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>>October 14th, 2111, Old American Nimitz Class Aircraft Carrier “Ohio"

Most flight crew members hated the flight suits. Amber however didn't mind too much. They were very tight fitting and slim, designed to keep blood flowing to your head in high G turns and maneuvers. It has probably saved her from blacking out more times than she was willing to admit...

She stood in a line with her fellow pilots of her squadron, herself and four other. All were in G suits with their helmets under their right arm. She aimlessly fiddled with her strap on her hip with her free hand as she listened to a grim faced Captain.

“I don't think I need to tell you people how important oil is..." he began “our main source of energy after solar and wind... however..."

The Captain walked up to a large table with a map of the Pacific and pointed to a marked point on the map, roughly 50 miles north of the old state of Hawaii.

“Three hours ago... we lost contact with an oil rig out in the Pacific near our location... first we launched an old prop driven scout aircraft... we lost contact with it soon afterwords..."

The captain moved around the table to their side of the room, his hands clasped behind his back.

“After that, we launched a recovery helicopter and a stealth aircraft... they too were lost... caused by an unknown reason..."

“And now you are sending us, Captain?" Amber's flight lead, a skinny Africa American man who has his hair cut a little short. The blond kid next to him, his second in command nodded, wanting to know too.

“Yes Warwolf One... We have every reason to believe we are under attack... you are the first squad we are launching into the fray, followed by Gypsy Squadron and a support of Blackhawks to retake the oil rig..." he then sighs and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I'll be honest with you Warwolf Squadron... we have no information for you... no radar, no sonar, no eyes and ears, Hell, not even a damn messenger bird. You are going in completely blind..."

Amber winced. No intelligence? They might as well fly their aircraft into the damn ocean and get it over with. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw that the rest of her squad thoughtthe same, giving looks of concern and dread. The captain sighs and takes his hat off, knowing full well what he was asking.

“Report to the deck in 15... you are launching as soon as possible..." he finished grimly.

“Sir, yes sir!" Her flight said in unison, then the filed out one by one to find their aircraft.

———————————————————————————————————

Amber strapped herself down into the cockpit of her F-22, her slim frame seemingly built to fit snugly into the aircraft. She hit a button, and the canopy of the aircraft lowered its and locked itself in place with a clack. She pushed up on the glass with a gloved hand, and when it didn't budge, she gave the deck officer a thumbs up.

The deck officer, a man who seems too skinny for his own good, nodded to her. Then, using his hands by making signals, he guided her F-22 to the loading elevator. On the way there, her craft passed other crews, scrambling to get supplies and ammunition for their respective fighters. However, none of them spoke a word, none of them even looked at each other.

Amber frowns. She knew these guys, they were always joking about and laughing... but today was different. An oil rig, one of the ratest and most valuable piece of tech was presumably under attack. No one knew how bad or by who... but one thing was for sure.

War was on the horizon.

Amber looked forward with a grim face. All she wanted to be was a pilot. That's all. Not a soldier. She sighs and frowns.

'Well... this is what I signed on for... and I will fight to protect my home on this glorified boat' she thought grimly.

Soon enough, her craft was loaded unto the elevator, and she was lifted onto the flight deck. The sky was full of black and grey clouds, with the winds and seas violently slamming into the large ship. A storm was coming in more than one way.

The crew on the flight deck was as grim faced as the people below deck, working hard and fast without a word. One of them began to guide her to one of the catapult launching systems on the deck, the rest of her Squadron already launched. Being Warwolf 5 and the tail end of the formation, she was always last to launch. Soon enough however, they lined her up with the deck catapult and attached it to her front wheel.

For some damn reason, despite numerous launches, she always got really nervous of the catapult system, her oxygen mask suddenly becoming heavy and her helmet narrowing her view to the front of the ship. She sighs and banished the butterflies in her gut, turns to the deck captain, and gives him a thumbs up, indicating everything checked out and she was good to go. The deck captain returned the gesture then held out his hand, showing five fingers.

Then four fingers...

Then three...

Two...

One...

As soon as the last finger fell and he made a fist, Amber's back was pushed back into her seat as her craft was rocketed forward and off the deck. She quickly throttled up, pulled back on the stick, and slammed a button to retrieve the landing gear. She watched as the nose of her F-22 seemingly ae the sea below her as she pulled up, and elevated to 500 feet, below the lowest clouds.

She quickly leveled out and began to breath again. She hated the catapult. She loved flying, but absolutely despised the catapult.

“Warwolf flight, form up" the radio in her ear crackled. On her helmet, her Heads Up Display kicked in, indicating altitude, speed, direction, aircraft fuel levels, aircraft level and orientation. Everything she ever needed to know right there in front of her nose. She looked around her bubble canopy and spotted four blue boxes flying in an arrowhead formation, all labeled as 'Warwolf'. Her flight.

She banked gently to the left and elevated to 834 feet in the air, taking her spot at the back of the formation.

“Warwolf One to Warwolf Flight, comms and status check" her lead called.

“Warwolf Two, read you loud and clear, good to go"

“Warwolf Three here, good to go here"

“Warwolf Four, standing by for orders boss"

Before she knew it, it was her turn. Amber clicked her mic.

“Warwolf Five, everything is green and ready to go" she answered.

“Warwolf One to Ohio Actual?" Her flight lead broadcasted, checking in with their parent aircraft carrier.

“Ohio Actual reeds you loud and clear Warwolf One, go ahead"

“Ohio Actual, we have compeated permission checklist and are ready to prosed with the mission"

“Rodger that Warwolf One, continue on to the oil rig and radio in once you are 3 klicks from the location for further orders, Gypsy flight will be right behind you for support should anything happen"

“Rodger Ohio Actual, we read you loud and clear, proceeding to target now, Warwolf flight out" With that, comm silence quickly followed, leaving Amber alone with her thoughts.

The dull, high pitched sound of her F-22's engines dominated the sound in the cockpit. The only other thing she could hear was her own slow breathing in the oxygen mask. She looks to her left, seeing nothing but the raging sea and dark clouds. To Amber, this was the perfect place to be. In the skies not even the seas could touch her. She was happy here. If only she could stay up here forever.

“Warwolf Four to Warwolf Five, can you ease off please? You are crowding me up here!" Her radio crackled.

She looks forward to see that Warwolf Four was to her two o' clock and was just within spitting distance, almost 10 meters away. She was just about to eat his damn jetwash, or worse, his engines. She cursed herself for not paying attention and eased the throttle back, allowing some space to form between them.

“My apologies Warwolf Four" she quickly stated.

“Hey, we are all tired, don't worry about it. Just please avoid eating my tail, please?"

Amber grins “No promises Warwolf Four, Warwolf Five out" And with that, the comms fall silent once again, leaving Amber alone with her thoughts. Her grin slowly faded away as her radar showed her a storm at the edge of her scans. The storm was right over the oil rig.

'Oh... yay...' Amber thought grimly. Oh well... could be worse...

Could have been a radiation storm...

———————————————————————————————————

>>October 14th, 2111, 853 Feet above the Pacific cean

45 minuets have passed...

Rain was slamming into the nose of her craft, thunder striking around her, and adrenaline was assulting he really mind. Occasionally, one of her flight leads would shake and nearly tumble out of the skies because of the harsh winds. She occasionally looked to her wings to make sure they were still there.

'This was a stupid idea...' Amber thought, referring to the idea of sending two flights into a developing hurricane just to check on an oil rig. Amber shook her head of the thought. No, they needed that oil, it was the lifeblood of their fleet, and losing one can be a horrible catastrophe.

She checked her mission clock: 46 Minuets, 29 Seconds. It shouldn't be long now... not long at all before they can see the Rig...

“BREAK BREAK BR-!!" Her Captain suddenly screams over the raidio, but his transmission was cut off as a missile slammed into the belly of his aircraft, disintegrating his aircraft right out from under him in a ball of fire.

Amber slammed her stick to the left and hit the pedal to the left. Her aircraft responded smartly, and the plane snapped left, narrowly avoiding the debris of her ex-captain.

“MISSILE LOCK... MISSILE LOCK... MISSILE LOCK..." sounded off in her ear, screaming the one sound she didn't want to hear. Amber hit a button on the console, dumping hot chaff into the cool air, and she rolled back right. From the clouds, a missile streaks pass her canopy, through the area she just was.

Her head snapped forward, and from the night, the clouds like a bat out of hell, was a flight of five SU-47s. Their black armor making them look like demons crawling after her.

Another missile was launched by the SU-47 on the far left of the formation, and it slammed into the nose of another F-22. The wreckage of the once proud aircraft tumbling out of the sky, the explosion and wind ripping it apart.

Amber roared a curse to the SU-47s, and she flicked a switch, locked onto a SU-47, and fired a missile of her own.

Her missile bobbed a little in the wind and rain, and it missed the lead aircraft by a whole 10 meters. However, her missile was knocked off its intended course by the hurricane like winds, causing it to slam and explode into the side of the lead SU-47's Wingman.

Amber grins at her revenge, and watched as the remaining fighters broke their formations to hunt down their targets. She broke too, and fell on the tail of a Squadron mate F-22. She followed the friendly in, intending to serve as a wingman.

The F-22 she followed rolled around and engaged its thrusters, trying to stay on the tail of a stray SU-47. Amber followed from a distance to keep his back clear, and watched as the SU-47 rolled left, then suddenly bank right, then left. The pilot ducked and dived, then tried to climb through the storm, trying to do anything to throw off the F-22 that was chaising him down.

Finally, the F-22 Launched a missile from it's wing. The missile flew straighter than her earlier missile did, and it slammed into the engines of the Russian aircraft, causing it to lose its whole tail, and fall out of the sky.

Then, a SU-47 came out of the clouds and latched onto the tail of her wingman.

“No you DON'T!" She growled. Amber knew that her missiles would take a while to lock on, but she wanted the hostile off her friend's tail now. She flicked the activation trigger on the aircraft's rotary cannon, and she fired a six second burst followed bullets from her aircraft to the SU-47. The rounds missed the SU-47, but the pilot suddenly banked left to avoid the hailstorm.

'Get back here!' She thought, banking left after one of the last SU-47s, intending to blow the basterd out of the-

A bright flash of light slammed into her aircraft.

Her vision went black, but she was still awake. She could hear her instruments screaming at her, and the aircraft shuddering like a thing possessed. She grabbed the stick in a death grip, and she screamed as she fought to stay awake. Soon, the darkness lifted off her eyes, to reveal her nose pointing at a green ground.

“PULL UP! PULL UP!" The computer screams at her.

She pulled back on the stick and cut the throttle, nearly ripping her own nose off from the G forces of the maneuver. She slammed the throttle forward, the engine forcing her into the back of her seat. Slamming sounds echoed in the cockpit at the belly of her aircraft hit the tips of tall trees. She pulled back on the stick, and began to climb to a higher altitude.

Soon enough, she leveled out, panting heavily as sweat fell from her brow.

“Holy shit... holy shit..." she breathes. She then began to look around outside her cockpit.

Below her was a snow top mountain range overlooking a green valley. A really, really green valley. From her cockpit, she could see rolling hills, healthy trees, fresh and clear water, fluffy clouds, and even the occasional flock of birds. It wasn't absolutely beautiful. It looked like something that an old world photographer would take to put on a postcard.

In that moment, Amber forgot her dead Squadron and the mission. She has never seen a place so green, so healthy, and so untouched by nuclear war...

Suddenly, her mic screams tone in her ears of an enemy missile lock.

Her eyes widened and she was back in the fight. She looked over her shoulder, and sure enough, a SU-47 came screeching out of her six o' clock high. Two missiles dropped from his wings and rocked towards her.

Amber slammed her stick right in a 4.3 G turn, firing chaff from her belly all the while. The missile system fell for the trick, tracking the chaff instead of her, and exploding harmlessly away from her. The SU-47 however wasn't so easy to lose, and gave chase by matching her turn.

Amber then slammed into a left turn, then rolled right and reversed her turn again, trying to throw him off. The SU-47 pilot wasn't lost however, and matched all her moves, staying on her tail. All the while, Amber heard that deafening sound of an enemy missile lock in her headset. She had to think of something fast... or she would be nothing more than a wreckage on the deck.

Amber's mind races as tracer fire envelopes her aircraft, but because of all the tight turns, most of the rounds fell short of hitting her.

She then got an idea.

Amber hit her throttle and pulled nearly straight upt, going as fast as she could to reach the higher portions of the atmosphere. The SU-47 gives chase, hot on her tail and seemingly content to follow Amber to hell and back just to shoot her down. As soon as they were both heading up, the enemy craft opened fire.

Amber hunched her shoulders into the back of her aircraft, not only hearing, but feeling the heavy rounds bouncing and piercing her armor. Amber didn't pay much mind, trying to bury her fear and panic by focusing on her altimeter.

500 meters.

700 meters.

900 meters.

11,000 meters.

A round slammed into the right wing, and Amber could see feul leak from the wound like blood.

15,000 meters

17,000 meters

19,000 meters

21,000 meters

Amber saw frost building up around her canopy, and she watched as she began to slowly lose speed. She looked into a mirror and saw the same happening to the SU-47.

25,000 meters

Behind her, the SU-47's engines began to sputter, and fail. The nose of the aircraft slowed, then pulled over, and it snapped around to face the ground as the aircraft finally stalled. Amber slammed the throttle into the reverse direction, hit the rudders, and stalled her own aircraft, now on the enemy's tail.

The tables have turned.

Amber manuvered her nose and reticle over the enemy aircraft, and pulled the trigger. A hailstorm of bullets slammed into the enemy's stalling, helpless aircraft. The bullets ripping into the amor and hitting critical components, and even ripped the right wing off, causing the SU-47 to tumble out of control by the sudden imbalance.

She didn't stop shooting though, and eventually, a handful of rounds slammed into the cockpit of the SU-47, turning the pilot into a fine red mist all across his own cockpit. Finally, the aircraft had enough, and because of the damage and the lack of a pilot, the tumbling, lifeless SU-47 simply disintegrated from the G forces, tearing it apart.

Amber then stopped firing, pushed her throttle forward, and pulled out of the dive at 800 meters, watching the wreakage of the SU-47 slam into the ground and explode behind her...

Amber was now drenched in sweat and panting heavily. Her hands on the controls trembling as the adrenaline finally died down, and a black haze began to cloud the edges of her vision.

'I need to land...' she thought, her mind drifting.

She moved the stick to the left.

The aircraft didn't respond.

Amber tried again, trying to bank left.

Nothing.

Amber looked to her left and right. Inspecting her wings, she confirmed her worst fears. In the climb, the SU-47 ad taken potshots at her wings, and destroyed her ailerons. She couldn't bank left or right. She cursed the dead pilot and herself. That was a stupid stupid STUPID move!

She sighs and instead hits her rutter, the aircraft, instead of turning left, somewhat drifting left now. It was slow, but eventually she got her aircraft turned around and headed back to the valley.

She lowered her altitude to 100 meters and slowed her decent, finding a large, flat grassland to land in. She pitched her nose up, lowered her flaps, extended her landing gear, aaand... A loud thump shook the plane as the landing gear struck the soft ground, and by deploying the plane's emergency shoot, quickly slowed the craft to a halt. As soon as it came to a stop, Amber hit the emergency brakes and killed the engine.

With a shaky hand, Amber unlatched the cockpit canopy and nearly threw it open. She deployed the emergency ladder and nearly fell out of the cockpit, not even removing her helmet and rebreather.

Amber could barely stand, using the ladder as a support for her shuddering body. She was so tired and worn out. She has never done real Combat before, only drills and training with her squad. She wasn't prepared for this.

Amber let go of the ladder, still shaking. She turns and takes two steps, then collapsed under her own weight, lying against the front nose landing gear.

'So... Tired...' Amber groaned...

She was just so tired... so tired she didn't know about the inquisitive pair of eyes watched her every move..