The Queen of the Sky

[Logan]

Chapter 1
Ascension to the Throne

​

Mountains Outside of Belgrade
She Who Would Be Queen


The two MiG-29SMT would scream through the mountains, at times skimming the trees at hardly 100 feet off the ground. Suddenly the lead pilot, Dijana Davidović (Sol 1), found exactly what she was looking for.

"Sol 5, Drop back to cover my 6. I'm engaging their leader."

A Su-27 marked with an aggressor paint scheme was just visible, skimming over a Mountain, looking for its prey, the two MiGs. Sol 1 shot upwards, making a High-G turn to face the target, as Sol 5 made a far more subtle move to cover her, climbing up to a good 500 feet above Sol 1's plane. She had a lot riding on this dogfight, most importantly a round of drinks at the officer's club once the day was out.

"Grabacr 2, Sol's found us. Take Trail, Their leader's mine."

The two Sukhois pulled similarily tight maneuvers as the MiGs did, the Lead almost pulling a Half Kulbit before leveling out and rolling over to be right-side up. Sol 5 and Grabacr 2 merged prematurely and almost immediately caught each other with missile tone, scoring mutual kills and returning to a holding pattern over the quiet Serbian mountains. Meanwhile, each of the leads, now on their own, starting dancing around the mountainsides, peaking up to try and get tone and then dropping back down into the valleys, before their opponents could acquire a lock on them. Sol 1, scanning the mountainsides and anticipating her opponent's next moves, shot her Fulcrum over one of the nearby mountains, slipping in right behind the Sukhoi, which, as soon as he noticed what was going on, slammed his throttle back, pulling his Su-27 up and into a stall, forcing it into a dangerously low altitude Cobra maneuver, just barely getting control of it soon enough to pull into the slot behind Sol 1.

This is getting too dangerous, thought Sol 1, as she pulled her MiG into a vertical climb. She used her plane's slightly-superior Thrust-Weight ratio, as well as the element of Surprise, to gain as much altitude and distance as possible before the Su-27 could reacquire a lock. Once she leveled back off at around 10,000 feet, she began to dance around, tightening her turns and using every advantage she could gain over the Su-27, whose pilot was struggling to keep up with her erratic flying. pulling into a tight turn, and with the Su-27 catching up to her, she "hit the brakes" and slammed her stick back, shedding energy like it was the hair off of a dog, and forcing the MiG into a Cobra Maneuver, throwing her back and the Su-27 shooting past her at breakneck speeds. Continuing to dance around as she tried to get ahold of the Su-27 long enough for a lock, she broke pattern and accelerated in the opposite direction before pulling her MiG into a "Herbst Maneuver," maintaining control even as her nose pointed straight up and the aircraft pulled into an aerodynamic stall, Coning into the new direction and pointing her nose downwards, she kept her eyes on the Su-27 as she merged from a higher altitude, catching him off guard just long enough to catch a lock.

"Looks like we got some real hot shit over here that knows how to control her plane."

"Get back to the holding pattern, Grabacr, you can dry your tears with the money you're spending on drinks tonight. Line back up so 2 and 3 can kick your wingman's ass right back to yesterday and my boys can get 2 rounds of drinks on you," She bantered before returning back to the holding pattern and letting the next round of competitors face off in the skies above Serbia.

 

[Logan]

Chapter 2
The Coronation Ceremony

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Dijana walked into the bar, brushing a little bit of dirt off of her canvas flight jacket. The Emblem of the Serbian Armed Forces adorned her right shoulder, as the Air Force's Emblem and the patch for Sol Squadron (Seen Above, ignore the squadron designation, the actual designation is 3rd Tactical Fighter Squadron) adorned her left. Her shoulders maintained the insignia of a Major. Overall, her outfit, consisting of the Flight Jacket, a pair of olive cargo pants, and a T-Shirt emblazoned with the symbol of Serbia's military academy, was extremely "unladylike," not that she cared. it hid her slender, fit, feminine form, giving her a more amorphous, ambiguous form that most military uniforms aimed to emphasize. Hell, if it weren't for the feminine features of her face, one might simply mistake her for a tall young boy.

As she walked towards the table that Sol Squadron had declared their territory by hanging a big flag with their symbol on the wall, her squadron stood up, raised their glasses, and gave their commander a hearty cheer, each of them extending their hand out for a firm handshake and fist bump, celebrating her victory over the Aggressors' leader, and their victories over the aggressor squadrons in each of their matchups.

After each of them had the chance greet and congratulate their Leader, and she the chance to congratulate each of them, her Second in Command, Sol 2, stood up and place a hand on her shoulder, leading her to the next booth.

"Now, normally I don't like to associate with these aggressor pilots with their fancy Sukhois and what with them doing their damnedest to make life hard on us combat drivers, but Grabacr 1 told me he had something he wanted to do after seein' you fly as well as you did out there." There was a pause.


"After he told me what it was, I couldn't help but get the boys on board."

Grabacr 1 stood up from his booth, looking straight in the eyes of his colleague.

"Now, you probably remember my bragging that my family's always been flying? Well, in my uncle's squadron had this quirk where they'd name their best pilot 'King of the Skies.' After seeing you handle that Fulcrum like that out there, I figured it was a good idea to bring that back. Except there's only one pilot in this air force worthy of the title now."

He pulled out of his pockets an oversized coin. On one side, was the Serbian Air Force's crest, with the words "For the Freedom and Honor of the Fatherland." He then flipped it around to show an image of Serbia's coat of arms, with the words "Queen of the Skies" written on the outside.

Sol 2 stepped back, saying, "Major, consider this your Coronation," followed by Grabacr handing the challenge coin to her and shouting, "Long Live the Queen!" to which every fighter pilot in the bar snapped out of their chairs and to attention, saluting the Major, and recognizing her as the best pilot among them.

 

[Joe]

Chapter 3:
Birth of a Usurper
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The Hanoi dialect of Vietnamese was easy to hear. It was the equivalent of a posh, English accent. Everyone publicly despised it, but secretly, they all wanted it. They wanted the money, the status, the house, the car, the everything that was associated with it. That accent was on full display here.

"Pay close attention boys," Lieutenant "Anvil" Hoang chortled over the radio. "The Navy's here to play."

"Cut the chatter, Stone 3-2," Behind his Heads Up Display, Captain "Iceman" Mac scowled.

The three Dassault Rafales flew in an arrow formation over the South China Sea, practicing for maneuvers. It was rumored that the new Republic of Vietnam Armed Forces were going to finally get their first taste of combat real soon when they were to deploy as peacekeepers to Kosovo. Needless to say, they were excited at the prospect of an actual fight. The 21st Fighter Wing, FW-21, was no different. Made up of the best the Vietnamese Air Force had to offer, they were intent on bloodying the nose of the Serbian Air Force. However, that was not to be the ultimate case as of yet. FW-21 found itself with a new try-out, a transfer pilot from the Navy Strike Fighter Squadron 101 (SFS-101). With it's lack of a capable carrier, the Vietnamese Air Force was "borrowing" assets.

"Let's show these Navy squids how real fighter pilots fly," Hoang boasted. "Try not to get shot down, Squid."

There was no response from the Dassault Rafale M coming from the distance. It was 50 miles away and closing fast. The Air Force fighters could see him in the distance. During the briefing, they were given his name but had forgotten it. They had heard his history. He was young and unblooded, a recent graduate of the Naval Academy who had wowed his instructors during the simulator. His hours on the Rafale were minimal and laughable... but his skill was supposed to be so good that-...

"Tallyho," A terse response came over the radio.

"What th-... I'm locked on!" Hoang suddenly cried, his cockpit blazing red. Radar warnings immediately surrounded throughout. Virtually, a missile was launched from the Navy fighter. It traveled through cyberspace, undergoing numerous calculations. Hoang jinked his fighter, hoping to outrun mathematics, but it was not to be. An 'X' immediately came up on his HUD that announced that he was shot down. "Ah... lucky shot."

"Told you he was good," Iceman said.