Chp. 12: A Farewell to Dreams

January 24th, 2005

Off the Coast of Glenncove

Hand warmers and lighters didn't make for the best heaters, but Jamie could take his coffee lukewarm. He took a sip from his tin mug and enjoyed every second of heat that ran down his throat. The co-pilot of "his" heli, a Warrant Officer named Neil, had promised they'd be informed as soon as they were ready to take off. He hadn't checked his watch for that, but it had to have been a good few hours. Something about the airspace off the coast being too hot.

"This exfil plan was too stupid to work…" He muttered, knowing it obviously would've gotten hot after the invasion began.

He looked at the sun as it was trying desperately to peek through the rain and clouds. And held his coffee close to him to keep it from being diluted. The wind, whenever it blew across the top of the old seafort, felt like it was cutting right through him. The best way was to either curl up inside the Mi-8s or sit between them. Jamie was wondering what he was thinking when he wanted to get some fresh air.

"Captain?"

He looked at Neil, who was hanging halfway out of the cockpit window.

"What can I do for you, Warrant Officer?" He replied.

"We got a change in mission. Orders from your Squadron HQ are gonna be relayed here in a minute."

"What about our guest from the mainland?"

Neil shrugged.

"Just told to come and get you and your mates. Alpha's CO is already hooked up."

Jamie slammed down the rest of his coffee, shivering off the bad taste, and climbed through the side door of the helicopter. Yorke handed him a headset, then plugged it in as Rupert got aboard the other Hip with Monroe. The pilot fiddled with a couple of switches before he keyed his mic.

"Rook 6, go for Voodoo and Rook Alpha thru Delta." The pilot announced.

"Roger…Rook Alpha, what's the overall situation?" Browden asked.

"HVI has been captured and is in stable condition, Rook 6. Casualties are eight dead, five wounded."

"Understood, standby for new orders."

"Yes sir."

Jamie cocked a brow but said nothing. It was certainly better than sitting on a rotting platform in the middle of the ocean.

"Elements of the South Volunteer Guard seized an important bridge a few hours ago, but are being chipped away by Erusean reinforcements. Air assets are tied up trying to keep the main landings from being overrun, so we were the next choice. Our mates in 4 Squadron are committing two Troops and we're needed to do the same. It's going to take time for them to get there, however, and we need to hold that crossing. Redistribute your ammunition, load your casualties and HVI aboard the Hinds, and Voodoo will take you back in." Browden explained.

"What kind of resistance are we expecting, sir?" Jamie spoke up.

"Mechanized units. The SVG lads have some heavy weapons, but they're otherwise outgunned.

"We don't have much in the way of heavy weapons ourselves, sir." Yorke reluctantly pointed out.

"Gather what you can. Hopefully at some point we'll get some air assets freed up, but I can't promise anything. The troops from 4 Squadron will bring heavy weapons with them. They should start to arrive shortly after you do."

"Where's the bridge, sir?"

"Ah yes…northwest of Caranda Beach, near interchange between Highways 458 and 22. I'll leave the exact landing zone up to the aircrews. Standby for exact coordinates…"

Jamie pulled out his map and GPS and zeroed in on their new objective. He started forming a plan as the Major gave them the last details. He never liked short-notice changes like this, expectations from his employers be damned.

"How soon are we moving, sir?" The pilot asked.

"How long until you're gassed up?"

"Been gassed up, sir."

"Then you have 30 minutes. Rook 6 out."...

Commander Spencer saw nothing but empty pylons as his aircraft touched down. An indication of a busy day's work, he imagined. He was equally happy to see that only one jet had been damaged, and Longdon wouldn't die that easily. He hit the ignition switch on the Land Rover and hurried to meet them as they taxied back to their shelters. He stopped next to Longdon's plane first and met the man as he descended the boarding ladder.

"Welcome back, Longbow." He greeted. He'd leave the cheeky one-liners to the man he was welcoming.

"Good to be back, sir. As you can tell, one aircraft damaged but the rest are good to go." Longdon replied as he removed his helmet

"How long will it be out of action?"

"Not too long, I estimate. Mostly superficial damage, although the receivers on the tail will need a thorough inspection. Some fresh paint, fresh fluids; I estimate she'll be down for the rest of the day, maybe a second."

"Good. I received word about the anti-ship attack you intercepted. Group has sent a few gentlemen from its intelligence section to participate in our debriefing."

Longdon quickly handed it over to his crew chief and followed Spencer to his vehicle and continued on. They found Arthur with his crew chief standing at attention, and the former looked very cross. Spencer cocked a brow and looked at Longdon, who just shrugged.

"Who's Flying Officer Morrison's crew chief, again?" He remarked.

"Collings…fairly good man." Longdon replied.

"Hmm."

"Hasn't had many discipline problems with us, sir."

"Not many?"

"He's a hothead."

Knight noticed the two superiors watching him lecture his indifferent crew chief over his lack of respect. He cut his verbal lashing short and told the enlisted man to return to his duties. Frustrated and slightly embarrassed, he stood up as straight as he could and marched over to the senior officers as they got out.

"Good to see you on the ground again safely, Longbow." He said, looking to bury the uncomfortable scene.

"We have our bad days. Probably about as serious as when you came back with that recce bird. Just means we get a chance to get back at the Eruseans."

"Yeah."

Arthur had little else to say, other than acknowledging his commander's remarks about their parent air group sending over people. He knew he'd get asked about Collings at attention either way. Spencer very much reminded Arthur of a parent when it came to everything he saw. Enough courtesy to be discrete, but the discussion would be coming either way. They grabbed the rest of the flight and made the return trip to their facilities. Abel was quick to start talking about the victories scored that day, which gave Arthur enough distraction to formulate some answers when the inevitable came. A small part of him was still hoping it would be forgotten, though. It'd been a tense flight home between the weather and the fact that he was practically unarmed. He almost rushed out of the car like a kid trying to avoid a scolding, but stopped for the sake of his dignity.

"Knight, a word please?" Spencer asked.

"Ah, yes sir." Arthur nodded quickly, closing the door.

Arthur kept a blank expression to avoid making it feel worse for himself. He didn't expect to, or wanted to, be treated like an idiot. He certainly was going to have to give it everything he had if his commander thought he was being unfair to his ground crew.

"What was going on with your crew chief, Knight?" Spencer asked.

"He's been on an especially…disrespectful streak as of late, sir. Some kind of disdain for officers from what he suggests. Typically happens when I come back with battle damage." Arthur replied in a very sterile manner.

"But you didn't this time."

"Yes sir, but he assumed I would."

"You say it's been a streak. Longdon mentioned the man…Collings, right?"

"Yes sir."

"He mentioned Collings is a bit of a hothead."

"That's a fair assessment, sir. He tends to start going on about how it's his plane and how I'm being careless with it."

"I would beg to differ. Does he act that way with the ground crew?"

"If he does, then he does it when I'm not looking sir."

"Have you noticed any changes in their performance or attitude?"

"No sir."

"Talk to your ground crew, preferably when he isn't around, and make sure that's the case. I don't want insubordination to affect anyone in this squadron, especially not today. If you need help arranging time with the others, let me know."

"It would probably be best to do that from the start, sir."

Spencer nodded and unlocked his door.

"One of the crew chiefs at 118 Squadron apparently sprained his ankle. I'll have Longdon send him over to make sure they don't see a drop in readiness."

"Yes sir….and sir?"

"Yes Knight?"

"I can assure you that I have this under control."

"I'm assured you do."

Arthur wanted to further explain himself, but the senior man had been sincere in his reply. The two got out and went to the squadron building. Abel was waiting for his wingman near the entrance while Andrew manned the desk and shuffled some cards. They rendered Spencer a salute as he walked quickly on. Arthur's friends exchanged looks but said nothing.

"Welcome back, Knight. Privateer was telling me that it was a hell of a flight. Saved some Aucklin Tomcats, then encountered a bunch of Viggens with ASMs slung?" He commented.

"Yeah, about the gist of it…what's with the deck?" He replied, looking for anything to keep the conversation with Spencer from coming up.

"So I can do this."

Andrew took part of the deck and bent it so it'd go flying. He put his hands up in the air and sarcastically waved them while the cards fluttered to the ground.

"I'm bored out of my skull at the bloody duty desk. What else is a man to do?" Andrew scoffed.

"Fair. We'd entertain you but we have a debriefing to get to. How soon until you're a free man? Might be able to join us for a drink." Arthur asked.

"It's not even ten in the morning!" Andrew laughed.

"What do the Oseans say? It's five o'clock somewhere?"

"Yeah, something like that. Thought that was just the name of a song by…that one guy who sings about that one drink."

"That's very specific; I know who you mean." Abel commented with sarcasm laid on thicker than a quilt.

"You know! That one kind of drink you can get if you're on Adamas Island."

"I still prefer my farmhouse ale and Jalonovia, thank you."

The two walked a short distance before Abel nudged his friend.

"So what took you so long?" He asked quietly.

"Commander just wanted to let me know that he's sending my crew chief to 118 Squadron to help. They lost one of theirs to a sprained ankle."

"Ah gotcha."

Arthur casually glanced around as he adjusted his uniform and saw they'd been alone for that brief conversation. That's as far as he intended to take it with any of his fellow pilots.

"Oh, so I was wondering if you might let me pry into your romance with Miss Vanessa once more?"

Arthur looked at him and raised a brow.

"What's up?"

"Remember the girl I told you about, Julia?"

"Yeah. She sounds great, to be honest. I sent Vanessa another letter, but to be honest after I sent it I started thinking. About her and the effect she's had on my life, and the worlds we live in. I almost feel kind of stupid for pining after her all this time…"

Abel patted his friend on the shoulder.

"We're all dumb. As the song suggests, we decided to join the RAF instead of living in Comberth with a high-class lady."

"That just makes me want a drink even more, but I digress. Julia sounds like a girl I'd at least like to have a conversation with. Do you have a picture or a way I can say hi?"

"Attaboy, Knight, at-a-boy! I knew you'd see the light soon. When we have some downtime I'll make sure that you two get well acquainted. I tell you she's just dying to meet you."

"Oh is she now?"

"I've been selling her on you a little."

Arthur flinched at how his friend said it, but he didn't feel as angry as he thought.

"Uh…"

"It's because since you joined this squadron, you've been a mopey. You're a good guy, Knight, and a good pilot…but bloody hell you mope more than anyone I've ever known." Abel said, answering Arthur's unsaid question.

Okay, that was a fair assessment. It was part of why Arthur had decided to move on from Vanessa. If nothing else, he was too tired from his return to Papelton to argue.

"Alright, but that stays between us. Somebody else brings it up and I'll toss you in the ocean." Arthur retorted. Abel blinked a few times.

"...What?"

"Forget it. Just don't go around blathering."

"I won't, have some faith. I don't think Julia will appreciate it either."

"Good, so first question: how do you know her?"

"We were neighbors during my first assignment after flight school. Became drinking mates, and she gave me advice about the girl I was dating at the time."

"Right, so what, ah, what did you tell her about me?"

Abel just smiled and winked at his slightly nervous friend.

"You trust me with your life, Knight, so trust a man with this too."