"There it is, purple smoke!"

"Alright boys, let's do our job!" ordered Lucky, "Follow me and drop bombs in sequence."

The four Typhoons fell from the sky like meteors with engines roaring. Massive bombs were strapped beneath the wings, their great weight leading them to the earth. With the press of a button the bombs fell from the wings and whistled as they fell. The earth shook, dirt was thrown high into the air, a great flash of white light was followed by a thunderous boom!

"Relay, what's the word from the tankers?"

"You've hit one tank and gave the other two a bit of a rattle, but they're fine."

"You're kidding me" said Lucky, "Just one?"

"I wish I was. Head back to base and rearm. You've got to get this down" I ordered, "Bomber Babes, you're up."

"Roger that, beginning our attack run."

"Piccadilly here. Sugar's we're ready to start the next dogfight."

"Roger. Alright lads, no slacking, imagine this is the real deal."

"Waters here. Can we go over some defensive ACM?"

"Alright. Waters, Nolan, you're on the receiving end drop to 1500 meters. Memphis, Regal up top. Relay, keep me updated on Lucky's wing. When they get back we're practicing cover and escort."

"Roger!" the squadron said in unison.

"Sugar's Blues, I've got a request from Commander Miho" said Relay, "Proceed west to checkpoint easy and drop to 500 meters."

"Mind if I ask what the request is?"

"She misses her boyfriend, give her a flyby to say hello" Relay's laugh echoed through the radio, "I'm kidding, the other tanks are covered in camouflage and are in a mock battle. They want to train with enemy air craft for a bit."

"As long as they didn't paint their tanks bright pink or gold they should be fine. I'll check it out, patch me through to the tanks. Lilly, manage the lads 'til I get back."

"Wilco."

I pushed my nose into a steep dive pulling out at the last second. The tree tops greeted me with gentle flutters and bid farewell with great waves. As my plane approached the target area, I peered through the canopies and the leaves. I banked left and right to see into the blind spot under my wings.

Alright, now what's out of the ordinary?

"Got you!" I released a burst of machine gun into the trees.

The rounds rattled and sparked against the metal chassis.

"How did you see us?" asked Nekota.

"You forgot to camouflage your barrel also, it was sticking out from the tree line like a sore thumb" I said, "Also, mixing in yellow might not be the best idea unless you're on sand."

I continued my patrol over the area. The girls were surprisingly adept at hiding their tanks from me, but they did betray their work through simple mistakes. Flash and smoke from overconfident gunners, sudden and abrupt movements to new positions, and my personal favourite, forgetting to cover their bright blue and white school crest allowed me to zero on their position. All this said, I was only able to find less than half of the hidden tanks.

"Alright that's it for me" I radioed, "Keep it up girls."

"Roger."

"Takebe to Sugar's, we're ready to start the practice battle and rehearse the plan."

"Relay what's the status of the other groups?"

"Bomber Babes are heading back to rearm, same with Piccadilly's wing. Typhoons are approaching the target area, I'll tell them to hold. ETA for ready up, 20 minutes."

"Saori, did you get that?"

"Yes" Saori paused, "We'll move to starting positions and wait for your signal. All tanks, proceed to starting locations."

I rendezvoused with the Typhoons as they practiced dive bomb attacks on imaginary targets. While we waited I organized the wing into attackers and bombers, switching off every few minutes. Black specs appeared on the horizon, the others had arrived. I signalled Miho, and the rehearsal began.

Monday, the big day. This will be where we prove ourselves or falter and fade into obscurity. Both teams lined up against each other. A few large cotton clouds slowly crawled across the skies. The array of tanks stoically stood behind the women while our planes remained back at the airfield.

"Commanders, Squadron and Wing Leaders step forward."

Miho and I walked toward the centre of the field. Beside her was Momo, to my flanks were my comrades: Lucky, Piccadilly, and Melody. A short distance away was the blonde Kei and the strong Ted Franklin.

"Ladies, and gentlemen, I expect a good and fair match" said the judge, "Salute!"

Tuskegee and I snapped to attention while Miho and Kei bowed. Then came the cordial 'good luck'. The girls were about to file out but Tuskegee stopped them. He walked up to the centre of the field, baseball bat in resting on his shoulder and baseball in his hand.

"What's going on?" asked Miho.

"Just a little tradition with the Screaming Eagles" I said, "Come on."

"Hey, Sugar's Blues, Miho!" hollered Kei.

"Hi Kei," Miho and I said.

"Catch!" Tuskegee tossed the baseball bat.

In a little bit of a panic I reached out and grabbed it at roughly half way to the butt. In an instant Tuskegee grabbed the section above my hand. With smirks, our hands climbed up the bat until I was on top.

"Aw, shucks," said Tuskegee, "Well do you want to pitch or bat, you Cockney putz?"

"Give me a second you Yankee Doodle," I looked at Miho, "So, do you want to pitch or bat? Don't worry, either one is fine."

"Pitch?" said Miho nervously.

Tukegee tossed her the ball. She fumbled around when she tried to catch it. Kei took the bat and got into position. I led Miho a few meters back and calmly told her what was happening. This was a little tradition with the Screaming Eagles. Their love of baseball extended into AirCom, so every time they went to a match they had to have an opening pitch. A few of the more superstitious members of their squadron thought the result of the first pitch was an omen for the match.

Miho hurled the ball as fast as she could with all the power she could muster. The baseball soared through the air determined to embed itself in Tukegee's glove. Kei's eyes fixed on the ball and with an exuberant 'YAHOO!' she swung. There was a loud crack and the ball went soaring into the heavens never to be recovered.

I whistled, "Nice hit. And that was a good throw, Miho."

"I'm sorry I didn't get it by her" she said.

"Don't fret over it. Johnny never got one passed me either" Tuskegee laughed, "Still that's a good omen for my team."

Our planes roared and rolled down the airfield. We gently pulled on the controls and we began to rise into the air. Our formation of fighters surrounded the bomber and waited for the command to begin.

"Relay, you there?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Patch me through directly to Miho for the entire match" I ordered, "Keep tabs on the other wings and keep them coordinated. Everyone else, we need to strike hard and fast. They're probably flying P-47s, damn things are fast so Spitfires we need to get them ASAP. Rookies support us best you can."

"What about the Typhoons?" asked Lucky.

"Stay high up until Relay directs you or you see purple smoke."

"Sugar's are you there?" asked a girly voice.

"Yeah, I'm here. Ready?"

"As we'll ever be. Good luck."

"Same to you."

A robotic voice shot through the radio, "Match start!"

Miho's voice cracked through the radio, "Panzer vor!"

The squadron immediately took to their positions. The massive Lancaster fell toward the earth toward the first forest. All the fighters climbed high into the air stopping just beneath the clouds. The heavy Typhoons lumbered due to the extra 500lbs strapped to their wings. Beneath the heavenly skies, dirt and earth was mixed with smoke and steam as the tanks rolled across the country side.

"You should have seen it" said Regal, "I have no idea what Miho sees in you."

"We're not together."

"Oh sure, and that little ice cream trip was just nothing then" said Lucky, "I saw you two smiling as you walked down the street. Melody also said that you two stayed in the briefing room a little longer, alone, together."

"Steal a kiss did you, cap?" chuckled Smilin' Susie.

"God damn it. We're not a couple, we're just friends."

"He's right. The Cap and Miho aren't together" said Cathie.

"Thank you."

"You're dating Akebi right?" asked Cathie.

"What!?"

"Yeah, you two went on a little shopping trip together. Then she snoozed on your shoulder on the ferry back" said Cathie.

"How the hell do you know that?!"

"I told him. I was two rows behind you on the ferry" said Peacock.

"You're dating two of the Ooarai girls? You dog" said Memphis, "Save some for us."

The radio devolved into rumour and lewd jokes. Anger boiled and bottled under the leather cap.

"Miho to air group" her voice was a welcome change.

"It's one of the Cap's girlfriends" whispered Memphis.

Asshole.

"Reading you."

"Your bomber knocked out a bunch of tanks, we're getting ready to break through."

"Understood" I replied, "Typhoons get ready. Your ground strike is coming up. Miho, have you seen any enemy air craft?"

"No, sorry."

"Contact! 10 o'clock low!" said Ashley.

The squadron held their breath. Not even the buzz and hiss of static was in the air. Everyone's thoughts were fixed on the rookie that nearly cost us the Ortona match.

"What are your orders, squadron leader?" asked Nolan.

Ha, the kid learned something after all.

"What's down there rookie?" asked Piccadilly.

"It's big and reflecting a lot of light" reported Ashley, "There are a bunch of smaller ones too. Tip to the left, you'll see."

"God damn it!" shouted Piccadilly, "It's a B-17, and it looks like P-40's covering."

"Where are the P-51's? Tuskegee always flies a flight of P-51's!" panicked Lucky.

"I don't see them."

"Shit!"

The squadron was stuck above the targets, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

"Nolan, Ashley, dive down and take the P-40s, Spitfires follow me, we're going after the bomber."

"Roger that captain! We'll follow you and attack the bomber" said Lucky.

"No! You lot get in the cloud and wait for Miho to call you!"

"But you won't be able to take out the B-17 and its escort on your own."

"God damn it! Don't argue with me now! Stay up here! Relay, keep Lucky posted. If the situation changes then make the call, got it Lucky?"

"Understood" said Lucky with a hint of dejection.

"Alright fighters, break, break, break!"

The rookies led the charge with guns blazing. The small caliber bullets sparked against the Kittyhawk's wings. The enemy P-40s scrambled for a moment before finding their attackers. The Hurricanes dove through the formation and sped away in a climb. Two of the fighters broke formation and gave chase. The Spitfires were in a deep dive and it was too late to pull away. The B-17's gunners opened up straight at us. The red bullets narrowly missed the engines and glanced off our wings.

"Regal, Memphis, go for the fighters. Piccadilly on me, we're strafing the engines. Break!"

The four fighters split into pairs. Memphis and Regal ganged up on the wingman and engaged. Its ally began a climb to loop behind them. There was no time to go after him, the bomber had to fall or Miho's tanks would be in deep trouble.

The bomber suddenly ceased its defensive fire. I honed in on the bomber, eyes fixed through the reflector sight. The bright sun reflected off the silver bullet airframe. The plane shook as the flurry of 20mm cannon and machine gun spewed forth from our simultaneous fire. Sparks flickered and flashed all over the wings and fuselage. Orange tracer fell from above striking every inch of my plane. The controls began to stiffen and the plane fought me when I pulled it.

"P-51's high!" shouted Lilly.

"No shit! Break off the bomber, grab those fighters! Nolan, Ashley get back here ASAP!"

Over the radio Lucky said, "Captain, we can drop in and –"

"No! Support the tanks!"

A Mustang spurred past with the engine roaring like a flying tiger. The Spitfire peeled off and gave chase. I glanced behind me and saw Lilly forming up to assist. The Mustang turned and climbed to the left, flashing its checkered wings and Screaming Eagle roundels. The controls resisted me as I pushed the plane to match its movement. My vision narrowed, focusing though the crosshairs. A burst of fire converged on the target and slammed into the engine and raked back across the cockpit. A plume of black smoke poured from the tail and the Mustang dove out of the fire.

"I can't shake this guy!" shouted Memphis.

"Just a little longer" said Regal, "Hold on a little longer."

The four planes were ensnared in a lethal game of follow the leader with Memphis under the gun while his Kittyhawk target tried to break away. Burst after burst streaked around the Spitfire as Memphis banked to and fro, a few finding their mark in the Kittyhawk. Regal was in hot pursuit holding back his shots until he was completely sure he could hit. A fifth plane streaked in from high above and released a perfect flurry. Regal's plane spewed black smoke and dove away.

"Sorry guys."

In a desperate act Memphis held down the trigger hoping to score a lucky hit. His attacker followed suit breathing fire like a furious dragon. The horrible sign of defeat painted itself across the sky.

"They got me too, but I got mine."

The enemy fighters quickly formed and swarmed around me and Piccadilly like bees around the hive. Instinctively we reacted to the swarm assault. Our fighters struggled to obey but with some hard encouragement from the controls they made their way. Our Spitfires weaved into each other to provide mutual support. The enemy pilots honed in on our tails, but our maneuver put them into our sights. Light bursts of yellow machine gun fire flew by Mustangs scaring them away. We dove and climbed to avoid the attacks but never broke formation. Our ineffective bursts pushed attackers off our tail, but we can't last forever.

"Lucky Lady, we need help" reported Miho, "Enemy tanks at point H7, we marked with smoke. Be careful, we've mixed in with the enemy tanks too."

"Roger that, beginning our attack run."

Well at least the tanks won't be alone.

The Americans broke off their attack and climbed high into the air. Their lumbering bomber continued to push across the sky.

"We need to get that bomber" said Piccadilly.

"Yeah, we've only got one chance let's make it count."

The Spitfires formed abreast and put all power to the engines. We couldn't ascend above the bomber, lest the fighters eat us for breakfast, nor did we have the power to overtake it and attack it from the flanks. It was the worst way to attack a bomber, but we'd have to pull up right on its rear.

"Ready Lilly?"

"No, but we don't have a choice."

The defensive fire was thick and chaotic making it near impossible to dodge. We pressed on the trigger and in controlled bursts pecked away at the bomber.

"Ah!" shouted Lilly, "They got me. I'm out, sorry Captain."

This is it, we've failed lads.

As I broke off from the bomber the remaining fighters fell on me. I couldn't win against the odds, but it would be bad form to simply let them win. I pushed into the swarm and bobbed and weaved around the fighters. Glancing blows struck my wings, tracers barely missed the protective glass of the canopy. The few shots I could manage harmlessly sparked on their wings. The world was surrounded by blurs of red and black as the blood rushed to and from my head in the hard turns. The g-forced crushed my chest making it hard to breath. I clenched every muscle and deep sharp breaths but the exercises became harder to perform as the fight continued. Arms and legs cramped, teeth ground against each other.

How long have this been going on for? Come on. One more, just one more.

My grip loosened, the turn became wider and wider. A Mustang slid onto my six and line up his shot.

Damn, this is it.

I closed my eyes and waited for the controls to release.

"Get off the Captain!"

A Typhoon came down from the heavens raining 20mm shells on my attacker. The Mustang peeled off in a panic. The Spitfire clumsily rolled away to see its saviour. Twin Typhoons broke the swarm of Americans and used the chaos to get right on their tails.

"Are you alright, Squadron Leader?"

"Damn turns took a lot out of me. Lucky, what the hell are you doing here? Go back and help the tanks!"

"The situation changed, I made the call. They're mixed in with the enemy, Checkmate and Peacock are striking. We're helping you. Susie, take this guy!"

"Roger dodger!"

"We're back too" said Ashley.

"The Kittyhawks got away though" said Nolan, "Ashley, take the one on the right, I'll get his leader."

The planes chased each other across the endless sky. The tracers were like falling stars.

"My plane is beat nine ways to Sunday" I reported with heavy breaths.

"We'll cover you, get back to the base" said Lucky.

"Get the bomber."

"Don't worry, we will."

The Spitfire banked slowly toward the east, close to limping all the way. Heavy thoughts filled my head, mixing disappointment in myself, in the wing, in the squadron. At the first sign of the enemy we were almost annihilated. I'm the leader of the squadron, and my commands…

"Captain, turn hard!"

The Spitfire lurched to the side dodging a stream of bullets.

You've got to be kidding me.

I was dragged into another dogfight at a disadvantage. Normally, my Spitfire could turn circles around a Mustang, but the damage was too extensive to pull those maneuvers. Climbing was out of the question, and he would beat me in a dive. All I could do was hope his trigger happy habit would exhaust his ammo without landing the lethal hit. The planes banked left and right with streams of death pushing over my head.

"Captain, turn hard left" said Nolan, "Shoot when I tell you."

Heavy breaths ran over my lips. I rolled the Spitfire and pulled as hard as I could. My body clenched and strained against the forces while blood rushed from my head. The sound of my heart overwhelmed the roaring engine. A black haze obscured my vision.

"Shoot!"

The Spitfire obeyed my command ending the turn and pouring the few rounds I had left into the unseen target. The black shroud lifted. Nolan's Hurricane was less than twenty meters ahead. Panic surged through my body, the Spitfire fell into a hard dive. Black smoke trailed behind Nolan's pursuer.

"We did it, Captain" he said, "We got both of them."

Mayday, mayday! Open god damn it open! Pull the chord, feel the snap. Mayday! Mayday!

"Captain, pull up! Pull up!"

The green earth barrelled toward me. My heart raced and the strain pushed me against the seat as the Spitfire veered upward. Barely 200 meters above the ground I began the long flight home.

"Relay" I tried to catch my breath, "Give me a report."

"Rookies, Lucky and Susie are engaged with the fighters, as you know. Lancaster is currently headed to support the tanks. Checkmate and Peacock are climbing to join the dogfight. Head home Captain, we'll patch your Spits up."

"The tank fight…"

"If you want to catch a glimpse head due north two kilometers, but you should head back."

"I need to check on… make sure…"

"I understand. All fighters, keep the Yankees occupied, the Cap is doing a flyby of the battlefield."

The last Spitfire circled over the organized chaos of the tank battle. Rabbit Team lay motionless on the ground, defeated along with a Sherman directly in front. The Tiger (P), their flag tank, was leading the charge tearing through the thin line of Sherman tanks with its feared 88mm cannon. To its flanks were the StuG III and the Hetzer providing covering fire for the more maneuverable, lighter tanks. Miho led the other tanks in a mission that pushed them straight into the enemy ranks, mixing in at point blank range.

Lucky was right, a bombing run would've hit our guys as well as theirs.

Flashes and smoke covered the battlefield, the sound must have been deafening. Shells bounced off armour, the tanks lumbered around the field. A flash caught my attention from the corner of my eye. Beneath my plane dirt and powder plumed. The most powerful tank Saunders could muster nested on the hill overlooking the battlefield. Side faced and fearsome was the Sherman Firefly.

"Miho, Sherman Firefly on the hill!"

Another shot soared across the sky burying itself in the Mallard Team. The tank rocked from the shot before raising its white flag. The fastest of Miho's formation broke from the swirling melee and charged toward the hill, others pushed closer to the Saunders tanks to use them as shields. The heaviest and slowest tanks formed on the Tiger (P) shielding the flanks of their flag vehicle. The Firefly's turret slowly turned as their marksman prepared to fire.

Not much I can do, but I need to do something.

The Spitfire lurched toward the hill, daring to get as close to the ground as possible. I made a beeline straight toward the massive cannon, trying to screen the shot with the flimsy airframe. Whatever ammunition I had left rattled harmlessly off the thick armoured turret. The Firefly hobbled back and forth trying to get a clear shot. Suddenly a bright white streak soared beneath my propeller and drove into the side of the Firefly. Smoke rose from the engine block and the white flag popped out.

"We've got her, thank you for screening" said Miho.

"You're welcome."

"Head back to base, Johnny. You look really beat up."

I lightly chuckled, "Yeah."

"Miho, break away from the enemy tanks. Bomber babes are beginning their attack run" reported Relay.

In an instant the remaining tanks punched through the enemy lines and sped across the field as fast as they could. Saunders' tanks scrambled to pursue while others pressed on to our base. The Hetzer fired shot after shot as it advanced. Sparks exploded from the tracks shattering the suspension.

"Bombs away" warned Melody.

The great Lancaster dropped a massive amount of bombs, each one whistling the impending doom. The five hundred pound bombs crashed into the ground in a storm of dirt, smoke, flashes, and thunder. The Hawaiian wind pushed the smoke away as if it was raising the curtain to a play. The battlefield was strewn with small craters and defeated tanks.

"How many did we get?" asked Melody.

"Sorry, we didn't see the strike" said Miho as the Panzer IV blitzed to the objective.

"I can't tell either" My Spitfire passed the Lancaster, "There were active mixed with defeated, it's almost impossible to tell. Relay, how are the fighters doing?"

"All fighters are returning to base. No one was shot down, no additional kills –"

"Miho, there's a B-17 on its way, spread out!"

"Except for the B-17" interrupted Relay, "They got him, Captain. Miho, ignore what the Cap said."

The wheels hopped on the hard ground as the engine slowed and purred. The rushing wind overpowered the sounds of the machine and pushed against the landing flaps. I threw open the canopy as the plane ground to a halt.

"Get this thing ready to go ASAP!" I ordered, "Load APTP (armour piercing tracer practice) rounds in the cannon and AP in the machine guns. Go! Go! Go!"

The mechanical team ran into action carrying belts of ammo and repair kits. The surviving fighters were close behind rushing their landings. Piccadilly and the others were in the lounge watching the match on a borrowed television.

"Match concluded" said a voice over the speakers and radios, "Objective zone captured…"

My heart skipped a beat.

"By Ooarai Girls Academy and Bluebird Squadron. Congratulations. All teams return to bases. Congratulations Ooarai Girls Academy and Bluebird Squadron."

The squadron cheered and clapped at the victory, but I couldn't join in the revelry.

My wing was nearly eliminated. Bombing attacks did minimal damage at best. There's nothing to be proud of. A narrow victory won't draw in new recruits. We need a decisive win, an unquestionable win. And then there's Nolan…

The lounge was filled to the brim with high spirits. Drinks flowed from glass bottles into big mugs. Fried food was put about the tables and disappearing into their gullets. Melody put on a swinging record in tune with the mood. Relay was seated by the chess table with a small notebook and the scoreboard close by. Lucky walked into my office carrying all the film reels from the battle.

"And how many did you get?" asked Relay

"Just one" said Smilin' Susie.

"We'll have to confirm it with the footage. Any unique way to identify it?"

"It was the B-17 mate, and there was only one of them."

"Right then, the B-17" noted Relay, "Huh, looks like you and five others got him too."

"What?"

"Not a full kill lad, but a sixth of one" winked Relay, "Alright, next up."

"Hey Captain!"

Damn, I almost got in my office without being noticed.

"We did it, Cap. We got past the first round!"

"Hurrah!"

"Yeah, we did" I said holding the door knob, "If you'll excuse me I need to get some work done."

"Won't you celebrate with us, Captain?" smiled Nolan, "You got two kills, and I scored my first!"

"Here, here!"

Every single fuse in my mind set off at once.

"You have nothing to celebrate!" I barked, "That stupid maneuver you pulled almost got you killed! You were damn lucky that I came out of the blackout just in time to dodge you! That reckless and blatant –"

Ashley stepped in front of me, "Captain, I think you're being too hard on –"

"Can it rookie! As for you, that reckless and blatant disregard for your own safety will not be tolerated! And I don't care if you got the guy on my tail! If you ever pull that kind of shit again I won't just ground your sorry ass! I'll kick you straight out of the squadron! Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal" he replied.

Nolan stormed out of the lounge to the stares and silence of his squad mates. The lads stared at me in astonishment, any merriment and jubilance had been swept away by my furious rant. Each one of them dropped their gaze as soon as my eyes swept across the room. Words stuck in their throat wanted to blurt out but there was only silence.

"Carry on" I said entering the office.

I grabbed the assorted pages and sheets around the office, the red folders and dossiers. Beyond the door I could faintly murmuring and soft conversations.

"Holy Hell, I've never seen the Captain that mad before."

"Nolan didn't deserve that. Fuck. Think he'll leave?"

"We can't afford to lose a pilot. Kid's rash, headstrong, but he's good."

"What happened up there?"

"The kid did a high risk head on."

"We've all pulled some high risk maneuvers before. Hell, Sugar's Blues pulls some of the riskiest maneuvers I've ever seen! Why the hell did he go off on Nolan like that?"

"Someone could have died."

"We know the risks when we signed up for this. Accidents can happen, but we've got the skills, the knowhow, hell the balls to –"

"You weren't there. Not back then."

"What are you talking about?"

"Two years ago –"

"Shut up Lucky. We don't talk about it."

"What happened two years ago?"

"We've said enough. It's between the commanders and we're not talking. You want an answer ask the Captain or Relay."

"Don't put me on the spot Lilly."

"Relay, what is wrong with Sugar's Blues?"

"I won't betray his trust. He will tell you when he thinks its right to do so."

I opened the door and walked across the room. The room went silent again, eyes fixed on their feet.

"I can hear you through the walls" I said.

The halls of the school were nearly barren, only the odd student stuck in detention sulked about. At the end of the hall was a wooden door that looked like it was out of a 1930s P.I. movie. "Excalibur Newsroom" was painted in black courier letters across the blurry glass window. Inside desk upon desk of students dressed in fine shirts and wearing visor caps pushed away at their typewriters. It was difficult to imagine how one could stand the dings and slides of the machine for hours on end.

"Uhh… excuse me, where's the Editor-in-Chief?" I asked one of the lackeys.

The boy glanced at me through the top of his glasses and rolled his eyes.

"In the office at the back, knock before you enter" he said as he edited the printed page.

The back office was a glass cage. The brown blinds lowered to keep prying eyes at bay. Just like the front door a name and title was painted in black letters: Benjamin Mercer, Editor in Chief. Beneath the name was the school crest imposed on a long scroll.

"Keep to the facts Paul" said a voice through the door, "We're journalists, not authors and this looks like a bad fan fiction. Cut out this, this, and this. Give it another go, then back to me."

"Right" a dejected freshman walked out of the office scribbling on the page.

"What do you want, Captain?" asked the Editor-in-Chief, "I'm a busy man, just like you."

"Fine, I'll cut to the chase then. I want to see the article regarding the CATAC Match today."

Ben smirked, "You must have amazing faith in our abilities to think we can finish an article so soon. Unfortunately, the article is still being drafted, come back in a few hours and I might let you see it."

"Give me what's written then" I demanded, "I want to make sure –"

"If you dare to try to censor us the Student Council will hear of it! Freedom of the Press is guaranteed under the School Charter, and I will not be bullied by some airborne, gung ho Cockney!"

"I want to make sure that you aren't skewing the facts. The squadron is on its way back up and the paper hasn't always given us the credit that's due."

"The paper has always been unbiased and factual; the squadron's performance over the past five years warranted those articles. If your flyboys are bringing back old glory like you suggest then the paper will reflect that. I will not sacrifice the integrity of the news for the benefit of one club."

"I'm not asking you to sacrifice your integrity; I'm asking that you get my input before the article is published!"

Ben fell into his seat and folded his hands, "Come back in a couple of hours and I'll let you see the final draft before it's published."

"Fine" I grumbled, "Just one more thing…"

Ben's eyes widened in disbelief, "One more thing? I'd rather not have another shouting match if you don't mind. Now, please, leave."

I pulled a page from the many folders in my bag.

"Can you at least publish this ad in your paper?" I asked, "The squadron wants new members to join in the... flight to victory."

Ben examined the page thoroughly, "What monkey did you get to draw this?"

"I drew it."

"I take it back; you should have gotten a monkey to draw this. Why didn't you get Regal fellow to do it? I've seen him sketching around the campus, he has to be leagues better" Ben shook his head, "Jimmy! Look up some old RAF posters circa World War II! Rework this piece!"

No need to be an ass about it.

"Once it's reworked I'll put in in the paper."

"I want to see the redone –"

"With the article. Let me make this perfectly clear. I'm not promising any changes. To the article or the poster. You'll only get to see them before their published, do whatever PR crap you want based off that. Good day."

I stepped out of the newsroom disappointed and unhappy. The two men waiting in the hall made my day much worse.

"We need to have a talk Mr. Walker."

"What now Willy?"

"I'm President Billy! Anyway, we're here to remind you of your little deadline and your lack of progress. Remember you need forty members by the end of the tournament."

"And our observations say you haven't added a single one" said Willy, "Not good, Mr. Walker."

"Not good at all" said Billy, "Perhaps this is a waste of time. Do you think we should disband the squadron immediately, Vice-President Willy?"

"I'm not sure. Do what you think is best President Billy."

"Let's have Mr. Walker defend his position. Well Mr. Walker, you haven't added a single member in the first couple months and your expenses have been reduced only marginally. So, what do you say Mr. Walker?"

"We just won our first match –"

"On a wing and a prayer. But please, continue."

"I've spoken with the Editor-in-Chief and he's going to run an article about the squad and publish the recruitment posters I've requisitioned. Once news gets out we'll get a bunch of rookies."

"He sounds rather confident doesn't he, President Billy."

"Indeed, Vice President Willy. Well Mr. Walker, I hope your right" Billy turned around and waved me off, "Good luck in your next match Mr. Walker."

"It's Captain" I grumbled under my breath.

The locker door slammed shut and the lock spun round and round. Running shoes fit snuggly but smelled horribly. The PE kit was light and breathed easily. I started a quick walk outside of the school doors and headed toward the ferries.

There's enough time for a run around Honolulu, then it's back to the grind.

"Relay to Sugar's Blues, are you receiving Sugar's Blues?"

"Relay? What are you doing here?" I said jogging on the spot.

"Well I thought things could go for a change. Instead of you coming up to see me, I would come down to see you."

"I'm going for a run mate" I said, "I'll meet you at the lounge when I get back if you want. Talk to you later."

Relay grabbed my arm, "No. I'll go with you on your little jog."

"But you can't move that fast, sure you can keep up?" I asked looking at his leg and cane.

"Perhaps, you should slow down" he replied, "Take a walk this time. Relax and smell the roses so to speak."

"Alright. Let's take a walk."