August 26th, 2016

I didn’t know what to think whatsoever that day. Hell, I’m still reeling from the shock of it all.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Where do I start?

Right. The assassination.

Tensions weren’t the best with the Alliance and the Empire to begin with. Neither of them really wanted war, but this escalated quickly. When an Imperial diplomat was found killed in Alliance territory, the Empire accused them of the death.

I don’t know who actually killed the diplomat, but nobody was happy.

That was six days ago. Today, we’re at war.

I found out this morning. I came downstairs to make some coffee, turned on the news, and there it was. Images of bombed airfields and military installations. The Empire had destroyed every Alliance base on the Astean continent. I just… froze. All I did was watch the TV as the events unfolded.

About half an hour later, there was the phone call. I sighed because I knew this was coming. It was my squadron leader.

Crucible 1: “Get to Estheron AFB now. I’ll explain when you get here.”

He was always quick to the point when it came to military business. I drove down Estheron Air Force Base, our local military airfield. I was surprised at the traffic on the way there. More specifically, the lack of it. Traffic in the area is usually steady, but now only a few cars dotted the roads. Everyone must have been at home, watching the world unravel.

Estheron, other the other hand, could not be more active. Personnel were running back and forth across the airfield. I went to the base’s briefing room and met up with my squadron. Their usual lighthearted demeanor was replaced with a general uneasiness and anxiousness.

This is Crucible Squadron. Officially, we’re the 2nd Fighter Defense Squadron, but only the really stiff generals call us that. We don’t really know each other by our names so much as we do our callsigns, but we are still very good friends.

Moneybags was given his nickname because his parents are rich. According to local rumors, he had a fancy mustache but shaved it when he enlisted.

Stronghold is famous in the force for defending a target by herself against an entire squadron in a training exercise. She’s always supportive of her fellow pilots, and acts like a big sister to me.

Tally was nicknamed because she loves making lists and keeping score. Score of victories and defeats. I bet after this war gets started for good, she’ll be tallying our kills.

Then there’s our squadron leader. He doesn’t have a nickname. Everyone just calls him Crucible 1. He talks very little during missions because he’s trying to focus.

Lastly, there’s me: Rookie. Newest guy in the squadron. Even if I was a grizzled veteran, they would probably still keep the nickname for irony’s sake.

We’re very good at training exercises, but we’ve never seen real combat. That’s probably about to change. Everyone sat around the room in varying states of impatience. Tally scrambled and solved a puzzle cube over and over again. Moneybags sat in his chair, tapping his foot slowly, head in his hands. Stronghold paced back and forth across the room, muttering something to herself. Crucible 1 was scrolling through his phone, reading news about the war.

Then the commander entered. He was a short man, about 5’2. He had a short white beard and hair. He was a respectable man, but certainly not intimidating. He stepped up to the podium and activated the projector. A map of the world, with all its glorious continents and borders, was shown.

Astea, Sapent, Antarctica, Rykos, Casteron, and Vinisage covered the map. Borders of over a hundred countries sprawled throughout them. We were the Alliance of Sapent Nations, an alliance consisting of most of the countries on Sapent. The Astean Empire covered the entire continent of Astea. The Alliance territory was highlighted in blue, while the Empire was highlighted in red.

Most of the countries in the world were still trying to figure out what was happening, but some nations, like Isaku, a small island nation off Sapent’s coast, had already declared themselves neutral, and they were highlighted in yellow to show it.

The commander launched into his briefing. Everyone stopped fidgeting and took their respective seats. In all, about twenty-seven pilots were in the briefing room.

The Crucible pilots all sat in the front. The other squadron members all settled down once the commander started talking.

Base Commander: “Okay, so as I’m sure you’ve all heard. We’re at war. We’ve lost contact with all of our bases in Astea. Squadron K-6D has visual confirmation that they have been destroyed. It’s estimated that all of our forces there have either been killed or captured.

We don’t know what will happen next, but it’s safe to assume that Imperial forces will be moving on Astea soon. Forces from the United Provinces and Manoran Republic are already moving to defend. We’re scrambling our fighters to run patrols and stand ready to defend when they attack them.

Swan Squadron, you’re going to be patrolling the Pavli Mountains, in case they try airdropping troops there.

Caliber Squadron, you’re being transferred to the Satamura Air Force Base. Link up with the 23rd Air Defense Brigade and await further orders.

Crucible Squadron, you’re heading to Ubisan City. It’s the only city facing Astea with a harbor big enough to fit their biggest warships and landing ships. Report to your AWACSes. They’ll brief you the rest on the way. Dismissed.”

Everyone was quiet. It was difficult to process it all. A week ago, we didn’t think this would happen. Now, our world has flipped.

We were off to Ubisan City. It’s not really the best city for anything, but it has the largest port on this side of the continent, painting a big target on its back. The hangar bay we kept our squadron’s jets in was buzzing with activity. Mechanics had already armed and fueled them. They looked better than ever.

Our squadron flew Phantom IIs. They were old models, but still reliable in most situations. Other squadrons had already taken off towards their destinations when we rolled our jets onto the runway. Taxiing and taking off is always uneventful, but everyone was nervous. I kept looking at the cloudy gray sky above us, expecting the enemy to descend on us at any moment. Not that they ever did, but that didn’t stop me from checking.

It was probably a three-hour flight of nothing but silence to Ubisan City. Raindrops from the city’s common tropical rains pelted our cockpits. We arrived at Ubisan Airport and parked our planes in the hangar reserved for the Allied Forces. Ubisan didn’t have a real military air force base, so they just set aside a small part of their airport for it.

Our AWACS’s massive E-3C Sentry plane landed about half an hour after us. If you don’t know, “AWACS” stands for “Airborne Warning and Control System.” Every AWACS unit has about four people in the plane: Pilot, co-pilot, radar operator, and radio operator. It’s a complicated system, but not our place to worry about it.

Every AWACS likes to have an interesting callsign. Our AWACS’s callsign was “AWACS Highlander.” I don’t know if pilot callsigns and AWACS callsigns work the same. Our callsigns are nicknames given to us based on our personalities or behavior. His might just be a callsign, and nothing else.

We left our planes with the mechanics and were put on standby until something happens. I took my things to the airport hotel and didn’t leave for the rest of the day. They say stress can shorten your lifespan. If that’s the case, I may have lost a week or two of my life today. I’ll just have to see what happens next.