Visitors in the dark
Sergeant Rhita Nebel loved flying, like all other air witches. Especially she was fascinated with night flights.
The girl's resolute determination with which she pursued her goals helped her to brilliantly - though not too quickly - master every wisdom of night specialisation, whether it were specific methods of navigation at night and at high altitudes, or the technique of Liechtenstein magical locator. All for the deep serenity of vast sky and endless darkness above and around, and deep below her, when there were no lights on the ground. And that unmatched sense of silence and solitude.
Provided there was no enemy, though…
But right now the star sky only meant a navigation aid for her, and the scenic cloud labyrinth was but a hindrance for her sight. Now as two powerful DB605B engines of her trusty Bf110 propelled the witch through the cloudy night to where she could sense an enemy. Gone was the pleasant calmness of night patrol, combat concentration seized her instead.
- Sergeant, we are still seeing nothing but you, - came in a ground operator's voice through her transceiver.
- Target confirmed! Small sized, altitude 3200, speed 550-600, course 192, unknown. Intercepting. Opening fire in about ten minutes.
Tense silence thickened in the combat control room. Operators looked attentively at circular screens, where a single dot on a green background, crossed with directional lines, glowed the single mark of the night patrol witch. She had reported an unidentified aerial target as long as half an hour ago, but ground radar stations dozens of kilometers away from the airbase still picked nothing. And no reports came from air observation, warning and communication outposts scattered along the frontline as well as around critical locations. The duty officer was walking across the room, letting his men do their work. He wanted to smoke, but he was not allowed to. And he wanted to assist the night interceptor, but he was not able to…
Nebel was finishing her orbit maneuver, reaching the intercept point, calmly, meticulously, in her deadly methodical manner. Her own speed was 730 kilometers per hour by now, quite enough. The witch lowered her thrust, commencing a shallow dive and banking left slightly, so that she could get a best shot at her target from behind. The bulky rocket launcher took its firing position on her shoulder, selector switch clicked into "Salvo" mode. Magical antennae at the girl's temples were pulsing sinister red as she was tracking her target.
Theoretically, this could be something else. Could be a small airplane, a fighter plane maybe, or another witch. But an airplane would have been identified with no problem, at least now when there was no interference. And another witch would have responded already. And of course, ground radars would have seen an airplane or a witch for a while now.
They would normally see a neuroi too, though…
Finally, an opening in the clouds let the sergeant clearly see her target.
- I have a visual on the target, - girl's aloof voice was heard clearly in the silence of control room. – Neuroi, I repeat, this is a neuroi. Small size, looks like a torpedo with short wings. Or a spearhead. Preparing to open fire.
- Roger, sergeant. Engage, and good luck! – responded the duty officer with relief. The long uncertainty was finally over. It will soon all be over.
Nebel narrowed her eye, aiming her rocker launcher at the target. The rockets, in a salvo of four, will travel guided by her magic. This was the advantage of such weapons as her Fliegerhammer and the like, but there was a downside too: operating such weapon was not all too easy. Even the rockets improved in her Wing's workhouse demanded careful aiming and guidance. Even though these had greater speed, range, damage output and radius, and were not less agile than standard rockets.
Several more seconds of concentration…and the girl's finger pressed hard on the trigger. Four rockets hissed away in a smoking spiral towards the target. The witch corrected their path, guiding them in aim to where they meet the neuroi…
To where they would that is. Whether the neuroi felt trouble, or just followed its plan, but it made a steep dive to the dark ground, evading the incoming rockets. Sergeant dived after it, trying to guide the rockets too, but they were out of fuel already, and a fiery flower burst in the sky, flashing brightly and hitting ears with the blast wave.
- Well, now you see me… - muttered the witch. – Base, target evading! Engaging.
Base responded nothing. No matter. Engines roared louder, gaining more thrust. Hands aim the weapon on the target, brain works calculating travel paths for rockets, the target, and herself. The neuroi accelerates diving. Is it planning to escape? No way. Use terrain to hide? No time. She is getting closer…Salvo!
Five rockets at close distance gave the foe no second chance. Sergeant took all into account – sharp maneuvers, accelerated rushes. Neuroi could do nothing, and amber explosion flashed mixing with blinding white flash when the neuroi finally collapsed in mid air. The witch turned sharply right and upwards, evading the fragments scattering to the not so distant ground.
- Base, target des… - calm girls' voice torn apart expectant silence in combat control room, and broke abruptly. The duty officer waited for a dozen of painfully long seconds, and grasped the microphone, but the witch spoke again.
- Base, target destroyed. New target detected. Looks like the previous one. Altitude seven thousand four hundred, speed about four hundred and rising. Target turns towards the enemy territory. I'm in pursuit…
- Nothing on the radars! – Operator reported before the duty officer could ask.
- No reports! – Added communications man.
Duty officer leaned back to the transmitter.
- Sergeant, I need target bearing and distance!
After the witch's reply the duty officer hurried to the map unfolded on a large operations table; he marked where the first target was destroyed, positions of the witch and second target, and then measured the distance to the frontline. Slowly he straightened up, thinking, then turned to the wireman.
- Contact major Orlova.
The squadron leader demanded to inform her whenever something extraordinary happened in the air. Especially something unpredictable and out of control. The wireman called major (as they would often refer to Orlova still using her national rank) in her apartment, and reported the situation when the girl woke up and picked up the phone. Once that was done, the wireman exchanged a glance with the duty officer, and dialed another number. It was group captain Solo's apartment. Upon hearing the response, the wingman reported:
- Combat control here. We have code Easy. Repeat, code Easy.
- Describe the situation briefly, - demanded group captain without thinking any long.
- …so it's two neuroi, same kind, one following the other and both invisible for radars? – squadron leader Orlova was cruising around the room, checking radar screens, the map with marks and tags on it, and her cup full of boiling hot coffee.
- Affirmative, major, - the duty officer stood by the operations table, moving the witch tag on the map as he was checking radar screen. – It is possible that the neuroi will make it through the frontline. It can also be a trap. The enemy's intentions remain unclear at this point…
- Nebel, can you intercept and destroy the target before it reaches the enemy territory? – asked Orlova through her transceiver.
- It is possible, ma'am, - answered sergeant unemotionally. Her voice echoed across the room through the radio speaker. – Target moves in a shallow dive, losing altitude. But I accelerate much faster, and shall make contact with same altitude and good speed advantage. This neuroi seems to be limited by around 700 kilometers per hour, while I am close to 900 now.
- That won't cut it! – responded squadron leader unnervingly, checking the map. The enemy territory was not all covered by its troops and bases, so the neuroi was not going to the closest frontline point. But even so, at this speed, the witch would have to go deep into enemy territory to catch the enemy. Which was…undesirable.
- Sergeant, can you go supersonic?
- Yes major, but I will lose agility. If I miss the target like it happened before…
- Going deep into enemy territory would be a greater risk still. Besides, you are leaving your patrol zone. So try and get that bastard ASAP!
- Roger, wilco…
Orlova sighed, took her cup and gulped some strong hot coffee at last.
- Contact the neighbouring air force units. Inform them about the neuroi we spotted, and inquire about their situation.
- This could attract the headquarters' attention, - advised the duty officer carefully.
- Even if it will, it will happen in an hour or two, as much as I know their reaction time, - smiled Tatiana wryly, taking another sip and finally taking a seat at the operations table. – By then, the enemy will be destroyed or lost, which we will report. That would be a rehearsal for me before reporting to the colonel…
- Group captain Solo…left the base before you arrived here, - said duty officer awkwardly, looking away.
The next minute or two, everyone in the room were carefully pretending they don't hear how squadron leader Tatiana Orlova clears her throat coughing hard, after her another gulp of hot coffee nearly choked her, going down the wrong throat.
- Do you mean what I think you do?.. – wheezed she finally out, gaining back something which vaguely resembled a human voice.
- Group captain is going after sergeant Nebel, – reported the duty officer in an absolutely emotionless tone, still looking away. He would move the witch tag on the map, but approaching squadron leader would not be nice now.
Tatyana's cough was getting better, but she couldn't speak properly yet. Glaring angrily, the girl checked the radar screen and harshly corrected the witch's tag.
- I have visual on the target. Distance one kilometer and closing. Preparing to open fire… - rustled Nebel's tranquil voice from the speaker.
Reloading a nine-barrel rocket launcher in flight was a bit of an acrobatic trick, but Rita had good practice under her belt and plenty of time too. Catching up a target like that was not too difficult, but not too quick either. As the witch exceeded the speed of si\ound though, it felt like the sky rushed towards her, shaking her in a distinctive manner. These striker units improved by the colonel are really something else! Nebel never heard of a Bf110 going supersonic, but herself as well as her Wing colleague had done this a bunch of times already. It was still forbidden to do without a direct order though.
Target grew closer, and sergeant concentrated herself on rocket aiming. Should she need to fire twice, she'll have but seconds for another salvo. And even if she makes another salvo, rockets will travel almost unguided. The girl did her best to calculate everything, but the rockets, even the improved ones, were still far from perfection. And the main question was whatever that neuroi had in mind. Will the enemy surprise her with yet another trick?
Nebel barely had time to think about it, as neuroi turned sharply, pitching up and climbing higher almost vertically.
The witch extended her airbrakes intercepting the foe. She concentrated deeply on aiming, trying to ignore how hard the machine was shaking. Switching fire mode, she fired a full volley. Nine smoke trails rushed to cross the target's path. Nine small and fast missiles guided by the girl's magical effort, all met in the targeted spot, and nine synchronized explosions shook the dark skies, blinding the witch for a moment.
Nebel went into vertical position, scanning the sky with her eyes and her locator. She could not see the target anymore, but there were no fragments either. Did she really just miss?!
- Base, engaging…
The girl let the rocket launcher hang loose touching her breast, and reached for another "rocket bandolier" strapped on her back. Nine rockets were packed into soft "pouches" stitched together like a belt. As the witch was taking the rockets one by one, each a size of a large cucumber, and placing them into rocket chambers, she finally caught a glimpse of her target, falling to the ground far below.
- Nebel, what's happening there? – called major in a weird voice, hoarse and broken. Is there a communication interference?
- Target hit and falling. I lost it for a moment. Finishing it now.
- Be careful and watch around you!
- Sure major. It's all right.
Squadron leader leaned back, massaging her aching throat. It was not all right for her at all. It was a usual thing at war though…
Rhita was already diving, having reloaded her weapon and checked for other neuroi in the sky. This night had gone off the plan so many times that she expected more surprises. But the neuroi, damaged badly by her salvo, was falling uncontrollably, losing pieces in mid air. It would probably crash anyway, but Nebel took no chances and finished it off with more rockets.
- Base, target destroyed. Sky is clear. Returning to patrol area.
- Nebel, return to base directly, we'll send the relief witch. Also…you'll probably meet Solo on your way. Just don't fire at him by an accident…
"…Because I'm going to kill him myself!" – that part remained in Orlova's thought.
- Yes major! We've been in contact already, - the group captain contacted Nebel as soon as he was leaving the base. He kept silence since though, not interfering with the combat. Rhita turned towards the airbase, seeking the group captain with her magical radar. Ground stations never located him, but for her and others like her this was not a problem. It's a pity though, that her flight comes to an end. Rhita would be happy to fly a while longer in her night solitude. And she needed to think over many things. She won't have much time now, - as she returns, it will rather be duty report, flight analysis, and bed time for her.
Transceiver clicked in her ear, and she heard group captain's voice:
- Nebel, Solo here. I'm on three kilometers, one hundred and seventy kilometers to the north-north-west from the base.
- Understood, I can see you, Solo. I'm on five kilometers, your bearing is one-one-six, distance thirty one.
- I have some rockets, a machine gun and some ammo, and some fuel too. Escorting you back to base.
- Roger that. Thank you. You probably want a report?
- Report back at base, let's not do it twice. Better watch the skies as we fly. Just to be safe…
- Sure, sir.
"Just to be safe" was one of the group captain Solo's pet phrases. The girls in his Wing would sometimes joke that he should marry someone like flying officer Juutilainen from the 501st, - that is, someone who can predict the future, so that nothing could happen around him without him knowing it. Or better still, him authorizing it to happen.
Knocking at group captain Solo's workshop door was next to futile - a heavy-duty, noise-insulated door, in a steel frame embedded tightly into the sturdy walls. Orlova had to press the electric bell button several times before the door finally opened and Solo invited her in. The group captain was back in his work overalls, stained apron and gloves.
- Bad timing, colonel?
- It's OK, major, I was already about to make a break. Just give me a minute …
A few minutes later, Orlova and Solo were strolling along the parking pads towards the nearest gazebo. These makeshift covered structures with some tables, benches and chairs in them, surrounded by bushes and flowerbeds, with some degree of elegance and cosiness, were erected in many places where paths met. They could just sit down on any of the benches that stood near almost every building, but the midday sun was blazing warm. The group captain looked up at the sky, listening to the dull howl of the engines, broken occasionally with thunderous booms. Tatiana glanced at the commander, thinking how best to start the conversation.
- You had a flight at night – and yet you are at work again…
- I've had enough, - answered Solo absent-mindedly, emerged in his thoughts. – I do not need that much sleep. And we do need that many more rockets...How are you feeling?
Oh Tatiana would very much want to tell "how she is feeling", she just did not really know how to do it, yet.
- I'm all right, thank you! – answered the girl in somewhat droll voice. – I already slept some, and issued the morning orders, and compiled that repost about the night patrol…
- Will you watch the exercises? – Solo nodded to where the motors roared.
As a result of the night incident, it had been decided to modify today's training programme, and now the witches were practising intercepting a high-altitude, high-speed, small-sized target. The target was simulated by warrant officer Vanessa Riley using her "Mustang". Who would be able to simulate such a target for Riley herself remained an unsolved mystery so far…
- Before I do that, I wanted to…discuss the night with you.
- So did I, - livened up group captain sitting at a gazebo bench. – What do you think about all this?
- Well, I think… - Tatiana sat down across from him and leaned against the table, choosing her words carefully. – In fact, we didn't encounter anything special. But it is worth developing scenarios for dealing with such situations in the future, and maybe thinking about what can be improved in general. And not necessarily on our end. First of all, radars, and the surveillance and warning system in general…
- Good point, - nodded the commander. – No matter how we improve our tactics, the neuroi keep surprising us and forcing to adapt. And they are so much more flexible than us, so we always risk to spend too much effort and resources for methods, which will prove unpromising at the end…Have you ever mat the kind of neuroi Nebel described?
- No, but I met similar ones. Or maybe the same ones, given that Nebel is not much of an artist, and her pictures may not be correct…But the ones I met were combat neuroi. And Rhita didn't see any weapons on these. At least they never tried to engage her.
- Probably recon, or sabotage units, - supposed group captain. – And look what they came up with: the second recon neuroi followed the first one, observed its destruction, and attempted to retreat with all the data it had, avoiding any danger. And they seem to be prioritized at speed, high altitude and stealth capabilities…and, probably, they carried surveillance equipment, or powerful payload.
- But what would they explode there? – Tatiana objected. – Where neuroi were, there is nothing on the ground.
- But what would they seek for there then? – Solo answered her question with his question. – It turns out that in either of these options, the neuroi took either a detour or a useless route, both of which is not like them.
- Recon then. Strike craft knows where it needs to strike, recon seeks for it.
- Well, that's logical! Next detail here, - as soon as the second neuroi realized it cannot escape, it tried to save itself going high. They understand that our striker units, and aircrafts, cannot really operate at high altitudes, ten kilometers high mostly, - group captain shook his head. – I don't like all this…
- And still, both neuroi were intercepted, and we'll be more prepared next time, - the girl shrugged her shoulders. – All the witches will study Nebel's report. All will exercise how to act in such situation. And I'll think about amendments to night patrol instructions. And daily patrols too. What's troubling you so much, colonel?
The last question may have sounded too harsh, but Solo made no sign of noticing it.
- A lot of things are troubling me, mostly on the technical side of things. Common radars were not able to see those neuroi. One patrol witch struggles to intercept two targets when they are separated with some distance, - now what if there are more targets? We can't catch up with a retreating high speed enemy without going behind the front line – it's too close. Now imagine the reverse situation - three such neuroi enter our sector and simultaneously aim for, say, our base, and to two, for example, villages, situated a hundred kilometres from us each, in different directions. Imagine it's thirty of them next time. How do we intercept all of them? Or how can we choose to intercept some and let others do their thing? And these small ones, even unarmed, were no easy target, - sergeant Nebel used two thirds of her ammo to destroy just the two targets. According to her, using an autocannon or a machine gun would not make it any easier for her, - and that's given her magic allows correcting the trajectory of the ammo she fires. And, once again, we are faced with the question of reliability of rocket weapons at supersonic speeds. "Fliegerhammers" and their rockets were not designed to operate under these conditions. But I will be contacting the developers on this issue…
- But Rhita didn't mention any problems with her weapon, right?
- Yeah, but my techs and I already cross-checked Rhita's report with her unit's instrumentation recordings. She was only firing at subsonic speeds. She fired that second-to-last salvo when her velocity had already dropped due to deceleration and altitude gain. Then again, spending that many rockets…
The witch nodded, frowning. She agreed with that. During the tests, improved striker units as well as weapons had performed well, exhibiting characteristics far superior to the standard models. But supersonic flight remained uncharted territory for the time being, despite occasional successes. Designed for subsonic speeds, the craft behaved unsteadily, unpredictably, the reaction to the pilot's actions changed, the control mechanisms did not work quite as they were expected to, and so forth. Cannons and machine guns worked without problems, but not rocket launchers. Rockets flew at unpredictable trajectories and often did not leave the barrel at all. At tests, of course, weapons were equipped with training "dummies", but with a combat missile such accidents would have ended with the explosion of all the rockets. At best scenario, the witch would have time to get rid of her weapon, and remain unarmed in battle, but in a worst scenario…
A distant rumble of thunder came again from the sky, and group captain unconsciously looked up, though it was impossible to see anything from this distance.
- But I feel like something else is bothering you, - he uttered, casting an attentive glance at Orlova.
- Yes, sir! – the witch took a deep breath before continuing in a stern tone. – I'm sorry, but your flight at night was not only unnecessary, but unnecessarily risky as well!
- Oh. So that's the problem… - group captain's glance became yet more attentive. – But I wasn't risking it. I stayed far from the frontline, kept in touch with Nebel. She was the one taking a risk, being around the enemy lands, alone, with limited ammunition. And she burned more fuel during the battle than the previous hours combined, too.…
- Even if she spent all her rockets, Nebel still could retreat to a nearest frontline unit, - insisted the major. – She could take cover there, or get another weapon!
- You do remember Nebel's report, where she considers a possible use of autocannons and machine guns? – Solo's tone remained unperturbed, contrasting with the increasing fervour of his subordinate's. – And she had our weapons in mind, not the usual infantry guns! Summing it up, - as I heard the report from the combat control, and then contacted Nebel and asked her some details, I came up with a thought, that should new target or targets appear, Nebel would be at a risk of running out of ammo.
- Should new targets have appeared, the Wing would be at a risk of running out of its commander! – retorted the major gruffly.
- No way! – confronted Solo firmly. – Even these "stealth" neuroi were steadily detected by Nebel at such a range that I had plenty of time to pass her the supplies, and return to base. If the worst would come to worst, I'd take a cover down there and call for backup...
- I'll absolutely hate your worst come…! – blurted the witch out, and caught herself at once, looking away as she saw the group captain's face convulse for a moment. She could hear him take a deep breath or two to regain control over himself.
- I mean, I don't want anyone to be hurt, of course… - the girl muttered, cooling down slowly. She said everything she'd been holding in since the night before. And perhaps not in the best way.
Meanwhile Solo was mentally berating himself, trying to quell a fit of silly laughter. Because they were speaking Orussian, as they would always do when alone, the girl's words sounded like they had such a suggestive meaning in them, that Orlova herself would hardly put there on purpose. Even though he did have quite a life experience, his young male body would at bad times react with all kinds of inappropriate feelings in presence of such young and attractive girls, - and their practical witch uniform did not make it any easier at all…
- Ahem… - group captain cleared his throat. – Major, you…I understand and share your concerns, but in this particular case the risk to me was justified, and not big at all.
- However, you yourself usually reason differently, when it comes to others…
- Have they actually come up with some jokes about my caution around the base, or not yet? – inquired group captain in a jolly tone.
- Oh get along with you…Stay on topic…sir! – grumbled the witch angrily, still looking away. She was probably more interested in the concrete wall of the aircraft hangar than in the face of her interlocutor at the moment.
- Anyway, people's health and lives are something I take pretty seriously, - said the officer, in a voice quite far from jolly now. – And that applies to me too, I assure you. For the last time, I wasn't taking any risks, and I wasn't going to. I was only trying to minimise the risk to sergeant Nebel. And by extension, to everyone else she was protecting.
- So you wouldn't mind if in a similar situation someone else made a similar sortie? – Orlova met Solo's glance firmly again.
- Of course, if that would be someone with my experience and abilities. Much as I'm aware though, no one else in this Wing meets these criteria, – countered the commander, steady and unwavering.
- Yes, you really are… something else, - sighed the girl. – All right then. I'm sorry, it was a little over the top.
- Don't be sorry. Your care for all of us is most welcome. And thank you for the excellent job back at night.
The girl hummed, getting up.
- Well, it's time I go see what our girlies managed to work out so far…
Saying goodbye to Orlova, the group captain headed for the cafeteria, thinking over the past conversation on his way. The major, of course, was basically right - normally, it's risky to fly out alone in an unknown situation, and even at night. But Solo was right, too - in his case the risk was negligible, precisely because he was not an air fighter, and would have evaded any combat. And Nebel could replenish her supplies if necessary. It was good, of course, that the need didn't arise, but who knows beforehand… All in all, their conversation got a little awkward.
"Just how many more years do you need to learn to communicate with people? Two hundred, or maybe a thousand at once?"
Despite the work fatigue, Solo still had no appetite, so he stayed in the cafeteria for half an hour at most. On his way back to the workshop he met Sergeant Nebel.
- Good day sir!
- Greetings sergeant! – said group captain warmly. – Going to take your rest? How was the training?
Rhita looked tired, and her voice was dull too.
- Not bad, but I used up many dummy rockets. Twenty three packs.
- That's all right, we'll get you more! – Solo's arms ached again, but he smiled encouragingly. – The result is what we want here. Oh and I wanted to ask you…Any more thoughts on your combat last night?
Rita shrugged sadly, lowering her gaze.
- I think I need to be more accurate. I'm sure the ace witches would use a lot less rockets. And they use the standard ones… I'll try harder.
- A small fast target is difficult to hit with a single rocket.
- Yeah, that's why I was hitting the point of impact with a salvo. But rockets produce few fragments, and the shockwave was obviously lacking enough power this time. A rocket launcher isn't a close combat weapon, but I guess you'd have to change tactics in such cases. I'll learn better.
- Every person, as well as every equipment, has its own merits! – Solo gently placed his hand on the girl's shoulder, shook it lightly. – Leave the complaints about your accuracy to the seventy-six neuroi you shot down. And if your commander criticizes you, it's just because we cannot relax now, and we can always improve.
- No, commander Orlova is kind to us. Well, as far as I can tell… - Rita raised her head and nodded slightly, trying to smile. She rarely did a very good job of it. – It's Nessa who got the most beating, especially from me. I was doing it so hard that I hit her many times in her…well, from her rear. And her sides, several times too. She could not deflect all the rockets. And exercise bullets too…
- Well, I hope warrant officer Priboi will help her with that. It will also make a nice training in field healing…
- Of course. But I don't know how much energy she'll have for it. These Orussian striker units, even with all the improvements, are still no match for improved "Mustang" when it comes to speed at high altitude.
- But of course! – Solo shrugged his shoulders. – Few striker units can challenge the "Mustang" in its niche. And under other conditions, the "Mustang" itself may lose. Different units are good for different tasks.
- Well, to be honest, today's exercise was pretty exhausting for everyone, - Rhita could not hold her yawning, covering her face.
- Well, - group captain stepped aside. – Try and get some good rest before your duty sortie. And have a good night later!
- Let us all have a good night, - smiled Nebel as she went away.
- Yes, that's right, - Solo whispered under his breath, thinking about how many extra hours it will take him to rework a couple of hundred training rockets. These are much simpler than the combat ones, but still…it would help so much if they could recover the used dummy ammo, but that would hardly be possible. Especially if the witches went to sea for shooting exercises – which they most probably did. Of course they can use standard training munitions too, but with a different ballistics, it would not do much good to improve the necessary skill. Same was true for autocannons, machine guns and rifles' ammo. So Solo had to constantly refill supplies of not only combat ammunition, but training ammunition as well.
"Another three or four hours" - the group captain finally decided, when he was distracted by the close rumble of engines. He looked around to see pilot officer Leinonen roll out of the hangar. She would take a second night patrol shift, and was heading for training at the moment.
"…That makes another three or four hours" - Solo philosophically corrected himself. Leinonen used the same equipment as Nebel, including a rocket launcher.
Still, how convenient it is when it takes less time to rest than...it did some while before. More time at his disposal to do something useful. Just as long as something extraordinary doesn't happen again.
The day was slipping towards evening when Solo, still smelling of heated metal and technical oil, stood outside the module hangar, leaning tiredly against the wall. The wing that had returned from exercise was landing one by one, and the witches taxied into the hangar. And if the group captain was just tired after a day's work, the girls were simply exhausted, even their usually neat uniforms were crumpled and covered with stains of dried sweat. A noticeable smell of fume and gunpowder smoke hang in the air.
Vanessa Riley, whose P-51H felt more confident at high altitudes than the other machines, looked the worst of all. She was the one who had to rush around all day at near-sonic, and even supersonic speeds, imitating a training target. And it was into her that the training bullets, shells and rockets of her friends flew all day long, and not from all of them the warrant officer managed to escape or cover herself. Now the girl moved with cautious awkwardness, writhing in pain now and then. The luxurious dark brown mane of her hair now was but a dishevelled nightmare, smeared with paint. She was hit with a burst of shots at her shoulders, probably. Riley's striker unit was all covered with stains and spatters where the training charges hit it.
- Major, we'd better give everyone a rest tomorrow, for half a day. And get Riley to medical check-up, - group captain gestured Orlova's report away. – You'll tell me how the exercise worked out at the briefing this evening. In the meantime, go and see the Commandant, it won't take long. Decide on Allison…
- All right, sir… - nodded Tanya, and waved her hand towards Ann. – Allison, hey, Annie! Come to my room in half an hour! The rest of you – shower, dinner, and then briefing at nineteen-o-hundred!
About half an hour later, Allison, having hastily showered and combed her hair, with a towel over her shoulder and clean clothes in hands - a bath was planned after the briefing - knocked on the door of Orlova's apartment. Then she went in…
And then a few minutes later, from behind that door came her shriek:
- No! Are you kidding me?! Not this!
- Annie, you are so stupid!
The bathing room was draped in a shroud of warm steam rising from the shallow pool in the centre of the room. Shower racks and individual cubicles were barely visible all around, lamps glowed dimly, surrounded by rainbow halos. Splash of water, murmur of streams, rustle of loofahs and sponges on wet, soft skin were heard all across. Ten girls were blissfully lounging in the pool, covered in swirls of steam and soapy foam. Exhausting exercises, dinner, briefing were all behind. Only the night was remaining ahead of them…
- Tomorrow is going to be the worst day of my whole service, - spoke Ann in a voice of a dying kitten, gazing somewhere into her belly.
- Go tell the tech guys that, - prompted her Vika Priboi, who vigorously scrubbed her thin, medium-height body. – Yesterday, the whole hangar team was in an uproar inspecting and re-checking all the launch platforms and all our striker units...Any idea about the culprit?
- And go tell that to soldiers as well, - added Lora Wieger. – They've got a bad fuss going on for some reason too…
- That culprit is some overcautious nit-picker… - murmured Ann quietly. But Tatyana Orlova glared her lazy eye at her instantly.
- Okay, okay, it was all my own fault, and I even got myself caught at that! – Annie wrapped her arms around her knees and lowered her head even more, nearly bumping it against her chest. There was just nothing much to bump into, to be honest. – But a punishment like this one…it's the worst I could imagine! Do I really deserve that much? Anything would be better!
- Well, how do you imagine that? – sighed Tatyana. – Me asking every guilty person about their preferable punishment? What kind of punishment would that be then, if people choose it themselves?
- What kind of punishment is she due for, actually? – inquired Rhonda Breivik from the shower; the slender Baltlander was shampooing her waterfall of wheat-blonde hair.
- Cut and remove grass and bushes, three days, on her personal time, - announced Orlova.
That is, tomorrow, when all the girls would be doing their private things, Ann would have half a day of this kind of activity. For some, it would be no big deal. Fresh air, the smell of freshly cut greenery, working at her own pace. But it so happened that for Ann it was this kind of "gardening hassle" that represented the epitome of all the pains of the world. Tatyana made a mental note of it to herself. And it would be even better to write it down, so she wouldn't forget. A good commander should be aware of every little detail.
The Baltland girl only snorted perplexedly, continuing her occupation. The other girls were mostly unimpressed too, though some of them grimaced.
- Ouch!.. – Riley shrieked softly and hissed when Miko Kitamura again accidentally touched one of the bruises that dotted Liberion's sturdy figure. Mostly on her back, and her other rear parts.
- Sorry, I'll be more careful… - The fusoan apologised, gently running the soapy sponge over her friend and making sure to only barely touch the dark bluish spots.
Vika quietly approached the suffering girl, and stretched out her arms, faintly illuminated by a magical halo. Cat year manifested on her head unwillingly, dark tail behind her hang loose, and the girl could not hold her painful moan as she stubbornly moved her hands over her mate's back.
- Vika, thanks, but one half-dead girl in this room is enough, – murmured Vanessa gratefully. – Don't kill yourself. You'll heal me tomorrow, okay? You've done so much already. It'd be so much worse without you…
- I'd heal everything again, but I just don't have any more energy, - sighed the Orussian, putting out her magic.
- I'm very sorry it turned out this way, Vanessa, - apologized Nebel in her unique emotionless manner. – But I must be more accurate.
- Were you and Aino even more accurate, I'd be even less virgin by now, - grumbled Nessi in her also unique manner. – I'd tell you where some rockets nearly stuck into, but we have children listening here…
- That means me? – Ann threw her head up, being the youngest girl.
- That means all, - quieted her Tatyana. – We are all under eighteen here actually. As for the bruises, we were all shooting. And Nessa mostly got hit, of course, into places one sees when pursuing from behind and slightly above. Best position for shooting…
- Vika, don't torture your familiar, I told you! I can make it till tomorrow!
- Well then, you'll have to… - sighed Viktoria, rising up from her knees and going to a shower rack. – You poor hammered steak, - murmured she in Orussian.
- Yulia, what did she say just now huh? Ah, never mind, she's napping already…
Yulia Rodina, a sleek blonde-haired girl, was indeed napping, nestled casually on the edge of the pool with an air pillow, her eyes shut.
- Actually, there is a regulations procedure for such cases, - Rhita Nebel said a little out of line, turning her attention to Allison's complaints. – An appeal can be made to a senior officer and he or she can change or even cancel the punishment.
- Oh, so I can make an appeal now to major Orlova? - Ann turned hopefully first to Rhita, then to Tanya, but the latter shook her head negatively.
- It was me who approved the punishment in the first place, Annie. Me and the commandant both.
- But you are kinda senior to the commandant?
- Thing is, you don't make an appeal to the person who made the decision, you make an appeal to someone higher in chain of command. Also, the commandant is not my subordinate, we belong to different lines…All in all, you should address the colonel. He's the only superior to us here.
- Finish up your bath, and rush to see the colonel, before it's too late today, - advised the pragmatical Baltlander, wiping herself in dry part of the room. – You now have the kind of look…The pitiful kind of look, just what you need.
- Time for me to go too, - rose Nebel up, walking out of the pool and glancing at the large wall clock. – My sortie is due in twenty-three minutes…
- Good luck! – wished her mates in unison.
- Allison, good luck to you too, but just act naturally over there! – counseled Orlova the girl, who was wiping herself hastily. – You are guilty, so be guilty. And if you don't really feel that way…it can get worse then, you've been warned.
- And mind your dignity! – Wieger swinged her little fist. – You are going to make an appeal, not implore or something! If it doesn't work, accept it with honour like a true Britannian lady should. That'll count you a score for the future!
- Okay…Thanks girlies! Thank you too, major!
- No ranks in the bath, - reminded Tatyana, and rose up too, sighing regretfully and walking to the shower. – Nessa, you go to infirmary after the bath.
- Maj…Tanya, I'd rather sleep in my bed, – responded Vanessa in a weak voice. She finally managed to relax happily under careful hands of Kitamura.
- Riley, "you'd rather do whatever" when you are outside the perimeter wearing civilian clothes. I'll say again for you, - medical check-up. Colonel's orders.
- So much for "no ranks here", – murmured the Liberion. –Will do!
- Lieutenant Allison? Something happened?
Under group captain's questioning look, Ann got embarrassed and forgot all the words she came up with while going. After a bit of hesitation, the girl regained her determination and straightened up, standing at attention.
- Group captain, may I make an appeal to change my punishment?
- I see… - answered Solo somewhat out of line. He was about to offer a seat to the girl, but changed his mind after her words. – What's that punishment and what's wrong about it?
- Well… I am obliged to cut and remove grass and bushes for three days when I have my own time. I can do that but…I really hate that, sir, - Ann's voice weakened as she was coming to her understanding just how lame it sounds. – I don't know how to explain better! I'm ready for any punishment, but not that kind!
Solo scratched the back of his head in surprise. What an embarrassment…But he can't leave it as is, now that the girl even pushed the matter this hard. He can push her, or…he can change her punishment, really. It's not a cancellation, after all! And since it means so much for her…
- So, you have an overwhelming psychological aversion to this kind of work, for reasons unknown to you, is that correct?
- That looks it, sir, - Allison nodded, marvelling at the officer's ability to phrase inexplicable things so wisely but accurately. Well, he's a group captain after all. They are trained, probably.
- Anything, you say… - intoned the Wing commander, thinking it over.
- Yes! – cheered up the girl. – Any other work! Kitchen work, cleaning, laundry…
- Well let's see… - the group captain hesitated, strolling through his anteroom, which was also his kitchen. His gaze travelled absent-mindedly over the planked walls decorated with a couple of paintings, slid to the dark window, to the simple table with the electric cooker beside it, to the open door leading into the workshop room…hm, why not that?
Solo did his best to tidy up the workshop, but honestly, he didn't have a lot of extra hours or energy to keep the place properly clean himself. So he had to contact the maintenance unit periodically, although the officer did not like to let outsiders into the workshop. But the girls had all been to his "inviolable sanctuary" before, when they took part, however small, in modifying their units and weapons. So what's the big deal if a girl works here as a cleaner for a while? It's as good a place as any. The only disconcerting thing is that she is a pretty girl, in her teens now, already starting to catch a man's eye. Imagine her leaning as she wipes the floor. Or her stretching up as she cleans the shelves…
On the other hand, there do exist such kinds of punishments in other places, that are much more than just disconcerting…in Solo's opinion, such things were savage or inappropriate, if not outright intolerable. But they were a reality…
- If another kind of work is just too mild, I'm ready to take another punishment… - said the girl quietly, being not sure what the officer's continuing thinkings mean. – You can put me under arrest, or, well…whip me.
Whip the girl! Is that even normal? To give the girl a beating, the girl who risks her life protecting who knows how many other lives, if you just think about it! Actually, beating any child is disgusting and immoral, and justifying it with some fancy words is a mere hypocrisy. Even if a child deserves this. What's more, whipping is more like skinning alive than a beating, just in a slow way... However, in the armed forces of various countries, flogging of soldiers and sailors was a regular practice only a century or half a century ago. And is still practiced in Fuso, it seems, even though it becomes obsolete by now.
Of course, it's a bit different thing to smack a guilty person one or two in the heat of the moment, it just happens. The regulations call such a thing "violence", but more often than not, no one cares…
Or that "special" punishment in 502-th JFW – to make subordinates "do seiza" sitting on their knees for hours. At the very least that means, that the soldier (an elite and rare specialist soldier, with all that implies) is not carrying out any duty, not training, not studying, not doing anything good at all. But they do get a long-term health damage, possibly irrepairable damage risk, for their whole lifetime. And even if that was not a case, should there be an alarm or a job task, what a person punished like that would be able to do, since she wouldn't possibly be able to even stand up and walk normally? The unfortunate "seiza" person, if she happens to urgently need a toilet, wouldn't be even able to reach it in time, so she'd pee or poo her own tights. Or her panties, since many witches wear just those…Funny huh? But it's actually undermining the unit combat readiness, if you think of it seriously. And humiliation, if anyone cares a bit (theoretically, banned by regulations as well). Nonetheless, the 502-th witches practice this regularly. World's renowned and beloved heroes.
Punish a subordinate for being struck by lightning, for example, or for some other unfortunate event that occurred to her! Well if even that is considered normal…Solo snorted angrily, remembering this, which further embarrassed Allison, who was already watching the commander with some apprehension. Anyway, enough with examples and thinking about it. Having made his decision, the group captain stopped walking and turned to his impatiently fumbling subordinate.
- All right then, lieutenant. I change your punishment for the workshop cleaning, - the officer jestured to the workshop room. – Because this is done for your request, not for medical or other valid reasons, the punishment period is increased to one week. Time and duration of each cleaning session, as well as how many times you do it in a day, will depend on your and my schedule. But not more than two hours a day overall. I myself will supervise the work. Any objections?
- No objections…sir, - the little witch murmured, thinking it over. It was not too bad, but it's one week now…But she really did have no valid reason to change the punishment, so she couldn't argue over it. Allison nodded, then caught herself and saluted quickly.
- At ease! – group captain relaxed too, leaning over a kitchen drawer. – Tomorrow morning you'll have a half day off, that's when you'll do the first clean up. Flooring, walls, shelves and other furniture. Equipment - pedestals, casings, pipes…well, you can wipe clean all the surfaces which are not mechanisms. Don't touch tools and such. Maybe I'll later show you some ways around there. The commandant and major Orlova have the keys. I'll notify them of everything.
- Err, keys?..
- Yes, I'll be away tomorrow. I'll check your work as I come back…If you have any other questions, speak up, don't be shy.
- Yes, sir, there's one more actually, it's about the tour. May my little sister Jenny come too?
- But why not? – Solo shrugged his shoulders. – Of course she may. But only with an adult, just like everyone else. Ann, visitors are not forbidden here - you just have to do it right. If you don't know the rules, check with the commandant's office …
- I know the rules in general, but visitors aren't allowed to really see much, - explained the girl sadly.
- Well, as you can see, we are working on it too, now, - smiled Solo. – And we'll work on it even more, I think. All right then, there's time for work, and time for rest…
- Yes sir! – Ann suddenly realized the time. – Sorry for coming so late, and thank you for listening! And good night!
- Good night to you too! – Solo closed the door behind the girl, then closed the door and sighed, passing his hand over his head slowly.
Really. You are bored, - you go become an officer, and you are never bored again.