Brooklyn walked with James across the tarmac, helmet bags slung at their sides. The sun was just breaking over the horizon, painting the runway in bands of gold and crimson. Hangar doors stood wide open, revealing rows of sleek F-35s waiting like predators ready to leap.
The squadron was already gathering by their birds, checking gear, strapping on flight suits. Ground crew moved with precision, fueling, loading and adjusting. The preflight chaos had its own rhythm... organized, purposeful.
"Morning, Captain." Lieutenant Diaz called, snapping a lazy salute as Brooklyn approached. He was the youngest of the squadron, cocky but sharp.
Brooklyn returned it. "Morning, Lieutenant. Ready to make history?"
"Always." he grinned. "Though I'd rather be making breakfast."
James chuckled, adjusting his gloves. "We'll eat when we're back. Stick to the mission."
The squadron laughed lightly, the kind of humor that masked nerves. Brooklyn felt it too... that tight knot in her gut. But she pushed it down, same as always.
She gathered the pilots with a glance. "Final checks. We fly clean, we fly fast. Remember... ally squadron links up midair. Follow the playbook."
They nodded, each one already sliding into their preflight rituals.
Brooklyn climbed into her jet, the familiar cockpit wrapping around her like a second skin. She ran her hands across the controls, checking switches, HUD flickering alive in neon green across her visor. The jet hummed beneath her, alive and eager.
Control tower crackled in her headset. "Valkyrie Squadron, you are cleared for takeoff. Repeat, cleared for takeoff."
She keyed her mic. "Copy that, tower. Valkyries rolling."
One by one, engines roared to life. The squadron taxied into formation, sunlight flashing off polished steel.
"See you up there, Captain." James's voice came through, calm but charged with energy.
"Don't get cocky, Major." Brooklyn shot back.
He laughed and then the world blurred.
Her jet surged forward, pressing her into the seat as the runway streaked past. In seconds, wheels lifted, the ground fell away and the sky swallowed them whole.
Altitude climbed. The squadron formed up around her, five dark silhouettes cutting through morning light.
Brooklyn's heart steadied. Up here, in the air, everything made sense. No politics, no questions just speed, precision and trust.
"Valkyrie Squadron, maintain heading zero-four-five. Allied squadron will join in three minutes."
They flew level, the horizon stretching endless ahead. Brooklyn scanned her radar, eyes narrowing as new signatures appeared.
"Contacts inbound." Diaz reported. "Looks like our allies."
Sure enough, five more aircraft slid into view at a distance sleek shapes, flying silent. No insignia she could see, not clearly.
Brooklyn toggled comms. "This is Captain Grant, Valkyrie lead. Do you copy?"
Static.
She tried again, sharper. "Allied flight, confirm comms. Over."
Nothing. The other squadron adjusted formation but offered no response.
"What the hell?" Diaz muttered.
James's voice came steady. "Could be encryption mismatch. Stick to protocol."
Brooklyn bit her lip but said nothing. They were here, at least. That had to be enough.
Minutes later, the coordinates appeared on her HUD, glowing red. The target loomed below, a sprawling compound camouflaged against desert sands.
"Visual on objective." she reported.
The civilian's words echoed in her mind: Clean. Fast. And decisive.
"Alright, Valkyries." Brooklyn ordered. "Weapons hot. On my mark."
The squadron peeled off into attack formation, jets diving in synchronized precision. Missiles armed, locks acquired, targeting systems chiming.
"Mark."
Fire streaked the sky. Explosions ripped through the facility, flames and dust mushrooming upward. The ground shuddered, collapsing in on itself.
Brooklyn pulled up, leveling off. "Target neutralized. I repeat, target neutralized."
Her eyes darted back to the foreign squadron. They hadn't fired a shot. They'd simply flown past, circling at a distance like vultures.
"Ally flight, do you copy? Confirm engagement." Brooklyn pressed.
No answer.
The foreign jets banked sharply, then streaked off into the horizon, disappearing without a word.
"Uh, Captain." Diaz said uneasily. "What the hell was that?"
Brooklyn didn't answer. She tightened her grip on the stick, eyes narrowing at the empty sky where the allies had been.
"Stay sharp." she finally said, her voice clipped. "Mission's done. We regroup and head home."