Amirault and his platoon all suddenly stopped to see a number of bright mauve Alliance fighters scream towards the beachead, with dozens upon dozens of Jihaddi fighters in pursuit.
Amirault's platoon dove for any nearby possible cover from the inevitable airstrike. A number dove behind rocks or into shrubbery, and Amirault simply docked behind a large boulder with Private Mackenzie, the other REASON gunner, and two other troops.
Eighty-five Stinger missiles rose to attack the Eagles, and the slower Frogfoot attack jets closing in behind them. The F-15Es managed to drop their loads, however - nearly 200 cluster bombs.
The world around John Amirault burst into flames.
The Jihaddi got to hit the Purple Alliance aircraft back hard there, though. There must've been dozens of Jihaddi fighters following the strike group, which had been hurt badly already. Smith was confident that he'd make it though; with Barney watching, anything was possible!
The captain screamed over the now-flaming battlefield below, and began to bank and head back towards the airbase from which he launched. Smith glanced at the roughly-sketched map that would show him where to go, and began heading that way, still confident that Barney would ensure his well-being and survival. After all, He loved and protected everyone, didn't he?
The F-14's pilot, a newcomer to NEBULA and a pilot off the Asimov, maneuvered his fighter, along with several wingmen, to finish off the handful of surviving Alliance fighters.
...what if Barney wasn't doing anything to help here? Could it be? Might Captain Jake Smith not return home from his mission; not even live to touch another Healthy Snack?
Smith shook off those thoughts; resumed his turn back towards base. The F-14s got ever closer. Another pilot disappeared. The doubt returned. This wasn't right.. None of this was right.
Smith thought back, tried to remember when he joined the Alliance. A battle came to mind.. Not like this one. Bigger. On the ground. It was in a city.. coastal.. being besieged. Smith remembered casualties. Thousands. Prisoners too.. he tried to remember where it was; what side he had fought on.
Another F-15 exploded in flames. Four left.
Smith dumped chaff and flares and began evasive maneuvers as the Tomcats approached some more. He tried to shake off the nagging doubt that something was wrong. The Alliance pilot passed low over the coast, over a number of Jihaddi units who were shaking themselves off from the bombardment. He saw the emblem of a JAO emblazoned on what looked like a landing craft or some kind of boat.
NEBULA.
Smith winced as the memories came back. The city was Halifax, the target he remembered from one of the first major spongin offensive of the War. Hundreds of thousands of Alliance troops stormed the city with an entire Alliance Theatre Fleet as support. The vast majority of the Jihad's forces headed to the city, and successfully drove the Alliance troops out.
There had been captives, though; Jihaddi and Alliance troops who were never heard from again.
Another Eagle vanished.. Smith glanced back and forth, panic rising in the pilot's throat as his number of allies dropped. He now was fairly certain death was staring him in the eyes, and unless something happened, it would claim him. Memories from three years ago surged back in a torrent, pushing aside new knowledge, new memories, and even Smith's faith in Barney as the Purple Savior.
The thought of that repulsed him at once. He knew that now.
Smith saw himself, a younger fighter, barely out of his teens. Manning a gun near a large suspension bridge, firing into a counterattack.
Firing Pez?
But Pez was Un..health..y....
I remember.
The memories struck him in an instant. Captured as the bridge collapsed under a battleship's bombardment.. "rescued," unconscious, from the rubble of the vast structure.. waking up days later in a bright purple room. A Love Camp.
The next four months were sheer torture. The "I Luv You" song, blaring, day and night through loudspeakers. Loved Ones working on the "conditioning", which mostly involved forced viewing of Barney and Friends for hours on end. Worst of all was when Barney Himself -- or was it just 'himself?' -- showed up. That pushed Smith past the limit.
That was when he stopped fighting.
That was when he joined the Alliance.
The memories surged back... his one crack at the Purple Alliance as a Jihaddi, defeated amidst an otherwise Pyhrric victory. Memories suppressed by months of training, finally come back when something occured to shake his new-found faith in Barney.
No.. not Barney.
B'Harneii
Smith made a choice as the last two F-15Es left this world.
He ejected from the aircraft, much to the bewilderment of his still-Allianced navigator. Seconds after doing so, an F-14 flew past, and destroyed the fighter. One of Captain Jake Smith's last remaining reminders of his three years as a - a sponge minion burst into flames.
Smith hit the ground and rolled, amidst what was now the somewhat charred landscape from his - no, not his; their - bombardment. He tore the parachute from his back, and walked towards what looked like a group of Jihaddi who were just getting up from covering after the attack.
One of them noticed Smith and immediately spun around, an M-16 at his hip.
"Stop right there, sponge, or I'll put a hole through you as big around as your arm!"
Smith stopped, raised his hands from the elbows in a slightly defensive guesture.
"You...." he paused, thought about what he had just went through. "You don't have to worry, Sir."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Smith glanced at himself, wearing a bright mauve flight suit with a set of Purple Alliance ranks on the sleeve, and a miniature plush Barney hanging from the collar on a short chain.
Jake Smith reached over to the sleeve, and tore the rank patch off viciously. Throwing it to the ground, he then reached towards the plush Barney doll, and tore that off as well, tearing a section of the collar with it. He threw that down, even more viciously, and stomped on the stuffed purple figure as hard as he can. The magnitude of what had just done finally hit him in a torrent. Emotionally exhausted, ex-Purple Alliance Flight Captain Jake Smith fell to his knees.
"I want to put that behind me.. I want to turn back."
As the Jihaddi troops walked towards him to offer help, guns still at the ready, Jake Smith glanced down at the rank patch and plush Barney - the final reminders of his service as an sponge - laying crushed and torn in the mud of a coastal battlefield, a continent and a world away from where everything started.