FIRE ON HIGH
“Fire On High” is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters and settings © Tigermark 2003-2005 unless otherwise noted. Request permission before using them, please.
The characters of Anatol Altaisokova and Melinda Altaisokova are my names for characters © Max Blackrabbit. They appear in this story with his permission. The characters of Brandy, Maxwell, and Tonya are also © Max Blackrabbit and appear here with his permission. Events and information relating to Tonya, Anatol, and their family are presented here, but are not to be considered canon to those characters or any other story but this one. Matt Barstock and Intermountain Charter © Silver Coyote. See their story HERE. Capt. Jonathan “Jedi” Foertsch is © his player. Several names and words in this chapter are Danish, so an approximation of how to pronounce them will be enclosed in parenthesis after that word or phrase. If you want a translation, look it up *grin*. All of the Danish characters were developed with the help of Joan Jacobsen, and I would like to thank her for all her help. Aslaug Jacobsen © her player. The litany of toasts at the end of the chapter is also courtesy of Joan Jacobsen
CHAPTER 18
“For dronning og Fædreland”
Jenna was bustling around in Anton’s kitchen, preparing breakfast for everyone. Her father-in-law had awakened early and actually felt well enough to go to church. She planned on having breakfast on the table when she awakened her cubs. Tia normally was an early riser anyway, but Andrew could be tough to get up at times. She hoped the aroma of food would help entice him up and about.
Anton walked in, already dressed in a sport shirt and dress pants. He smiled at Jenna, and she saw the sparkle in his eyes brighter than she’d seen it in quite a while.
“Wow Dad, you sure look chipper this morning,” she commented as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
“I haven’t felt this good since before I started Chemo. Don’t know why, I sure felt bad yesterday.”
Jenna was about to answer when a light tap on the kitchen door announced Talia’s arrival. Anton stepped over and opened the door, and was greeted by a big hug as the tigress stepped inside.
“Well, Sis, I’m happy to see you, too,” Anton said as he shut the door.
She smiled slightly at him and replied, “And you’re looking quite well. I suppose it’s just having been to a funeral. I thought of you all the way home, hoping and praying that you can beat the cancer. Anatol’s grandchildren, too. I hope they don’t fall into fussing with each other. Tonya and Brandy seemed a bit at odds with each other, and Maxwell wasn’t even there. Brandy said something about him having exams at school, but still. Oh, how are you doing, Jenna?”
“Just fine, Aunt Talia. Would you like some breakfast?” the tigress replied.
“Oh no, thank you, I’ve already eaten. Y’all go ahead,” Talia said as she and Anton sat down at the table.
“At least have a cup of coffee while I eat,” Anton said. Talia nodded and Jenna poured her a cup and set it in front of her. She then set Anton’s plate in front of him and turned toward the door to the rest of the house.
“Now,” she said, “to get my cubs rousted out and moving. Please excuse me.”
Both Anton and Jenna nodded, and Jenna left the kitchen. After he said a quick, silent grace, Anton began to eat as Talia sipped her coffee.
Anton looked at his sister. She seemed to want to talk, but didn’t seem to know how to start. She opened her mouth several times, only to close it again.
“Talia,” he said finally, “stop that. You look like a fish. What is it you want to say?”
“Anton,” she said, and then sighed. “I’ve been so down on Tonya ever since what she does for a living came to light, even after all your admonishments. I always thought she was just some wild, wanton tramp. But at the funeral, I saw her. Really saw her. There was so much pain in her eyes. She never looked away from the casket. She had her arm around Brandy, trying to be so strong for her, but her muzzle was soaked with tears. I felt so bad for her, and how I’d thought of her. I couldn’t bring myself to go speak to her, not because of what she does, but because I was too ashamed of how I’d spoken about her in the past. She’s a very beautiful lady. Her stripe pattern is almost identical to Anatol’s.” Talia sighed again and concluded with, “I’m sorry I’ve been so harsh whenever she’s mentioned.”
Anton stopped in mid-chew. He’d hoped to get Talia to be civil, but this was beyond any expectation. He decided to act quickly on the idea he had next.
“I’m glad to hear that, Sister, very glad. Um, I have a package that Uncle Anni gave me when I was up there. It’s to go to Tonya. Would you be of a mind to deliver it? It would give you a chance to square things with her.”
“Oh no! I couldn’t face her. Not after all I’ve said. Besides, you’ll be well enough after all the chemo to deliver it yourself. I wouldn’t deprive you of that,” Talia replied, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone at the end. Anton smirked and Talia gave a small laugh. After a moment, Anton shrugged.
“All right, Tal. I’ll either go myself or send Alex.”
“Oh ‘Ton!” she replied, returning the favor of using the short names they’d used as children. “You wouldn’t send Alex! What if he had to meet her at her work?”
Anton looked at his sister keenly. Even with her change in attitude about Tonya, it seemed she still had a way to go as far as dealing with their cousin’s line of work.
They could hear Jenna herding her cubs toward the kitchen, so Anton quickly said, “Alex would do fine, but do pray for Tonya and Brandy, and for the strength to reconcile with Tonya.”
Talia bit off any reply as Tia and Andrew, with Jenna right behind, arrived for breakfast.
# # #
“Rocket One, Stripes One, we are two miles out, coming up on your six. Time to execute,” Ice called as the formation of Tigerkaht F-15C’s approached the formation of Rocketeer F-15E’s from the stern.
“Copy execute, Stripes One,” the leader of the Rocketeers replied. As he did so, two Mud Hens eased out of formation and began to drop back toward them.
Ice switched to ship-to-ship and simply said, “Go.” At that signal, he, Jedi, Ron Jon, and Pouncer lifted out of formation and dropped back a little. The rest of the Tigerkahts closed on the main formation of F-15E’s and, after some brief maneuvering, integrated themselves into a very close, tight formation, with the Mud Hens in the center and the Tigerkahts on the periphery. Ice and his crew took the two Mud Hens who’d dropped back into their formation and began to climb toward their prearranged position. The mission was to simulate an attack on the enemy country of Red’s chemical plant, in reality a pile of junk laid out on the desert floor, using the AGM-130 standoff attack munition. One of the Mud Hens that had joined Ice was programmed with that, as a backup in case the main formation failed to make target.
The plan was for the lead formation to stay very tight. At ranges beyond fifteen miles, they would look like one large blip on radar. Ice’s group, three miles back and ten thousand feet higher, would appear to be coming up on a tanker to refuel, or going away after. They were going to do a random racetrack maneuver, so that anyone trying to slip up from behind would be spotted before they got too close. They were going to depend on the Mud Hens, call signs Frosty and Clyde for the lead and his WSO, and Slice and Frogger for the second, and their newer, more powerful APG-70 radar to spot any bogeys to their six.
“That will only go so far,” Ice thought. The ROE (Rules Of Engagement) said that targets had to be visually identified. His plan was for the OPFOR to get a nasty surprise when they got that close. At Tally Ho, or visual ID of either themselves or the OPFOR, the Tigerkahts would spring out of the formation and go offensive while the Rocketeers would go defensive and push on toward the target. Ice and his group were the backup, with the two Mud Hens as a backup attack group. The use of their stronger radar was a bonus for his plan.
The two squadrons had departed Nellis and headed northeast. Now grouped as Ice and Jolt had planned, they turned due north for about twenty minutes. Ice and those with him used the Tigerkaht’s ship-to-ship frequency, and the Rocketeer’s ship-to-ship was used by the other formation. Chatter was minimal as everyone concentrated on keeping the formation as tight as possible. Fortunately, the weather was typical Nellis CAVU. (Ceiling and Visibility Unlimited)
About five minutes after they turned north, the group received a general broadcast from Nellis Control.
“Nellis Control to all Green Flag aircraft. Game On. The range is hot. All aircraft, insure your ACMI (Air Combat Maneuvering Instrumentation) pods are activated.”
Ice made sure the pod under his wing was switched on. It would transmit all of his aircraft’s performance, maneuvering, and air-to-air targeting data to any of a number of ground stations located throughout the Nellis range area.
After their northerly run, the group was to turn west, and then southwest toward their target. Ice allowed himself a smile. The game was afoot. The only question was, who was the hunter, and who the hunted?
# # #
JAE turned the formation of F-16’s again, doing a back and forth sentry pattern at forty five thousand feet. They were about eighty miles east of the target they were protecting. The altitude was a bit high for the Vipers, since they mostly stayed below thirty five thousand, but JAE wanted the best field of view, and a chance to drop down on the attacking aircraft. If they could, they would bypass the fighter cover and plunge down upon the attack formation. He hoped to break the formation into a melee’ of tight, turning battles where the Viper’s superior maneuverability would give them an advantage. HAR and his two wingfurs were doing their racetrack maneuver almost forty miles off to the northwest, down at twenty five thousand feet. If things worked the way JAE hoped, the escorting F-15C’s would detect those aircraft and be lured in that direction, allowing his main force to get to the attack formation from the other side. Range Control had called Game On over twenty minutes ago. If the Americans were coming, they should be arriving soon.
JAE and his group were keeping all their radars except for one aircraft on standby. The Americans could spot them at a longer range, so they were relying on HAR’s group and their own visual scan to spot the attack group. So far, the chatter on the American escort fighter’s ship-to-ship frequency had been minimal.
Suddenly, the radio crackled to life.
“JAE, HAR, we just picked up a target at thirty miles coming in from zero two zero toward the target, but the radar can’t make sense of it. It indicates one large target.”
JAE thought a few seconds, and then grinned. The American attack group was using the same tactic the Israeli’s used to attack the Iraqi nuke plant back in the mid-eighties. They were attempting to look like one large aircraft.
“HAR, JAE,” the Major replied. “I bet that’s them. You are cleared to move in their direction. Remember, you’re trying to draw off their top cover, so don’t charge in too close at first. Tease them out. We’ll be coming in from behind and above in about ten.”
“Copy cleared,” the rabbit replied. JAE could hear the feral grin in his voice. JAE hoped that the feisty lapine would stick to the plan and not get pulled in to close too soon. He paw-signaled his squadron to follow him, and then turned northwest to come in behind the Americans. He was sure their escorts were somewhere nearby the large radar return, looking out ahead of their group. He smiled. Things were working out perfectly.
# # #
Ice was monitoring the other formation’s ship-to-ship when the call came in.
“Rocket One, Rocket Three, I have a radar active thirty miles out at zero two zero from our heading.”
“That’s them! Let’s go get ‘em!” the excited voice of Zapper exclaimed.
“Stay in formation,” was Blackie’s stern reply.
“Good,” Ice thought. They needed to stay tight until they were sure where all the Danes were.
“Ice, this is Jolt. Radar shows three bogeys. IFF says they’re not friendlies,” the Rocketeer CO called.
“Copy Jolt, hold tight until we find the rest. What are the bogeys doing?”
“So far, Ah, they just turned in our direction. It looks like they’re maybe trying to lure us off-target,” Jolt replied.
“Okay, sit tight,” Ice said. He had a hunch, so he paw-signaled for his group to reverse course, and indicated for the F-15E’s to pan up and down in their radar scan. Their radars could only detect targets within a few degrees vertically, so they had to scan up and down to pick up any aircraft very much above or below their altitude.
As their heading passed through one twenty, Frogger, Slice’s WSO, called out, “Ice, Frogger. I paint a large formation of bogeys thirty five out at zero three five to our heading, three five thousand and descending. Looks like about twelve aircraft.”
“FORBANDEDE LORT!” echoed in Ice’s earphones.
Ice’s eyes went wide. Danish on their ship-to-ship? His eyes narrowed. Only one thing to do.
# # #
“I don’t understand it either, HAR. You say your system is IDing the radar painting you as an F-15E, but the target hasn’t altered course or split up? Their top cover should’ve shown on radar by now. We’re descending to come in behind it, but it could be a tanker for one of the other exercise runs going on,” JAE radioed. He was unsure now if this was the attack formation or not. They were coming up astern of it, but it was still beyond their radar’s range.
Suddenly a warning tone sounded in JAE’s earphones. His info screen said an F-15E radar had just illuminated them. He heard something else in his earphones as one of his pilots swore loudly, knowing that whatever was ahead now knew that they were there. To his consternation, he realized that curse of frustration had gone out over the American’s ship-to-ship frequency they’d been monitoring.
“All right, they’re on to us,” JAE called on their own ship-to-ship. “Get ready to assume attack groups and let’s go get them.”
A chorus of acknowledgements came in as the pilots prepared to break into their three-ship groups. They picked up some speed and began to close on their quarry.
# # #
“All Stripes,” Ice called out, “TAC ONE is compromised, go to TAC TWO. Advise on TAC TWO when you’ve made the switch.”
He reached up and changed the frequency on one of his radios to the backup ship-to-ship one. One by one, the rest of his squadron checked in, along with Jolt and the two Mud Hens with his group.
“The three Vipers to our front are now twenty five out and starting to come our way again, accelerating now,” Jolt advised him.
“Copy Jolt, we’ll break when they’re at ten, right at visual range. As soon as your guys see them, see if you can get a lock. It’ll take all twelve Stripes to take on and occupy the twelve bogeys coming up from behind.”
“Okay Ice. I’ll send four after the Vipers to the front. The rest of us will push for the target.”
“Got it. You call go,” Ice said. He made doubly sure his harness was tight, and as they turned to maintain their position behind the main group, he readied himself for the coming high-G moves.
# # #
Aslaug sat in the ACMI monitoring room, watching things unfold on the electronic tracking screens. She had winced when the error by the Danish pilot had revealed their knowledge of the American’s frequency. Several of the Techs in the room had glanced her way, but no one commented. Now the elements of the three squadrons were all closing quickly with each other. She could see that, in all likelihood, the aerial combat portion of the Green Flag exercise would be over within ten minutes.
As the Danish fighters she’d heard, HAR and his two wingfurs, neared the visual range of the large American formation she was silently cheering her friends on. Somehow, though, she found herself giving a nod toward Ice and the Americans. Their tactics were good, and so far they were executing them well. Besides, HAR tended to be a bit of a bully, and anyone who had taken him down a notch deserved at least a little cheer.
Aslaug smiled at that thought, and then all hell broke loose on the screens.
# # #
HAR and his wingfurs were closing fast on the large target on their radar. He got a slight return of a formation higher and behind the main one he was approaching, but he figured that was his squadron mates. The rabbit’s eyesight was extremely sharp, and he could just make out a large shape where the radar target was twelve miles out, but he couldn’t distinguish what it was or if it was a formation or one large aircraft. His radar was having the same problem. Since he couldn’t get a lock on one target, he refrained from calling out the spot, which would have signaled the start of full air-to-air combat.
“Whatever it is, we have it caught between the hammer and anvil. I’ll get that shot at Ice for sure once they come in to protect the attack group.”
Just then, as they reached ten miles from the radar return, HAR could resolve what the target was. He exultantly started to call the visual identification, when both his eyes and his radar seemed to go crazy. There were suddenly too many things moving at once to track. Just as suddenly, HAR wasn’t quite so sure things were going to happen as he thought.
# # #
JAE watched his radar carefully for a few seconds, and then began to scan the sky in the direction it indicated. He spotted a cluster of aircraft ahead, but it was too high and too soon to be the return HAR was closing in on. He checked the radar carefully again, and could now see that there were two returns, a larger and smaller one, at different altitudes. He assumed the higher one was the fighter cover, but why were they flying in so tight a formation, too?
Just then, he heard HAR call out excitedly, “Targets visually ident—.” He cut off suddenly, and now JAE could see why. The tight cluster of aircraft he could see, and the large return farther ahead, seemed to explode with aircraft as the formation broke. There were too many, moving in different directions, for his eyes of his radar to resolve a targeting solution on.
As the Americans wheeled outward from their previous tight formation, JAE decided to concentrate on the larger group farther ahead. He called the pilots to separate into their three-ship fighting teams, and pressed on.
# # #
“Okay Ice,” Jolt called, “break in five, four, three, two, one, GO!”
Ice pushed his throttles forward and pulled back hard on the stick. Jedi, Ron Jon, and Pouncer followed suit, and the four arched up out of formation to the right, fanning out into a sort of pinwheel pattern as they established some separation between each other. Ice caught a quick glimpse of the attack formation doing the same. He smiled to himself. The effect would be the same as when herd animals split in all directions to confuse a predator. The Tigerkaht’s from the front formation would wheel around and come back their direction to keep the Danes at bay. Another quick glance as he felt the G’s of the climbing turn pile on told him the four Rocketeers that would intercept the other Danes had peeled off as well. The rest of the Mud Hens, including the two who’d been with him, would press on into their attack teams and start their run.
Ice and the three Tigerkahts with him had now reversed direction and were coming toward the Danes from their front starboard side. The sudden climb out of formation, which caught the Danes descending, meant they were now at the same altitude. The rest of the Tigerkahts had wheeled left out of their formation, and were angling in toward the Danes from that side.
“Blackie, Ice.” The Tigerkaht’s CO called, “swing out a little farther and we’ll see if we can pincer them.”
“Copy Ice, will do,” the panther in Stripes Two responded.
Meanwhile, JAE was leading the Danes straight on toward the Mud Hens attack formation. He hoped to get a lock on a couple of them before they had to break to meet the other F-15’s. Problem was, the Rocketeers had split into their two-ship attack teams and were now dodging and jinking about, making a radar lock difficult. These Americans were good, he’d give them that, but they still had HAR and his wingfurs to deal with.
“JAE, RAE, we need to break now or they’ll be all on our tails,” Kaptajn Markus Raev called. The fox sounded matter-of-fact, not the least bit apprehensive.
“Lort,” Jae thought to himself. They weren’t going to be close enough. Only hope now was HAR, or that they could somehow dispatch some of the Americans quickly and press on after the attack aircraft. JAE nodded to himself and keyed the radio.
“All pilots, JAE. You are free to engage as needed,” the Major said simply.
The four flights of three split off in different directions. JAE, along with RAE and BAD, headed straight toward the four F-15C’s that had been in the trailing formation. All across the sky, aircraft were now wheeling and dodging, dancing a deadly ballet as each tried for advantage over the other.
Over at the other formation, HAR found himself forced to break off trying to target the now-evading Mud Hens as the four of them that had turned his way had achieved a lock on his wingfur for a second. They managed to break the lock-on before a missile call could be made. They pulled away and then swung back in, trying to outflank the persistent defenders. It was then that the Americans scored the first kill of the day. HAR and his wingfurs were so intent on the main formation that they didn’t notice the two F-15E’s from Ice’s group closing in from that direction. HAR and his remaining wingfur immediately went defensive and maneuvered away when the call of, “LOR, you have been eliminated,” came from Range Control
The Mud Hens accelerated and soon HAR was out of range and position to intercept them. He and his remaining wingfur broke away from the attack group and turned their attention to the battle between their countryfurs and the American cover fighters. They angled along the periphery of the battle, looking for an opening or a place to help. So far it was looking almost even as the Dane’s three-ship formations showed the strength of numbers, while the American two-ship teams allowed them a lot of flexibility in how they fought. The Americans were making attempts at longer-range shots and firing passes, staying close to their opponents without getting pulled into a maneuvering fight. The Danes dodged out of the line of fire and used their superior maneuverability to try to shake off the Tigerkahts so they could go after the Rocketeers.
Ice was having none of that. “All Stripes, Stripes One. Don’t let them disengage or they’ll be right in the Rocketeers six. Use your passes to keep them turned away from the Mud Hens.”
The battle so far was still mostly a draw. The Danes had now lost three, and the Tigerkahts two. They had maneuvered down to around eighteen thousand when Ice noticed a Viper trying to come in on him from the side. He punched into afterburner and went vertical. The F-15 is one of the few aircraft that can accelerate straight up, so Ice began to pull away. The Viper went vertical after him, which was a fatal error on the Danish pilot’s part. Here is where the greater separation Jedi had suggested came into play.
“Viper on your six, Ice. I have him locked up and . . . missile, missile, missile,” Jedi called as he heard the tone in his earphones that said he’s achieved a lock. That gave him his second kill of the day, as he'd scored a missile kill on a long, off-axis shot just after the battle began. At the same time, Ice’s vertical maneuver had pointed him toward another Viper. This one was arcing over the top of a loop, coming around to get on the tail of an Eagle he thought was Fuzz.
“Got one looping in from your five, Fuzz. I’m on him,” Ice called. He pulled the throttles back out of afterburner and danced on the rudder pedals as he lined up the pipper for a gun shot.
“Pipper on. Guns, guns, guns,” he called. The Viper rolled out wings level and angled away, so Ice chalked that one up as a kill.
Suddenly, Jedi called out, “Stripes One, Stripes Five. My radar just went south. I’m gonna be blind except for visual spot and guns only.”
“Copy Jedi,” Ice replied. He looked at the situation and finally said, “Go RTB, Jedi. You won’t do any good back there if you’re blind. I’ll go link up with Blackie and go from there.”
Reluctantly, Jedi answered, “Copy.” He had throttled back slightly and turned to head out of the battle when he saw an F-16 positioning itself to take a shot at Ice. The Viper’s wingfur was tight on his port wing, leaving Jedi an open shot from his side. That was one problem when you’re used to flying with a wingfur to cover on both sides. Jedi pushed the throttles forward and made a guns pass as he headed out.
“Guns, guns, guns. Ice, watch your four.”
As Ice maneuvered away, the Viper, very reluctantly it seemed, went wings level and left the battle. The other Dane had to start defensive maneuvers because another pair of F-15’s had maneuvered around and were trying to get on his tail. The battle had gotten strung out over a wide area, and now Ice found himself going one-on-one with another of the Danes. He tried a series of high-speed scissors maneuvers, but the Viper driver really knew his stuff and turned out of Ice’s firing range. He then did a hard, high-G looping turn and managed to get behind Ice’s F-15. Ice had to do several afterburner-assisted speed turns and a sudden pop-up deceleration to get back to a neutral position with the F-16. The Dane went vertical, and Ice matched him as they began a rolling climb around each other, cockpit to cockpit. Ice could’ve pulled away from him in afterburner, but he didn’t want to give the Dane a shot, and he had to watch his fuel consumption.
They were just passing thirty thousand feet when the call came to Ice. “Stripes One, Rocket One. Missiles away, target destroyed. We’re egressing.”
“Copy Rocket One. Stripes One to all Stripes, disengage and clear the area. Rendezvous at Charlie Six at two five zero when clear.”
Ice looked out of the top of his canopy and raised a salute to the Danish pilot. The fur was good, plain and simple. He found himself feeling very glad these furs were on his side in the real world. The Dane just nodded, showing no signs of disengaging. Ice shrugged to himself and kicked the rudder hard. He pushed into afterburner and jinked away hard to keep the Dane from getting a shot in.
As he headed for the RP to gather his squadron, Alex grinned. The whole fight had lasted just under ten minutes, but he felt like he’d done a full hour’s hard workout. He’d be glad to relax a bit after they landed.
# # #
Alex smiled as he looked around the old hangar. The improvised “walls” made of hanging old decertified parachutes enclosed a wide, open space. Some tables and chairs from the Nellis recreation Department, some snacks provided from the Officer’s Club, and some Dr. Pepper, root beer, and a variety of other sodas for those who didn’t drink or who’d had enough alcohol rounded out the provisions Alex had arranged. He knew that the Tigerkahts, and probably the Rocketeers and for sure the Danes would have a post-mission party, so he’d taken steps when they’d arrived at Nellis to insure that no matter how loud or raucous the pilots got, it wouldn’t end up with anyone getting a DUI or being thrown in the base lock-up.
He’d left the provisioning of beer up to Major Thomas, and several large tubs of ice, with several cases of beer already chilling in them, sat toward the back of the room. Several more cases sat to one side of the tubs, awaiting space in the ice. Alex thought that perhaps Blackie had gone a bit overboard, but with all the pilots from three squadrons invited, he would concede that there probably was not an overage of supply. He could see some major hangovers coming for the next day, but that was up to the individual. Just then, Blackie and Fastball came in. In ones or twos over the next half-hour, the pilots and WSO’s of the Tigerkahts and Rocketeers assembled. Finally, Alex spoke.
“All right everyone, we can get started shortly. All that’s missing are the Danes.”
As if on cue, Aslaug Jacobsen stepped in the door. She looked about a few seconds, and then raised a paw-held radio to her muzzle.
"Det er den rigtige hangar. Kom bare, gutter," she radioed.
All the Americans looked at her, puzzled. Then they heard the whine and rumble of turboprop engines from outside. Aslaug turned with a smile and went back out the door. The Americans followed quickly behind, wondering what the Danes were up to. Out on the tarmac, they saw the source of the noise. An RDAF was coming up the taxiway. As it reached a point directly in front of the hangar, it turned in toward where the Americans and Aslaug now stood watching. As it got closer, they heard the pitch of the engines change, and the four-engine transport practically spun on its axis. It stopped, and then actually backed up a bit. It came to a halt, and the engines went to idle. The ramp door in the tail slowly lowered, and all 15 of the 766th Eskadrille’s pilots walked off, rolling cases of beer on dollies.
Major Jaerv walked up to Alex and Jolt Warren. He stood at attention and snapped a salute.
“Sir! Flyvevåbnet, Flyveteknisk Kommando request permission to join the party.”
Both Jolt and Ice returned the salute, and Jolt replied, “Permission granted. Welcome.”
The Danes all filed in and several began opening cases of what they’d brought. Alex recognized the famous green bottles of Danish Carlsberg as he and Jolt walked in behind them..
“Hoo, fur! There’s definitely going to be some hangovers in the morning,” Alex thought, a feral grin briefly crossing his muzzle.
Hroar Hare passed by Alex, looking sullen. He nodded slightly as he passed. He had come up empty of kills, while Alex had scored two, meaning that it would be a pawshake and not a kickboxing fight the two would share that evening.
As everyone assembled in the makeshift party room, Jedi walked up to Ice, a concerned look on his face.
“Colonel, ah, Ice, I was just told the Danes expect everyone to join in their toasts. Sir, I don’t drink! If it’ll be a problem, I’ll leave.”
Alex smiled and said, “Don’t sweat it, Jonathan. I don’t drink, either. The Danes only care that you join in the toast, not what you toast with.”
Alex pointed to a tub of ice with cans of soda chilling in it. Jonathan smiled gratefully and they headed for that location. The Danes had situated their supplies and had passed out a round of beers. Alex fished a Dr. Pepper out of the tub, and tossed one to Jonathan. The Danes all gathered together in the center of the floor to toast their country’s Royal Family.
“ATTENTION! To start off this evening’s festivities, we will toast the Royal Family,” Uffe Jaerv said loudly.
Many of the Americans looked at each other, unsure about what the toast would be or whether they should follow suit. Hroar Hare looked around, a harsh expression on his face.
“Hey, what’s this? You bloody republican heathens won’t drink to the Royal Family? Shame on you!”
Alex could tell the rabbit was looking for a way to take out his frustrations about the day. He decided quickly on a solution.
“Tell you what JAE, You propose a toast, and then I’ll propose one until we get done, deal?”
The wolverine was about to answer when one of the Danes shouted,” The more beer the better!”
Everyone laughed, even Hroar, and Uffe began the litany of the Danes’ traditional toasts.
“TO THE QUEEN!” JAE shouted. Everyone responded in kind, and then clinked bottles or cans and took a drink.
“TO THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!” Alex called, just as loud. Again the response and drink.
“TO THE PRINCE CONSORT!” *Gulp*
“TO THE FIRST LADY!” *Gulp*
“TO THE CROWN PRINCE!” “Hey, we like him, don’t we guys?” *Gulp*
“YEAH!” *Gulp*
“TO THE VICE PRESIDENT!” *Gulp*
“TO THE CROWN PRINCESS!” *Gulp*
“TO THE SECRETARY OF STATE!” *Gulp*
“TO THE SECOND PRINCE!” *Gulp*
“TO THE SECRETARY OF DEFENSE!” *Gulp*
“Way to go, guys! TO THE ROYAL FAMILY AS A WHOLE!” *Sporadic gulps*
“TO THE UNITED STATES AS A WHOLE!” Alex concluded. The gulps were even more sporadic. Most had downed about three bottles of beer in the course of the toasts, and a few were already starting to look glassy-eyed. As the group began to drift into smaller clusters of furs to talk and drink, Hroar walked up to Alex.
“Ice, as I gave my word, here is my paw. I would’ve rather fought you, but I gave my word,” The rabbit extended a paw to Alex. Alex clasped the paw and shook.
“HAR, I never had any doubt about your honor. You are a true warrior. Perhaps we’ll fly together again sometime.”
The rabbit nodded as he released Alex’s paw, and then turned and walked back to the group of Danes he’d been with during the toast.
Alex found himself in a group with Jedi, Blackie, Smitty, and RAE as he opened his third soda.
“Markus, I believe that was you I was up against there at the last. I saluted as we went through thirty thousand in a vertical barrel roll around each other,” Alex stated.
“A vertical barrel-roll? Ice, how did you manage that? Every time I’ve tried it I end up getting ahead of the one I’m fighting,” Blackie said
“Ah, simple,” RAE responded. “You both have to be too stubborn to let the other behind you. That was you, ah, Alex?”
“Yes. You are one of the toughest opponents I’ve faced in a long time,”
“And you. I didn’t know an F-15 could stand on its tail without climbing like that pop-up you did to get me off you. Must’ve taken an extremely light touch on the rudders,” RAE stated.
“And how about Jedi here,” Smitty piped in. “If he hadn’t shot that one Viper off your tail just before you engaged RAE, you’d have been toast.”
Jedi just looked away, and then looked back and replied, “Only doing my job as wingfur.”
Now RAE laughed. “Too modest, Jedi. That was Hroar you shot. It left him empty of kills, and he was sure it was Ice he was lining up on.”
“Well,” Alex interjected, “looks like I owe you double for that one. Great job, Jedi.”
The rest of the group nodded in agreement, and Jedi just smiled. Blackie changed the subject then.
“Uh, RAE, how did your squadron get our ship-to-ship? Did you have a spy in our briefing?”
“Uh, I’ll have to let Løjtnant Jacobsen answer that one.”
“Did I hear my name?” the gray vixen asked as she joined their group. She, like everyone else, was now in civilian clothes, and she was drawing quite a few looks from the gathered furs in her blouse and short skirt.
“Yes,” Alex said, as the rest of the group looked momentarily unable to speak “Blackie had asked how the Danes got our ship-to-ship, and RAE had said to ask you. So, how did they get it?”
“Well Colonel, one of your young Lieutenants, the white Persian called Zapper, was trying to outdo the one called Tails at coming on to me just before the briefing Saturday. He had started to fill out his comm. card, and he’d left it on top of his planning book instead of tucking it inside. I was able to read it, and he didn’t even notice me reading it. I passed it on to Major Jaerv like any good officer would do.”
Alex nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, it seems I’ll need to remind Lt. Roue about proper security. Hmmm.”
“I can put him on for extra duty and a security refresher class,” Blackie suggested.
“The refresher class, yes, but I have a feeling I may be able to take care of the extra duty in the morning. Løjtnant, thank you for your honesty, and yes, if the situation were reversed, you bet I’d pass such info along. Heh, maybe next time I’ll have one of my guys leave a fake card where you can see it.”
Aslaug looked slightly taken aback. The thought it could have been a fake hadn’t occurred to her. She narrowed her eyes and gave a sly grin. “I take that as a challenge, Colonel. Tell your pups to mind their business and not my figure, or next time I’ll have your whole battle plan.”
Alex grinned in return and said, “You’re on.”
Aslaug just smiled and excused herself as she left to go mingle some more.
The beer was flowing freely, and before long Alex decided it was time to take his leave for the evening. Jedi joined him, and as they headed for the door, Aslaug stepped up to them.
“Colonel, may I trouble you for a lift back to the VOQ? I promise I won’t try to wrangle any secrets out of you.”
“Certainly Løjtnant, I’m not worried. Leaving early?” Alex replied.
“Yes, I’ve had my limit, and I don’t want a bad head in the morning,” the gray vixen replied.
“Very commendable,” Jedi said.
“Yes, very good idea. Hey, tell you what. I’m coming back in the morning at 0730 to roust out any of the furs still here. Would you two like to join me?” Alex said, again with the slight feral grin he’d had earlier.
Jonathan and Aslaug looked at each other, each with an arched eyebrow.
“We wouldn’t miss it!” they said in unison.
END OF CHAPTER 18