As I sat under the umbrella with a pitcher of orange juice and a bowl of fries, the distant hum of engines caught my attention. I glanced toward the sound, and sure enough, one of my first attack aircraft is making its descent. I casually popped another fry into my mouth as the last of the formation of experimental F-1A neared its target.

The aircraft released two 500kg radar guided bombs, gliding them toward a designated target I had set up earlier. I watched the plane ascend as the bombs fell, taking in the moment just before impact. A few seconds passed, then—boom. A distant explosion rumbled through the air, delayed slightly by the distance. The shockwave finally reached me, stirring up a mild breeze that ruffled the umbrella and sent a flutter through my hair.

I took another fry, savoring the moment of calm between destruction and planning. I finished off my glass of orange juice before standing up and slipping on my control mask, ready to get a closer look at the results.

As the aircraft looped back to the airfield, I walked over to inspect the aftermath of the strike. The results are promising. The glided bombs I had tested are far more accurate than the standard unguided munitions I had been training with yesterday. Out of ten bombs, eight had struck their targets dead on—an impressive success rate.

I allowed myself a small smile. "Well, well," I murmured. "Looks like these guided bombs might just be worth the investment after all."

I jotted down the results in my notepad, the pen gliding smoothly across the paper. “Expensive, but I guess it works,” I said to myself, nodding in satisfaction. The accuracy of those guided bombs is impressive, but more testing is needed to be sure.

“Aircraft Squadron, designation 555, strike the marked area with special ordinance "Glide",” I commanded, my voice steady as I returned to my spot under the umbrella.

Settling back into my chair, I grabbed another fry and resumed eating, the salty crunch a comforting contrast to the distant chaos I am orchestrating. Soon enough, the noise of engines filled the air again. A formation of ten aircraft soared overhead, climbing high into the sky before one broke off, diving straight toward the target. As the first plane pulled out of its dive, another followed, repeating the maneuver with precision.

One by one, the glided bombs detonated, each explosion sending a ripple through the air. Ten waves of mild shockwaves rolled toward me, gently stirring the air around my seat. I leaned back, watching the aftermath with a mix of satisfaction and contemplation.

"Not bad," I mused, taking another fry. "Not bad at all."

I sipped on another glass of orange juice before heading back to the area where the aircraft had dropped their ordnance. To my surprise, all ten bombs had hit the exact spot I had designated. This accuracy is impressive, but it's also going to be a headache to keep track of the statistics. Still, I decided to go all in—having spent 375k credits for 590 glide bombs at 750 credits each, I figured it's worth it to use all 500 of them and gather as much data as possible.

By the time the afternoon sun began its descent, I watched the final flyby of the day. The golden light cast long shadows over the targets as the last bombs hit their marks. I noted that, once again, about 7 out of 10 bombs had landed precisely where I’d designated. It's time to dive into the numbers and make sense of everything.

I packed up my things at Port Dos, which had become my makeshift aeronautics lab, and headed home. The day had been productive, but I am eager to get back to my desk and sort through the data. Once home, I set up my workspace, grabbed my notes, and began reviewing the results.

Sitting down with a sigh of relief, I started calculating. I wrote down the numbers and began tallying them up using brackets for clarity. I took my time, making sure each calculation is accurate. It but I knew it's important.

“Alright,” I muttered as I worked. “Out of 500 bombs, 151 hit 10 out of 10 targets. That’s solid.”

I moved on to the next set. “62 bombs hit 9 out of 10. Not bad at all.”

I jotted down the next statistic. “120 bombs scored 8 out of 10.”

I kept going, feeling a rhythm develop as I recorded the numbers. “160 managed 7 out of 10, and 7 bombs hit 6 or fewer.”

With all the data laid out, I took a step back and looked at the totals. The results seemed to favor the bombs that hit 10 out of 10 or 7 out of 10.

“Looks like those are the sweet spots,” I said to myself, nodding. “But I need to figure out the overall accuracy.”

The data from the test flights is scattered across multiple pages, and I needed to organize it somehow. Taking a deep breath, I reached for my glass of orange juice, savoring the sweet tang as I took a long sip. It helped calm the swirling thoughts in my head—at least for a moment then I grabbed my brain power and started crunching the numbers.

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“Alright, let’s see if I can make sense of this,” I said to myself, setting the glass down and grabbing my pen again.

I decided to start with the 10/10 accuracy category. Out of 500 bombs, 151 of them hit every single target. That is a good chunk.

“151 times 10…” I muttered, writing out the multiplication on the paper. “That’s 1510 successful hits.”

I nodded to myself, feeling good about getting the ball rolling. Then, as I often did when deep in thought, I stood up and began pacing across the room. I needed to move while my brain worked, like the physical activity somehow kept my mental gears from grinding to a halt.

“Next… 62 bombs had a 9 out of 10 accuracy,” I said, circling the number on the page as I walked. “62 times 9… Let’s see… That’s 558.”

I jotted that down quickly, the scratch of the pen almost rhythmic. The numbers are starting to stack up nicely.

I stopped pacing for a moment and took another gulp of orange juice, feeling the cool liquid refresh me. It gave me a second to pause and gather my thoughts. With a deep breath, I returned to my desk, ready to keep going.

“Okay, 120 bombs hit 8 out of 10 targets,” I calculated aloud as I sat back down. I scribbled out the multiplication:

“120 times 8 equals… 960 successful hits.”

I tapped the pen against my desk, my eyes narrowing at the next set of numbers. “160 bombs with a 7 out of 10 accuracy,” I continued, walking back to the paper. “160 times 7 is… 1120.”

I jotted that down too, feeling like the momentum is finally building. But there is still the final, less impressive category to account for.

“And lastly, 6 bombs hit for 10…” I trailed off, calculating. “10 times 6 is… 60.”

I frowned a little at that one, shaking my head. “Not great, but it’s data,” I said, trying to shrug it off. “And I’ll work with it.”

Feeling a bit more energized, I reached for my juice again and took a final sip before getting back to the real work. The numbers are starting to look promising, and it is time to sum them up.

I sat down again and tapped my fingers against the notebook. “1510… plus 558… plus 960… plus 1120… plus 60…” I recited each number as I added them, feeling my mind focus with each step.

“That’s 4208 successful hits out of a possible 5000.”

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling deeply, the tension leaving my shoulders as I finally saw the results clearly. But there is one last thing to do.

“Alright… 4190 divided by 5000… times 100…” I said, putting the numbers in my brain.

“84% overall accuracy,” I whispered, a smile creeping onto my face. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

“So, on average, more than 8.4 out of 10 bombs are hitting their target,” I mused aloud, nodding to myself. “That’s definitely something I can work with. Now, I’ve got real data to back it up.”

*

I leaned back in my chair, propping my feet up on the table as I took a long swig of orange juice. The cold, citrus liquid is refreshing, and I let out a contented sigh. The numbers from today’s testing are still fresh in my mind, and I needed a moment to let my thoughts settle.

“Alright, let’s think this through,” I said to myself, holding the glass on my hand while I considered the cost implications. “Guided bombs are 750 credits each. If I order 500, that’s a hefty 375,000 credits.”

I took another sip of my juice, enjoying the brief respite before diving back into the calculations. “Unguided bombs, on the other hand, are only 200 credits each. For 500, that’s 100,000 credits.”

I leaned forward, setting the glass down on the table as I jotted down the numbers. The guided bombs had an impressive accuracy of 8 out of 10, while the unguided bombs only managed 4 out of 10 in the same sample. I knew that unguided bombs required more dangerous conditions for better accuracy, which meant risking more aircraft to get results.

“Let’s say I’m not falling for sunk cost fallacy,” I mused aloud, thinking through the situation. “It’s clear that guided bombs are more effective, but they’re also much more expensive. I could get 1,500 unguided bombs for the same cost as 500 guided bombs.”

I raised my feet slightly higher on the table, finding a comfortable position as I continued to weigh the options. “The guided bombs are better in terms of accuracy, but the unguided bombs could provide more firepower overall, even if they’re less precise. If I’m willing to risk more danger for my aircraft, I might get more bang for my buck with the unguided bombs.”

I took another thoughtful sip of orange juice, the citrus flavor mixing with the complexity of my decision. “If cost-effectiveness is my goal, and I can manage the increased risk, maybe the unguided bombs could be a viable option. But then again, accuracy has its own value—especially if it means fewer missed targets and more reliable results.”

I continued to sip my orange juice, contemplating the cost-effectiveness of unguided bombs. “The unguided bombs are definitely cheaper,” I thought aloud, “and I could get 1,500 of them for the price of 500 guided bombs. That’s a lot of firepower for the cost.”

As I considered the numbers, a mental image began to form. I imagined a scenario where the unguided bombs are deployed in large numbers. The aircraft, carrying these bombs, would have to fly into increasingly dangerous conditions just to deliver their payloads. The risk to the aircraft would be significant.

I pictured aircraft falling from the sky, one by one, as they attempted to strike their targets with unguided bombs. The enemy’s defenses would be unforgiving, and every mission would carry the potential for high casualties. The unguided bombs might have given me more quantity, but at what cost?

The thought of seeing my aircraft taking on such risks—and the grim reality of losing them—is sobering. Each aircraft cost 60,000 credits, and the more I lost, the more it would eat into my budget, making the savings from cheaper bombs seem less worthwhile.

“If each aircraft is worth 60,000 credits,” I mused, “then the cost of losing even a few would quickly surpass the savings from using unguided bombs. And with the accuracy of these bombs being only 4 out of 10, the likelihood of missing targets and wasting valuable resources increases.”

I took another thoughtful sip of orange juice, the refreshing taste a stark contrast to the grim scenario I am imagining. “The guided bombs might be more expensive, but they offer a much higher accuracy rate of 8 out of 10. Fewer missed targets mean fewer wasted resources and less risk to my aircraft.”

I leaned back in my chair, the weight of the decision settling on me. “Even though guided bombs cost more, they are clearly the better option when factoring in the potential losses from unguided bombs. The accuracy they provide can make a significant difference in mission success and overall survivability".

With a sense of resolution, I set the glass down on the table and turned my attention back to the notes. “Guided munitions it is. The higher cost is worth it if it means fewer aircraft lost and more successful strikes."