Helan Mogzvak International Airport, April 1st, 2012

Coyote Squadron shuffled through the baggage check-in line. For the newest members of the team, going to Japan was a vacation sent from the heavens. For the rest, it was business as usual.

"Do you ever get frustrated at using an airport named for our founder's rival, coach?" Nathan asked. As Coyote Squadron's commander, he was always curious to hear what the coach had to say.

"Never bothered me," Coach Hagan replied, "They named the biggest park in the city after ours, so it's an equivalent exchange. Besides, Mogzvak was ten times the pilot, ours just designed better planes."

"As proven by our performance in the Nationals?"

"Damn right! You and Scott just dropped like a brick on those bastards. Hel, I thought you'd crash into them and get us all disqualified at first."

"Well, you trust us enough to play it smart, coach."

"That I do. Y'all are confident, not crazy, and that'll serve you well in the future. You said you were gunning for an airline pilot? It'll be best if you go down the military track. It's cheap, and you get that sweet veterans' credit."

"Doing a stint as a cargo pilot sounds good to me."

"Like I did? It's a thankless job unless you're at war, Mr. de Sentri. You're gonna be flying everything and everywhere. With your talents, I suggest a bomber track. Maybe fighters."

"Markūs has the fighter track locked on, I don't think I wanna risk his chances by stealing one of the seats."

"You think you can beat out Mark for a fighter seat? Ha, that's the best joke I've heard in ages!"

"Yeah, you're right. Bomber or Cargo, that's the best route for me. Speaking of Markūs, did you see my proposal on dividing the squadron into flights?"

"Sure did. It's a good idea on paper, but I'm questioning putting Mark as a flight leader. We both know making him Vice Commander was just a carrot to make him stay at Tutyrk."

"He trained Luther within about a month, coach. I think he can handle three rookies with a solid foundation in flying."

"I'm inclined to trust your judgement, but let's make this clear. If he's not up to par in training them, Adreo takes over."

"Why not Torrick, sir?"

"Because he'd get them killed with that psychotic flying of his. Rookies unconsciously tend to adopt their mentor's style. Torrick is brash and intimidating, but Adreo's cautious, attentive, and accurate. If Markūs can't handle training them, it's better to learn from the latter."

At last, the squadron arrived at the front of the line, and usual airport activities began. An hour and a half later, they boarded their plane to Sendai. The flight was a pleasant experience, and Nathan was able to score a visit to the flight deck. Both pilots were happy to meet someone interested in their careers, although they cautioned him on expecting large planes to be similar to his Kampffliegen aircraft.

"Thanks for having me, sir. I really appreciate it," Nathan said as he left.

"No problem," the first-officer replied, "but always remember you're responsible for dozens, maybe even hundreds of lives behind you. Never take shortcuts, and when it's hard to see, trust your instruments, not your instincts, first. I had a pal who came out the clouds upside-down because he thought he was oriented properly. It happens a lot with new pilots, but in his case, let's just say we're unlucky it was the mountains and not the plains."

Nathan returned to his seat with a solemn realization, but strengthened resolve. After landing, without saying a word, he shuffled into a bus with the rest of his squadron. They made their way to a hotel, which would accommodate them until they were assigned to a panzer team. Sleeping in a dorm seemed like a certain downgrade from a hotel, but nobody was in the mood to complain. Traveling to another country to spend several months studying and competing would be an experience they would never have again, so they were willing to roll with the punches, however and whenever they came.

Sendai, Morning of April 2nd, 2012

Sleeping with a pair of earphones on was probably not the smartest thing he could have done, but Markūs preferred it to the guilt of waking up the entire team at five in the morning. As quietly as he could, he changed into a tracksuit and slipped out the door. Sendai might have been a new city, but with a phone and an Internet connection, navigating it would be easy enough. Besides, he thought, I'm not leaving the hotel grounds.

An hour later, a cacophony of noises blasted across the hotel room, followed immediately by a chorus of groans. "You know, I'd imagine a bunch of pilots wouldn't have so much trouble with jet lag," Torrick muttered. Coyote Squadron had taken a late flight to arrive in time for the First Combined Arms Games, and they had received no more than five hours of sleep since touching down in Japan.

"Have we ever skipped eight timezones while flying?" another pilot said, posing across the room in a series of stretches. The fact he was shirtless seemed not to bother him in the least.

"What a load of wisdom from you, Magic Mike."

"Vanderfal," Coach Hagan said, "keep that talk to a minimum. This country's not the sort where that humor is appreciated. And Scott, put on some damn clothes."

"Copy coach," Scott replied.

"You snore a lot, Milej, you know that?" Luther groaned out, rubbing his eyes before groping around for his glasses. He yawned for a moment before looking over at Hagan. "Hey Coach, when do we get assigned to a panzer team?"

"They'll do the drawing in two days. Until then, we get to explore Sendai in all its beauty."

"Do we get to visit any museums? I hear they've got a couple of Pacific War planes at the Reconstruction Memorial. It would be nice to see a few of them."

"You know that place is a memorial to the time we firebombed the city with the Americans, right?" Hagan sighed, "I know you love your planes, but not every wound from that war's healed."

"Right, I'll uh, make sure not to bring that up."

"You'd better. But, the organizers did give us a schedule that includes visiting the memorial, so you will be seeing those planes after all."

"Y'know, Luther, the coolest thing about being part of the team is that we're gonna get the chance to fight them at some point," Nathan said, changing after a quick shower.

"I am aware, chief. I just need reminding that I'm an actual Kampfflieger now," Luther said, shaking his head.

"The embarrassing part of that is that you aren't even a rookie anymore. You won the tournament with us!"

"But am I a good pilot? I think that's up for debate."

"If the record says 'Ace', you're an ace. Now go shower, you smell like an unwashed shit-stick."

"Hey, speaking of aces, where'd Markūs go?" Scott noted, looking around the room.

"Vof Molotov goes out for a run every morning, I thought you knew that."

"Here? In a city he's never visited before, which doesn't speak a lick of German or Alseslang?"

"Maybe he's so used to running that he forgot that he needs a route before he starts," Torrick laughed.

"Bullshit. Mark's not nearly as careless as you are," Nathan shot back. "At least it looks like he took his phone with him. Coach, we got all our SIM cards activated, right?"

"They've been on since we got here," Hagen replied, holding up a text to his wife to demonstrate.

"Well then, seems like there's nothing to worry about."

"Yeah," Scott said, nudging his commander, "Except we gotta wake up the rookies."

"Why the Hel did we have to bring them along?" another pilot sighed.

"Because the organizers said they needed twelve pilots minimum, Adreo," Hagan said, "Besides, we've got Scott and Markūs leading their flights, they'll be ready within the month. I mean, Mark managed to give Luther a crash course, and teaching somebody to fly for the first time is a damn tough project."

"Luther did have a textbook's worth of knowledge coach, I wouldn't say teaching him was that much of a task," Torrick yawned.

"If I showed baby-you a bunch of Olympic swimming videos and then threw you into the pool, you think you could make it?" Nathan said, nudging him in the shoulder.

"Ow! Alright, fine, you got me there."

"It seems you can take Torrick out of the asshole, but it seems you can't take the asshole out of Torrick," Scott shrugged.

"That was one time!" Torrick shouted.

"Listen, getting your hand stuck in a dead horse's rectum in biology class isn't something we're ever letting down. I still don't know how you managed to do that."

"Easy now folks, we've given Tor his morning struggle session," Adreo said, rolling over in his wheelchair, "I think he appreciates Mark's excellent instruction skills by now."

"If he'd hurry back so we can get started on the daily agenda, I'd appreciate him a bit more," Hagan said. A few minutes later, the door opened to reveal very out-of-breath Markūs.

"How fast were you going?" Luther asked, seeing his friend red in the face.

"Maybe, like, full sprint from the end of the courtyard up to the room?"

"Didn't you take the elevator!?"

"No, no I didn't. They were all gonna take too long."

"Well catch your breath," Hagan said, patting him on the back, "and go wash up. We got places to be."

"You betcha, coach."