novelzi Chapter 555 – And So, Humanity Prayed. And So, Divinity Answered.
Chapter 555 – And So, Humanity Prayed. And So, Divinity Answered.
When Ash had declared Epa as a no-fly zone, the entire Imperial Airforce had been put on halt. Hangars had been filled with war-machines. Bombers and jets that could not fit were parked in long rows on fields. The maintenance crews, once doing emergency repairs on strained engines, now ran basic tests in turning them off and on and reapplying paint rust set in. The airmen themselves had even gone home for an extended vacation, or stayed on base and passed the time with each other if they happened to be stationed too far away from anywhere worth visiting. As boring and droll as it was, easily the worst was that without active missions being run, income had stopped. The basic salary was measly enough to put off those who just wanted to fly for money. Douglas did not care that much, the lack of bounty-payout was tempered by the fact he got free lodging and free food.So Douglas and Erik sat and smoked. Their base in Lubska had received a new shipment lately, and the things were going fast. It was only because they were the rank of Captain and heroes of the Empire as the original two airmen of the airfleet that they managed to get any. Luckily, one of the pretty secretary girls had saved them some bottles of the local vodka too. Douglas knew that taking a minute out of his day to chat to them would pay its dues.
So the men sat. So the men smoked. So more airmen came. It had been some time since the conversation ran out. There was only so many words that could be exchanged without just repeating the same stories. “Hey.” Captain Witold Urban said. A veteran of the Epan War, he was top dog in this kennel before Douglas and Erik had arrived.
“Hey.” Douglas replied.
“Hey.” Erik said.
“Sitting?” Witold asked.
“Sitting.” Erik answered as Doug took a large drag of his cigarette. “Same old, same old.”
“Same old, same old.” Witold replied. “Drinks came in.”
“They did.” Douglas said.
“Did Ana save any?”
“Maybe.”
“How much?” Witold asked.
“Eighty.” Douglas replied. What a scam. They went for eighteen Imperial Marks in a shop. And the closest shop was about six hours drive away through country road.
“Sixty.”
“Seventy.”
“Sixty-five.”
“Mark’s offering seventy.”
“Fuck off he’s not.” Douglas laughed at Witold’s annoyance. “Sixty six.”
“I’ll do you sixty anyway.” Douglas said. It wasn’t even about the money frankly. Just the satisfaction of the barter.
“Alright.” Witold said. He pulled out his packet of cigarettes and offered one to the Raptor pilots. Erik shook his head, he had the same brand of Raccoons. Douglas swapped it for a Phantom. “Teenagers smoke these, you know.”
“All natural tobacco from the UNN.” Douglas said, he put the raccoon cigarette in with his box of Phantoms. So the three men sat in silence as they looked for patterns in the tarmac. Twenty, thirty minutes of passing the time before Antoni got there. Poor guy, Antoni. A Rilian who had been assigned to a transport unit and happened to be here just as Epa entered no-flights allowed. He walked up in his dark uniform, a radio in his hand.
“Can I?” He asked the Raptor pilots. Erik just shrugged.
Douglas answered. “Go ahead.”
And so the man sat down and turned it on. Some song was playing, a slow ballad that talked of long-lost love. “Something more cheery Antoni.” Witold said and they switched stations:
Some ladies voice asked.
A man replied.
“Fucking Hell.” Erik said as he listened in. “You think that’s a go to?”
“We would know already.” Witold said then looked at the two Raptor pilots. “You two would at least.”
“Why would we know?” Erik asked.
“Don’t you have Tremali’s phone number?” Erik and Douglas both looked at each other. They both did.
“Different job.” Douglas said. “It’s Divine transport.” They’ve been over this already. “I’m not going to ring Fer for you.” That joke had long since its course. Witold chuckled, but it wasn’t funny. The men went back to listening to the news.
The men all looked at each other.
“Excuse me?” Erik asked.
“Do you not watch the news?” Witold asked.
“No.” Douglas said. “Do you?”
Witold’s blank stare was all the answer Douglas needed. No. The man did not watch the news. They turned to Antoni who raised his hands defensively. “I just play music!” He stammered out.
“Ana watches the news.” Douglas said.
“And?”
“I don’t know. She asks me for what I think of specific things as if I had a direct line to Iliyal.”
“You do!” Witold raised his hands.
“Yeah, of course.” Erik said. The captains of the two pilots both turned to Witold and Antoni as they watched faces go pale and eyes go wide. “What?” Witold slowly, as if he was recovering from a flashback, put his hand on top of his head and grabbed his hair.
“On…” Antoni looked to Witold and then back to Erik and Douglas. “On…” He patted his head. Douglas quickly slammed his palm on top of his head. What sort of joke was…
His fingers touched something thin and smooth. Erik copied the movement and grabbed his own head. Both airmen slowly brought the objects to their faces. A feather largely white, but striped from the centre by dashes of black. Something like a zebra pattern that faded away before it touched the edges. Erik held his with a smile as Douglas spun it around once and again. Both men looked up. There was nothing overheard. Not even a cloud. Just a pristine blue sky instead.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know.” Erik whispered, his voice in awe.
“I don’t know.” Douglas replied.
“You’ve not done any reading on them? Not even out of curiosity?”
“On what?”
“What sort of plane do you fly?”
“A Raptor.”
“Mmh.” Erik said. “And what is that feather from?” Douglas blinked at it as his mind put all the points together. What an idiot he was. He turned back to the hangars where the birds were kept.
He could barely get the words out as he saw men a pair of airbase crew in their bright jumpsuits run out. “Don’t tell me.”
The four captains looked around. “Drill?” Antoni asked. Erik hastily lit up another cigarette. Witold pointed a finger.
“Isn’t that your hangar?” Erik and Douglas both turned to look at where their birds were kept. It was smallest hangar on the base, built specifically to house the Raptors and nothing else. As if someone had taken a ugly tin of beans, half-buried it and then scaled it up. The thin aluminium door twisted, buckled and slid off its edges as alarms went off around the base. It smashed into the ground as Douglas watched. What the fuck did the men do now? Repairs on base? What the actual fuck? And then, he felt his breath catch as he saw a yellow tip enter the sunlight.
Slowly, inch-by-inch, Raptor-One drove out. A huge plane of steel with four engines carved into its chassis. A pair of vertical stabilizers on its rear looked like the feathered tip of a tail. It was painted all black, not silver like the modern Imperial Airforce. Supposedly better to blend into the night but as this point, too many images existed online to try and give the plane a new cover. It was too iconic. That sharp point in the front, painted yellow to look like a beak and the red eyes next to the cockpit were on too many bedroom posters. To give it a new coat would be to ruin it. Raptor Two broke down its doorway and slowly followed along. The airbase crew scattered away as men came running with lamps. Guards with rifles aimed blocked the runway. Trucks used to pull airplanes arranged themselves into column to stop any hijackers from taking off. Alarms flared, men shouted, Douglas got to his feet. Who the FUCK was trying to steal his bird?
The red eye of paint turned and looked around. It found it targets. Its beak turned upwards into a smile.
Douglas felt the cigarette slip out of his lips as he realised the eye was looking at him.
The plane started to turn until the spinning autocannon was pointed straight at him.
The cockpit opened by itself.
And Douglas heard the cry of a Raptor inviting him into the pilot’s empty seat.