Everything had gone to hell in a split second, it seemed. One minute, and the nation of Usea was at peace, the next in a fight for its existence. There had been no warning when tanks and aircraft, men and ships stormed east from Erusia, less still for those caught on the border. In the first hours of the blitz, it became apparant that the enemy was pushing towards the capital. But as the net tightened, the options for escape grew thinner and thinner. Artillery shells poured down, and the motorcade transporting the royal family took a sudden turn. The protective agent in the limosene with the family held a finger to his ear, then related what he heard. "We're cut off. The Air Force is holding a transport at the airfield." At the field, Alex Walker ran across the Tarmac, holding a helmet. He had been just out of the city, on leave, and had spent the night with a lady he'd captivated with bogus stories of his flight career, and went home with her. He'd hurried to the base, found his squadron gone, and quickly changed into a flight suit that was far too tight, and grabbed a random helmet that too, barely fit. He jogged across the flight line, finding an F/A-18, loaded with weapons. Normally, he'd fly with someone in the second seat, bit there wasn't any time for niceties. He barely got the systems turned on, then he saw the limo. As the motorcade approached the base, the transport aircraft took a hit from a rocket. With no other aircraft, the King looked around, seeing the Super Hornet across the Tarmac. "Hold that plane. Drive there!" he ordered, then looked at his wife, who gave a nod, then to his daughter. "Lizzie... You're getting on that plane." Alex heard the order over his radio, and only cycled his far engine. Who the hell was it in that limo, and why was he being held? There was a war, and he needed to show up.