Hey, everyone. I finally got over my writer's block and got to work on a new chapter. As always, I do hope y'all enjoy.
Now then, if y'all don't mind, I've got to get these blasted dogs of my nephews out of the workshop...
Great, Izzy just laid down on my feet and went to sleep.
What can I say? I'm a dog person.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 15: A Wing and a Prayer
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Bertram and Flaire stalked through the grey forest as they followed the scent of something that smelled like deer. In dragon form, Bertram's eyes were much sharper than normal and compared to Flaire who had been blinded during an attack by Dread Griffons, he was much better off. However, she was quickly adjusting to her sense of smell and hearing to compensate for her lost sight.
As they got closer to the scent, Flaire suddenly crouched down and lunged.
And crashed into a tree that Bertram saw the animal, a deer, was hiding behind and took off when Flaire thundered into it. Quickly recovering, Flaire shot a blast of blue fire at the deer, which hit it and also set a few shrubs on fire and catching another deer in the blast as well. Bertram went towards the two deer and dragged them to Flaire who was rubbing her head with an annoyed expression.
"Who puts a tree in the middle of a forest like that?" Bertram laughed and lay the deer out before her and smelled the scent of already cooked deer.
"I don't know about the woods but that fireball was right on the mark. Better still, its already cooked."
"Hmph. Squeamish about raw deer, de Launces?" Bertram chuckled and used a foreclaw to cut a leg from the carcass and begin eating.
"Guilty as charged. Growing up I only had to eat raw meat once before during a night I snuck out of the castle without anyone knowing. It was the day I learned that I may nev... Well, let's just say I learned something that brought me to tears and I slipped out one night to try and see if it was true or not and wound up spending the night in the woods just outside of Launces. That night a farmer's cow had gotten out and I was so hungry I attacked and devoured a good portion of it."
He paused for a moment to cut another hind leg off the same deer and watched Flaire rip into the other, larger, deer he had laid before her and smiled.
"The next day Father found me, paid the irate farmer for the cow, and took me home and grounded me for a week. For some reason, eating raw meat reminds me of that day."
She was listening to him, even if she didn't outwardly show it. Flaire wished she could see what he looked like in dragon form. She was able to compare the differences between his voice in human form and dragon form and noted them. Silently, she wondered what it would be like, not being able to fly. She knew the answer the moment she mentally asked herself that.
She would utterly hate it.
When she was young she had spent as much time in the air as she had on the ground. Perfecting aerial maneuvers, coming up with incredible aerial acrobatics that most dragons couldn't even try to perform. Though she had Flame's endurance, she had Ember's agility. She was not considerably lithe of form but she could outclimb, outturn, outfly any dragon or dragoness in the sky.
She finally ate her fill and picked up where Bertram was resting only a short way away from her. She went over to him and surprised him by laying out next to him and sighing contentedly.
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Dieter tapped his foot with impatience as his group readied themselves to search for Bertram de Launces. He had only gotten permission for himself, Marks, and Wolff to search on the ground while Jyne, Voss, and the rest had to stay behind and go up with the morning patrol.
A few minutes later, the three men were in a small vehicle speeding down the road towards the forest but were stopped by the occasional gnorc patrol or Rotiart armor column. Dieter couldn't help but grind his teeth at this as the tanks rolled by.
(This is supposed to be the gnorc's war. Not ours. They prove themselves time and again to be poor allies. I wonder what Mechanos is thinking as he reads these reports of failure after failure coming in.)
He suppressed those thoughts with a shake of his head and looked forward towards the looming expanse of the forests. Then his mind went to something odd.
(What was he doing flying a recon bomber over areas that Rotiart has no interest in tactically? Are they important to the gnorcs? Or is it something else...)
As the vehicle started off again from a gnorc checkpoint, he couldn't help but feel that something was about to happen.
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Hartwig and his crew flew center formation as the bombers lumbered through the sky. They had taken off ahead of the transport and the 242 and were escorted by several squadrons as they neared their distraction target which was more of a vital target than a distraction.
They were flying towards the enemy airbase the gnorcs had hastily constructed on the outskirts of cheetah territory. Even though the gnorcs had openly betrayed the council, they still hadn't directly attacked the atlawa, cheetahs, or wolves and as such they remained out of the fight but kept a wary gaze at them.
Looking right and left Hartwig saw the incredible formation of bombers arrayed alongside them and still couldn't shake the disbelief that all these aircraft and their crews had answered the call to divert the enemy's attention so that one lone squadron could rescue one of their downed brothers. At least, if one was a romantic and fervently believed the whole 'no man left behind' speeches that the higher ups were fond of giving.
Truth be told, after the first and so far last disasterous attack on Rotiart, men and women across the Bomber Corps of the RAF wanted revenge. The Rotarians had bloodied their noses early in the war and most of the crews flying today were itching for some payback. The fighters began to climb and get above the formation for extra defence from attacks when Hartwig spotted some black spots in the distance. He motioned to his co-pilot who nodded and pushed the engines of the new HB32B1 as Hartwig turned on the radio and keyed the mike.
"This is Postmaster to all Postmen, we've got incoming and they don't want us delivering our packages. All escorts, please put these mad dogs down. Turrets: man your guns."
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Whether by luck or maybe an internal map telling the way, Bertram led Flaire to the lake where the bomber had crashed and was busy slaking their thirst as the hike through a dull, featureless jungle had been exhausting to both dragons. Flaire had drank first and was now resting by the lakebed when she lifted her head and gazed at the sky, an expression of longing on her face.
"Bertram...what does the sky look like today?" Bertram stopped mid-gulp and gazed upward and sighed as he saw a clear blue sky unmarred by clouds.
"Clear skies, perfect weather for flying." Flaire nodded and started to rest her head back when she suddenly frowned and looked back up.
"Bertram. Something's above us."
"Get to safety in the trees. I'll take cover by the bomber."
Flaire eased back into the woodline and Bertram huddled close to the burnt out bomber and gazed into the sky that, moments before had been clear, he now saw the vague outline and contrails of aircraft flying overhead. Flaire's voice came out of the woods as she tried to hear the planes better.
"Ours or their's?" Bertram focused his eyes and could see the emblem on the fuselage and whooped loudly at what he saw.
The Syllian Fighter Corps used an ornate emblem, a gold circle and cross with a blue core and red and white markings. The Bomber Corps used a less ornate emblem, simply painting a blue outer circle, a white middle circle and a red dot in the center to distinguish themselves.
Both fighters and bombers had these Syllian emblems on their bodies and they were flying in force in the direction of the enemy lines.
"They're ours Flaire! They're ours! Bombers and fighter escorts!"
At that moment, Flaire heard something crack and quickly ran for Bertram.
"Get down!"
She tackled him broadside and they both fell into the lake just as a bullet struck a tree near where Bertram's head would have been seconds earlier. As they surfaced, they heard some loud shouting from the woodline and tuned their hearing to listen in.
"Damn you Marks! I ordered you to try and take him alive! Bertram de Launces is no good to us dead. In fact, if he is killed you will invite nothing but destruction upon us!"
"Captain, your orders are all well and good, but speaking as the 'loud mouth, seed for brains, cookoo bird' of the squadron, I have higher orders from Lord Mechanos himself. No quarter is to be given to the enemies of Rotiart."
There was a sound of scuffling and a few choice words before another shot echoed through the air.
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Dieter watched with fury in his eyes as Wolff was hit with a round from Marks' sidearm and went down, bleeding from his leg.
"Sergeant Marks! You go too far this time! You soldiers, arrest this man!" Marks laughed as he shook his head.
"They won't listen to you Captain, and by the way, it's Lieutenant Marks now. My orders are from Lord Mechanos and these men here will not dare to cross the man who dragged our nation back to prosperity after so many years in silence and humiliation. Lord Mechanos dreams of recreating the mighty Rotarian Empire, a nation that matches, no, surpasses even the Praetorian Empire!" He looked to where the dragons had dived in and sighed, feining regret for his actions.
"I hope, Captain, that when I return from hunting those two dragons, that you have reaffirmed your loyalty to Rotiart...and to Lord Mechanos.
Leaving one man to bandage Wolff's leg, Marks and the soldiers started off without Dieter and approached the lake. After gazing into the water for a moment waiting for them to surface, he felt a tap on his shoulder and saw a soldier pointing at the far shore where two dragons were climbing out of the lake, well out of range.
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Bertram thanked his lucky stars that he was such a good swimmer as both he and Flaire dived when the sensed an enemy approaching and quietly swam to the opposite shore. They heard the enemy soldier howl with anger when they surfaced and crawled out of the lake, well out of range of his sidearm and bolted into the forest.
Once they were far enough into the forest, Bertram stopped and looked back at where the lake was and sighed. Flaire heard him and approached him slowly.
"What is wrong? We got away didn't we?" Bertram nodded but still...
"I have to go back. One of those men back there... I have a feeling that was Dieter Muntz, the man who considers himself my rival in the skies. I cannot let him die on the ground like this to a mutinous subordinate."
"But he is your enemy! Why?" Bertram shrugged and then began to ease back to the lake.
"I don't know why but...I just have some sort of feeling. Flaire, stay here and keep out of sight. I'll be back."
Before Flaire could say anything, she heard Bertram slip into the lake and was gone. She took cover in a group of bushes, covered her bright scales with mud and lay there.
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Bertram surfaced and slipped quietly into the woodline near where Dieter, Wolff, and the solder were. Wolff was proped up beside a tree with a field dressing wrapped around his leg beside Dieter and the soldier sat across from the both of them. Bertram eased around to behind the soldier, letting the grey light disguise him as he crept towards them. For a moment, he saw a glimmer in Dieter's eyes but the ace remained silent.
The soldier noticed this look and turned around to come face to face with Bertram, still in dragon form, and fell backwards with a fright and tried to raise his weapon.
Thinking quickly, Bertram swung his claws forward and cut several deep furrows through the soldier's body, including his neck and let the corpse fall where it twitched for a few moments before settling. He then shifted and walked towards a very stunned looking Dieter and Wolff.
"Are both of you alright?" Wolff looked at him as if he were crazy but kept silent. Dieter nodded.
"Indeed...well, except for Wolff here, still. Captain Bertram de Launces, I presume?" Bertram chuckled and nodded.
"You presume correctly. I guess that means you are Captain Dieter Muntz?"
"You guess right. So...what brings you to our aid?"
"I assumed that you didn't wish to be left here in the woods." Dieter nodded and then looked about.
"Yes...not exactly a type of place I'd like to die...Sorry. I forgot you lost two comrades here only yesterday. What were their names?"
Bertram rose and then reshifted and motioned for them to follow him. Wolff leaned on his left flank and Dieter helped him. He then looked back at Dieter who was still waiting for and answer and relented.
"Lieutenants John Smith and Jason Fuller. Smith was killed in the nose gun and Fuller died when the tail section broke away." Dieter muttered a curse as he looked towards the lake.
"If it means anything, I had ordered Marks to stop firing on your plane once I saw you were going down but the damned fool wanted glory. As usual, he disobeyed my orders and all but chased you into the ground. I almost had to put a few rounds into him when he was about to strafe you as you fell but then you shifted and cratered into the lake. Still though, I at least pray your comrades died quickly."
"Smith did. The plane exploded on crashing and flames destroyed it and burned his body but as for Fuller, he was alive when the tail broke away but when I found it yesterday, something had already gotten into the tail and dragged his body away. Judging from the blood I have to assume he survived the fall but was killed by some sort of predator. I have no idea where his body was dragged off to."
Even in the grey light Bertran saw Dieter and Wolff both pale as he spoke. He then heard something odd and saw Wolff clutching something in his hand and praying as he spoke. After a moment, he relaxed and looked up and smiled and placed a small medallion back into his coat and held a finger to his lips. Dieter chuckled and explained.
"In the Rotiart military, under Mechanos, religious icons are forbidden. Wolff comes from a religious family and has always had that medallion on him. We pilots need a lot of luck to survive our fights. Some turn to divine, some believe they make their own luck, others believe in things such as a certain coat, hat, scarf, underwear." Wolff chuckled as he remembered something, then sighed.
"Heh. Like Stern. Poor lad. He was one of us for a short while and believed furvently in a 'lucky cap' of his. Marks, the bastard, tried to break him of superstitions and burned the hat. Next day he goes on patrol and his engine seized. He landed alright but was captured by Syllian forces."
"What about you Dieter? What do you believe in?" Dieter thought for a moment then sighed.
"I really don't know. Despite Wolff's numerous attempts I never was very religious. I suppose I'm someone who makes his own luck. I have lead a full life and have no regrets. I just wish to save my nation from the hatred that consumes it. At first I thought this war was just that, shedding all grievances and hatred. But now, after what Marks just admitted to...I'm beginning to have my doubts. Don't get me wrong, I will still fly for Rotiart but only for Rotiart. Not some man who believes himself a mortal-turned-god. What about you de Launces?" Bertram chuckled a bit.
"To be honest, I'm with Wolff, religion-wise, but I also believe that it takes skill in the air. I never thought I'd be in a war. I thought that one day I'd end my service, marry, start a family, and live the rest of my life in peace." Dieter smiled and kept walking as they rounded the lake and eventually reached where Bertram could smell Flaire's scent.
"Flaire, I'm back." There was a rustle as Flaire rose and then sniffed the two new humans.
"These humans...one of them is wounded. Are these the two you had to rescue?"
"Yeah. They'll come with us out of the forest and from there we'll go our seperate ways." Dieter chuckled at that and looked at Bertram.
"We are unarmed you know? Marks took our weapons. You could shift into human form and draw your weapon on us, or even now in dragon form you could force us to surrender."
"That goes against what my mentor taught me. I was taught to respect those who fly the skies the same as we would respect our own. If you wished to surrender you could have done so at any time. I'll not force you. Besides, I still want to face you in the air."
"Just like me then, a warrior even on the ground. I knew there was something about you, kid." Wolff groaned as they carried on and then got their attention.
"Does anybody else see a light up ahead?" Dieter looked at his friend alarmed at first but then saw something as well.
"I see it to. What is that? It can't be Marks because they didn't bring lights with them."
At that moment, Bertram heard a low rumbling noise and saw another light drop through the trees. He immediately recognized it.
"It's a flare! There has to be a bomber overhead dropping flares to light our way out of the forest!" Dieter gave an appreciative whistle but then stopped.
"Another screwball Syllian plan that amazes me. If we can see these lights, there's a chance Marks can see them as well. We will follow the flares but at a distance away so that the forest can shroud us." Bertram nodded and then looked to Wolff.
"We can travel faster in dragon form so I'm going to have to ask you and Dieter to climb on. Flaire can't carry anyone in her condition so I'll carry both of you and have Flaire hang onto my tail." Bertram chuckled as he climbed onto Bertram's back.
"Riding a dragon...one more thing to scratch off the bucket list." As Bertram started off with his passengers and wincing as Flaire bit into his tail, he turned back.
"I wasn't aware you had one." Dieter sighed and nodded.
"I didn't when I was younger. Like any young fool I thought I was immortal, the Callinar Incursion changed all that." Bertram looked back at Dieter, interested, and listened to him continue.
"Lost too many friends in too short a time. Back then, parachutes were a luxury and the life expectancy of a pilot was one to three weeks. The first time I flew in combat I lost most of my squadron about an hour into the battle. They had sent a group of inexperienced nuggets against veteran pilots. I learned a lot of things from my opponents that day. Funny thing is the very next sortie, I was shot down and saved by the man known as the Crimson Tide of Callinar. I became a student of his and have never been shot down since."
Bertram thought over this as they went on following the flares. In the distance, they could hear curses which, to Wolff, meant that Marks likely had gotten turned around in the woods and chuckled. Dieter thought for a moment then took a breath.
"So Bertram, why were you flying a recon bomber? Rotiart has no interest in the areas you flew over, nor do we have a presense." Bertram puzzled whether or not he should tell them as they trudged on.
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Ayatane watched as the gunship flew along a somewhat straight path, dropping flares every so often to mark the way out of the forest. As the gunship began another run to drop flares over the areas where either the previous flares had gone out or there was too great a distance between flares, Jake spotted something and radioed the group.
"Guys, I'm seeing metallic glints on the horizon and closing from the north. Possibility of enemy planes incoming."
"This is Chaser, I see them as well. What are your orders, sir?"
Ayatane always believed himself to be more tactically minded than Bertram but this time direct force was needed.
"Hammer, take Archer, Chaser, and Snowman to intercept the fighters if that's what they are. Mace, Rapier and I will remain here to escort and protect the gunship. There's still plenty of forest left to light up."
The four planes broke formation and headed towards the group of planes. Moments later, tracers from Jake's plane lit arced across the sky as he yelled into the radio.
"Contact! Gnorc planes, roughly thirty of them incoming. Hayate, look out from above, thirty more flying high!" Ayatane clicked his radio.
"Gunship this is Hayate, pick up speed, we've got enemies incoming."
"Hayate, watch out! Ten fighters going after the gunship!"
"Copy that, time to see what these new planes can do."
Ayatane pushed the throttle forward as far as it would go and lead a plane in a diving position. He wrapped his hand around the control stick and pressed the button and felt the recoil of the planes incredible armament. In a second, the enemy plane was shredded and another flew dorectly into the spray and was brought down as well. He heard his radio beep as Sahne came on, sounding aggravated.
"These blasted gnorc planes are too slow! I can't lead them!"
"Archer, you need to begin the lead further back! Your plane is the same as ours, equipped with three cannons and six machineguns, there should be no problem downing them!"
Ayatane watched as a fighter tried to come at the gunship from below and cringed as one of the huge plane's cannons drove a 37mm shell through the plane. He watched the plane fall and crash close to where the trail of flares was and quickly hoped that Bertram was no where near that crash.
He spared a glance at the fighters coming in and couldn't help but feel a little sorry for them. The gnorc planes were too slow and had no armor and almost no weapons. Compared to the Rotiart planes or Damoneni planes, they were jokes. His next thought would later become the name for such engagements against Gnorc forces.
(This isn't a dogfight...it's a turkey shoot.)
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Bertram and the others had followed the flares to the edge of the forest. The next few steps took them outside the forest where a road from the west split in two. One road going east then north, another going directly south.
"Dieter, Wolff...I suppose this is where we must part ways." Dieter nodded and got off his back and supported Wolff.
"Indeed. Not far from here is a forward base where I can request transportation back to base. I'm sure the others will be very interested about you. Listen, I personally don't believe in the tricks Gnasty has done in the war, least of all what he did to your sister's mother-in-law. I'll tell you what I can do. It is a little disclosed secret that the Gnorcs and Rotiart forces don't get along very well. If, per say, a certrain location was to come under attack, we would do little to intervene. Rotiart will suffer very little if the gnorcs were...'removed' from the equation." Bertram couldn't hide his smile as he got what Dieter meant.
"Any particular location?" Dieter placed a hand on his chin in thought but then nodded.
"There is a place where the gnorcs have been wanting, and in Gnasty's case, demanding, we send troops to guard a specific spot in a place called 'Concurrent Skies'. Naturally, Mechanos doesn't like being demanded to do anything. I personally believe he found something there and wants to deny it to your side. Be forewarned though, I cannot guarantee Mechanos has changed his mind or not. My suggestion to you is to get there, smash the gnorcs, get what you need, and then get the hell out of there before we are scrambled." Bertram nodded and shifted to shake Dieter's hand.
"Thanks Dieter." Dieter nodded but then grew grim.
"You do realize that the next time we face off, we will be enemies once more." Bertram sighed but nodded.
"Then I shall look forward to our next encounter. However, you could just defect. You don't seem to have much loyalty to Mechanos." Dieter chuckled but shook his head.
"No. That is not possible for me. To defect now would be to abandon my country. There is still some good in my homeland and I will not forsake it so easily. Perhaps in another month or so, Mechanos will step down due to his advanced age and maybe a more peaceful solution could be found. As long as my homeland is at risk of being destroyed I cannot do anything but shield it and my family. I know you'd say the same if I asked you to defect."
Bertram nodded, turned and left without saying another word. He and Flaire were soon outside the forest and out of Dieter and Wolff's sight. As Dieter turned, Wolff looked questioningly at him.
"Captain, we could still get to our planes and chase them down. Capture them, wasn't that the original plan?" Dieter nodded but kept walking with his wounded friend in tow.
"I cannot allow a wounded comrade to bleed out while I search for glory. That was another thing my mentor taught me. To abandon a comrade for glory is immoral and wrong. Besides, to sharpen a sword you must first grind it against metal. To neglect this it to invite rust and corrosion. I am an ace, a pilot who must contantly match himself or his skills will fade." He paused and looked at the direction in which Bertram went and smiled.
"For the first time in a long time I have a worthy opponent. One who can match me turn for turn and never break a sweat. I fully intend to face him again and in doing so, perhaps I can save Rotiart before it is too far gone."
"What about that mission we were slated for? The bomber escort?"
"It will take time for the bombers to be ready with their payloads. This attack will take place sooner than that and afterwards, we can head for Damoneni to see this new bomber Mechanos wants us to escort."
"Captain...what do you think of the young adversary?" Dieter looked at the path Bertram and Flaire had gone and chuckled.
"He is a worthy opponent. Not the unskilled child I fought over Retorinc." Dieter thought back to something his mentor, the Crimson Tide, once said.
A fighter pilot is not just a soldier who fights for country, but a knight who rides upon silver wings and fights for his ideals, his comrades, and lives by honor. A good day for a pilot is landing safely after an uneventful day. If he is lucky, his death will come swiftly at the hands of an opponent who matches him maneuver for maneuver, bullet for bullet, and does not falter in the face of adversity.
To die in the sky, forever riding my silver wings among the clouds...that would be a good death. However, do not rush blindly towards death. Enjoy your life. Enjoy your family. Enjoy the company of your comrades in arms. Should death come for you, do everything you can to make your death one that they will tell of for centuries.
Dieter thought back on this as he and Wolff walked to the forward base and he smiled.
"My mentor was right." Wolff looked at him and raised an eyebrow curiously.
"About what, sir?"
"Everything."
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Fortune smiled on Bertram and Flaire as they met a group of humans in Praetorian uniforms not long after parting from Dieter. A medical squad rushed Flaire away to Warfang and Bertram, too tired to continue, decided to rest for a moment at the forward camp. Above, he heard the buzz of engines and saw his squadron flying alongside a gunship as they returned to base. He heard the groups celebratory yell when the camp commander radioed the squadron and told them their squadron leader was alive and was out of the forest.
The celebration however, was cut short with a radio report from the bombers that had created the diversion.
"This is Postmaster to Praetorian 133rd, enemy tanks and infantry headed your way! Prepare for attack!"
The camp commander turned to Bertram, a serious look in his eyes.
"Captain, we don't have the equipment here to hold off an attack of this magnitude. Please retreat with the wounded while we buy you time, if you die then your comrades efforts are in vain." Bertram shook his head when he heard this, a confident look on his face.
"Major, even if I retreated now, if you don't have the equipment, how long can you hold out before they catch the wounded on the road? No, I'm staying for as long as I can. Get me in contact with my squadron."
The Major, obviously wanting Bertram to get to safety, didn't decline his offer to help and handed him the radio.
"Ayatane, this is Bertram, we've got enemies inbound and we need to hold the front. I have a confirmation that the lair of Tomar is in Concurrent Skies, that's what this offensive is mainly for, denying us a road to that area so that the gnorcs can scavenge it at will. You guys have new planes right? Use them to harass the enemy. Postman, what is the main component of the enemy force?"
"Mainly gnorc infantry with a few Rotiart units and as for the tanks, looks like Rotiart LPz 1's and 2's and I think I see a MPz-3 in the rear. Light armor, no anti-tank firepower whatsoever except for the MPz-3. See if the Praetorians have any anti-tank weapons lying around." Bertram turned to the camp commander who nodded.
"We have two M50 Portable mortars and one B37 Bazooka but the bazooka only has one round for it. Most of the rounds were lost when the transport carrying them went down in that sneak attack a few days back."
"How many mortar rounds?" Asked Bertram, having an idea.
"Fifteen fragmentation, four incendiary, and thirty smoke rounds...each. Why?"
"What color smoke?"
"Red, white, and green. Standard colors for calling...in...air support!" Bertram smiled and got back on the radio.
"Ayatane, is that gunship still over us?"
"Yeah, they're here, callsign is Buglamp." Bertram suppressed the urge to laugh and switched frequencies to the gunship.
"Buglamp this is Bertram de Launces. I'm down here with a few Praetorian friends of mine who're wondering if you still have plenty of rounds left."
"That is affermative. We are packing."
"Good because we've got some gnorc and Rotiart forces that could really use a couple of 37mm enemas. You got that prescription?"
The laughter coming from the radio was loud and the whole camp, despite the situation, was laughing and grinning at the joke as the gunship's radio operator answered.
"Copy that. Hold please while we process your order...we've got twenty 37's left, you got the address?"
"Drop them wherever you see red smoke. Also, if you happen to take out a tank or two there'll be a tip in it for you."
"Copy on that tip but we'll exchange it for a few drinks back at the base." Bertram chuckled and nodded.
"Very well guys, and Ayatane's buying." Ayatane, who was on the frequency, was quick to voice his objections.
"I bloody well am not! It's your ass we're saving Bertram so you'll be picking up the tab. I've seen how much these bomber jocks drink and it ain't pretty."
"Oh yeah Hayate? Well, a little bird told us that he saw you and a certain female cheetah making goo-goo eyes at each other before takeoff this morning and also saw the both of you k-i-s-s-i-n-g in the hangar the night before!"
Before Bertram could think of anything to say, he heard Reyson's voice over the radio.
"Hey! No airing dirty laundry over the air you two, you're making the natives restless! Anyway, Bertram, there is a transport coming in to collect you at the behest of your sister. I'm escorting it in so be ready when we arrive in about...fifteen minutes."
"If all goes according to plan the skirmish won't last that long."
"When the hell have things ever gone 'according to plan'?"
An explosion cut off Bertram's retort as the Praetorian light tank near the outskirts of the camp exploded into several pieces. The commander looked about worriedly and then sighed with relief as he saw the tank's crew nearby swearing vehemontly. Bertram looked to the commander and saw his worried expression.
"Was that the only tank we had?"
"Yep." Bertram looked out where the round had come from and saw a massive Rotiart tank supporting the gnorcs and swore. A nearby solder saw the same thing and uttered the first thing he thought of.
"We're fucked."
"Yep." The commander and Bertram replied simultaneously.
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Okay guys, sorry about that but turns out the chapter was just too long so I had to split it. I'm still working on the second half so don't worry, it'll be out soon.
Until next time, please review.
Oh! While I'm thinking about it, I posted the prologue to an Assassin's Creed story I had come up with. I'll update that one when time permits but it is not on a front burner at the moment. Also, I've begun creating maps and whatnot for the stories I write and am posting them on my DeviantART page.
They're simple (mainly because I'm stuck with Windows Paint) but they explain the geography well. I will also be posting drawings of machines featured in World Fury and maybe backtracking to Metal Storm so keep an eye out.
Take care and thanks for reading.