Short-round took-up a loose position behind Viper, in case additional mercs came to face them, she still had a pair of missiles that would prove a bit more useful at chasing away predators than a few burps from a 50 year old gatling-gun, although the fuel-gauge had her a bit concerned...

"Fresh out of nails and nape. Still have two heat on my racks and about... 60 guns remaining. Fuel, five-hundred thirty-six kay; specific consumption at... holding a bit over 50 kilos per minute..." She said, knowing that reheat would easily raise sfc to over 250 kg/min; she could very well start counting the seconds of fuel remaining for her one engine if she had to get into a dogfight.

"Good thing you managed to chase them all off in the first pass. And yes, we trashed them up good." It was probably the closest thing she could think of for a compliment.

On the flight back, she went over what had been engaged with what, and tried recalling BDA and crunching repair-times... the napalm on the strip would burn out in about 2 hours (longer than most fighters could stay up), and there weren't too many pock-marks on the strip itself aside from debris... a skilled pilot could probably land there if desperate enough...

"I suggest we report the airfield's location to Constantine's men, before it can be re-occupied. Maybe we can trick some of our mercenary-competition to land there by mistake."