Yui had been apprehensive when she originally learned that her old unit, the White Fang Test Squadron, would be representing Japan in Blue Flag ’02. Yui had remembered their ultra-nationalistic views about the Empire, the very same ones she used to have, and was more a little concerned about how they’d portray themselves in the multinational exercise.
The recent coup in her homeland probably didn’t help their views any.
In fact, Yui had been so concerned she had flown back to Yukon Base herself at the very last minute, with only Nastassja accompanying her, to see them in person. As one of the foremost advocates of multi-national cooperation and international unity, Yui realized that if the White Fangs went and caused an international incident, it could undermine her work.
Thankfully, her fears were unfounded.
“Remember, we are here representing the Empire on the global stage,” First Lieutenant Amamiya, Yui’s old subordinate and now the successor as the commanding officer of White Fang, addressed the twelve members of the squadron. “The eyes of the world will be on us as representatives of Japan, and we must show ourselves to be honorable, just and willing to work for the betterment of all mankind.”
Yui nodded her head approvingly from the dark corner of the room, unnoticed by the White Fangs. She really should have gone out there to make her presence known to her former unit, but Yui had decided against it. Project Valkyrie was a UN program at its heart, and had no bearing on an IRG test squadron using equipment developed and built solely in Japan.
“I’m quite suprised, Captain. Your friend seems like one of the more reasonable IRG officers I’ve seen in a while.” Nastassja Ivanova whispered quietly from where she stood beside Yui. “With the way the IRG has been behaving lately, even Makabe’s Wolves have been complaining about them.”
“Yes, it is quite a relief.” Yui agreed, now satisfied that the White Fangs weren’t about to turn Blue Flag into another public relations fiasco for her battered nation. “Now, let’s hop over to the briefing room next door shall we? I want to see how Focker’s briefing his men.”
“Understood, ma’am.”
The Jolly Rodger’s were the other team that had Yui worried, but for a very different reason. The US Navy’s VF-103 Jolly Rodgers Squadron and the US Marine Corps VFMA-232 Red Devils would be participating in Blue Flag. Despite being combat squadrons who hd actual frontline experience, they had been pulled from their deployments and ordered to send a flight each to take part in the war-games for one reason: testing the VF-8 Crusader II Variable Tactical Fighter in the exercises.
As Project Valkyrie’s pride and joy, Yui was very concerned about how the Crusader would be received by the public. Yui already knew from past experience it was a given that the Crusader would flatten any TSF in a straight out fight. The EF-2002 Dragoon, the only other VTF participating, was the only machine that stood a chance at matching it. Unfortunately, she was also aware from her past experiences that the public eye had a habit of misconstruing the facts into something that was, shall we say, ‘less than favorable’.
It would only take one incident at Blue Flag to completely ruin the Crusader’s image in the public eye. Despite the rugged image of hard-drinking, hard-fighting, mean devil dogs that Marines liked to portray themselves as, Collins always had a humble air about him. No PR debacle would come from the Red Devils. No, if there was going to be any kind of mess that would result in mountains of paperwork on Yui’s desk, it would be from the squadron that painted the mark of a pirate on their fighters and proudly named bored the name of the pirates flag.
“This is the room.” Nastassja announced, discretely opening the door to the briefing room just enough for the pair to enter. Inside, the layout of the room was much the same. Again, their observation was muted since the attention of the mixed group of VTF pilots and their Radar Intercept officers had been drawn to the charismatic man at the head of the room.
“Remember ladies, we aren’t only representing the interests of the Navy in this exercise, but also the UN’s Project Valkyrie,” Lieutenant Commander Roy Focker, CO of the Jolly Rodgers and lead pilot of its VTF detachment ,‘Skull Flight’, spoke clearly to his men. “I don’t want to see any foul play against these guys. Japanese, Germans, French, Chinese, Arabs… they are our adversaries in this exercise, and our allies out of it. At the end of day, don’t that we’re all on the same team.”
“Focker’s being responsible… for once.” Nastassja quipped.
“Looks like I was worried for nothing.” Yui agreed.
Well it seems like the world was on the right track after al-
“Our real enemy is the Army.”
What.
“Those landlubbers have been hogging all the good stuff and lording that god-forsaken Raptor of theirs over us for years! We didn’t have enough cash for Raptors and carriers, so we built carriers and they had the nerve to laugh at us!” Focker said, with the largest grin Yui had ever seen on him. “Now that we have the Crusader and the Over-Hornet, that’s going to change, both here and at Red Flag! Everyone else is part of the sideshow, but its open season on the Infinites!”
What?
“Finally, the chance to avenge all those f***ing gay sailor jokes!” One of the VTF pilots whooped happily.
“I’m going to hunt down those Infinities and nail their heads onto a pike!”
“Hear, hear!” Another pilot agreed heartily. “I’m sick and tired of getting my ass bounced by a bunch of no talent hicks who think that landing on a kilometer long runway makes them hot sh*t!”
“That’s the Spirit!” Focker grinned. “The next time the budget review comes up I want the Joint Chiefs to think that the Army are a bunch of has-beens with nt balls to speak of and give them scraps!”
What?
“Remember boys! We have one objective and one objective only: it’s CRUSHING THE ARMY!” Focker pumped a fist into the air, earning a loud cheer from the entire room and a befuddled stare from Yui and Nastassja.
WHAT?
-=-
“Anchors Aweigh, my boys!
Anchors Aweigh!”
“Farewell to foreign shores,
We sail at break of day 'ay 'ay 'ay!”
“O'er our last night ashore,
Hail to the foam,”
“Until we meet once more,
Here's wishing you a happy voyage home!”
-=-
Lieutenant Commander Roy Focker sat side by side next to 1st Lieutenant Keith Blazer at the bar counter, both men looking quite tipsy. All around them were various members of their respective flights, all doing their level best to drown their sorrows together. In fact, Sharon Heim was so currently so drunk she was snuggling up to a similarly passed out Navy pilot, one Shin Kudo, making cooing sounds that sounded suspiciously like ‘Yuuya’, ‘Leon’ and ‘threesome’ to a sober person.
Her boyfriend, Leon Kuze, was bent over one of the tables out cold and was in no way able to complain or protect himself.
Normally, two groups from different branches of the Military ending up in the same bar would be cause for a bar fight, but today was a special day, where the Army and Navy had put forward a truce so they could wallow in each other’s shared misery.
Finally, this uncomfortable silence was broken when Roy tried drinking from his shot glass and found it empty. “Blast. And I’m still sober. Figures.”
“Here, on me.” Keith said, then handed Roy what was left of his bottle of whiskey. Roy prompt poured what was left of the bottle to the old fashioned glass while Kieth signaled the bartender for another. The bartender, who really should have thrown the lot of them out of for their unsightly behavior by now, only gave the rabble sympathetic looks as he went and complied.
“Thanks, Army.”
“Don’t mention it, Navy.”
As if fate was mocking them, the radio decided to start up a news report describing their woes.
“And in a startling upset in the Blue Flag exercises the, the US Marine Corps VFMA-232 Red Devils emerged triumphant, beating out every other team in the competition. This included their Navy and Army compatriots, the VF-103 Jolly Rodgers and the 65th Combat Training Battalion’s Infinities, both of whom are highly decorated units. Using America’s new Crusader II Variable Tactical Fighter, the Red Devils proved the lethality of the VTF platform in all forms of combat. At their celebration dinner, their commanding officer, the newly promoted Captain Wilbert D. Collins, had this to say…”
“Here’s a toast Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children!” The unmistakable voice of Wilbert D. Collins hollered through the radio. “Suck it, Navy! Who’re the Top Guns now?”
“F***ing devil dogs. Where did they learn to dogfight like that?” Keith grumbled.
Roy, being privy to the fact that Wilbert was a close friend of one ex-NUNS Marine pilot, had a few suspicions. However, the point was moot since he had a bigger worry. “Blazer, shoot me now. Collins and I serve on the same boat. He’s going to make my life hell when we both get back to the Kennedy.”
“No. I ain’t dealing with this sh*t alone.” Keith grumbled. “Live long and accept your defeat like a man.”
“On the bright side, at least we didn’t lose to the Chairforce. God almighty, if that happened…”
“Amen.”
“Any space for a UN Army Captain who needs a drink, badly?” asked a young woman’s voice, with a mild Japanese accent. Kieth and Roy turned to the newcomer, then motioned to an empty seat beside them. The attractive young woman plopped herself down and quickly ordered the most expensive bottle of sake she could find.
“So what happened to you?” Roy asked.
And then the bloody radio came on again.
“Breaking news! According to reports from the Atlantic Fleet, there has been an assassination attempt on the President! Details are scarce at this point, it is clear the President and his staff survived the attempt…”
“…Sh*t.” Yui muttered.
Keith and Roy stared at her. Roy, being one of the people who worked closely with Project Valkyrie had a few ideas on what just went wrong.
“Let me guess. Some idiot on the Willie Dee used the new gun you installed on it recently?” asked Roy. he winced sympathetically when Yui’s reply was to drop her forehead on the bar counter.
“The William D. Porter accidentally fired a live round at Air Force One while your President was passing through the Atlantic. Something to do with redeeming themselves for launching torpedoes at the Enterprise,” Yui informed them. “Nobody died because his fighter escort had Crusaders in it, but now CNN is all over the story. I was so busy making sure you jokers didn’t do anything stupid for the last week I forgot to keep an eye on that trice damned ship and its trice damned crew!”
“Ah, figures. It’s a Democrat in the White House right now.”
By this point, Yui was so agitated she wasn't even speaking English anymore. <I should have put it on the Iowa. Why didn’t I put it on the Iowa? What madness possessed me to think that the great and majestic USS William D. Porter was a good idea? That name has a history of calamities as long as it’s service history! Just because it’s the newest Arleigh-Burke class destroyer… I’m an idiot!>
Kieth and Roy looked each other and decided that they felt much, much better now, and were filled with compassion and understanding. Wordlessly, they communicated their understanding: that as officers and gentlemen, they ought to render aid and comfort to a beautiful young woman in distress...
“Sucks to be you.”
“Better you than us.”
And the night wore on.