His Majesty's Dragons: The Battle of Britain

[Agent Fisher]

Jack noticed her choking. "Hey, you ok, love?" He asked, hoping she didn't choke to death, though he wouldn't mind giving mouth to mouth.

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell hopped the fence when he saw Nathan leave the mess hall with a tray. The big dragon crossed the field and curled up near the base of a big tree. Nathan sat down, leaning back into the dragon and removed his mask. He began to eat.

[LadyTevar]

"Breath'd when I shoud'o swallowed," Judith said, her face red.

[Charon]

Jake had followed Judith's gaze and had caught the look the British captain of the Malachite had given her. When she started to choke on her drink, Jake showed some concern, and then noticed John kept calling her 'love'. Well then, this'll be fun.

"It's probably this muck they're having us eat." Jake stabbed a piece of potato. "Not sure I would even give this to my dog."

[LadyTevar]

Jake had followed Judith's gaze and had caught the look the British captain of the Malachite had given her. When she started to choke on her drink, Jake showed some concern, and then noticed John kept calling her 'love'. Well then, this'll be fun.

"It's probably this muck they're having us eat." Jake stabbed a piece of potato. "Not sure I would even give this to my dog."

"Better'n tryn' ta eat m' sister's cookin', hon. Iffen the South had Peggy's biscuits, they'd ha' ne'er run outta cannonballs." Judith avowed, honesty nearly outmatching the outrageous.

[Comrade Tortoise]

"Yeesh, If that were the case she would have gotten a better price from the Union.."

[LadyTevar]

"Yeesh, If that were the case she would have gotten a better price from the Union.."

"Then they'd had to buy her chicken," Judith elaborated, mostly truthfully. "Th' breasts are sawdust, an' the thighs bloody raw. She burns th' cornbread, her beans tain't done, an' her greens ... well... best not mention them. But she makes great pickles...."

[Comrade Tortoise]

"My mother was not much better... well that is not true. She is good at American food, and by that I mean variations on british food, but she was horrible at german food... mein gott was she bad with german food"

[LadyTevar]

Judith shrugged off-handedly. "Mos' folks are a'ready sayin' I'll get married afore she will, an' she's 6 years older." Judith almost hid the bitterness there. Almost. "A'course, Ah'm 'spectin' ta hear anyday now tha' m' other sister Janet's dun wed," here was a wide grin and wicked sense of humor. "A'course th' question will be which man an' how lon' til th' babe's born."

[Charon]

[General Havoc]

Captain Rankin said very little as he ate, prefering instead to watch the captains and their crews conversing. Not surprisingly, several of the captains were centering their attention upon the young American captain on the West Virginian Smoke Devil. Privately, Rankin marvelled that these two had turned up. It was plain that they had no real military background, and she was certainly too young by half to have fought in any other war before. He supposed he should be grateful, every little bit of help was a help after all, but he could not help but think that he was making a mistake by not transfering her back to courier duty in Scotland or something.

But then he had that same feeling about himself and Æquitas, so he pushed it aside and tried to ignore it. She had volunteered after all, and he has a hard enough job ahead without going out to make it harder.

Most of the Captains and their crews had finished eating, and he picked up his fork and tapped it against his glass hard enough for the sharp sound to be heard above the din and clatter. "Captains," he said. "if I could have your attention, we have business to discuss."

He had taken a moment to check on the dragons outside so as to see what size of a beast Captain Macgrif had brought with him, and was unspeakably relieved to find a massive Nebraskan Amberback indulging in the wholesale slaughter of a pair of massive cows. Amberbacks were true heavyweights, outmassing even the Wendigo. It would be badly needed in the days ahead.

Captain Rankin stood up and looked down the table at the assembled Captains and senior crew. "Once again, I'd like to welcome you all to Great Britain, such as it is. I'm afraid we all will have great need for your skills in the days ahead, and it is my hope that with your help, the Germans can be sent packing back to Berlin with their tails between their legs."

He knew there was a Captain here of German tone and descent, but he did not alter his speach. The Captain would have to get used to such things. Rankin was hardly the rawest that he would encounter here. Five minutes in an average pub would likely leave him beaten and bloody, to say nothing of a dark alleyway in the wrong part of London.

"With Captain MacGrif's Amberback, we now have two lightweights and three middleweights, as well as one more that could be termed either one at your discretion," he nodded to the Australian Captain of the undersized Queen Victoria's Reaper, Kunja, whose weight seemed to fall somewhere between the two. "This in addition to a pair of Heavyweights, and another of Special Weapons. I've seen far worse compositions in my time. The trick will be to fight as a unit. I know all of you have just met one another for the most part, but we have no time to lose at all. Please, take this moment to introduce yourselves and your dragons, and let us know what, if any, combat experience you have, and what, if any, special considerations I should take into account when trying to piece a formation together."

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

"I know the humans can over-react when one of us doesn't behave ourselves, but I'd never have imagined the Americans to be fools enough to exile a Heavyweight. It's not like they can grow you all on trees..."

Fulminatus stood up and walked over towards where the lightweights were gathered around Semmemnon. It was likely no surprise whatsoever when he did not step forward and claim to have no combat experience, for the marks of it were written all over his hide. Instead he sat back and watched silently.

Capricorn showed far more interest in the field mice darting around the clearing that the dragons were all standing in than in Semmemnon, and did not say a thing in regards to the question of combat experience. Full-sized for a Venomspitter, and unblemished as of yet over his dusty yellow and green scales, Capricorn was either new to combat, or perhaps merely lucky.

Æquitas circled and landed nearby himself, having concluded his little talk with Frostfell, and saw to his satisfaction that Semmemnon had taken the lead of trying to see who did and did not have combat experience in the squadron, though he had his own ideas already regarding that. Still, Semmemnon was more than a hundred and thirty years old, and a veteran of at least five different wars, so he was not about to assert rank, not when his own experience extended back only to 1915. He stood by and waited to see what the other would do.

[LadyTevar]

Judith stared to tease Jake a bit more, but was interrupted by Captain Rankin clicking his glass to get attention.

She was quiet as Rankin spoke, listening intently. When he asked for combat experience and other considerations, she fidgeted a little. None and none was about all she could say, and so for the moment she kept her peace.

[Charon]

Jake had chuckled at Judith's comments on her sisters, but had started to feel like going for a walk, or at least getting out of here for awhile. As he got up, Rankin began to speak so the Australian plopped back down, grumbling under his breath some. When Rankin addressed him the captain simply nodded curtly. When Rankin posed his question though, Jake kept quiet, prefering to let others go first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kunja stood lazily, like Capricorn though, his attention was beginning to wander, the arrival of Fulminatus got his attention though, and the dragon studied him carefully, trying to get a feel for the much older dragon.

Kunja's reaction to Aequitas was far less enthusiastic. The smaller dragon shifted some, and almost made a point of avoiding looking at the other dragon.

[General Havoc]

Having called the others to attention, Captain Rankin noticed to his surprise that the American Captain of the Amberback was still awaiting him to return the salute. Hastily he did so and accepted the orders from the American. "Apologies, Captain," he said, "I don't believe we'll be standing on protocol quite that much around here."

He opened the orders and glanced at them. They bore the signiature of Vice-Admiral Tolkien. As he expected they were an order to join the squadron at RAF Tangmere to add badly needed stiffening to their weight. The Germans would perhaps no longer outmass them quite as badly.

He turned and glanced at the American once again. "Thank you Captain," he said, "please have something to eat. I trust Lydia is fending for herself?"

None of the others had yet responded, so he decided to break the logjam.

"Well I'll begin then. Æquitas is a Malachite Reaper of 25 years. He was hatched and bound to my father during the Great War, and fought in every major battle from 1915 on. He has one capture and two assisted captures to his name, and quite a few maulings. He is prepared to act in any capacity we should need, though as flagdragon, I will be most likely keeping him in overwatch reserve as much as I can, to aid where necessary, unless of course there is one of you whose dragon is better suited for that task, which may well be."

"He's a Malachite Reaper, for those of you unfamiliar with the breed, middleweight, Reaper configuration, bred for intellect, bred successfully in his case." He didn't want to brag about his dragon, but a soft tone of admiration crept into his voice anyhow. "He practically taught me everything there was to know about the RAF, and he's far more veteran than I. I've been on him since I was quite young."

He sighed and paid as little lip service to what some of the British captains were likely thinking. "I'm sure many of you have heard of... unpleasant rumors regarding my family and the Aerial Corps. I would take it as a personal favor to not have to be subjected to further character assaults on that account. If Æquitas were not happy bound to me he has had ample opportunity to take another Captain. Thank you."

"At any rate, what of your dragons. Some of the American breeds I have never seen before and all I know is what is written in the books."

[SirNitram]

Blackthorne glanced around, shrugged, and spoke up in his turn. "Semmemnon's a good hundred and thirty six; he's been in my family since he was hatched. Malachite, same as Æquitas. He won't tell me much about his record save where he's served; India to the Carribean to Austrailia and a dozen other places." He said simply, shrugging. "He's been practically a father to me. As for mission.. You're the boss. Wherever you think an old dragon with a Vickers on his back can do the most damage to the other side."

[LadyTevar]

One hundred... Judith blinked in shock. She knew that dragons could live for years, and yes, Jebediah was her father's dragon before, but A hundred and ThirtySix, and still out fighting?! She shook her head in amazement muttering "wow", her curiousity about Capt Rankin's own comments forgotten ... and then realized Rankin was looking her way because she'd spoken. Blast... She'd not wanted to speak up yet. Well, in for a penny....

"Since Ah'm guessin' no one's seen an Ap'lachian Smoke Devil afore, I'd best 'splain that Jebediah is one. He's 40yrs old, or there'bouts, an like Captain Rankin he was m' paw's afore he died." Old pain stiffened her shoulders as she spoke, but she moved on quickly. "Smoke Devils are lightweights, iffen ya couldn't tell by lookin'," she added, hoping to get a couple chuckles. "Ah'm guessin' the best way ta 'splain wha' he kin do is ask ya'll to think o' him as a Perry-grin Falcon, not a hawk or eagle. He flies high 'nuff on his own, an' higher wit' a wind 'neath him." Obviously, no one told her that was called a 'thermal'. "Once he's up, he com's down like a rockslide, fast an' deadly."

She was serious about that. She'd not only seen him do it, but rode his back more than once. "Ya'll mighten seen th' claws on 'em, an one his wings. He kin' cling ta rock lik' a squirrel ta a tree, clum like one too. Th' wing claws can hold 'em up by themselves, an' he kin snag onta som'thin' wit 'em ta swing hisself 'round near full circle. Where Ah com' from, it's called a 'devil's turn' or a 'devil's curve'."

Of course, she'd also heard it as 'kissin' his ass', but that wasn't polite. "Ah wish Ah cou' say Jeb an' Ah've had mor'n a few weeks trainin' afore they sent us here. Wha' Ah can say is that Jeb's outran Emeralds whilst runnin' 'shine wit' m' paw, an' Ah'm a good 'nuff shot ta hav' meat a' e'ery meal."

She gave a little shrug. "An' tha's that, Ah guess. Ah don know wha' else ta say."

[Charon]

Jake spoke up next, he for one didn't know Rankin's past, though now he was curious.

"I'm Jake Collington, none of you here probably know him, but I'm the son of Francis Collington, damn good dragon breeder . I'm flyin' Jack Kunja, the Queen Victoria's Reaper. I don't know how much you all might know about the Victorians, but they're usually midders, though a bit on the lighter side of mid. Kunja was special bred to be a bit smaller, faster, and to be about as strong. He's got all the temperment of a Victorian though, he's smart, quick on his feet, and more than a bit on the aggressive side. He's 26, so he's fairly young, but he and I grew up at a breeding colony, so we know our way around a fight, and had a fair bit of military training before he and I went solo." Jake scratched his head in thought for awhile before continuing.

"We served as Barnstormers for three years, so we know a whole lot of stunts that might come in handy during a fight. We've also been in this war for about a year now, so far we've got one capture to our name. I'd say we'll do you best in formation breaking or flanking."

[frigidmagi]

Paul having grabbed some food and a drink spoke next.

"I'm Paul on Lydia. I was a marine before I found her egg in Northern Mexico, it's a long story. Lydia is a Nebraska Amberback, she's about 2 years old now. We've been deployed mostly in the Republic of California and around Central America, so we've only seen a few minor dust up's, nothing worth talking about. She has 2 kills and no captures. Lydia has good endurance and speed for her weight class and does fairly well in a grapple. As you could guess she has a fairly wide turn radius though and isn't what you would call agile. Long as she's got someone to mind the flanks though she'll be alright." He said.

"I know the humans can over-react when one of us doesn't behave ourselves, but I'd never have imagined the Americans to be fools enough to exile a Heavyweight. It's not like they can grow you all on trees..."

Lydia chewed and sallowed before replying.

"I would really like to see the damn tree that could hold me. I really would. As for the combat question, I've fought and killed some in California, it's really messy over there sometimes. Never any real big battles though. Other side usually only has 3 or 4 dragons with only 1 middle weight. I've practiced lots though with other heavies!" She finished brightly.

[Agent Fisher]

Jack stood after taking another swallow of tea. "I'm Jack Taggart and I ride the Godfrey, the Spitfire I'm sure most of you saw outside. He's 32 years old, and has two kills, three captures, and countless ground kills. And that was from the Great War, so far, we've mauled and burned a few Jerry Beasts. Our last squadron got cut up pretty bad, so here we are." He said before sitting back down.

[General Havoc]

As the other Captains explained themselves one after the next, Captain Rankin took the opportunity to call one of the younger cadets assigned to Æquitas over, and gave the young boy an order to go and find the Captain of the Wendigo whom he had seen here a moment before, but had not seen leave. Not for the first time, he wondered what the child had done to merit being assigned to a punnishment detail (or what was regarded as one by some), but there was not time for that here, even if he had wished to know, which he studiously refused to ever ask.

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

"Sir?"

A child of about nine or ten was standing before Captain Reynolds, occasionally casting glances up at Frostfell.

"Captain Rankin asks if you would join the others in the mess hall, sir. He says he would like to hear more about how you want to use Frostfell in the squadron..."

The message was short, but still the boy lingered, glancing up at Frostfell, obviously in awe of the massive snow-white heavyweight.

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

"Tell me about it," said Fulminatus, with the tone of one who knew what he spoke of. "I haven't been to California since their last coup, which isn't saying a lot I suppose, but I saw my share of work there."

[Cynical Cat]

Nathan said, "tell the good captain I'm on my way." He stood up and patted Frostfell. "See you later you bone crunching bastard."

The Canadian had donned his mask just before the boy had arrived. He would need to change the gauze lining soon, he thought as he entered the mess hall. "Nathan Reynolds, reporting as ordered."

[General Havoc]

Rankin turned and nodded at the Captain as he entered.

"Captain, we were discussing optimal employment for each of our dragons in the squadron at large. Wendigo are not exactly the most common sight in a combat squadron, so any insight you could give as to how Frostfell would be most efficiently employed would be most appreciated."

[Cynical Cat]

"Covering the specials from cloud cover where he is almost invisible and attacking anyone making a run on them from surprise," said Nathan. "Frostfell doesn't have the mass of the big Germans, but he's quick. Getting into a grapple with another heavyweight would obviously be bad, but he can pounce on and tear up a middleweight or strafe a big dragon before they can mount much of a counter attack. Not head on, not at first, but striking for the wings or machine gunning the crew to soften them up and wound them."

[General Havoc]

Rankin nodded quietly as he listened to Captain Reynolds' ideas for how best to employ the Wendigo. It was perhaps a good one, but with German squadrons that threatened to outnumber his own so substantially, could he afford to keep a full half of his heavyweight force on inactive reserve up in the clouds, waiting to react to what the Germans did?

Captain Kelly stood up now, the Captain of the Venomspitter that was to form part of the core of the squadron.

"Well eh... there's not a lot to say 'bout Cap 'm afraid. 'e's got about ten years' experience on 'im, but none'f it's combat. Patrols mostly, out back with the bush service. We were s'posed to wind up in Egypt, but they said you blokes needed us more up 'ere, so 'ere we are."

"Cap's a Venomspitter, and 'e's good, trust me, 'e knows how to hit what 'e's spittin' at, and not what he ain't. Don't stay under 'im when he's spitting though, or you could get brushed. 'e's not all that big though, so 'e'll need support 'm afraid. 'e knows better'n to spit when 'e's not got a shot though, so no worries."

Rankin nodded, already piecing a formation together in his mind, when a cadet, the same one he had sent off to find Reynolds in the first place, came running breathless into the mess hall and handed Rankin a note. Rankin opened it and hastily glanced at the contents, then froze, and read it again, more carefully.

"Damn..." he whispered under his breath, before folding the note back up and handing it back to the boy.

"Run and tell Æquitas and the other dragons," he said, "and alert the ground crews." The boy saluted and ran off, and Rankin stood up once more and addressed the table.

"Gentlemen," he said, a mode of address that was common to the RAF, regardless of the presence of women in its ranks. "We've just received word that the Germans have elected not to give us a free day to get organized. Radar reports that five squadrons of Germans are forming up to cross the channel as we speak. Most of them are heading across the Straights of Dover, and RAF Dover, Essex, and Dorset are being vectored in to try and stop them. Unfortunately, one of the German squadrons looks to be taking a longer route, looping around the east to try and outflank our defences. If the intercept plot is accurate, then they should make landfall reasonably close to Tangmere."

He let that sink in for a moment, and then continued.

"Admiral Tolkien's orders are clear enough. We are to engage and repel this German squadron, and prevent them from attacking whatever target they had in mind. I remind you gentlemen, that target might well be Tangmere itself, so have a thought for your ground crews while we go up. If we can't repel this force, then they may well be the ones to suffer, not us. See to your crews and dragons, and rendezvous in the air as quickly as possible. Uxbridge will guide us to an intercept plot."

He sighed and tried to make himself look unperturbed by what was to happen next.

"This is the real thing, gentlemen. This is what we are all here for. The Germans believe that we are down to our last dragons, scraping the bottom of the barrel to throw in anything against them. They may well be right, but I have no intention of showing them anything but the door back to France. Good hunting."

"Dismissed."

[Cynical Cat]

"Bloody hell," said Nathan. "I need to change my gauze. McKinnley, get the boys saddling up the white bastard. I'll get him over to the gear."

"Yes sir," said his second. Reynolds walked out of the mess. "This night," he cried out, "all gods die!"

Frostfell uncurled and rose up, flexing his muscles and raising his head. The dragon leapt into the air, took several powerful wing beats, and dropped down by his weapons and armour. "Arm me," he commanded.