Hello everyone. I hope you all are enjoying the change in weather, I know I sure am. To be honest, I feel that I myself am hot-blooded and thus can't really stand heat yet I can bear the cold.
Oh! I hope y'all enjoyed your All Hallow's Eve celebrations...I know it's technically called Halloween but an old friend of mine from high school I remembered was VERY explicit when referring to holidays. Call a holiday over four-hundred years old by its 'modern' name and you got a brained by a fifteen-hundred page book of random genre or educational value.
Though I got to admit, I DID feel smarter for a while after being hit with that big book of Chemistry. Too bad I never took the class...
Anyway, on with the story. Fair warning, I'll be jumping about on this one as many things happen at the same time.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 19: Knight Takes Pawn
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Spyro thanked the ancestors he caught a tailwind while flying back to Warfang. It allowed him to arrive quicker than anyone imagined and before anything else he dashed off to Thera's home and all but knocked the door off its hinges coming in. His grandkids came in but kept silent, keeping their questions to themselves until Cynder was okay.
Spyro removed the key crystal with nervous claws and looked at it then gazed at the crystal prison that was before him. He felt so tired, so drained physically and mentally that he thought he mumbled something but then pressed the crystal against the prison. The key, for lack of a better term, melted into the crystal prison and caused the prison to give off a muted blue-green light that seemed to lull Spyro into a trance. The odd thing was that he wasn't tired yet his body and mind wanted sleep.
Against his will to stay awake, Spyro felt himself drifting off to sleep as the glow from the prison faded. Had he remained awake, he would have seen the shadow inside the crystal stir, and a large crack split the crystal from top to bottom.
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The first thing she was aware of was a light piercing the darkness. As her eyes adjusted to the light she saw it was caused by a crack in the crystal, not unsimilar to a crack appearing in a hatching egg. The second thing she was aware of was hunger, then thirst, then she felt most of her muscles beginning to cramp as if she'd been standing still for nearly a week.
She stretched her wings, and found the crystal buckled easily and allowed her wings to move. She craned her neck around and felt several joints pop audibly that made her cringe out of reflex. She stretched her forelegs and back legs and felt more of the crystal break away. Cracks began appearing throughout the confining structure as she moved and pieces fell away. She felt more and more light shining down on her and began to feel warmth seep into her from somewhere beside her. She shook her head as if dislodging something stuck to her horns and felt the crystal encasing her head and neck shatter, falling away.
Looking around, she slowly began to remember things. The battle, the beam of light, the fear of whatever had happened to her. She then recognized the home she was in and felt irritated as some clumps of crystal refused to come loose. She swung her tail and sent a rather large chunk of the stuff flying through the air and out a closed window that made a rather sharp noise when it shattered. She heard a muffled grunt from beside her and she looked down, her eyes growing wide at the sight.
There, at Cynder's feet, was Spyro, asleep, snoring, and...drooling. He was sprawled out in an undignified pose, his limbs, tail and wings were splayed out, his neck was also straught and his tongue was out of his mouth as he snored. As she moved and thought of waking him, she began to feel tired and inexplicably lay down beside her mate. Giving him a glance and a smile, she nuzzled him and used a foreclaw to put his tongue back into his mouth before curling up beside him and allowing sleep to take her.
As she dozed, she felt words cometo mind and she tilted her head sleepily to her mate's side and said three words that she had said often enough but, for the first time since they defeated Malefor and the Destroyer all those years ago, these words regained their meaning, their symbolance.
"I love you..."
As her eyes closed in slumber, she saw Spyro give a sleepy smile and a tear fall from his eye.
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Bertram had nearly been beaned in the head by a flying chunk of crystal and wondered what in the world had happened before gazing inside his sister's home and finding Spyro and a freed Cynder wrapped in a peaceful embrace, sleeping together. He gave a silent cheer and turned and immediately groaned at seeing the MPs coming towards him. The first one, a Sergeant First Class, addressed him.
"Captain Bertram de Launces, you are to come with us to Commander Reyson Havvers' office immediately." Bertram sighed and knew what this was about but had to ask anyway.
"What are the charges officer?" The second officer pulled a small notepad and read off the charges.
"Offense number one, taking off without permission. Number two, disobeying orders to remain near Warfang until other planes were up. Number three, engaging hostiles without proper authorization. Number four, reckless endangerment and willful destruction of military property. I, uh, could go on sir, but these are the real big ones. If it were just the minors, you'd be thrown into the brig for a while but, fair warning, the Commander's pretty steamed." Bertram nodded and followed them without incident.
He knew Reyson would have gotten hot under the collar about the plane and his taking off without permission but what about the other things?
His unasked questions were soon answered as he stepped into Reyson's office. He immediately noticed Reyson standing by the window overlooking the sunset. Next to him was the base commander, and next to him, stood two officers he did not recognize. Knowing better than to speak unless spoken to, Bertram kept his mouth shut until Reyson turned and went to his desk to sit down. For a moment he was silent until he looked up and locked eyes with Bertram.
"So...this 'key'...did it...?" Bertram nodded.
"Yes, sir. Cynder has been released and is resting comfortably next to Spyro." Reyson let a sigh of relief out and nodded.
"That's good to hear. That's a piece of good news we've been waiting a long time to hear. Now then, the reason I called you in here is not a social one Bertram..." Bertram nodded.
"The MPs said as much. Although I'm willing to think that most of what they said is conjecture...is it?" Reyson opened a folder on his desk and returned his gaze to Bertram.
"Depends on what they said. Before me here is your file, Captain de Launces. You have a...checkered past to say the least. Only with the threat of war looming did you straighten out, lose the arrogant edge to your behavior, and manage to become one of our best pilots. Still...you tend to disregard orders for the sake of personal feelings. So far this hasn't gotten anyone killed but this more recent occurance is something that we cannot overlook and one that I, for all my pull and prestige, cannot sweep under the rug." Bertram remembered how the mechanic had given him no end of grief for the shape of the plane and sighed.
"I take it this is about the plane?" Reyson shook his head.
"It's more than about the damn plane Bertram. You haven't even seen the medical officer yet have you? You're cut up from glass and you're so exhausted you're barely standing. Bertram...I had to make a choice, one that, to be honest I wish I hadn't been put in the position to make but also I find myself forced to do so." Bertram slid the folder over to Bertram and motioned for him to look it over. When Bertram reached the last page of the folder, he saw a large red stamp on the bottom. The word made his breath catch.
"Reyson...I...I'm being transferred?" Reyson nodded.
"Yes. You are a damn good pilot but to be honest you've attracted way too much attention. Here, look at this." Reyson slid a paper over to Bertram who looked at it and gasped. Reyson nodded.
"The Rotiart government has taken notice of your name, your rank, and the role you played in destroying the Hydra as well as fighting their ace, Dieter Muntz, to a draw over Concurrent Skies. They have placed a bounty on your life and the lives of your wingmen. For the safety of the squadron, and for the morale of the troops, I am transferring the 242 Squadron back to Syllia." Bertram frowned but said nothing. Reyson continued as he looked at his student's downcast expression.
"Now, now, Bertram don't look so downcast. I'm doing this not only for your sake but also for the sake of the squadron. Besides...the squadron is no longer needed here. As of one hour ago, our radio intercept teams decoded a message instructing all Rotiart forces to 'leave the gnorcs in the grave they've dug for themselves'. Mechanos is washing his hands of this disasterous campaign and is pulling back, leaving his 'allies' here to face the brunt of the Avalon and Praetorian forces combined might and wrath. Furthermore, in that same message, we heard orders for Dieter Muntz and his 215 Squadron, or rather, what's left of them, to redeploy to Damoneni." Bertram looked at Reyson and then realized something.
"What about Callinar? What about that red plane Ayatane reported?" Reyson nodded.
"Yes, the so-called 'Crimson Tide' of Callinar. Well, you'll be pleased to know that this pilot is a sort or rogue element within the Callinar forces. Furthermore, Task Force E-15 has succeeded in it's objective. Callinar has been brought to a ceasefire but has not yet surrendered. They are holding strong on the center island of Maritone but they are effectively deadlocked. Turns out the people of Callinar didn't like the sound of this war or its direction and that it was instigated by a group of right-wing political officers." Bertram nodded.
"Furthermore, I'm sure you've realized that your brother is gone. He and his force set out this morning for the coast of Tullinar. He has been designated as Task Force 11 and is ordered to assist the Tullinar United Army in their efforts to liberate their homeland from Damoneni occupation. He is escorting a group of landing ships and aircraft carriers to the southernmost port of Broken Anchor and from there will assist the Tullanar Navy with keeping any Rotiart or Callinar vessels out of the fight." Reyson then produced another folder and set it on the desk and motioned for Bertram. Inside it was a list of names of people he didn't know. When he looked to Reyson he saw a smile on his teacher's face.
"Did you honestly think you were going to be punished just for doing what was right? If that was the case I'd never have made it past Lieutenant." Reyson got up and produced a small box from his coat pocket, opened it, and set it before Bertram. Inside, were two small gold crosses that were to be wore on the lapel of a uniform.
"Bertram de Launces, at the request of the King of Syllia, and at the request of the commanders of the Syllian Royal Air Force, you and the 242 Squadron have been redesignated as the Launces First Wing. You have also been promoted to the rank of Major." At this moment, the unknown officers stepped forward and saluted Bertram. Reyson motioned to these men and introduced them.
"The new face to my far left here is Lieutenant Edward Cutter, he is in command of 'C' Wing of your force. Next to him is Lieutenant Douglas Leere, he will be commanding the 'D' Wing. Ayatane has been promoted and will remain your second in command of 'A' Wing while Jake will command 'B' wing. As Wing Leader, you now have three squadrons under your command." Reyson turned his attention back to the bounty sheet and sighed.
"Your promotion was the King's idea as he figured the more planes you have with you, the less chance of someone shooting you down. Your wing will also be the first to set a new standard of aviation for our forces. I got a look at the Praetorian IAF wings here and was able to come up with new formations and tactics."
Reyson pulled a sheet of paper with diagrams on it and explained everything to Bertram in detail.
"There are four elements in a wing or formation. The 'A' Wing is the first element and is comprised of high speed interceptors, meaning your P-31s. 'B' Wing is made up of 'escort' or twin-engine fighters like the new P-30s. 'C' Wing is made entirely of fighter-bombers like the new P-32s. In 'D' Wing, they will be flying high-speed twin-engine bombers such as the LB-15s." Reyson pointed to each squadron and then drew lines on the paper to show the tactics.
"'A' Wing will fly ahead and engage the enemy, 'B' Wing escorts 'C' and 'D' wings. Once 'D' Wing's mission is completed, they will be escorted out by 'C' Wing while 'A' and 'B' wings mop up enemy air cover. Did you get that?"
Bertram's head was still spinning. He'd understood the explanation clearly and vaguely heard Reyson dismiss him. Once outside, he went to his barracks and saw his squadron, looking confused and wondering what had happened. As Bertram opened his mouth to explain, the door opened and in stepped seven new pilots, including Lieutenant Cutter, who saluted sharply.
"Greetings. I am Lieutenant Edward Cutter, leader of the 422nd Air/Ground Support Squadron. As of today, we have been placed under Major de Launces' command and will be assisting you all as the new 'C' Wing of the Launces First Fighter Wing."
The members of 242 Squadron were already rising in surprise when the next group entered. This group was bigger and Bertram wondered why so many until he recalled the 'D' Wing was light bombers and generally had crews of three or four. Lieutenant Leere came forward and saluted in the same fashion, his thick Northumbrian accent adding weight to his salutations.
"I am Lieutenant Douglas Leere, leader of the 12th Light Attack Bomber Squadron. Along with Lieutenant Cutter, we have been assigned under Major de Launces as 'D' Wing. I...oh, Major, you hadn't told them yet?" Bertram turned to Leere and nodded when all of a sudden the squadron jumped up and started cheering. Ayatane was the first and he clapped Bertram on the back hard enough to make him flinch.
"Bertram! That's great news! So, when's our first mission together? Are we going to assault gnorc and Rotiart positions? Engage in patrol? What?"
That 'what' had been directed when he saw Bertram's face. Ayatane stepped back and allowed his friend to steady himself.
"Ayatane, everyone, we've been...reassigned...we're going home." Jake looked to him and raised an eyebrow.
"Home? What the hell for? Not for doing what we were supposed to do?" Bertram shook his head.
"No, it's not that Jake...the Rotarians...they placed bounties on our heads for destroying the Hydra. In the Syllian equivalent, 242 Squadron has a bounty of over one-million Sovreigns. Cutter's and Leere's wings have been assigned to us as a sort of extra protection and we've been ordered home so that, in the event one of us is lost, we do not hurt the morale of our forces here. On the upside, I'm not the only one promoted. Ayatane, you've been promoted to Captain and have been as my Second for 'A' Wing, and Jake, you're now a First Lieutenant and have been placed in command of 'B' Wing."
Now it was Ayatane's and Jake's turns to be speechless as the rest of the squadron congratulated them.
"Furthermore, expect your new additions once we return home. We've been assigned to Launces and so I expect the new recruits will all be from the Launces Aerial Academy." Sahne nodded and came up beside Ayatane who blushed but otherwise said nothing. Bertram chuckled to himself. By now, the entire base was aware of Sahne's and Ayatane's growing affection for each other. She stopped and turned to Bertram.
"Cap-Er, Major, what about the gnorcs here? Are we still engaged with them?" Bertram eyed both her and Kani and then shook his head.
"No, according to the reports, Callinar is deadlocked meaning that Rotiart and Damoneni cannot send forces to assist the gnorcs. Furthermore, Rotiart is withdrawing from this theatre and leaving the gnorcs to fend for themselves. I suppose it is fair to say that the gnorc's surrender should be official in a few days."
Bertram was nearly deafened by the cheering going on from his squadron, both veterans and new recruits. He had little doubt that, by this time tomorrow, everyone in Warfang will have heard. The Battle for Avalon was over.
Bertram didn't stick around for the celebration however, he returned to Warfang and went to a nearby restaurant, his hand on the piece of paper he had recieved that morning from an out-of-breath wolf who, he had learned, worked for Flame and Ember as a servant.
The message had been from Flaire...
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(meanwhile, over the Western Ocean)
Dieter found himself dozing while listening to the droning noise of the J209's engines. With his beloved F10 shot to hell and forcibly scrapped, he was making the trip to Damoneni on the proverbial 'slow boat to Saiyon'. His squadron, veterans and newly rookies alike, had gone on ahead with their F10s while he went on a transport.
Wolff had already been sent home to recover from his wound, which, due to improper care, had nearly become infected. Wolff had threatened to 'shoot the first sonuvabitch who mentioned 'amputation' or came near him with a painkiller or a bonesaw'. To be quite honest, Dieter had been impressed by the devout man's swearing a blue streak. Given the circumstances, he couldn't blame him.
He nudged the man next to him and motioned for the time. Dieter's pocketwatch, to his regret, had been lost some days ago. The soldier checked his watch and informed him the time was midnight. Dieter did the math and figured they were almost to their destination. He closed his eyes and willed sleep to take him.
He was jostled awake a few seconds later by the same man who had a wide-eyed expression on his face. Dieter looked to the man's uniform and noticed he was from Damoneni. Apparently, one glance at Dieter's face was all the man needed and he motioned to his fellows in the transport with him.
They were all speaking Damonenian.
Dieter nudged a man to his right, an interpretor, if the patch on his sleeve was right, and woke him to ask to translate for him. The man groused but straightened up and listened before gazing incredulously at Dieter. Dieter in turn, looked at the interpretor and scowled.
"Well? What the bloody hell do they want?" The man fidgeted before handing Dieter a pen and paper.
"Your autograph, Captain. Apparently, meeting with the 'Black Knight' of Rotiart is a bit of a...surreal experience for them. Then again, Damoneni seems to revere their pilots due to the incredible and insane training regimen they go through. In...this fellow's words: 'Meeting you is like meeting one of our Generals, it is a rare thing akin to meeting the leader of a nation'." Dieter grunted and then began signing autographs for the soldiers.
(Anything for morale.) Dieter reasoned.
Halfway through he thought of something and smiled in a dark way and turned back to the translator.
"If I ever see that rat of a colonel again, I'll launch a rocket up his ass when he goes to the shitter. He claimed that this was the last plane leaving Avalon." The translator looked to him and shook his head.
"No sir, this isn't the last plane...this was the second to last plane." Dieter looked the man in the eyes and shrugged and went back to signing autographs.
"Oh."
At that time, a fellow in a light blue uniform came up wanting his autograph as well. Dieter looked at the man, recognized the uniform, and paled.
"Aren't YOU supposed to be flying the plane?!" The pilot, likely fresh from training, smiled a goofy smile and nodded as the soldiers around him also paled. He spoke in broken Rotarian with a smidge of Damonenian.
"Meeting Dieter Muntz, Captain...great pleasure."
Dieter was saved when one of the soldiers, an officer, grabbed the pilot by the collar of his uniform and unceremoniously hauled him back to the cockpit, cursing him as he went. Dieter sighed and looked out the window. The tranlator looked to him and tilted his head.
"Looking for something sir?" Dieter chuckled and sat back in his seat.
"Yeah. I'm looking for a herd of flying pigs."
Before the translator could ask what he meant, there was a roar the likes of which Dieter had never heard before. Not a dragon's roar or a griffon's call, it sounded more machine than anything else. Dieter turned and looked out the window and beamed. There in the moonlight, a fighter plane was illuminated. A plane he'd only heard of...
"Well I'll be damned..."
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(back in Warfang)
Bertram checked his watch and checked the clock in the restaurant, ten after midnight. After waiting a little longer, he rose but felt someone push him back down in his chair. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a pinkish-red dragon tail and looking left, he came face to snout with Flaire. Bertram hid his surprise well but Flaire was beaming like a kid in a candy store. Bertram smiled and nodded to the waiter who came over with two menus.
Flaire had a bandage wrapped around her eyes but she managed to find her way to the seat with no problems. Bertram noticed this.
"Flaire...forgive me but...I thought you couldn't see..." Flaire nodded but lay on the opposite side of him.
"True. But, dragons are a very adaptable species. Losing one of our senses doesn't mean it's the end of the world for us. It just means our other senses have to work harder. For instance, finding you, I knew your were half-dragon or rather, you are a full-blooded dragon who just chooses his human form. It wasn't difficult for me to find your scent or your aura. I must say, you have a very powerful aura about you...I was wondering...could you shift for me? I'd already ordered a late night dinner for two dragons so you might as well otherwise you and I'll have to carry out leftovers."
Bertram glanced about at the other customers and sighed and then shifted. Naturally some patrons eyed him with shock as he shifted but then settled down rather quickly. He looked at Flaire who was now studying him from beneath her veiled eyes.
"I was right...your aura in human form is supressed...It is much more powerful in your natural form." Bertram chuckled uneasily as he felt his wings twitch. Nearby, he heard a few dragons start chuckling to themselves and a cautious glance confirmed they were chuckling at him.
Bertram's wings, locked in place since the first day he shifted, had grown with his body but the muscles weren't used. Occasionally, his wings would twitch or spasm and that would put pressure on the bones, causing him discomfort, if not outright pain. Bertram wondered if he should tell Flaire this but seeing her, eyes bandaged, he decided against it. He allowed himself to look over the dragoness across from him.
She was, by all standards, beautiful to look at. Her scales were predominantly red but her underbelly was pink. Her spines, horns, and her tailblade were golden in color. Her eyes were the only thing shrouded. Bertram cleared his throat and then asked the question he'd had on his mind since recieving the letter.
"F-Flaire...may I ask why you had a letter sent to me? I, uh, I mean we...we just met." Flaire held herself perfectly still as he said this. She sighed and then looked away.
"My days in the Guard are over...I would never tell my parents or my brother what the Commander said but...he said the only thing I was good for now was finding a mate who'll look past my disability and become a mother...The thing is...all the dragons who had been interested in me before now turn a...blind eye to me...I always heard that someone with a disability can often times find comfort or even love with another with a disability..." Bertram immediately realized what she was saying and sighed.
"I've heard the same thing but...your eyes...they're only a disability if you allow them to be so. My Father told me the same thing about my wings. You can no longer see but that doesn't mean you are useless. Just now you said you could sense me presence and my aura. Perhaps it's because I don't spend too much time in dragon form or that I'm a shapeshifter but I cannot sense auras at all. Heck, I can't even tell one dragon apart from the next from their scent because to me all dragons smell alike." Flaire tilted her head curiously and then sighed.
"You're right I suppose...I'm sorry, it was a stupid idea for me to send a letter..." Bertram stopped her midsentence by resting his paw on top of hers.
"Don't think that. I've always believed that...well...that I'd meet somebody who didn't mind that I was grounded. To be honest, you're the most beautiful dragoness I've ever seen. Growing up in Launces, that's saying something. You're the first female I've ever spoken to who didn't glance at me and walk off in a huff calling insults over her shoulder. I...I just wish I had more time to get to know you..." Flaire went ramrod stiff and eyed him through the bandage.
"What do you mean? Are you going somewhere?" Bertram nodded. Then felt sheepish because she couldn't see the gesture.
"Yeah. Just got word this evening. I've...heh, I was glad for it but now I'm feeling really depressed. I got promoted to Major and assigned an entire wing. The catch is I've been transferred back to Launces; something about the enemy putting a bounty on my head for aiding in the destruction of the Hydra."
Bertram sighed. He'd been looking forward to this but now he was, as he'd said depressed. Here was a dragoness, same age as him, who just said she'd like to get to know him better, essentially, and he was leaving in the morning. Before he said anything else, the food arrived and both he and Flaire ate their meals.
When Bertram had finished, he readied to get up when he saw Flaire doing something. Looking to her, he saw her unfasten something from around her neck and hand it to him.
"This was a necklace my Father gave my Mother when they married. Mom...gave this to me and told me that should I ever find a mate, and he had to leave, this amulet would would always allow me to find him." Bertram looked at the amulet.
It was a gem that seemed to glow with the colors of the rainbow and was held in a gold heart shaped frame which in turn was held by a silver dragon. His paw moving without him aware, he grasped Flaire's paw and the gem shown brighter. Flaire smiled and Berram felt a sense of euphoria wash over him.
"Flaire...the gem became brighter...what-"
"It means we are connected. I still have a few things to do here but once they are done, with the ancestors, and my parents blessings, I'll be coming to Launces." Bertram smiled and held her paw in his. Subconsiously, he felt his tail snake its way under the table and wrap around hers.
"I look forward to that day. Truly I do." Flaire chuckled at that and got up to leave she stopped right next to him and whispered something in his ear that made him blush, then she turned and left. Bertram meanwhile, shifted back into human form and, pulling his ID tags from under his shirt, fastened the amulet around his neck and replaced the tags and the amulet under his shirt.
Stepping outside, he felt a slight chill in the air but soon later, he felt warm. Looking down at the amulet, the gem had changed to a deep red color and was emitting a warmth that seeped through his entire body in seconds. Feeling warm, happy, and also, very tired from the days events, Bertram went back to the barracks to pack his kit and prepare for the long flight tomorrow.
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(3 A.M. City of Arlon, Damoneni Confederacy, 20 miles from Praetorian Imperial Border)
Dieter groused as he stood with his squadron. At the last possible moment, the transport carrying him was diverted on an emergency run to the border where apparently Dieter was needed. He been on the ground long enough to grab a cup of hot coffee and a cold donut from the base's cafeteria before he was rushed out to the landing pad where the CO was waiting.
The CO of the Damoneni base was a mountain of a man who would be cramped even in a bomber. If this guy had indeed been a fighter pilot as the uniform suggested, Dieter allowed himself to remember the metaphor his father had used years ago. For a guy like this to squeeze into a fighter plane would have been like trying to 'squeeze ten pounds of fertilizer into a five pound sack'.
The officer, to his credit, wasn't all fire and brimstone, he could see the looks of exhaustion in the faces of the pilots before him and he made it clear with his opening statement.
"Gentlemen, you have my sympathies but this mission is needed to be done now."
The officer pointed to a blackboard near him with a world map tacked to it.
"As of ten P.M. yesterday, Callinar is officially deadlocked by the Syllian Armed Forces and the Gnorc forces in Avalon have apparently surrendered while their leader, Gnasty, and his most loyal forces, have fled to Rotiart. The mission you're about to embark on, from what little I've been told, is of the utmost importance to the war effort. It was scheduled for another week but certain...'events' have forced us to move ahead."
An aide removed the map and posted a map of the Praetorian Empire.
"215 Squadron, you will be escorting a single bomber, across the desert, over the small settlement of Hotashell, and you will be bombing the capital of the Empire, Lavonshire." Dieter looked to the officer with an incredulous look.
"Sir, what the hell are we supposed to do with one bomber?" The officer shrugged.
"To be honest Captain, I don't know. I don't even know what the bomber's target is but, if it's Lavonshire, it's important. Your squadron will also be issued new fighter to be able to keep up with the bomber. According to one of my subordinates, you saw one of the aircraft on your way here Captain." The CO couldn't have gotten a more awake response from Dieter if he'd tossed a bucket of water over him.
"You mean we're flying the-"
At that moment, the hangar doors opened and out came the bomber they were to escort as well as their fighters.
The bomber resembled a toy Dieter had heard of called a 'boomerang' and had no tail, was streamlined, and instead of propellors, it had two openings where fans inside turned. The fighters on the other hand were roughly the same size as the F10 but with one major difference. The cockpit was moved forward, the wings were straight, the tail was split and a large engine with the same rotating fans inside was fitted to the back. Dieter could see the fighter was armed with one cannon in each wing and a strange weapon that resembled a Federation meatgrinder in the nose. The CO pointed to the aircraft and smiled.
"Captain, 215 Squadron, may I present to you, the JFI-1 Jet Interceptor!"
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Whoa backblast! Damn that was a good chapter. I enjoyed rereading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope y'all enjoyed it to.
Okay, tech talk for those of you wondering about jets. A jet engine is a series of fans that pull air in the front, mix fuel with the air, compress it, ignite it, and use the expanding air and explosive force to push the aircraft forward. Historically, jet engines had been developed in the late 1920's and early 30's but never accepted until the mid 1940's.
The first prototype jet engine was actually of British design but it was built when Britain never thought there would be another world war. The Germans built jet aircraft such as the legendary Me262 (first flown in 1941), its lesser known brother the He280 (which flew in 1940 by the way), the He162, and even the first jet bombers such as the Ar234, BV155, and the HO-IX.
The British developed jets (primarily the Gloster Meteor 1) in response to Germany's V1 Buzzbombs and V2 missiles.
The jet bomber described is the German HO-IX, the grandfather of the American B2 Spirit Stealth Bomber. The jet fighter described is the He162 'Salamander'.
Well anyway, please review.
Next Chapter: Hellfire