 2005 0900 hrs Eastern Time

 

The President of the United States stood in the wings of the Senate chambers. He heard the gavel tap, and the Vice President's voice calling this combined meeting of Congress to order. Up in the visitor's gallery, cameras from CNN, C-SPAN, and all the major networks, as well as still cameras from the press were running. “Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States.” Everyone in the room stood, as the President entered and moved to the center podium.

“My fellow Americans, there have been many infamous days in the history of the United States of America. December 7th, 1941 holds true for most Americans, when forces of the Imperial Japanese Navy attacked Pearl Harbor without cause or provocation. For those of us of Eastern European descent, September 1st, 1939 holds the same meaning.

“Yesterday, April 17th, forces of the People's Democratic Army and Air Force crossed the 38th Parallel and invaded our ally, the Republic of Korea, in a cowardly predawn attack. Without cause or provocation, these forces smashed through the Demilitarized Zone, destroyed three allied airbases, and are currently laying siege to the capital city of Seoul. This attack occurred while negotiations for a peaceful reunification of the two Koreas were reaching their conclusion. A state of war now exists between the United States and the People's Democratic Republic of Korea.

“Korea holds a special meaning to me. My father flew AD-4 Skyraiders off of the USS Antietam during the first Korean War against North Korean positions during the fight up to the Yalu River and during the retreat of the Marines from the Chosin Reservoir. He was hit a number of times, but, thankfully, was never shot down. I served with the Air Force in Korea during the late 80's and, despite the way Americans were treated by some, fell in love with the country and its culture, and I could feel the gratitude that a portion of the population felt when we arrived to defend that nation when their brothers from the North invaded the first time. Some Southerners in this country call our Civil War the `War of Northern Aggression', and in no uncertain terms can that term be used for both invasions of South Korea by the armies of North Korea.

“North Korea stated that it was a pre-emptive strike to prevent an Allied strike against their country, and yet, never has this country ever gone to war without provocation.

“I ask the Congress of the United States of America for a formal declaration of war against the armed forces of the People's Democratic Republic of Korea, in accordance to UN Security Council Resolutions 82, 83, 84, and 85.

“At this time, I am also requesting the federalization of all active reserves, inactive reserves, National Guard, and elements of the Civilian Air Reserve Fleet and the Maritime Reserve Fleet.

“God willing, we will prevail and end fifty-five years of hostility and bring about the reunification of the Koreas.” The President shuffled his speech, and headed back towards the wings. Congress stood again, and the Vice President tapped her gavel when the President left.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, would someone make a motion for a declaration of war?” The VP asked.

The Senate Majority leader stood. “Madam President, I move that the United States of America formally declare war on the People's Democratic Republic of Korea.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a motion on the floor for the declaration of war. Do we have a second?”

The House Minority Whip stood. “Madam President, I second the motion presented by my esteemed colleague from New Hampshire.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a motion and second on the declaration of war. By show of hands, all in favor of the declaration of war?” Hands went up supporting the declaration. “Against the declaration?” Not quite as many hands went up. “Abstentions?” A few remaining undecided hands went up. “Ladies and gentlemen, with more than three-quarters of the Congress in favor of declaring war the motion is carried.”

The President was watching this on CNN on the drive back to the White House. “Mr. President, it looks like this could a political windfall.”

The President had just squeaked past former Vice President Gore for the Democratic nomination last year, defeated President Bush by an even slimmer margin, and just been inaugurated only back in January. To the rest of the world, he was a diplomatic unknown, having been a junior Senator from Colorado, with an untried vice president, the first women to hold that office ever. He looked at his chief of staff. “Damnit, Chuck, I didn't need this now. In three years, when I'm gearing up for reelection I would have preferred this. Not now, it smells too much like another Desert Storm. But somehow, I don't think it'll be as clean or quick.” Interrupting the President's train of thought, the cell phone rang. The chief of staff picked it up.

“Thank you.” He hung the phone up. “Mr. President, the Chinese Ambassador is waiting for you at the White House. Apparently the Japanese Ambassador and the Russian Ambassador are on their way over.”

“Good, I can kill three birds with one stone.”

 

* * *

 

“Mr. President, so nice to see you again.” The Chinese ambassador said as he was ushered into the Oval Office, along with the Russian and Japanese ambassadors

“My apologies, Mr. Ambassador on any delay you might have felt unnecessary. However, I choose to meet with all of you at once.” The President motioned for the ambassadors to sit. He sat in the wingback chair across from the ambassadors. “Gentlemen, how do your leaders feel about the recent invasion of South Korea by their northern brothers?”

“Mr. President, the new regime in Pyongyang neglected to consult with us prior to their invasion of the Republic of Korea. They're actions have been less than desirable. Our observers within the People's Democratic Liberation Army have reported that they've observed certain atrocities being committed. Abuse and neglect of prisoners of war, rape and pillage in South Korean villages. The list goes on, Mr. President.

“Beijing is maintaining a neutral position on these events. Should our sovereign airspace be penetrated, except only in an emergency, we will join our socialist brothers against you.”

The Russian ambassador looked at the President. In heavily accented English he made his reply. “Mr. President. Moscow does not condone the invasion of South Korea. However, we cannot support a military operation. We will neither hinder, nor help any resolutions within the Security Council.”

“Mr. President,” the Japanese ambassador began, “my government will support any resolutions passed in the UN. However, we will not provide active combat assistance, except in the defense of our borders. Our airbases, ports and fuel reserves are open to your forces. We have long lived under the threat of the North Koreans. All we ask is that nuclear weapons are not used.

“However, should the North Koreans launch an attack against our soil, then we will join you.”

The President stood. “Gentlemen, thank you. We will keep in close contact, in any case.” The ambassadors also stood and shook hands with the President.

The intercom buzzed. “Yes?”

“Mr. President, I have the Prime Minister of Great Britain on the line.”

“Excellent. Put him through.” The phone buzzed once. “Mr. Prime Minister, how are you doing?”

“William, cut out the nonsense. I'll have none of that. Besides, you were never one for titles,” replied the cultured British voice, using the President's first name. “What is it?”

“There's a vote coming up in the Security Council. How's your boy going to vote?”

“Depending on what the resolution is, he'll vote yes.”

“Good. Jimmy, I also want your carrier and escorts that are attached to the Roosevelt's task force. I only have one carrier at sea in the local area, so we're going to be hard pressed until the Enterprise can get into the area.”

“Well, it seems fortunate luck that we decided to schedule that exercise off Japan.

“It is, Jimmy. How soon do you think you can mobilize the Royal Army and get them going to Korea?”

“The convoys should be leaving in a few days. When you went to DEFCON 1, we increased our readiness. We may no longer be a dominant world player, William, but we still support our allies.”

“Thanks a lot, Jimmy. Every man helps. We'll talk on this later.”

The intercom buzzed. “Mister President, I have the Australian Prime Minister on the phone.”

“Put him through Deb.”

 

UNITED NATIONS

New York City

1200 hrs local

 

“The chair recognizes the Ambassador to the United State.” There was grumbling around the Security Council table as ambassadors that had been enjoying this fine spring day were called into this emergency special session.

“Madam Chairman, the People's Democratic Republic of Korea has invaded their brothers south of the 38th Parallel, for the second time in less than 60 years. This has been done in violation of Council Resolutions 82 thru 85. We ask that the forces of the People's Democratic Republic of Korea return to their preinvasion positions and diplomatic process continues for a peaceful reunification of the Koreas.

“Should the armed forces of the People's Democratic Republic continue to advance, then we ask that under the provisions of the above mentioned Resolutions that member nations come to the aid of the Republic of Korea, until as such time as peace is restored in the region.

“We have also received information that the armed forces of the People's Democratic Republic have been committing atrocities not seen since the 1940's. Rapine, pillage, the cold-blooded murder of local officials and intellectuals, and the inhumane treatment of surrendering Allied forces and airmen.

“Madam Chairman, I propose a new resolution, condemning the People's Democratic Republic of North Korea for wanton aggression and destabilizing the region with their attack on their peaceful neighbors in the Republic of Korea, and to request that all member states again aid the South in forcefully returning the North Korean armed forces above the 38th Parallel, if they do not peacefully return.”

The North Korean ambassador stood. “Madam Chairman.”

“The chair recognizes the Ambassador to the People's Democratic Republic of Korea.”

“Madam Chairman, these charges are baseless. We received information from our intelligence services that the United States of America and their puppet regimes in Seoul and Tokyo were massing forces to invade our sovereign nation.” The North Korean ambassador glared straight at the American ambassador. “Mr. Ambassador, is it not true that your government is sending highly modified B-52s to forward bases in order. Bombers capable of deploying nuclear weapons? And where, Mr. Ambassador did you receive any information of the sort? I have information that it is the South Korean and United States forces committing the atrocities.”

The American ambassador stood. “We are sending in a response force containing B-52s but loaded with conventional munitions. The bases where we will be deploying them from have not stored nuclear components for over twenty years.

“I cannot reveal the source of our information, however, no American or South Korean soldier would do anything counter to the Geneva Convention.

“This counter-charge, Mr. Ambassador, is the beginnings of a filibuster to allow your government more time to consolidate its hold on the South.” The American ambassador turned to the chairwoman. “Madam Chairman, I request that any further debate be forestalled, and a vote be taken.”

“Mr. Ambassadors,” the chairwoman said, forestalling any more argument, “your argument and counter-argument are pointless. The Ambassador to the United States has placed a motion before this body. I will now take the vote. All in favor of the proposition raise your hand when I call. United States.” The American Ambassador raised his hand. “Great Britain.” The British Ambassador raised her hand. “France.” The French ambassador raises his hand. “Russia.” The Russian's hand remained on the desk. “People's Republic of China.” The Chinese ambassador's hand remained on the desk. The Chairman then went through the non-permanent members of the Council. South Korea voted affirmative, most of the non-permanent members voted yes. With the negatives, only North Korea and Serbia voted no. There were only two abstentions: the People's Republic of China and the Russian Federation.

“Honorable delegates, Resolution 1781 has been passed. I call upon all member states to support South Korea in their time of need with either military or humanitarian assistance. I also call upon the United States of America provide a unified command structure, in accordance with Security Council Resolution 84, dated 7 July 1950.”

 

IRUMA AIRBASE

0700 hrs

 

“Major, I finished job you asked me to do,” Isurugi said, running up to Marx, who was just about to climb up the ladder. Cobb was already in the plane, the starter cart running next to the fighter.

“Isurugi, I don't know how to thank you,” Marx said as he looked at the nose of his aircraft. Just aft of the radome, a portrait of Mitaka wearing a half-open kimono while straddling a Phoenix missile with a Sidewinder and bomb in her hands. Mitaka's Wrath was written in both English and Kanji around the portrait.

“Major, just getting to work on this aircraft is thanks enough. This is such a cool airplane. I can't wait until we get them!”

“Perhaps very soon.” Marx said, as he saw Mitaka walking over towards Cheetah. Marx noticed that she was carrying a small duffel bag.

“Chris,” she called, “before you left, I wanted to give you something that's been very dear to me.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a headband and stick. “These belonged to my paternal grandfather during his time in the Imperial Navy. He flew the Pearl Harbor mission, but was shot down and captured at Coral Sea.

“When I told him about you, he smiled and told me `Good catch, Arisa; he may be able to tame your wild spirit. Don't let him go. But if you do love him, and want to protect him, should something require him to go in harm's way, then let the spirits of our ancestors protect his noble spirit.' Then these arrived in my mailbox the day we were supposed to have the airshow. Apparently, my grandfather is a man of incredible foresight.”

“And wisdom. I should like to meet him when this war is over.”

“If we're lucky, you will. Let me help you with the translation on the staff.” Mitaka looked at it for a moment. “It says `Let this staff impart great skill and courage on the bearer.' It was given to my grandfather when he graduated flight school.” Mitaka looked at Marx, and lowered her eyes. “Major, I need to speak to you. Alone.” Marx's eyebrow went up, and he told Cobb to continue with the preflight, before he followed her to the hangar Cheetah had occupied, after handing the gifts to Isurugi.

“Arisa, what's wrong?” Marx asked, immediately assuming that she'd missed something very important, but he hadn't been on the ground long enough for that to happen. Yet.

“Major, it's just that…” Mitaka paused, looked around, and licked her lips. “Well, it's just that I don't want to lose you. Christopher, these past few days, regardless of whether or not I'm the better pilot, or vice versa, have been wonderful.” Mitaka looked around again, and jumped on to Marx. “Chris, I love you. You had better take care of yourself, mister, or I'll kill you myself.”

Marx smiled, and regained his balance. He looked down at this fighter pilot embarrassing herself in public. “I love you too, Arisa. I've enjoyed these past few days myself. And I will take care of myself. I mean I'm flying the hottest fighter in the Air Force's inventory.”

Mitaka hit Marx gently across the head. “That's not what I mean. Just because you've got the latest and greatest in the inventory, doesn't mean that you can't get hit. Just take care. You've got something to come home to now.” She opened on of the breast pockets on her flightsuit and removed an envelope. She opened the pocket opposite to her on Marx's flightsuit and slipped it in.

“What's that for?”

“Something to open later, lover.” Mitaka smiled and jumped off. She went walking with a light step back towards the squadron building. Marx headed back towards his fighter, and retrieved his stuff. He tied the headband on, and climbed up into the cockpit. He secured her grandfather's staff in the cockpit.

“Scooter, what was that all about?” Cobb asked.

“Just young fighter pilots in love. You ready to get paid?” Marx asked as he put on his helmet. Cobb just shook his head.

“Just say the word, boss.”

“The word is given, Captain.” Marx signaled Isurugi, who returned the signal with the “Start Engine One” signal. Nav and anti-collision lights snapped on as engine one spooled up and ignited. Power was transferred from the starter cart to the onboard generator. Engine two spooled up, and ignited. Marx signaled for the chock to be released, and when Isurugi signaled clear, he removed the parking brake, but stood on the foot brakes. “Iruma Tower, Genesis Four Zero Fox. Requesting clearance to taxi.”

“Genesis Four Zero Fox, Iruma Tower. You are cleared to taxi to Runway 17.”

“Roger. Taxiing to Runway One Seven.” Marx released the brakes, and began taxiing towards the assigned runway.

“Good luck, Genesis.”

“Thanks, Iruma. Genesis out.”

 

MISAWA AIRBASE

0900 hrs

 

“Misawa Control, Genesis Four Zero Fox, requesting landing clearance.” Marx called over the radio, as his advanced fighter entered the pattern. He looked down at the photo of Mitaka he'd placed under one of the MFDs on his panel.

“Genesis Four Zero Fox, Misawa Control. You are cleared to land, Runway 27. Winds out of the west at 10 knots. Contact tower on 120.35.”

“Roger that. Four Zero Fox, out.” Cheetah landed, and taxied into one of the hardened shelters. As soon as the engines were shut down and safety pins installed, Colonel McCormick trotted over from his vehicle, and climbed up the boarding ladder.

“Major, welcome back to the squadron. You and Captain Cobb are just in time to attend the mission briefing. Get in. We'll make sure your fighter's ready for the next mission. And you can have your crew chief show our guys how to work on it.” The two Cheetah crewmen climbed into the back of the Humvee. The driver took off and headed for the tent serving as the Chiefs operations and briefing section. “We're damn glad to have you back to.

“However, I hate to do this to you, Major, but you're the flight leader for Fourth element. Unfortunately, that element has the most junior pilots in the squadron. A couple of the crews are fresh from UPT, so we haven't had time to train them up to our standards. But, because of your status with Elliot, I can't really put you in the `official' chain of command. You've also got a NATO exchange crew in your flight, Royal Air Force Tornado types; Flight Leftenants Bruce and ap Gwyneth.”

“Thanks Colonel. I get to play combat pilot and instructor at the same time. Just what I needed. Like a hole in the head. By the way, what's with the four Raptors from the French Fries?” Marx asked, noticing the advanced fighters sitting on the ramp.

“They're part of our contingent with Air Battle Force. We had to bring them along with us. They've got a bit of an attitude problem though, Major.”

“I see,” Marx managed to get out as the truck came to a stop next to the tent.

“You'll see what I mean in a moment, Major.” The Colonel, Marx and Cobb climbed out of the Humvee, and headed for the tent.

When they entered, Marx and Cobb took their seats with the rest of the Chiefs. Chit-chat was being made amongst the pilots. Until Col. McCormick cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated.” He said. “Welcome to Japan, and the Eastern Asiatic Theater. The situation is this. The South Korean president, and Cabinet are still trapped within the city limits of Seoul. The 5th Regiment and the 6th Regiment of the North Korean Army have surrounded the city, with 5th Regiment on the northern side, 6th Regiment on the southern side.

“Our mission is to blast a hole in the lines of the 6th Regiment to allow the besieged defenders an escape route to allied lines.” A hand rose from the ranks. “You have a question?”

“Yes sir. How come the President and his staff weren't evacuated by helicopter?”

“Good question,” Col. McCormick said. He put up a series of fuzzy intelligence photos. “The North Korean Air Force has learned their lesson from the first Korean War. They currently have air superiority over most of South Korea. From what we've been able to gather, the NKAF has advanced MiG and Sukhoi interceptors and ground attack aircraft ranging from MiG 23's to Su 27's. Reports are, unconfirmed however, that the NKAF has an advanced Sukhoi, the Su-41 `Firebird.' This fighter has not been export to countries outside the Commonwealth of Independent States, so the boys at the Farm are kind of uncertain as to how the NK's got their hands on one.

“They've also set up a sophisticated anti-aircraft net around the capital, apparently with free-fire zones and altitudes, so that if a plane is not at an assigned altitude, they start flinging SAMs. Mind you, ladies and gentlemen, this was hard won intel, courtesy of the ROKAF. That's what we'll be facing today.”

McCormick pulled the blanket off the mapboard. “Our mission is to blast a hole through the 6th Regiment from Tongbu to Kwangju along the Namansansong Provincial Park Highway. 8th Army and ROK Army elements will be spearheading the withdrawal and providing ground cover. 1st and 2nd Elements will be configured for ground attack, 3rd Element will be configured for Wild Weasel and be with the Leopards. 4th Element will be providing escort with 1st Element from 57th FS. Waypoint information will be disseminated via CD-ROM by Operations. The bombers will be going it at low altitude. Defense suppression and escorts will be going in at high altitude.

“You boys with the bombs, I want you to get as close to the ground as possible. AWACs support will be provided by the USS Roosevelt—callsign Outrider Seven.”

A hand went up. “Colonel, why are you saddling antiques like your Strike Eagles with our Raptors?”

“Ah, I see you have a question Colonel Smalls.” McCormick chuckled. The squadron commander of the Chiefs didn't like the pompous detachment commander that the 1st ABW saddled him with. “That's because your four Raptors, no matter how advanced they are, cannot defend 16 fighters from the entire North Korean Air Force. That is why we're sending up our youngest element configured as fighters.”

Marx leaned over to his backseater. “Smalls was a pompous ass when I knew him up in Iceland. I see he hasn't changed. I wonder how many times he's been jacked up by the sky cops.”

Cobb stifled a chuckle, but not before Col. McCormick heard him. “Do you have anything add to this briefing, Captain?”

“Ah no sir. Just ready to paint some real kill markings to my bird, Colonel.”

“Very well then. Ladies and gentlemen, man your planes. Good luck, and Godspeed.” Col. McCormick walked out of the tent as some of the pilots walked up to the briefing board, and made further notes, as the Operations staff handed CD-ROMs to crews leaving. Cobb and Marx were among those at the board.

“Looks like it'll be a tricky mission, Scooter. I'd hate to meet that `Firebird.'”

“I know what you mean, Doc. It definitely won't be a flight out of Elliot. Remind me again why I volunteered to go to HAWC?”

Before Cobb could reply, a voice from Marx's past interrupted. “I remember you from Iceland, Marx. You were with that Sergeant who interrupted an authorized entry in the Squadron Operations building.”

Marx turned. “Colonel Smalls, what a pleasant surprise. I was wondering if we'd run into each other again.” Marx couldn't resist giving him a jab. “Been jacked up by Security Police again? Or was twice in less than six months enough for you?”

“As sarcastic as ever, Marx. Besides, I'm now flying the latest and greatest that the Air Force has in its inventory, not some twenty-five year old worn out airframe.”

“Smalls, I've always said it's the pilot and not the airplane that wins dogfights.” Marx replied. “Besides, my airframe isn't twenty-five years old.”

“I'll bet, Marx. You always did have an inflated self-worth.”

“We'll see who's got the better skills in the air, Smalls.”

“I'm sure we will.” Smalls turned to leave. He turned back to face Marx before leaving the tent. “Oh, and Major,” he said, stressing Major. “Remember, its Colonel Smalls.” He left before Marx could get the last word in.

“Let's go get some of that hazardous duty, combat and flight pay Uncle Sam is paying out, Scooter.” Cobb said, grabbing his flight gear.

“Lets. And while we're at it, let's show Colonel Smalls just how potent Cheetah is.” He and Cobb climbed into a Humvee waiting for them and returned to Cheetah. Marx began his walk around of the fighter, checking that all the missiles were connected and secure. Smalls looked over at Marx from the cockpit of his Raptor and sneered. Marx looked back at the Raptor jockey and smiled and pointed at the Phoenix missiles secured to the inboard pylons.

“Cobb, connectivity still good with the missiles?”

“Yep. We're all set to go. Gyros are still warm; GPS still has a sweet lock on the satellites. All frequencies, ingress and egress information loaded, and accepted.”

“Good.” Marx climbed into his fighter, and lit the engines. As they roared to idle power, he keyed the radio. “Chief One Three, standing by.” Around the flightline, other Strike Eagles, Falcons, Leopards and Raptors were powering up. The ramp area was rapidly becoming unsafe for ground crew.

Col. McCormick's voice came over the radio. “Chief One Three, Chief One. Roger; standby. Chiefs, status.” The radio came alive on the squadron frequency as the fighters in the squadron reported in, ready for combat. “Misawa Control, Chief One. Requesting taxi and departure clearance.” “Misawa Control, Knight One. Requesting taxi and departure clearance.”

“Chief One, your squadron is cleared for departure, runway 9L. Knight One, you are cleared for departure, Runway 9R. Kitten One, your squadron is cleared to taxi to Runway 9R, hold short until Knight One Flight has departed. Samurai One, you are cleared to taxi, Runway 9L, hold short until Chiefs have cleared. Rocketeer One, you are cleared to taxi to Runway 9R, hold short until Kittens have cleared. Knight Two Flight, you are cleared to taxi to Runway 9L, hold short until Samurais have cleared.”

The Chiefs began taxiing towards the runway; other squadrons fell in behind them. With the roar of afterburners, the bomb-laden Strike Eagles slowly accelerated down the runway, while their escort Raptors roared down the parallel taxiway. With an effort, they lifted off, followed by the defense suppression Strike Eagles and Leopards, and the fighter cover. 10 miles from Misawa, they formed up into a mass formation, turned to magnetic bearing of 265 degrees, and crossed the Sea of Japan heading for the former South Korea coastline.

  

* * *

 

All over the United States, at Air Force bases and Naval Air Stations, fighters, tankers, bombers and transports loaded with prepositioned equipment began rolling down runways, heading for long-term deployment to Japan. Convoys clogged the interstate highway system as regular, National Guard and Reserve component units left their home stations and headed for ports of embarkation, under state police escort. In Baltimore and New Orleans, Norfolk and San Francisco, Corpus Christi and San Diego, Port Newark and Port Seattle, cargo vessels were taking on cargo painted green—Army and Marine armor and light vehicles, tank transporters and ambulances. And where the units were landlocked, all the major railroad freight companies were loading long trains of military cargo to dispatch to their ports of embarkation.

Major international airports like JFK, O'Hare, LAX, and Newark were slowly clogging with military personnel, as an FAA enforced travel blackout began, clearing the airways for military air traffic. Elements of the Civil Reserve Air Fleet began departing these civilian airports, carrying personnel to the West, towards Korea. Once in the air, these civilian transports mingled with military transports and attack aircraft forming a massive air bridge to the Orient.

Over the Pacific, KC-10, KC-135, KC-737A and KC-767A tankers orbited at prepositioned areas, waiting for thirsty fighters and transports, while over the Atlantic, RAF VC-10s, Tristar K-1s and east coast Air National Guard tanker squadrons refitted with drogue connectors refueled thirsty RAF fighters and transports on their deployment west to the war zone.

In British ports, Royal Navy and commercial cargo ships took on Royal Army and Marine units, to deploy them halfway around the world, to help relieve the surrounded and embattled South Korean and American forces, while from Royal Australian Air Force bases, combat aircraft and support personnel were readying for deployment into possible combat.

Sea-lanes and airways around the world were clogged with military air and sea traffic, as they all headed to the combat zone. C-130 transports, under heavy fighter escort, slipped in past the North Korean air cordons to rescue military dependants and survivors from the shattered bases before the North Korean armies came. The fields and highways of South Korea had rapidly become a battleground, littered with the shattered remains of hi-tech Allied and North Korean armor and weapons. The front was fluid, but the Allied forces were hard pressed to halt the onslaught of the armored offensive. T-72, -80, and -84 main battle tanks of the lead North Korean regiments slammed into the Abrams and Patton battle tanks of the American and South Korean armies. Artillery rounds rockets, tank shells and anti-tank missiles streaked through the air, ending their suicidal flights in fireballs as their targets were destroyed. American and South Korean attack choppers dueled with North Korean attack choppers, tanks and anti-aircraft batteries. A-10s that survived the initial onslaught of the North Korean Air Force streaked in, dropping their deadly cargo to help slow the Communist onslaught.