This Command Fiction involves an attempt to show a scenario concept I’ve always liked-the player controlling an unambiguously inferior faction.
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The babies were the small array of fighter planes, the scraps left over from the great power’s conflict. There had been forty babies there. Now, there were only a few. The air defense commander himself had arrived, giving the crews the earful of a lifetime. All the planes had to be ready, all the missiles had to be ready, all the radars had to be ready, and all the ELINT stations had to be ready, because they were going to be in for the fight of their lives.
When the Big Day came, the base had reason to be proud, for it did everything right.
It had lost. Lost as cruise missiles slammed into it. Lost as the four babies that got aloft were immediately downed. But it had lost fighting. The defenses were active, and they-unlike the nation’s other two airbases-had at least staged at all.
The base even launched two more babies the next day for a ground attack. They got shot down, but points for trying.
And points for making the rubble bounce at what would become Orphan Field instead of attacking the field army. Most people after the war, assumed Orphan Field was named in memory of the people who died defending it, leaving their children as orphans. Only a few knew the truth-that it became an orphan field once it lost its baby fighter planes, and that was the reason for the name.