One-six

 

“Splash one.”

“They’ve lost a wing.”

“No ejection yet. I think they’re trying to set down in the trees.”

The thrusters on the damaged aircraft began to swivel downwards, slowing the plane rapidly and halting its descent. But without a wing, it struggled to stay airborne, gradually tipping over to the side.

The smoking plane crashed through the tops of the trees, bits and pieces shearing off as it careened through the thick branches. Then it disappeared below the thick canopies, a cloud of black smoke marking the place where the wreckage had come to a stop.

“Hunter-three, land and capture any survivors for questioning. We’ll keep scanning for contacts. Hunter-one,” his flight lead’s voice came through his earpiece.

“Copy, Hunter-three,” One-six spoke into his microphone with a mechanical textbook-ness

The JF-200 is the most advanced New Asian fighter ever built and is widely feared among the European air force. Though not as maneuverable as their F-51, the JF-200 is faster, more powerful, more stealthy, and more heavily armed.

After a well-executed ambush on a lone scout plane, they have managed to down one.

“Two-six, determine a landing spot for us. Two-five, read out my instruments to me. One-five, make sure we have good clearance, this area is quite forested,” One-six commanded his team.

“Copy,” they answered in unison.

“FCS configured for field landing,” reported Two-five, selecting a box on the touch display in front of her.

Two-six quickly found a landing spot and directed One-six to it via his helmet-mounted display. It’s a little clearing among the trees, barely large enough for their F-51 fighter to fit in.

One-six brought his plane low over the trees and raised the nose to bleed off airspeed as he tracked the location of the landing site through his helmet-mounted display.

“One hundred knots,” Two-five called out.

As their speed dropped, the thrusters mounted below the wings and at the tail angled downwards, balancing the jet on four columns of air.

“Transitioning to hover mode, you have good clearance either side, One-six,” said One-five, his head on a constant swivel.

“Copy.”

“Fifty feet and descending.”

The wheels of their fighter settled down roughly on the soggy soil of the alpine forest. The cloud of twigs, leaves, dust, and pebbles kicked up by the powerful thrusters now fell back to the ground as they winded down.

“Pressure equalized, doors opening... wreckage should be a hundred and forty-three meters directly ahead of us,” One-six informed the rest of his crew as he pressed a button to disengage the integrated G-LOC prevention system.

The pressurized compression bags and straps unwrapped themselves from around his legs and torso before opening up to allow him out of his seat. They have long since moved away from the old, unwieldy, and complicated whole-body G-suits and simply integrated them into the seats of their fighter aircraft.

One-six was the first out of the cockpit and had already stepped down onto the squishy, damp ground of the forest as his teammates unbuckled from their seats. Dried leaves and twigs crunched and crackled under his boots every time he took a step.

“Weapons at the ready, let’s go," he ordered the rest of his team.

They advanced slowly, making sure not to rustle the bushes too much as they pushed through the undergrowth. Soon, they could make out the black and red colors of the enemy fighter they had downed a few minutes prior. The wreckage was still smoldering, and there was the occasional pop and crackle as unspent ammunition cooked off.

The shattered golden canopy was raised, exposing the inside of the cockpit. Compared to older fighters, the new ones have much more spacious cockpits. One-six could make out the silhouettes of the four pilots, still strapped into their seats.

Slowly, they stepped over the bushes and made their way through the clearing to the downed fighter, weapons raised in front of them.

As One-six came up to the cockpit, he noticed that the commander was halfway out of his seat, desperately cradling the unconscious mission specialist.

“She’s alive,” One-six called out to the commander.

The commander froze, then turned around to look at One-six, then the pistol in his hand. When their eyes met, One-six couldn’t quite read what the commander’s eyes were trying to tell him.

“What?” The commander asked with trembling lips, but before One-six could answer, he spoke again. “Please, help us, she’s dying… I’ll do anything. I’ll go with you. Please just help us…”

Tears streamed down the commander's bloodied cheeks as he said those words, his hands still holding the girl tightly.

One-six relaxed his arms and holstered his pistol. He beckoned his team to stay back as he walked towards the crashed aircraft alone.

“Two KIA, one is in critical condition, likely soon to be KIA, and one is conscious and moving,” Two-six reported.

“Copy, retrieve the conscious one. No time for salvage, we’re too close to the border. Hunter-1 out,” a voice responded through their earpieces.

“Copy, Hunter-3 out,” Two-six answered, then turned to look at One-six. “Do your thing, One-six. We’ll provide surveillance from back here.”

One-six nodded. Being the most well-trained at interrogation, it’s usually One-six’s job to capture prisoners of war. Depending on the situation, it is imperative for a prisoner of war to be in the right state of mind for information to be extracted from them. Therefore, the captor needs to judge the situation and take appropriate action to ensure the viability of the POW.

“Our orders are to bring back one,” One-six said to the commander. “We’ll take her with us, but extricating her will take some time. Before that, you must come with me.”

The commander stared for a moment before weakly opening his mouth. “Really?” He asked, apparently surprised by the kindness of his sworn enemies.

“Yes, really,” replied One-six, extending his hand for the commander to grab.

"What about the others?" The commander asked again.

"They’re already beyond saving.”

With a trembling hand, the commander grabbed One-six’s outstretched arm. With One-six’s help, he hauled himself to his feet. One-six could tell the commander’s other arm was broken, but he figured the adrenaline had yet to wear off, so the pain was probably not being felt. Then he led the commander back to where the rest of his team waited, stumbling a few times along the way.

“For reasons of security, we must place a bag over your head for transport,” One-six informed the captured commander calmly.

“Yes, yes. That’s fine. As long as you can get help...” he replied eagerly.

Gently, One-six placed a bag over the commander’s head, tightened the straps around his neck, then poured a few drops of anesthetic over the fabric.

Within seconds, the commander fell limp, and One-six ordered the rest of his team to carry him back to their aircraft.

Then he turned back towards the wreckage and walked up to the exposed cockpit.

The flight engineer, sitting against the right side of the plane, had almost the entirety of his head taken off by fragmentation from the missile warhead. The gold-colored canopy of the JF-200 is several centimeters of hardened acrylic, but the explosive fragments tore through it like paper.

The gunner, sat at the front of the cockpit, had taken the brunt of the impact with the ground. Deformation of the fuselage had crushed his station into a fraction of its original size, and it was clear at a glance that he was dead.

Then he looked at the mission specialist, slumped in her seat, her helmet covering most of her face. He could tell that she was breathing softly. The missile hit had left her almost unharmed, but impact with the ground broke both her legs, knocked her out, and probably caused some severe spinal injuries. But she didn’t lose much blood and didn’t seem to have any immediately life-threatening injuries.

Those were just the field diagnostics that One-six came up with using the medical knowledge he was taught. A more thorough injury report would require her to be brought back to their city.

With the proper equipment and care, she could be nursed back to health in no time at all.

But they didn’t have the resources to spare.

Nonetheless, their city fought for the future of mankind, not for the sake of greedy politicians.

Though cruel things are undesirable, they are necessary for lasting peace.

Killing a person is cruel, but so is letting them slowly die in pain.

One-six drew his pistol and pointed it at the girl’s head.

“For the future of mankind,” he whispered to himself.

Then pulled the trigger.