The two Triesenese pilots, flying in formation, had their eyes glued to their radar screens as they soared through the sky over Zambesi. They had been dispatched to intercept what was reported to be a group of Valorian bombers responsible for the destruction of Kandara and Moba. But something was off.
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"Do you see this?" Lieutenant Erich, the pilot of the lead aircraft, asked through the crackling radio.
His wingman, Sergeant Felix, responded immediately. "Yeah... this doesn't look right. The outline doesn't match the profile of a bomber at all."
Both pilots squinted through their cockpits at the two distant silhouettes ahead of them. Instead of the large, lumbering bombers they expected, the shapes were sleek and agile, cutting through the sky like birds of prey.
"Are we sure these are the bombers?" Felix asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
"Command said bombers," Erich replied, "but these things... they're fighters."
The aircraft they were tracking had a slim fuselage, tapered to the rear with a powerful-looking propeller at the front. The wings were broad but curved gracefully, not unlike a falcon's wings in flight. The design gave off a sense of raw speed and agility. Unlike the bulky, heavily armored bombers they had expected, these aircraft were built for swiftness and maneuverability.
The planes were painted in a deep matte gray, with bold insignias of the Valorian Air Force emblazoned on the wings and fuselage.
"That's a fucking fighter aircraft!" Weiss cursed.
"They are heading straight on us!"
As the two Triesenese pilots realized they were flying head-on into a group of Valorian fighter aircraft, panic began to set in.
"Mayday! Mayday!" Erich screamed into his radio, but deep down he knew no help was coming. His fighter was a dead bird in the sky.
The Valorian pilot, having completed his task, peeled away, leaving Erich's aircraft to its fate. Smoke billowed from the engine as the plane spun out of control. With no other option, Erich frantically opened the canopy and leaped from the plummeting aircraft.
The rush of wind hit Erich like a wall as he free-fell through the sky, the remnants of his shattered fighter spiraling below him. He yanked the ripcord with trembling hands, praying that the parachute would deploy. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a violent jolt, the canopy unfurled above him, jerking him upward and slowing his descent.
Erich looked down at the Zambesi landscape rapidly approaching. Above, the two Valorian aircraft rejoined formation, disappearing into the clouds as quickly as they had appeared. Erich floated down in stunned silence, his heart still racing from the harrowing dogfight.
As he descended, he couldn't help but replay the encounter in his mind. They had been outmatched from the start. The Valorian fighter planes were nothing like what the Triesenese forces had expected. Their agility, speed, and firepower were overwhelming, and their pilots were highly trained, executing maneuvers expertly.
When Erich's feet finally touched the ground, he collapsed in exhaustion, feeling the weight of what had just happened. He was alive, but barely, and he had no idea where he was or how he would make it back to base. He glanced up at the smoke still rising from Felix's crash site in the distance.
His best chance of survival now is to make it to Matalebe-controlled territories and coordinate with them for him to get back to the base. But given that he didn't know where he was, Erich knew he was in deep trouble. The landscape of Zambesi stretched out in every direction, unfamiliar and hostile. He had no supplies, no weapons, and only the clothes on his back.
The thought of traversing enemy territory alone sent a shiver down his spine.
But nevertheless, it is imperative that he report this to his superiors as soon as possible. The Valorian fighters were a game-changer, and the higher-ups needed to know what they were up against. Gathering his bearings, Erich looked around, trying to figure out the best course of action.
With no map and little knowledge of the land, Erich knew he'd have to rely on his instincts to survive.
"Alright," he muttered to himself as he brushed the dust off his uniform. "No time to waste."
He started walking toward the direction he assumed would lead him to Matalebe territory, hoping to find shelter or friendly forces along the way.