Hey everyone, sorry for the long update. I've been busy trying to save my money so that I can get an XBox One (finally). Funny thing, you know the old saying 'don't put all your eggs in one basket'? Well, I kinda did so now, I've got Fallout 4 (yeah!) but sadly no system to play it on.
No matter, the wait just helps the anticipation. Anyway, on with the story.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 20: Hellfire
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(4 A.M. Arlon Military Airbase, Runway 7W)
Dieter and his squadron was on the runway in their new JFI-1's awaiting the takeoff signal from the control tower. It was something strange, not hearing the familiar pre-flight drone of the F10's prop and engine, instead, there was a steady whine of the jet engine that filled his ears. Another thing to adjust to was the layout of the cockpit.
Dieter's left hand rested firmly on the throttle of the plane while his right hand was on the flight stick, his fingers wedged between the firing trigger for the cannons and the handle. On the dash was the layout of the aircraft's controls, the important gauges: altitude, fuel, speed, ammo, heading, engine revolutions per minute (rpm) were all dead center. To the right was engine temperature, oil temperature, throttle indicator. On his left, within easy reach of his left hand, were a series of switches.
The two topmost switches were labeled 'Wings' and 'Nose' and featured two small number rolls below them. 'Wings' held 300, 'Nose' 350.
(The individual ammo counters for the weapons.) Dieter realized.
Then there were four switches below them labeled 'PFT1', 'SP1', 'SP2', 'SP3'. There were switches and a dial for the plane's radio, as well as the jack that led up to his headset. Lastly there was a switch labeled 'Brakes', self-explanitory, another switch labeled 'AFB', and one last switch that was covered and locked.
This switch was surrounded in a yellow and black caution border, and was bright red in color.
As he looked at these switches, the radio light flashed and an incoming message was transmitted to all planes.
"Attention 215 Squadron. This is Tower Command, we have a technical officer here to explain the layout of the jets to you. Consider this a...'crash course' in jet avionics."
Dieter groaned at the bad joke and then listened as the T.O. came on the radio next.
"215 Squadron, I am sure you have noticed the switches on the left hand side of the plane? Do not touch these switches until you have been instructed in their purpose and use. First and foremost, are your armament switches. Their 'safety' switches in layman's terms."
Dieter groaned as he explained the obvious.
(No shit Sherlock...) The T.O. continued.
"The one marked 'Wings' is for the 20mm cannons housed in the wings, the one marked 'Nose' is for the weapon in the nose that Lord Mechanos based off the Tellanian's 'Meatgrinder'. It is a battery-driven, rotary 30mm cannon capable of firing twenty rounds per second."
Dieter stared at the switch in shock. No AA cannon of that caliber could fire that quickly without shaking the plane apart. Noticing the safety for this weapon was off, he flipped it back on and determined it was a secondary weapon should the wings run out of ammo. The T.O. continued as he did this.
"Next you will see three switches marked SP1 through 3 and one by it marked PFT1. These are known as 'special' switches that generally arm or disarm special weapons such as rockets, bombs, or drop tanks. At this moment, the ground crews are fitting drop tanks to your planes. Take this opportunity to flip the switches for SP1 to the 'on' position and flip PFT1 to the 'off' position." There was a pause.
"Done? Congratulations, you've just switched your plane's fuel tanks from the primary held in the fuselage to the drop tank that is directly under the belly. When this tank is empty, switch it off and it will drop away automatically. Before this however, switch on SP2 and SP3. This will ready the drop tanks on your wings and allow you to maintain flight while you drop the empty tank. Your primary fuel supply should not be used until the return trip from Lavonshire."
Dieter had listened more than acted and now did as instructed. There was a small 'clang' as the fuel lines changed.
"Next is the radio, no explanation needed there I hope? After that there is the switch to control your airbrakes. These will be nessessary when you wish to land as they will act as 'parachutes' to slow you down to a safe speed." The T.O. paused, apparently letting what he'd just said sink in.
"After that, you'll see a switch marked 'AFB'. This is the Afterburner and is, in simplicity, a supercharger for the engine. More fuel is sprayed into the engine resulting in a bigger blast and more thrust. You can keep the Afterburner on for about thirty seconds before you burn through your fuel. Don't use it unless you engage in combat or need a quick getaway." Another pause. Dieter was beginning to wonder if the T.O. was out of breath or reading from a prepared briefing order.
"Lastly, there is a switch marked with a caution border. Do not, I repeat, do NOT flip this switch unless the plane is out of fuel, damaged beyond repair, or suffering severe malfunctions. This is known as an 'Eject' switch. A small charge blasts the canopy off the aircraft and launches you out of the cockpit to safety as the plane crashes."
Dieter eyed the switch dubiously and wondered how many of his new recruits had actually been tempted to flip the switch. His question was answered when, all of a sudden, the jet on the far left of him, emmited a loud 'BANG!' and the canopy shot into the air and backwards over the engine. A split second later, the pilot's seat, with the pilot still strapped to it (and screaming bloody murder), shot straight out of the plane. A parachute deployed but the pilot and the seat had a rough landing a mere five yards from the jet which a quick-witted mechanic was now winding down. The PA system kicked in and Dieter heard the T.O.'s voice.
He wasn't very happy.
"Put that man on report for disobeying my instructions! I said do NOT touch that switch! (Ahem) Captain Muntz, can you complete this mission with one less plane? This mission has to be completed TODAY."
Dieter keyed his radio.
"This is Knight 1, orders confirmed and we're ready. One man less or not."
He carefully looked back and sighed. Of these pilots, only his second, Jyne, was with him. The rest were all recruits said to be 'hand-picked' by Mechanos personally. Dieter looked back at the pilotless jet and shrugged.
(I guess even Mechanos has his off days...) A second later, Dieter saw the bomber begin to roll down the runway.
"This is Castle 1, we are rolling. Knights, I hope to see you all up there soon. A Castle without Knights will soon fall or so the Praetorian saying goes."
"Castle this is Knight, we'll take off as soon as you're clear. Don't want your backblast blowing us off the runway."
"Castle copies. See you up there."
The bomber picked up speed frighteningly fast and within moments was angled upwards and soaring away into the pitch black night. Dieter saw the tower lights change from red to green and flipped the radio.
"All Knights, let's ride."
Dieter pushed the throttle of his aircraft to full and felt himself sink back into the seat as it took off. The needle on the speedometer shot past 80. He felt the nose beginning to lift and eased the stick back. Unlike the F10 which responded slowly to such a low takeoff speed, the JFI-1 all but shot straight up and the light touch and Dieter felt his heart go into his throat as the altimeter started soaring up. Frantically, he heard the tower radio him.
"Captain! Captain! Reduce power on the throttle to 60 percent and ease up on the stick!" Dieter grimaced as he struggled to get the aircraft under control before it leveled out. With a sigh of relief he gazed at his altimeter and his eyes went wide with shock.
In the thirty seconds from takeoff, the jet had pushed past the altitude restriction of three hundred feet and now he was coasting at six hundred. A few moments later, the rest of his squadron joined him and, sighting the bomber at fifteen hundred and climbing, turned the jet to the new heading and eased on the stick, alowing it to gently climb to the cruising altitude.
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(4:30 A.M. Warfang Naval Yard)
Bertram looked at the transport vessel and then back to Reyson. He'd been getting ready all morning for a believed flight back but now he was standing before a ship that, by all appearances, was older than his father.
"Are you sure our planes can't fly the distance?" Reyson nodded.
"Unfortunately, while we do have drop tanks for aircraft, your planes are not fitted for the slots to equip them. The planes you've been using are versions for short range aerial combat, not intercontinental flight. Nor could they manage it even with drop tanks. The best bets would be for D Wings twin engine bombers which, at the moment, they do not have. The entire wing will be issued new planes upon reaching Launces." Bertram nodded but still didn't feel relieved.
(At least we're not going back alone.) Bertram gazed at the three ships that were going with them. One was a hospital troop transport that was packed to the bulkheads with wounded soldiers, another was a heavy destroyer, the last was an escort carrier. Plus, the sea lane from Warfang to Sanijo was confirmed as secure with little to no threats from Callinar and Damoneni and Rotiart too far to effectively sever the sea artery.
He turned and saw his sister and her family there with her, including Spyro and Cynder who smiled as he started walking over to them. Thera shifted into human form and grabbed her brother and hugged him. Rather than complain that she was squeezing the life out of him (which she almost was), he smiled and embraced her back.
Hesitantly, they broke the embrace and he stepped back.
"Shall I tell Mom and Dad that they'll see you soon? I assume that with the war over down here you may be dropping by for a visit. I know Dad'll be relieved to see you." Thera nodded, afraid her voice would fail her if she spoke. Bertram reached into his pocket and pulled apiece of paper from it.
"Got this letter this morning. The hospital discharged George and he's resting at home. Thing is, they assigned a nurse to him to act as an assistant for a while." Thera became concerned at that.
"Why for?" Bertram shrugged.
"Don't know. Mom didn't go into any great detail but mentioned he..." Bertram halted and then sighed when his sister's gaze didn't let up.
"The Docs are afraid the blast damaged his hearing. The Armored Corps evaluated him and he barely, just barely, passed the radio and audio communication and command test. They say it could be temporary but it could also be permanant. Either way, the Corps has him on Medical Leave until he feels he can take the test again. Normally, the military suspects a disability, they drum you out of the service. I guess George is too good an officer for them to just give up on."
"Or maybe they're afraid of Father?" Bertram chuckled at his sister's joke.
"Perhaps. Although I think they'd be more afraid of Mother since even Dad gets scared of her at times. She doesn't like hearing bad news about her kids. You and me especially. Oh boy...I have a feeling that she's going to lock me in my room the second I come home. First I get shot down, then I get attacked by a Rotiart supertank, and now a bounty big enough to flood the streets of Launces with gold is put on my head...I doubt she'll ever let me leave her sight again." Thera chuckled and looked back to her own children.
"Just deal with it little brother, it's how Mom's are. Trust me on this, I speak from experience." Bertram nodded and then sighed.
"Take care of that little one when he's born...or hatched, however you decide. I have no doubt that once the war's over Mom and Dad will want to attempt to spoil that one as they did with the others." Bertram chuckled at his sister's expression of mock fury as he said that.
"They are not spoiled...they simply have selective hearing sometimes."
"Yeah right, and I'm Bill Henny." She gave a wicked smile to that.
"Explains why you've got nearly every male in the city ready to gut you. The word's already spread through the city. 'The daughter of Lord Flame and Lady Ember has pledged herself to Major Bertram de Launces'." Bertram stood dumbstruck as she said that and continued.
"Oh it gets better, there's already a bet going that if you become a Colonel or General by war's end Flaire will have permission to live in Syllia with you but if you do not become Colonel or General you have to live here in Avalon with her."
"Oh dear."
"It seems that not all of Syllia's inovations have bettered the lives of Avalon's denizens. It seems that the newspapers and gossip columns travelled here faster than anything else. The two of you were photographed by a wolf reporter looking for a story and BOY did he get one. In his own words: 'It's like something out of a romance book, the soldier called away to war and the beautiful woman vowing to follow him to the ends of the earth'. You can imagine Flame's reaction." Bertram gulped and pointed behind her.
"I don't need to imagine it. I can see it."
Thera turned to see Flaire, looking rather embarrassed, standing beside her older brother who looked like he was two seconds away from bursting out laughing, Ember who was torn between worry for her prospective son in law and pride in her daughter, to Flame who was livid and was allowing wisps of smoke to escape from his nostrils and mouth.
(Why do I have the feeling I should jump into the sea?)
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(5 A.M. Over City of Gloster, Central Praetoria)
In the brightening sky, a patrol of Praetorian A205 Interceptors patrolled the skies over the city of Gloster, the largest city bordering the desert and the closest city to the desert oasis town of Hotashell. The A205s were of an older type of fighter, believing that 'pilots should fly and not worry about guns', the IAF had built a two seat fighter with the pilot flying the plane and a gunner manning the dorsal turret which held four .303 caliber machineguns.
They were long outdated but nevertheless used for night patrols close to the desert border. With Hotashell being the only town in the desert (or rather the only town in the desert with a radio and telegraph tower), and Damoneni ever encroaching on Imperial territory, even these obsolete planes were finding purpose.
This particular squadron was known to the citizens of Gloster as 'Gloster's Gladiators' for the way the squadron performed in a probing raid by Damoneni nine years ago (back then they'd been using obsolete biplanes actually known as 'Gladiators', the A204). The name stuck and the squadron had been renamed Gladiator Squadron (which, according to the pilots, sounded a damn sight better than 'Finch Squadron').
As the pilot's watch turned five, he nodded and keyed the radio.
"Gladiator 1 to all planes, just one more hour and we're home free. Good show lads."
The squadron acknowledged the time and continued to fly formation. The dorsal gunner flipped his radio as he gazed toward the east, watching the beginning of the sunrise.
"Hey Keith? Do me a favor and don't turn for a moment." The pilot, Keith, chuckled.
"Watching the sunrise again Edward? You know if you stare at it you'll burn your eyes."
"Heh, that's only if you stare directly at it once it's risen. In the wee hours of the morning you can observe it in peace. I tell you, being up here, I've never felt more at peace."
"Not even with your wife?"
"Honestly? Yes. I admit I grouse about missing her but she's safe in Lavonshire with the baby. Damn...hard to believe he'll be two in a few days." Keith chuckled at his gunner and though about his own family bear the Imperial sea port of Anchorage. His son had just turned nineteen and was at the military academy in Lavonshire and his daughter had turned eighteen and was taking medical classes at the Anchorage Medical Academy.
"Take it from me Edward, they grow up too fast. Next thing you know he'll be running about, blabbing the way kids do, then comes school and wanting to 'fit in with the popular kids', then girls, and before you know it they've left the nest."
"Aye. It's that day I'm dreading more than anything else in the- What the Hell?!"
That exclamation was directed at the shapes of aircraft coming out of the clouds above them. Six planes, level flight, escorting one large weirdly shaped one. The gunner keyed the radio over.
"This is Gladiator 1 to Gloster control, do we have any other planes in the air? Any experimental ones?"
Gloster was known as the proving ground for the IAF. Any planes the IAF were interested in were tested here and pushed to the breaking point and beyond. Sometimes they conducted test flights unannounced.
"This is Gloster Control. That is a negative, I say again negative. No planes, prototype or otherwise, in the air at this time."
The sound of the gunner chambering all four guns echoed in the plane as he called out.
"Tally-ho on the enemy! Seven planes, repeat seven. One bomber, six escorts bearing zero-two-seven, north-northeast, altitude is Angels Twenty. Looks like they're making a run for the capital! I hate to say this but I'll be damned if I know what kind of aircraft they are!"
"Edward, estimated speed?" There was silence as the gunner did the math, measureing the distance between two stars, Orion Alpha and Prio and the time it took the formation to cross the distance between the two. Then-
"Bloody hell! That's...that's not possible! By my math they must be soaring at close to five hundred miles per hour! Nothing we have even comes close!"
"Still, few in number or not, they mean to strike the capital. We can't let that happen now can we?" The pilot then switched the radio over to the squadron frequency.
"Attention flight! Seven enemies at Angels Twenty, north-northeast, estimate speed at five-zero-zero. They're heading for the capital. All planes, break formation, lead them and engage! God Save the Empress!"
The flight of A205s broke formation and began rapidly climbing, all the while down below air raid sirens were going off as pilots at Gloster Airfield scrambled to their planes. As Gladiator Squadron closed with the aircraft, Keith could see markings he recognized on the planes.
"Attention, Gloster control! Planes have been nationally identified. Rotiart, First Special Air Wing, looks like...215 Squadron. Bomber is likewise Rotarian but has no identifiable markings. Edward! Your my gunner so do me a favor, don't miss!"
"I never miss."
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(5:10 A.M. Over Gloster)
Dieter looked out and cursed as he saw a group of planes climbing to meet them.
"Knight 1 to all planes, enemy patrol squadron has spooted us and is engaging. Castle, climb to maximum altitude and await our return. They are flying old A205s, this shouldn't take long."
"Castle copies. Give 'em hell Knights!"
Dieter looked at the fuel gauge and changed the fuel lines to the wings and heard the now empty belly tank fall away. Likewise he saw his squadron doing the same. He then rolled the plane, pushed the throttle to full power, and felt the same feeling of being pushed back into his seat as the jet fighter moved towards the enemy planes.
Apparently, the speed of a jet fighter offered more advantages than just being quicker across the skies. Dieter closed with the enemy planes so fast that if he'd have blinked, he'd have missed them whizzing by. Instead, he pulled the trigger handle back and felt the two cannons in the wings go off.
Tracers zoomed across the predawn sky and slammed into one of the planes on the outer edge of the formation. A two second burst, and the plane's thinly armored fuselage was billowing smoke and burning as it fell. The dorsal gunner was dead, obvious due to the interior of the turret was now blood red and was shattered.
As it fell, the A205's damaged right wing broke free and allowed the unstable plane to begin spinning. His other planes also noted kills and Dieter saw, out of the seven planes that had engaged the squadron, three were still flying; their gunners blazing away in a futile attempt to lead the jets.
As he rolled and began to turn, his radio came alive with a yell.
"This is Knight 5, I've been hit! That lead plane, they know what they're doing! Damn! fuel's leaking, oil's leaking, got no choice. Take care all, for all the speed this aircraft has and armament, it ain't armored worth a tinker's damn! I'm bailing out!"
For the first time Dieter was seeing how an ejection seat worked when it was supposed to. Knight 5's canopy launched up and over the tail section, then out came the seat and pilot who cleared the tail just as the oil and fuel mixture reached the engine, causing the jet to explode in a brilliant flash. A parachute deployed and the pilot started swaying gently in the breeze as he descended.
(Better a prisoner than a corpse...) Dieter thought to himself. It was a hard fact of war, some men would rather die than be taken prisoner but the ones who got taken prisoner were the ones most thankful for their lives. Prisoners, at war's end, can return to their loved ones. Corpses just get laid to rest.
Dieter turned the jet around and prepared to pursue the remaining planes when the radio came alive again.
"This is Castle, all Knights, disengage and regroup, I say again disengage the enemy and regroup, we're already way ahead of you, hit the afterburner and lose them, they can't catch up."
"Knight 1 copies." It chafed Dieter, running from a fight and leaving a comrade unavenged but, for this mission, honor was a secondary goal. The mission came first, the objective came first, all other things were secondary.
At least, that's what his training had always said. Still...
"All Knights...regroup with Castle. Engage afterburners."
Dieter reached down to the panel and flipped the switch for the afterburners and heard the engine's whine grow louder. With a loud 'BOOM' that nearly shook him out of his seat, the jet rocketted forward and was soon out of sight of the Praetorian fighters.
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(5: 20 A.M. Over Gloster)
Keith could hardly believe his eyes. One moment the enemy planes were there and then the next they had shot off into the clouds and were gone. Still, what he'd seen amazed him; the enemy had taken out four of his planes in a single sweep. He keyed the radio and spoke words no Praetorian pilot, hell, no Praetorian citizen wanted to say.
"This is Gladiator 1 to Gloster Control. Alert Lavonshire, enemy formation minus one is inbound to their proximity. I don't know what kind of damage they plan to do with one bomber but regardless, it cannot be allowed to happen. Also, see about sending a patrol to the fellow that my gunner shot down. I think he landed in the Dawson River, or somewhere thereabouts."
No reply came over the radio directly but a flash came across the standard transmitter.
"Alert Code Red! Alert Code Red! Enemy has breached outer defences and is heading for Home. Repeat: Enemy formation is heading for Home. Lavonshire under threat from Rotarian Air Force! ETA: thirty minutes!"
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(5: 40 A.M. On Board Royal Navy Transport Ship RNV Falsomn)
Bertram couldn't help but stare at the rapidly fading shoreline of Avalon as the ship sailed on. He kept thinking about Flaire, and about what Flame and Ember had said to him before he departed.
Needless to say he had no plans whatsoever of making them angry.
Once Flame had found out the rumors already flying about were completely unfounded he had relaxed and then to told Bertram that he honestly had no problem with him and Flaire getting to know each other. He had been livid because he'd just been told that the dragon who had previously been interested in Flaire as a mate broke everything off citing that a blind dragoness would be a sorry excuse for a mother.
He'd personally gone and ripped the bastard a new one.
He had later come to the docks fully intending todo the same to Bertram but stopped when he saw how Flaire looked at him.
'As long as you accept Flaire for who she is, you will have no problems from me. Hurt her, betray her in any way, shape, or form and soldier, Syllian noble, or not, I'll roast you.'
Bertram had responded that, he had no qualms about Flaire. She did not seem to mind that he couldn't fly except as a human fighter pilot and that seemed to pacify Flame.
As he stood on the aft castle of the trasport ship, he heard laughter from the deck. Looking down, he saw Ayatane and Sahne embracing and kissing. He thought about yelling down at them to 'get a room' but decided against it. They'd found love through their fear in combat and their worries over their friends and he had no wish to spoil their moments.
Turning, he found Jake speaking to some of the new faces in the wing. As he neared and overheard them, he found, much to his chagrin, Jake was telling them about some if the 'mishaps' that he, Jake, and Ayatane had had during their training.
The current mishap was the one about learning to dive bomb a stationary target. While Jake and Ayatane had been spot on wth their paint-filled 'bombs', Bertram had been off and somehow divebombed the officer's latrine. The paint had then broke through the roof, splashed down inside ad seconds later, out had come a very irate (and blue painted) Reyson Havvers.
Upon entering, the group snapped to attention but he waved his hand in dismissal.
"That mishap is all well and good Jake, but do you remember the time during training that you Dad locked you out of the controls of the trainer and took you for a wild ride through Launces?" Jake went red and gulped audibly as the rest of the wing listened in.
"Yeah, Reyson was training Jake in the old twin seater P6 and locked his controls. I was on the ground and I could hear him screaming to the high heavens to 'stop looping the loops and buzzing the town'. Reyson listened but only after he performed a barrel roll in between the castle towers and did a little barnstorming. Jake was pale as a sheet and decided from then on to use only twin-engine aircraft."
A few good-natured guffaws and laughs echoed as some of them patted Jake on the back.
With the tension broken, the wing settled in and started swapping stories back and forth.
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(5: 55 A.M. Skies Over Lavonshire, Captial of Praetorian Empire)
Dieter checked his fuel gauge for the sixth time since the battle over Gloster. He couldn't place it but he felt that something was wrong. The needle had not budged since coming to rest on the half tank mark. Still flying on his wing-mounted drop tanks, he seriously considered switching back to his primary.
Cautiously, he tapped the fuel gauge to ensure it simply wasn't stuck and then radioed the bomber.
"Knight 1 to Castle. I seem to have some sort of malfunction on my gauges. How much farther until we reach the target?"
"Castle to all Knights, we have reached the outskirts of Lavonshire. In a few moments, we will drop our ordnance over the target as listed to us by our sealed orders. Please assume defensive formation around the bomber until we can confirm our orders and arm the bombs."
Dieter eyed the bomber when he heard that. Sealed orders were usually given for top secret missions. Plus, bombs were usually armed on the ground, not in midair...instead of feeling relief that the mission was over, he now felt even more distressed. Regardless, he moved into the defensive position near the bomber's cockpit and passed the time by either scanning the clouds for enemies and gazing into the cockpit to see what the bomber crew was doing. For a few minutes, all was calm until-
"This is Castle. Sealed orders are: Beta-Nero-Seven-Seven-Two-Zero-Zero-Alpha. Orders confirmed, target in range in T-minus thirty seconds. Opening bomb bay doors. Attention, all escorts, upon dropping the bombs, all planes engage afterburners and come to course zero-seven-two North-Northeast."
Dieter could see the doors open on the bomber and then, on a lark, checked his altitude.
Twenty-six thousand feet.
Dieter hurriedly checked his oxygen mask and made sure enough air was reaching him. Like any pilot experienced enough, he had subconciously put it on as soon as he climbed above the Fifteen-thousand foot ceiling. Still, most bombers dropped their payloads much closer to the ground. That was part of what made being a bomber crew so dangerous.
"This is Castle, ordnance is armed. Starting chronometer. Bombs away."
Following his orders, Dieter wheeled the fighter around and engaged the afterburner.
"Castle here, we are ten seconds from target and opening. Chronometer counts fifteen seconds to detonation."
Dieter glanced at the watch he had borrowed from Jyne before they took off. The time was 5:59 A.M. Fifteen seconds till 6.
"Detonation in ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Impact!"
The first thing Dieter was aware of was a bright flash that seemed to blind him momentarily, followed by a gigantic explosion, an even bigger shockwave that scared him into thinking the plane was coming apart. A few seconds later he risked looking back and saw a dark cloud rising from the ground.
"This is Castle to all Knights. Confirming successful deployment and detonation of all four Ragnarok-class atomic bombs. Target list is as follows: Ragnarok 1: Praetorian Imperial Military Academy. Ragnarok 2: Upper Loch Lavon Flood Dam. Ragnarok 3: Grand Imperial Cathedral. Ragnarok 4: Castle Lavonshire."
Dieter's mouth dropped and he heard Jyne swear as the crew listed the targets. The Imperial Military Academy was a school for promising young citizens who wished to become officers in the Imperial Armed Forces. The Loch Lavon Dam was the only thing keeping Loch Lavon from flooding the Lower Quarters of the Imperial Capital. The Grand Imperial Cathedral was the religious center for the entire Empire.
Dieter paled as he recalled the day: 11 Generous...All Saint's Day.
The Cathedral would have been filled with close to sixteen thousand worshippers including some of the highest ranking members of the clergy. Worst of all, Castle Lavonshire.
The home of the Imperial Family. The Empress, Miranda the Eighth, her grandmother, the previous Empress, her brother and sister, all of them...
Though he oftentimes said he was not a very religious person, Dieter clenched his hands together, turned off his radio, and prayed, or rather, begged for forgiveness for what he had unwittingly allowed to happen before him.
The prayer didn't dissolve the anguish he felt in his heart. He wondered what Wolff would say when he learned of this...what would the rest of the squadron, his squadron, think?
He knew the answer as surely as the four black mushroom clouds pierced the heavens.
Bowing his head, Dieter Muntz, the Black Knight of Rotiart, wept.
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(6:15 A.M. On Board RNV Falsomn)
Bertram was rudely shaken awake by Ayatane who had barged into his room unannounced. He bit back the retort when he saw Ayatane's pale expression and followed the mute gesture without hesitation.
Throughout the halls, Bertram saw men on their knees, weeping and praying. He caught a snatch or two of a prayer for loved ones or for those innocents lost. He was confused as Ayatane led him into the ship's radio room where Jake was. Nearby were members of the squadron also looking either fearful or worried or curious as to what had happened.
Jake turned on the radio and adjusted it to the Praetorian frequency used by international news, the IBCS.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we...we have more on that story we aired just moments ago...My God...We have confirmed reports of...of bombs, unknown in nature, being dropped upon the Capital city of Lavonshire here in the Heartland of the Empire. The bombs, upon detonation, destroyed various sections of the city and have caused unbelievable amounts of damage everywhere. Th-There are people being dragged from the rubble of houses with burns covering most of their bodies, mostly civilians...The Lower Quarters of the City are being evacuated due to the flooding that has resulted from the destruction of Loch Lavon Dam in the attack. H-Hold on we...please stand by..."
Bertram looked around and saw the entire squadron and even some sailors peeking in now focused on the radio with undivided attention.
"We have more reports coming in...The attack was confirmed to be led by units of the Rotiart Air Aggressor Force...Oh no...I-I don't know how to say this...Buildings destroyed include the Grand Imperial Cathedral, the Imperial Military Academy...estimated are close to forty-thousand dead, wounded, or missing...I...I have just been handed a report...Castle Lavonshire is gone...We have confirmed reports that...Empress Miranda the Eighth...is dead. The bodies of the Imperial Family have been found in the wreckage of Castle Lavonshire...It...It appears the search is being called off for some...reason...th-the rescuers! The people who have been pulling people from the rubble of the city are dropping dead! We-We've been ordered for our own safety to fall back. We'll try to keep all of you in the loop as we learn more...God help us...God help us all..."
Bertram looked around at his wing and then heard someone collapse outside. He turned to see Miller lean against the wall, pale as a ghost and the Mitchell brothers weren't too much better. For a moment, all was silent as what had happened sank in. A moment later-
"Major Bertram de Launces and all members of the First Launces Air Wing, prepare to transfer to the escort carrier Neosho. Planes are being fueled and fitted with drop tanks for your flight to Sanijo. The stalemate in Tellanos has been broken and Rotiart forces have taken Retorinc and are now advancing on Chamberlain. You have been ordered by Archduke James de Launces to fly to Sanijo, take whatever planes are available, and fly to Chamberlain." Bertram turned to the rest of the wing, all of whom had solumn expressions on their faces.
"First Air Wing, we have our orders."
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Sorry about the afterwords, too tired to think straight. BTW, the Praetorian A205 is based upon the British 'Skua' Interceptor.
Please review.