His Majesty's Dragons: The Battle of Britain

[Charon]

When Albatros asked about him and the Wendigo Jake paused for awhile. On the one hand, this was Albatros, the greatest lightweight of the century, possibly ever, asking him a question. On the other hand, what kind of information would he be accidentally be giving out. "Err, no sir. Nobody from Tangmere was ever here today sir." Jake sort of grinned. "Though between you and me, Snowdemon fits the Wendigo better."

Moments later, Jake could hardly believe it. Albatros. The Albatros. Was asking for his name. "Jake Collington, sir." Jake had never used so many 'sirs' in one minute in his entire life. "And that back there is Kunja." Jake pointed to the Victorian who nodded his head, still smiling, though the dragon had noticed the descending form of Tremeraire.

"As fer racing. Well, it was a race for us this time I guess, didn't really have time to warn you though. Kinda surprised you didn't see us though, kinda hard to miss a 7 ton Victorian ahead of ya." Jake scratched his head a bit at this, he felt extremely awkward saying anything criticizing Albatros.

Kunja gave out a loud cough which got Jake's attention, then directed his captain's attention skyward at the closing Celestial.

"Oh... Uh. I guess I better let you get out of here before you have to tangle with him. It was a pleasure to fly against you Albatros, maybe we'll do it again sometime." Jake began to walk back towards Kunja, though he still had the presence of mind to not turn his back on the German and his captain. "Maybe next time we'll keep up with ya."

[General Havoc]

Had the British SOE classified this operation? If so, Albatros couldn't immediately see why. Tit-for-tat raiding was a perfectly reasonable part of warfare, and he had already known that there were some intact dragons remaining after their surprise assault on Tangmere. Perhaps it was merely a bureaucratic thing. That was how things worked in the Luftwaffe. It never even crossed Albatros' mind that the entire operation should have been off the books, not that he could have done much, had he known.

Albatros nodded curtly to both Jake and to Kunja as Jake introduced them both. It was a uniquely regal nod, not of contempt but merely of recognition, one a king in the old days might have given a knight in the jousting tournaments. And when Jake awkwardly presumed to criticize his performance, Albatros couldn't help it, but broke into a broad grin and laughed lightly. Yet even Albatros' laugh carried authority, for he laughed as only one infinitely comfortable with his own reputation and position in the greater scheme of things could laugh. His bearing was aristocratic to its core, his every movement and motion precise and calculated, a palpable 'presence' of unshakeablility about him despite the rapidly approaching Celestial.

"It never ceases to amaze me, Herr Collington," said Albatros lightly, "just how easy it is to miss even a larger dragon vhen you are... occupied vith urgent business."

He nudged the still-quivering German airman with his talon, enough to wake him up from his fear-induced stupor. "I zink he vould vish to thank you, if he vere not in shock," said Albatros, "so allow me to thank you in his... er... vhat is ze term... place? It vas quite a feat..."

Temeraire was approaching quickly, as the Australian had clearly noticed. Albatros chuckled again. "Freiherr Temeraire knows zat I cannot defeat him and you and ze Schneedämon all at once, but also zat he cannot defeat me before my re-enforcements arrive, unt zat I have many more of zem zan he does. You have done vell today. Not many could have evaded ze trap ve laid." It was a safe enough admission, the most he was about to offer given the deaths his squadron had suffered at the hands of that Wendigo. There would be time enough for another try.

"You understand," he said, as his Captain helped the terrified German crewman up onto his back, "I cannot vish you luck, but... as we say, 'gute Jagd, Ritter der Luft'"

And with a final nod, and a glance back up at Temeraire, Albatros, the most famed Lightweight dragon of the 20th century, and one of the most legendary of all times, crouched low and sprang into the air, turning a wide circle around before heading off to the south and east, following his retreating squadronmates towards a quartet of small specks that had appeared on the horizon.

He left the German saying untranslated, but had anyone bothered to research it now or later, they would have found that it was a traditional (if flowery) saying from the days of the Imperial German Air Force, usually said to a young captain or dragon before an impending battle.

"Good hunting, knight of the air."

[Charon]

Jake and Kunja watched as Albatros quickly disappeared and it was only then that both dragon and captain realized that the German riding Albatros had not spoken a word. "Weird." both muttered at the same time before Jake made his way back towards Kunja.

"I can't believe we just met the Albatros. I mean, wow. No way I'm ever forgetting today."

"And did you see that some of his paint came off in the crash?"

"Seriously? Holy crap that's awesome. Be careful with that man."

Dragon and captain looked up at the Chinese dragon and decided to quit wasting time. The pair lifted into the air and went to go greet Temeraire.

[General Havoc]

Static was all the answer that Veritas received to his query, and the reasons for that could potentially be imagined, but fortunately enough, Hermecritus remained unharmed and unencumbered. The Stuka was almost certainly more than Fulminatus could have handled, particularly given his present condition, but even a Stuka had limits to how much he was prepared to undertake to fight. Even as Veritas tried to call back Æquitas, Totenkopf took the opportunity to disengage. He, like Albatros, had no intention of engaging three or four Allied dragons at once, particularly ones that outmassed him, nor had he the first indication that Veritas was anything other than what he appeared to be, a fully-intact Crimson Angel.

Beaten well beyond even his capacities to sustain, Fulminatus was in no position to stop Totenkopf as the black obscenity of a dragon flew up into the air and out of the small canyon in which the dragons had fought. He moved off south, glaring daggers at the Allied drakes as he flew, the fallen body of his dead captain held in one foreclaw. Yet for a dragon to even be capable of leaving the field after such an event was the stuff of horrid nightmare.

Such were Stukas.

Fulminatus lay at the bottom of the canyon, beaten and clawed to the point where he could barely stand, but shortly after Totenkopf flew off, Æquitas re-appeared, flying in from the North, having managed to successfully lose the Kampfritter in ground fog and hedgerows. Between him and Hermecritus, there was enough surplus power to support Fulminatus, who clearly could not fly under his own power any longer. Fortunately, the trip would be short.

And though they didn't yet know it, fortunately, the trip would be uneventful.

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell hurled through the air at the fastest speed he could be muster. Fear and fury pushed exhausted muscles further and harder as the dragon pushed past his physical limits. He had to save Nathan. He had to.

Below him land replaced the sea. His endurance flagged. He pushed on. It wasn't too much further. Just a little more time. Nathan just had to hold on a little longer.

He wailed and pushed on. Below him the military hospital came into view. He angled down, driving with all his speed and the force of gravity. At the last minute he extended his wings and broke his fall.

The crew scrambled off, taking their wounded with them. Orderlies and doctors rushed to meet them. Frostfell slumped. He had done all he could do. Now he was powerless.

[rhoenix]

Flying near Æquitas and Hermectritus, who were carring Fulminatus as best they could, Veritas kept an eye on the proceedings. He knew he wouldn't be of very much help, but the large dragon was concerned nonetheless.

To their surprise, the flight back to Tangmere included encounters with some fog, but that was about all. This Veritas considered a good thing, because though he wouldn't admit it, his wings and shoulders were sore due to extended effort, now.

Seeing Frostfeel almost nose-dive into the compound, Veritas pulled ahead to land soon after the great Wendigo, hoping that frantic look the white dragon displayed didn't mean that his captain was dead.

Soon, even that was taken care of, as Nathan was bloodied and bruised, but alive. Captain Braithwaite assisted his crew in getting Judith down gently to the ground, and to the medics.

For the first time since they got back, Captain Braithwaite and Veritas regarded one another. "You look like shit," said Captain to dragon. "Go see the medics and go get some sleep."

"Eat an ass," grumbled Veritas. However, he did go see the medics.

[LadyTevar]

"Ah kin walk!" Judith protested, refusing to allow them to put her on a stretcher. It was a weak protest, the bruised and possibly cracked ribs making her breaths painful. Jebediah hand landed as close to Veritas' bulk as he could and slunk over hover over Judith protectively.

"Ah don't need you motherin' me eyther..." Judith added, looking up at Jeb petulantly. Veritas' surgeon had bandaged her ribs, and cleaned and bandaged the cut on her head. Now Judith stubbornly determined to walk on her own, not realizing or admitting how dizzy it made her.

Thus, she was stumbling side to side like a drunk, with the medics pushed back out of the way by Jebediah to give his stubborn captain room, while being close enough to catch her.

Her fumbling took her by Frostfell... and she knew instantly something was Very Wrong. She also knew, from Veritas and Jeb talking in-flight, Frostfell had volunteered to be the diversion. She turned and startled walking/fumbling towards the head of the White Bastard. She stopped beside his face where his head was flat to the ground, and put a hand out to stroke his white scales.

Taking a wild guess why Frostfell and his crew looked so upset, she looked the great Wendigo in the eye. "He'll be fine, Frostfell.... you n' he are too stubborn ta die."

Some might think at this point she fell against the White Bastard from dizziness, and Jeb did start forward a little from where he'd paused, but in fact Judith had leaned against the gigantic dragon and gave the white scales a kiss. "Thanks fer the rescue..." she said, just loud enough for the White Bastard to hear.

[Cynical Cat]

"Ma'am," said Mckenzie as he put his hands on Judith's shoulder, "not now." He urgently pulled her away. "Not when he's like this."

The dragon stirred. "He'll be fine?" Frostfell hissed. "Is that your diagnosis Doctor Judith? That'll he'll be fine? Tell me Doctor, have you looked at his face? Did his blood spill all over you?" He war roaring now. "Tell me again, that he will be fine. Half my crew is dead! Dead! He has bled over miles and they are pulling bullets out of his body! Tell me again how he will be fine!" He was rearing up now, fire in his eyes.

[Charon]

Kunja and Jake had winged home considerably slower than Frostfell, especially with the injured wing.

The pair of Aussies landed on what was left of Tangmere field with some fanfare, Kunja proudly displaying the red paint that was still against his side from his crash with Albatros. Kunja was smirking and feeling rather superior as Jake jumped down off his dragon and ran towards where he could see Jeb. "Judith? Judith?! Where are you?"

[LadyTevar]

Frostfell reared up, roaring out his frustration and pain, scaring those nearby as they feared for what he might do to Judith. Yet after the Stuka, Frostfell's display wasn't scary to her. It was simply -Frostfell-.

"He'll be fine," Judith repeated, looking up at the pain-filled eyes way above her head. "Unlike Jeb n' me.... you got yer Captain ta th' doctor on time." She turned her back on the White Bastard and started hobbling away, starting to walk/limp unsteadily in the direction of the hospital tent.

Jebediah fell in behind her, putting himself between his Captain and Frostfell. She might be insane, turning her back to Frostfell, but the Smoke Devil wasn't. But he did hear Jake calling, and without taking his eyes off Frostfell, Jebediah called to the Aussie. "O'er here, Jake, Kunja! She needs th' docter."

[Charon]

Jake, a few feathers still occasionally flying out of the large gash in his flight jacket bounded over to Judith while Kunja kept an eye on both his captain and Frostfell. Jake paused only long enough to smile at Judith before he unceremoniously swept her off her feet and started to carry her towards the hospital tent.

"Pretty girl like you shouldn't be walking to the hospital all by yourself. Who knows what sort of dangerous elements you might meet along the way."

[LadyTevar]

"JAKE!"
Judith's protest was drowned out by Jebediah's affronted shout, before the Smoke Devil forced himself to calm down. It was, after all, Jake. He would not do anything... well... he'd not hurt Judith. Besides, she'd been worried about the fool anyhow.

Judith, on the other hand, had turned a little green as the sudden sweep off her feet made her dizzy, both from her head wound and from the ribs Jake had jostled. She clung to Jake's shoulders, trying to make the world stop spinning. "Yer crazed..." she muttered, giving up and leaning her bandaged head against him.

After all she'd been through, there was something very comforting about being around Jake. Suddenly, she couldn't decide if she wanted to shout or burst into tears; finally she knew she was free, safe, and 'home'. No Stuka could get her here. "Jis' hold me," she whispered, trembling slightly, her voice quavery. "Jis' stay wit me... please......."

[General Havoc]

The respective flights back had been uneventful.

Temeraire had said nothing to anybody, certainly not to the Wendigo whose self-control was hanging by a thread. Any experienced dragon or airman could tell what was the matter aboard Frostfell, and tell why it was that he had outflown them all back to England. Nor had Temeraire said anything to the Victorian who had outraced Albatros himself to the falling German crewman, and then stopped long enough to chat with the enemy before letting him go. Not that Kunja likely had a choice, even with Temeraire there, but it still would not have looked good on paper.

Fortunately the entire operation was illegal, so things would likely never get that far.

Seventy miles to the east, those dragons who were ambulatory were forced to assist those who were not, for one reason or another. Veritas, injured though he was, barely noticed the added weight, and while Hermecritus and Æquitas were both considerably smaller than he was, they took turns at supporting Fulminatus' battered and beaten form as they made their way home. Nobody said a great deal, certainly not Rankin or Æquitas. The operation was over, and it was time to see what the results were from the other side.

They met in Sussex, both task forces making for the obvious rally point without even having to ask one another. Radio silence was observed, and so it wasn't until they had arrived at the St. John's Aerial Corps Hospital in Strettington, half a mile north-west of RAF Tangmere itself, could the dragons of both task forces determine what had transpired to the others.

The medics knew what to do without being told, and they swarmed out to render immediate care, the physicians taking the seriously wounded people inside, the draconarians remaining outside to work on the dragons themselves. They did not ask questions as to how an entire squadron of Allied dragons had come by this fate. Such did not concern them.

Fulminatus put down in one of the cleared landing fields next to the hospital, and immediately collapsed with a sound like a cannon report. By now he could barely move, his eyes shut, his breath labored, black blood slowly soaking into the ground underneath him. As draconarians swarmed over him, Æquitas waited for his crew to dismount, and then landed himself. Ironically perhaps, Æquitas was nearly unharmed, having evaded most of the foes sent after him, and lost the Kampfritter in the fog. His crew had sustained negligeable damage.

Simply by looking around, it was apparent that such had not been the case for the others.

The draconarians had no wish to be devoured alive by an enraged dragon, but nor did they let that fear make them hesitate. A dozen middle-aged men approached Frostfell fearlessly, armed with nothing but disinfectant, metal tools, bandages, and local anesthesia, and set to work without a word, even as the doctors helped what was left of Frostfell's crew off and carried men into the hospital itself on stretchers. If Frostfell took any notice of them, it would come as a surprise, for the white demon's captain was the first that the doctors had taken away for emergency surgery. Even had the hospital building been built to accomidate dragons (and it was for Lightweights, but no more), no operating theatre in the universe could hold a light heavyweight of thirty tons. Frostfell would simply have to wait.

No doubt this would not prove easy.

"Let 'em go, laddie," said one of the draconarians, an enormous grey-bearded scottsman around 50, as he approached Kunja himself along with a pair of orderlies. "She'll be well cared for in there. It's you we've got ta' dale with now."

The draconarian grimaced as he pulled on a pair of heavy surgeon's gloves that came up to the mid-forearm, and donned a smock.

"Now where did ye get tha'?" he asked, pointing at the slash to Kunja's side that Albatros had inflicted. "Tha's a wingblade 'f'I e'er saw one. I thought ye desert rats' w're s'possed ta' be be'er than that..."

The grim smile on the Scottsman's face indicated that he was clearly trying to distract Kunja, as all veteran draconarians learned to do in a situation like this. Mortify the dragon, make him defend himself verbally and insult you, and he won't have time to worry too much about his captain, nor about the stitches that some of those injuries were going to need.

Meanwhile, as Frostfell roared in fear and pain and snapped at those around him, a small dragon emerged from the backside of the hospital, and slowly approached. The dragon was dusty-yellow, or rather those parts of him unswathed by bandages were, yet he moved easily, loosely, favoring his right legs just slightly as he approached the enormous Wendigo. Only a fool would not fear a Wendigo in this state, which perhaps explained it.

Capricorn had been asleep when the others arrived, laying curled up inside one of the outdoor "bungalows" that the hospital used to accommodate both lightweight captains and dragons in the same space, a practice everyone who was not an airman would have compared to sleeping in a barn, and everyone who was would realize was simply not optional. Lightweights could and would fit inside human buildings if need be, to ensure that their captains were all right, and the alternative to having such things would be to have dragons roaming the hallways of the hospital itself.

Fast asleep next to his captain's bed, Capricorn had woken only at Frostfell's anguished roars, and had emerged to see what was going on. Utterly bereft of fear for his own person (as were most Venomspitters), he approached Frostfell evenly, staring up at the enormous white dragon, now flecked and splattered with red and black, crossing over in front of the enormous white dragon and sitting down, staring up at him.

Capricorn didn't say anything, just sat there and watched Frostfell quietly, until after Reynolds and Judith and the other injured had been led away. And then, heedless of the risk he was running, if indeed he was running any, Capricorn stood back up, walked over to Frostfell, and with a burst or two of his wings, and an unsteady hop, lightly jumped up on top of him.

Why he had done this was anybody's guess, but the draconarians were not about to insist he move, and he made no effort to get in their way, but lightly walked up onto the middle of Frostfell's back, and crouched there, absent-mindedly staring at the white scales as he settled his wings and tail, almost as though the Venomspitter was preparing to go to sleep again.

"He'll be okay," said Capricorn suddenly, startling one or two of the draconarians working around him, and the perfect confidence in the Aussie dragon's voice was... well... it was worth whatever weight the listeners wished to give it. Capricorn likely had no idea what he was talking about, but clearly was convinced all the same, and simply sat there, crouched like a sphinx on top of Frostfell, clearly without a care in the world.

Wisely or not.

[Charon]

Kunja's eyes were less on his captain and more on Frostfell, he wouldn't enjoy having to try to stop the much much larger dragon if he had to, but it was that or let him kill a lot more, if he lost it.

As the aging draconarian moved towards Kunja, the dragon snorted. "Got this from Albatros. And who are you calling a rat? I could swallow you whole." The dragon grinned jokingly, the young scraper had plenty of experience with draconarians between his time in the colony and his stint as a barnstormer.

Jake meanwhile had slowed his pace and tried harder to keep from jostling Judith as they walked. Once a gurney was brought over the Aussie gently set her down, never letting go of her hand as they continued towards the hospital.

[General Havoc]

"Swallow me whole eh?" asked the draconarian with a look of feigned insult. "I bet ye would, and then lounge around all day like ye'r the crown prince o' Wales. We've work to do here, laddie, and if y'er thinkin' this scratch o' yers is enough ta pack ye' off to yer bed, then ye'd best go back ta' that sun-scorched wasteland you people call a country."

The Scottish draconarian grinned as he directed the others to begin stitching up the slash. There were enough scars on this one to indicate that he knew how these things worked.

"Oh ye got this scrape from Albatros, did ye?" asked the draconarian as he proceeded with more mundane work, grinning as he pretended to disbelieve the Australian lightweight. "More'n likely ye crashed into a barn and scraped off some paint, and cut yerself scramblin' oot like a fox in a coop. Albatros wouldn't be dealin' with yer like, laddie. 'e's a professional."

Clearly the draconarian was enjoying this.

[Charon]

"Prince of Wales? As if, I'd get to rule what exactly, hills and sheep?" The dragon paused. "Actually that wouldn't be so bad. And I wouldn't have to deal with any more surgeons who don't know a suture from a dress-making kit." The dragon chuckled some. "And while I have crashed into any number of barns in my more reckless days, usually while helping my captain impress some young thing, those injuries are all different, and you'd have to practically lick the paint to get that stuff off. Though I suppose you would know from experience."

[General Havoc]

"Oh, ya hear that lads?" called out the draconarian to his team, "this one doe'n't think highly of our work. We're not professional enough for the like o' him! Well we can jus' leave that ta bleed if ye like, yer majesty. Next ye'll have us bringin' ye cows on purple litters with rose garlands 'round their necks!"

Despite the words, the other draconarians merely laughed and continued sewing, while ground crewmen removed Kunja's harness for the artificers to fix.

"Say er... lad," said the leading draconarian much more quietly as he moved around to Kunja's head, speaking only for Kunja's benefit. "That big white bastard over there tha' brought 'is captain in with holes. Is 'e gonna be a problem? We've got no guard on duty that could 'andle him if 'e loses it, and I don't like that lightweight sittin' there on 'im like that. I've seen bastards his size start a fight over less..."

[LadyTevar]

Jebediah ambled over to curl beside Kunja. His injuries had been slight in the attack that had captured Judith, but the train wreck had added a few scrapes. "Tha' lightweight kilt a Ausfy-whasis dead by spittin' on it. Frostfell knows it, so Ah'm a-thinkin' he'll settle down 'til Cap moves on."

Personally, Jebediah hoped Capicorn took a long nap on the White Bastard. It might keep him calm long enough to see Capt Reynolds thru. If not... "Iffen the White Bastard goes ... he won't be th' first Cap's had ta put down." The SmokeDevil looked at Kunja's side. "An' iffen Ah'd not seen Albatros all doll'd up, Ah'd say ya hit a barn. Don' tell yer Captain, but Albatros' young man took a shine ta Judith. Kissed her hand... for th' BlackCoats stole her out from under his nose."

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell eyed the approaching draconarians. "Get to work," he snapped and then closed his eyes and dug his talons into the ground. There was nothing he could do for Nathan now but wait.

[Charon]

Kunja kept his voice down as he glanced from Jeb to the draconarian. "He's angrier than a Lifeguard pulled from their captain, but he i'nt stupid. That's a 'spitter sittin' on him now. So he'll stay as he is."

Kunja looked back to Jeb then. "You won't believe this, but we beat the red fucker in a race." Kunja looked like he'd been about to go on but then caught his tongue. "An I'd put my bet on Jake if it came to a fight 'tween the two boys. Albatros's charge doesn't seem like much."

[LadyTevar]

"He don' speak English, an' Albatros seems ta be th' brains, bu' nyther o' 'em have any love fer those Blackcoats."

"An' th' Blackcoats got ... Stuka." There was fear in Jebediah's voice as he said the word, his head lowering as if wanting to avoid a blow. "Looks lik' a dragon..... bu' it ain't right. Black 's tar, bu' no shine... lik' a shadow. Eyes dead n' cold, lik' a snake. Voice sent chills up th' spine of even th' Krauts. Meetin' his eyes was lik' a bird afore a snake... Judith damn-near walk'd down it's throat afore Albatros jump'd in front o' her."

[Cynical Cat]

"Capricorn," said Frostfell, "the only reason I haven't beat your scaly ass like a drum is that the medics need me to be still to work and their nervous enough as it is. Acid breather or not, if you're still on me by the time their done you will get a beating. Now scram."

[Charon]

It had been said by some of the Australian pairs fellow barnstormers, and by even more of their former commanders, that the psychotic pair did not feel fear. That the part of the brain that warned you against danger just simply didn't operate. While not true, it was certainly closer than many thought of as comfortable. Kunja's eyes almost seemed to brighten up as Jeb described the Stuka, and then he whistled softly. "Sounds like a hell of a thing."

[LadyTevar]

"Hell's where it b'longs," Jebediah swore. "When we went ta fetch Fulminatus, th' Stuka saw us an' flew 'way wit' out a sound." The Smoke Devil paused, leaning his head closer to Kunja. "He ha' th' dead body o' his capt'n in'nis claw."

In the short weeks, they'd all see too many captainless-dragons. To fly away from a fight, without a sound, --THAT-- was unnatural. Undragonly. Impossible. "I see'd it. Veritas saw it. Fulnimatus prolly kilt the captain... an' ya see he's still movin'."

Even the surgeons working on Jeb and Kunja stopped at that, looking over to the badly mauled, but yet living, Fulminatus. No dragon would have let their Captain's Killer live. It was inconceivable.

[General Havoc]

The Draconarians DID hesitate at that, indeed one of them dropped a bottle of antiseptic solution which shattered on the ground. Murmurs and whispers greeted the revelation, for as every RAF Airman, ground crewman, or medic knew, a dragon whose captain was slain was a wild beast. Strictly, there were exceptions. Some breeds might freeze or go catatonic, some might react with more grief than anger, and some particularly sick beasts might even go so far as to feign indifference, but all were touched with the same mingled fire of rage and pain and misery, and most sought nothing but to pour their misery out on the focus of their wrath, in some violent, twisted form of solace-seeking.

"Ach," said the head Draconarian in the inimitable manner of his kinsmen. "Ye damn hatchlings're gonna be the death of us all 'fore too long. Cavorting with the enemy, plottin' how ta take down the white bastard, tellin' ghost stories 'bout phantasms from the other side'a the grave, an' fixin' yer captains up with bloody kraut royalty? Ye overgrown cows'll make slaves of us all'f we let ye..."

Harsh though the words were, the draconarian smirked as he said them, and gestured to a half dozen of his subordinates to look over Jebediah as he settled down. Even as he gleefully insulted two dragons that could slice him in half with but a twitch, he poured antiseptic solutions over the obvious injuries of the two lightweights and even reached his entire arm and head into Kunja's mouth, along with a torch, to ensure that he had broken no teeth while trying to bite through some German's harness. The medics working on Frostfell might have been a bit gun-shy, but given that Wendigo were known to occasionally eat medics (or at least rumored to), that much could be forgiven. Insofar as the other dragons were conserned, the Draconarians held utterly no fear, and the leader at least saw nothing wrong with placing his head inside a dragon's jaws, and then belittling it.

Such were Draconarians.

*-----------------------------------------------------*

Capricorn perked his head up as Frostfell addressed him, and blinked rather stupidly a few times. "'m not'n acid breather," he said in perfect confidence and calm, "I'm a Venomspitter! They call me that 'cause I spit venom!" His tone was that of someone explaining an amazing and wondrous fact to someone else, and he did not appear to have even perceived that he had just been threatened with a beating from a dragon some thirty times his size. Instead he continued to babble happily about the art of spitting poison, and relating the no doubt fascinating story of the time he had hit two kangaroos (he called them 'roos') with one shot, which of course segued into a lengthy discussion of how roo-meat tasted relative to cow-meat, a question of such depth and complexity that he succeeded in confusing himself and winding up uncertain of which one he liked best. Only then did he pause for a few moments to consider the question, as the draconarians worked around him, and looked back down at Frostfell.

"How come they call you Frostfell?" he asked suddenly. "Did you have ice fall on you? One time I shot a cow and he ran into a tree and the tree fell on me and Nick had to get a saw to cut the branches off and..."

*-------------------------------------------------------*

"A minor scratch, Captain," said the draconarian to Rankin as he surveyed the long gash in Æquitas' shoulder. "He'll be right as rain in a week or so."

Æquitas grumbled and lowered his head moodily, and Rankin merely nodded to the medic. "Very good," he said. "Please ask the hospital head what will become of Fulminatus, and of Captains Maclung and Reynolds."

"Sir," replied the medic, "I imagine you'll know shortly..."

The nervous glances towards Frostfell were hard to disguise, but Rankin hadn't the heart to try and assuage them somehow. They had all done their part. Fortune would take care of the rest, and Frostfell either would or would not react in a pyrotechnic outburst of pain and rage. No act of Rankin's could forestall it should the news be bad, nor trigger it should it be good.

Besides, there was bad news aplenty to come.

"Captain?" came a voice from behind Rankin, and he turned to see a young cadet, ten or eleven years old, waiting for his acknowledgment. He touched his cap briefly. "Captain Laurence and Lord Temeraire wish to speak with you."

No urge to tell off the young cadet presented itself. After the events of the past few days, he simply didn't have the will to fight it any longer. "Very well," he said, and nodded to the boy, who ran back off. Temeraire was perched across the way, having escorted Frostfell and Kunja back and (according to the report he'd received) soundly drubbed the Jotunmeister JG-1 had assigned to stop the retreating raiders without incurring so much as a scratch. Typical...

"Michael?"

Rankin turned his head to Æquitas, who was sitting as quietly as he could as the draconarians went over him. "Nothing to worry yourself about," he said. "Just a friendly chat..."

Æquitas snorted. "Remind him that I'm prepared to meet any officious nonsense with - "

"No," said Rankin, patting Æquitas between the eyes. "No, thank you, but... not this time. The mission was a success. The consequences are unimportant. They wouldn't dare try that in any event, not in wartime. More likely we've another sojourn in Greenland "in store. Besides. I talked you into it. I won't have them thinking otherwise."

"You're a complete, bloody idiot," said Æquitas with a smirk, and nudged him gently with his snout. "You know that?"

"I know," said Rankin as he smiled back and patted the side of the Malachite's face. "But permit me a few foolish conceits?"

"Always," replied Æquitas, and Michael patted him one last time and turned to go. He'd only gotten a pace or so when Æquitas stopped him.

"Whatever he says, Michael," said Æquitas. "It doesn't change a thing. We actually pulled it off."

Rankin merely shook his head and chuckled, turning back and gesturing to the rest of the squadron, now crouched on the ground with draconarians swarming over them. "They pulled it off," he said. "You pulled it off. I was just fool enough to suggest it."

"And to pay for it."

Rankin smiled. "We got them all out," he said, watching as the Australian captain carried the American into the hospital, even as their dragons perched side by side, talking in tones too low to hear at this distance. "Whatever price needs paying is cheap enough..."

And with that, Captain Rankin turned and walked towards the enormous black dragon, leaving his own dragon merely to wait for whatever verdict was to come.

So it was with them all.