«Come on,» she muttered, yanking the stick, rolling the heavy bird in a desperate evasive maneuver. She fired another burst of flares, banking violently. The missile chased, closed, then streaked past her wingtip, fooled at the last second. It detonated behind her in a thunderous bloom. The Hog shook violently but held. The old bird wasn’t just flying; it was enduring.
Her breathing steadied. «Still up,» she reported curtly, «engaging remaining targets.»
The SEALs watched the near miss from below, their hearts seizing for an instant as they thought she might be gone. When the Hog steadied, circling back with engines howling, a wave of renewed adrenaline surged through them. «She’s unkillable,» one muttered in awe.
Cross allowed himself a grim smile. «No. She’s just that good.» They moved again, firing with fresh fury, every man feeding off the storm above. The enemy fighters, once confident in their superior numbers, now broke ranks. Fear showed in their movements. They weren’t hunting anymore; they were being hunted.
She banked for another run, eyes narrowing on the last concentration of vehicles at the northern end of the valley: armored trucks, supply caches, and fighters regrouping for a desperate stand. This was the keystone of their force. Destroy it, and the SEALs would have a clear path out. Her targeting system locked. Her finger hovered over the trigger. She exhaled slowly, her world narrowing to a single point of focus.
The GAU-8 roared, its thunder echoing across the valley like the wrath of a storm. Shells tore through the vehicles, detonating fuel tanks in a chain reaction. Fireballs erupted one after another, the blast wave rippling across the battlefield. Fighters fled in every direction, their formation shattered. Below, the SEALs surged.
Cross shouted into his radio, his voice fierce with triumph. «Valkyrie just opened the door! Move now!»
The operators sprinted through the corridor of wreckage she had carved, weapons blazing, precision cutting down stragglers. Smoke and fire cloaked their movements, giving them the cover they desperately needed. What had been a desperate last stand minutes earlier was now a breakout. The Hog overhead kept circling, punishing any enemy foolish enough to regroup. The men moved with renewed purpose, their exhaustion pushed aside by the momentum of victory. Every man knew without the fire from above, this valley would have been their grave.
Inside the cockpit, though, she felt none of the celebration. Her world remained the HUD, the horizon, the constant buzz of alarms and weapon systems. Sweat dripped down her temple, her body aching from the strain of constant high-G maneuvers. But she couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not until every one of them was out.
Her voice, calm as ever, cut through the comms. «Hammer Two, corridor secure. Push north. I’ll cover you until the last man is clear.»
Cross’s reply was fierce, gratitude buried beneath urgency. «Copy that, Valkyrie. We’re moving.»
The valley was transformed. What had begun as a death trap for America’s most elite warriors was now a burning monument to survival. Wrecked vehicles smoldered, ammunition cooked off in scattered bursts, and enemy fighters lay broken across the sand. The valley was no longer the enemy’s stronghold; it was their graveyard. The Hog circled above, engines howling, guns ready. To the SEALs, its shadow was salvation itself. To the enemy, it was doom incarnate. And at its controls sat the quiet pilot who had risen to her feet when asked the question no one thought she could answer. The fire from above had not just saved lives. It had rewritten destiny.
The valley was no longer quiet. It pulsed with fire and chaos, echoing with the dying roar of battle. The A-10’s relentless strikes had shattered the enemy’s confidence. But the fight was not over, not yet. Victory here meant survival, and survival depended on one thing: getting the SEALs out alive.
High above the smoke and wreckage, the Hog circled like a predator refusing to release its prey. Inside, her eyes scanned the battlefield, her HUD glowing green against the dark cockpit. She could see the SEALs’ positions marked by red smoke, their movement coordinated but desperate. She could also see what lay ahead: the enemy’s last chokepoint, dug in across the northern corridor. Trenches, barricades, and heavy weapons blocked the only viable route out. Dozens of fighters still held that ground, their fire disciplined, their numbers greater than the weary team below could overcome without support.
She pressed the radio, her voice clipped but calm. «Hammer Two, this is Valkyrie. You’ve got hard resistance ahead. I’ll clear the corridor. Move only when I give the word.»
On the ground, Cross crouched behind a smoldering vehicle, rifle pressed to his shoulder. His men were bloodied, exhausted, and running low on ammunition. Yet when her voice cut through the static, something steadied in him. He keyed his mic. «Copy that, Valkyrie. We’ll hold until you call it.» He looked to his men, faces streaked with soot and sweat, eyes burning with exhaustion. «She’s carving us a way out. Keep your heads low. When she clears it, we run like hell.»
The Hog dropped low, wings wide, engines screaming. She aligned her reticle on the first barricade, an emplacement bristling with machine guns. Her finger curled on the trigger. «Burrrrrt.» The cannon spat fire and steel, tearing the barricade apart. Gunmen were thrown from their positions, the very earth ripped open by the torrent. Secondary explosions rocked the trench line as ammunition ignited. She pulled up, banking hard to avoid incoming fire. Her displays flashed warnings, small arms peppering the armor, RPG trails arcing upward, but the Hog endured.
«First nest down,» she radioed, her voice steady. «Two more to go.»
Cross ducked as debris rained around him, watching the barricade vanish in fire. For a moment, he almost forgot his own exhaustion. He keyed the mic. «Copy. That’s one hell of a hole you punched.»
Beside him, a young operator with shaking hands fumbled another magazine into his rifle. «Sir, do you really think we’re getting out?»
Cross clapped his shoulder, forcing steel into his tone. «Look up, son. She’s still flying. As long as she’s up there, we’re going home.» The men nodded, their faith clinging to the silhouette circling above like a guardian angel.
She banked again, eyes narrowing at the second stronghold, a reinforced bunker carved into the ridge itself. RPG fire lanced upward, smoke trails cutting through the night. She fired flares, diving low, her body slammed by G-forces. The Hog rattled violently, alarms screaming, but she held steady, lining up the shot. The cannon thundered again, a storm of rounds hammering the bunker. Concrete crumbled, gunfire sputtered out. A final explosion ripped the structure open, flames consuming the ridge.
She climbed hard, her teeth gritted, heart hammering. The Hog shuddered but stayed aloft. «Second position neutralized,» she called, her voice sharper now, betraying the strain. «Corridor opening. Stand by.»
But the enemy wasn’t done. From the far end of the corridor, a technical truck rolled forward, its heavy machine gun spitting fire. Behind it, fighters regrouped, pouring into the gap with renewed fury. They knew what she was doing, carving a path for the SEALs, and they would die before letting it happen.
On the ground, Cross saw the movement. His blood ran cold. «They’re plugging the corridor again! Valkyrie, we need that truck gone now!»
She was already diving. The Hog screamed earthward, her reticle locking on the truck. She fired. The cannon shredded it in half, the explosion hurling bodies in all directions. She strafed through the fighters behind it, her rounds cutting swaths in the sand. When the dust cleared, nothing stood. The path lay open.
Her voice crackled through the comms, hoarse but commanding. «Corridor clear. Move now.»
Cross didn’t hesitate. He turned to his men, his roar carrying through the chaos. «Go! Move north now! She’s given us our shot, take it!»
The SEALs surged forward, sprinting through smoke and fire. They leapt over wreckage, fired bursts at stragglers, and dragged wounded comrades by their vests. Every step forward was survival, every breath stolen from the jaws of defeat. Above them, the Hog circled relentlessly, strafing any force daring to regroup. The roar of its engines became a war cry, every pass a shield.
One SEAL stumbled, hit in the leg. Another dropped beside him, hauling him up. «Not leaving you, brother! Keep moving!» Together, they limped through the burning valley, guided by the thunder overhead.
Cross ran with them, chest heaving, rifle spitting rounds. He keyed the mic mid-sprint. «Valkyrie, we’re in the corridor! Don’t let them cut us off!»
From the far end, the last remnants of the enemy force gathered in desperation. Mortar tubes were dragged into place. RPGs were hoisted onto shoulders. It was their final gamble to close the trap before the SEALs could break free. She saw it instantly. Her HUD lit with hostile signatures clustering at the exit. If they fired into the corridor now, the SEALs would be slaughtered.
Her voice hardened. «Hammer Two, hold your line. Engaging final cluster.»
She banked steep, dove into the mouth of the corridor, and unleashed hell. The cannon roared one final time, streams of fire lacerating the ground. Mortar crews vanished in bursts of dirt and flame. RPG teams disintegrated mid-movement. The enemy broke apart in terror, those who survived fleeing into the mountains. She pulled up, engines screaming, the Hog’s silhouette blotting out the stars for an instant. When she leveled, nothing remained at the corridor’s end but fire and silence.
The operators burst through the smoke into open desert, stumbling but alive. The night wind hit their faces, cool compared to the furnace they’d left behind. For the first time in hours, there was space to breathe. Cross slowed, rallying his men as they regrouped beyond the kill zone. He keyed his mic, his voice ragged with gratitude. «Valkyrie. Corridor secure. We’re clear.»
There was a pause, then her reply came, steady despite exhaustion. «Copy that, Hammer Two. I’ll watch your six until exfil. Keep moving.»
The men collapsed briefly into the sand, sucking air, some laughing, some crying. They were battered, bleeding, and worn to the bone, but alive. As they pushed deeper into the desert toward their extraction point, the Hog remained above them, circling endlessly. Its engines growled like a guardian refusing to leave its charge. The SEALs marched under its shadow, each man knowing they would never forget this night, this pilot, or the fire from above that had carved their salvation.