His Majesty's Dragons: The Battle of Britain

[General Havoc]

"Never let yourself get flanked, especially not by mid-weights," said Fulminatus. "You let the other guy fight you the way he wants to and you might as well roll over and plow into the ground. It's quicker. Rotate your vulnerable flanks around so that you don't let the other guy pile damage up on you for too long in one spot. Don't let yourself get boarded, always protect your captain. Separate the enemy dragons coming at you and turn on one of them at a time. Go for wings if you're in a hurry, main body hits if you're not, head strikes only if you're sure you can get 'em to land right. Don't take on a lighter dragon from upwind if you can avoid it, make sure your crew knows how to watch the sun, and remember your gun lanes if you've got a lot of targets to engage."

The older dragon did not even glance away from the water as he recited the list of things to do.

"Do all that, and you'll usually come out okay."

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

"I heard what was said, Captain, as did half the covert. A dragon's voice tends to carry."

"Captain, I will be frank. I do not know what to do with you. You are insubordinate to a degree I have literally never seen in any military on the continent before. You know I cannot transfer you, even if I wanted to. The line squadrons are simply too undermanned to spare a combat heavyweight, and there is no other heavyweight to replace you with, whatever favors you call in. We do not have the dragons to spare. You are therefore either going to fight here, as part of this squadron, or you are going to wind up in a stockade, with Frostfell sent back to Canada as a breeder. Do you want that? Do you imagine I want that? Does that serve anyone's purpose?"

He took his hat off and rubbed his scalp with one hand. "You want me to break with 300 years of aerial tradition in one stroke, because you think formation flying is obsolete. And perhaps you are right. Lord knows we're going to need a great deal in the way of unconventional thinking in order to survive this. But you are asking that I give up all control of the battlefield in exchange for total individual initiative? Do you know what a formation of Germans would do to a mass of uncoordinated dragons using only their own initiative, Captain? Because I do. We saw the result in 1870 and in 1914."

"Now, there may be a middle ground of some sort, a coordinated chaos, where the squadron commander is on overwatch, detailing specific dragons to attack specific targets. Such formations have been... sketched out on table exercises before, but they require two things. One is a clear and detached view of the battlefield, and the second is absolute and prompt obedience to orders on the part of the dragons in the squadron. Now tell me, Captain, how am I to know that if I place you in a position from which you have a selection of targets that you will obey those orders you receive. If I give you a general target captain, or an order to not engage something, in preparation for some other kind of maneuver, if I tell you to break contact and engage a special weapons dragon, or remain at altitude in preparation for hitting the heavyweights, what guarantees do I have that you will pay any attention to what I tell you?"

"I'm not certain which of the above scenarios you are advocating captain, but in the case of either one, I need to trust that you will obey the orders you are given. And to be frank, Captain, I don't have that faith right now. You show nothing but contempt for the very concept of orders. My suggestion to place you on overwatch, where you would essentially be allowed to do precisely what you suggested, within broad parameters, was met with yet more contempt. Your dragon broke formation to pursue lightweight both in our last combat and in the training exercise, exposing its partners to attack, for better or worse, and indicating to me, Captain, that rather than acting on behalf of the squadron, you are simply interested in acting on your own behalf."

He stepped over to Captain Reynolds. "You need, Captain, to make me trust that you can be trusted in the air. You need to make me trust that if I give you an order, even one you dislike, it will be obeyed. I simply do not know if I can trust that, Captain, and until I do, how exactly do you expect me to gamble with the lives of every man in this squadron on the theory that when you are given your head, you won't go gallivanting off in pursuit of your own kill tallies, and leave the rest of us in the lurch?"

"Understand, Captain. I want to trust you and Frostfell to do what's best for the squadron, but I cannot do that if you continue to consider every order given to you a device for your own torment. Now then, if you will, tell me what exactly you had in mind, and I will consider it when I draw up the revised flight orders this afternoon."

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

"There's some Admiral in from Command," said Captain Kelly, who was drying a peacefully-dozing Capricorn off with a towel. "Didn't hear what for. And the commander of another squadron's showed up too. Double-amputee, if you c'n believe it."

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

Admiral Tolkien smiled as the young Captain walked over and saluted, returning it calmly. "At ease, Captain," said the Admiral, glancing at the dragon she had dismounted from. "You would be Captain McClung, no? Of the American Volunteers? And therefore that would be your smoke devil?"

[LadyTevar]

Admiral Tolkien smiled as the young Captain walked over and saluted, returning it calmly. "At ease, Captain," said the Admiral, glancing at the dragon she had dismounted from. "You would be Captain McClung, no? Of the American Volunteers? And therefore that would be your smoke devil?"

Judith slipped into 'at ease' without thinking, something that the American Air Force seemed to think was important enough to drill into captain's heads... especially when a female civilian walks in from the back of nowhere with her own unregistered dragon, of a feral breed considered to be a waste of the meat to feed it.

"Yessir, ta all of the above," Judith answered politely, in that totally Appalachian hillbilly twang that so annoyed more 'civilized' Americans. "His name is Jebediah, an' he was m' paw's afore me."

[Charon]

Kunja grinned as he finished disemboweling a cow. "He's just tellin' it like it is Jeb. We did damn well on that last run."

The Victorian looked up at Kelly. "An Admiral? I c'n trust you not to turn me in fer my misdeeds can't I Kelly?" The mischievous dragon grinned. "I c'n believe that he's an amputee though." The dragon laughed. "Back a few years ago when Jake and I were flyin' with some barnstormers, we used to call one of the flyers 'Iron'. The man had more holes and missin' parts than I've ever seen!" The young Victorian laughed again, more loudly.

Jake was walking in an almost daze before he finally hit the wooden fence that marked off the enclosure. Jake stared at the Celestial for a few more moments before he finally noticed there was someone new over to his left who was talking to Judith. He looked over at them. "Where the hell'd we get a Celestial?!"

[LadyTevar]

Jebediah raised his head up at Captain Kelly's words. "Admiral?! Wha's top brass lik' tha doin' here?" he asked, turning his head to look... and seeing Judith standing 'at ease' in front of the Admiral with Jake wandering that way.

"Damnation..." Jeb muttered as softly as he could, just barely keeping a growl from escaping, although his tail tip started lashing. "Ah hope he's not dressin' down Judith. Th' Emerald whore-sons gav' us nothin' but hell."

Jake stared at the Celestial for a few more moments before he finally noticed there was someone new over to his left who was talking to Judith. He looked over at them. "Where the hell'd we get a Celestial?!"

There's a rube in every group. Judith didn't know whether to be embarrassed or thankful that Jake was the one asking the dumb questions. Still, her eyes shifted to look in the direction of the black dragon. Celestial meant heavenly, according to the Bible ... well, black weren't that heavenly, but she'd agree it was a damned fine-looking dragon. Long and slender and graceful ... rather like Frostfell.

Ok... white wasn't Heavenly either. She wondered if this 'Celestial' had a better attitude.
Then again, -anything- had a better attitude than the White Bastard.

OH... damnation...
"Sir... may Ah introduce Jake Collin'ton, captain ta th' Victor'an Reaper Kunja?" Her ma had knocked manners into her head... or as she'd done with the boys, in through their bottoms when the head was too dense.

[Cynical Cat]

"Wendigos," began Nathan, "are special operations dragons for two reasons. One is there well suited to it. The other is that they are badly suited to serving in the line. They don't respect rank, conventional wisdom, or the chain of command. Only results. As for myself, I haven't been likable since my dragon died under me, I'm in too much pain to make a futile attempts to be likable, and I've probably spent too much god damn time around the white bastards. Special operations is far more . . . . free form and tolerant of . . . . deviations from the standard than the line. You cannot run an understrength, underweight squadron by the book and you cannot run a Wendigo like another dragon. And fuck 1914. I was there. Over organized is just as bad as under."

[Cynical Cat]

"And as for a transfer," Reynolds said, "it would be to a different line squadron. It would go through. They get me and you get. . . . whoever. And Frostfell won't get breeding duties, no matter what happens to me. They can fuck off to any part of the Artic they want to, places where no military will go. They serve at their pleasure and only with the captains they choose. But you don't know Wendigos, so that's simple ignorance."

As for three hundred years of tradition, that's the fucking point. They didn't have 37mm cannons and radios three hundred years ago. The Jotunmeister wasn't part of any formation nor were the decoys I chased half way off, but it was an organized group. Don't confuse one as being necessary for the other. Adapt or die Captain Rankin, adapt or die and pray that you don't become a casualty en route."

[rhoenix]

"Never let yourself get flanked, especially not by mid-weights," said Fulminatus. "You let the other guy fight you the way he wants to and you might as well roll over and plow into the ground. It's quicker. Rotate your vulnerable flanks around so that you don't let the other guy pile damage up on you for too long in one spot. Don't let yourself get boarded, always protect your captain. Separate the enemy dragons coming at you and turn on one of them at a time. Go for wings if you're in a hurry, main body hits if you're not, head strikes only if you're sure you can get 'em to land right. Don't take on a lighter dragon from upwind if you can avoid it, make sure your crew knows how to watch the sun, and remember your gun lanes if you've got a lot of targets to engage."

The older dragon did not even glance away from the water as he recited the list of things to do.

"Do all that, and you'll usually come out okay."

Veritas was silent for a few moments, but eventually nodded. "Thank you, Fulminatus. Your advice is prudent, as always."

A few muffled cracks and pops were heard as Veritas rose and stretched to his full height, before he moved back to his previous place - near a small oak tree, next to his Captain. Carefully clutching the graphite sticks, he carefully wrote out the advice Fulminatus had given him, and his mind seemed to catch fire with the ideas that began to course through him.

The great red dragon had noticed in passing the three new arrivals, but at the moment, they could wait until he had finished jotting down a few ideas. It wouldn't take him long.

[General Havoc]

Rankin shook his head. "I'm sorry Captain, but you're not getting off that easily. I need you to do your job in the air. I cannot afford to import someone else to do it, even if there was another squadron commander in Britain mad enough to be willing to trade one of their Heavyweights for a Wendigo. Even if you have the contacts to get a transfer request through, it would take weeks of paperwork, delay, and foot-dragging, during which time I would be down a heavyweight."

"No, Captain, you're staying right here, in Tangmere, until the war ends, you are killed, or you aggravate me enough that I have you thrown in the stockade for insubordination or some other infraction. You've shown yourself reasonably hard to kill, and it will not be a short war, so there we are."

Rankin pulled a series of index cards out of his pocket and leafed through them as he continued speaking. "The purpose of the training exercises was for me to determine what in the Hell I should do with this collection of dragons that the Air Admiralty expects me to turn into a squadron. We may use a formation, and we may not, and we may use one sometimes and not use it others. For the moment, unless you can think of a particular reason why I should not, I am placing Frostfell and yourself on Umbrella duties. You will place yourself well above the rest of the squadron, and behind it, and respond only when called upon by me to engage targets of opportunity as I see fit. You may engage whatever you like unless I give you explicit orders to the contrary, but as you are the Umbrella, it means that I will expect you to be in position to lend support where needed. If you choose to chase a lightweight halfway across England, and are thus out of position when I need you, then others in this squadron will die."

He found the card he wanted, and slid the others back into his pocket, before palming the one in question and lifting his head.

"The Germans know you are here, and know you fly a Wendigo. They will try to draw you out. If you let them, they will overwhelm you at their leisure, or cut apart the smaller dragons while you are gone. I am aware that you think formations stupid, and obsolete, but that is the extent of the license you shall receive from me. I'll not have every dragon up their acting completely independent of one another, for that has been proven a thousand times to lead to annihilation. Until I find a middle ground, Umbrella is the best I can offer you, and consequently, if I may steal a bit of advice, you too might consider applying the phrase 'adapt or die'."

He gave a brief salute as he turned, walking away even as he spoke his last words.

"Because I don't see any other way for this to work."

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

If the Admiral was shocked and appalled by Jake's rather blunt talk, he gave no sign of it. "Captain Collington," he said pleasantly enough, nodding slightly towards the Australian Captain and touching his cap in salute. I'm Vice-Admiral Tolkien, Commanding Officer, RAF 11 Group. I'm here to see that things are settling in at Tangmere, and inspect the proceedings. We've a desperate need for replacement dragons at several other squadrons, and I'm to see what can be spared from here."

He followed the Australian Captain's gaze back to the Celestial still sitting on the other side of the covert. "That would be Lord Temeraire, KDBE. One of our most veteran heavyweights. A Chinese Celestial, the only one of his kind, what with the troubles in China. He'll be joining you all in Tangmere for a bit."

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

"Himmlische, das ist eine himmlische!"

"Das ist die himmlische. Was brauchen sie?"

"Ein Purpurroter Engel, kein Zweifel darüber. Mehrere Leichtgewichte, und eine Goldene Winkflügel. Es könnte ein Giftspitter, aber ich kann nicht sicher sein."

"Das wird tun. Signal der Geschwader zur Vorbereitung auf den Angriff. Und erzählen die SS, die wir identifiziert haben Unterdrachen."

"Müssen wir mit der SS, Herr Oberst?"

"Oberkommando darauf. Wir haben keine Wahl in diesem Bereich. Lassen Sie sie selbst aufwenden, wie sie es wünschen, wir haben viel Arbeit geleistet werden muss."

"Jawohl."

[Cynical Cat]

"Don't confuse formation and organization, Captain Rankin," rasped Nathan. "The Germans didn't hit us with a formation, but they were as sure as shit organized. Our light weights can move, really move, and if they can keep coordination while doing that they can take out twice their weight in enemy dragons. As for me, odds could be better. That Jotun will want another crack at me and since his squadron is flying through this region and since he will have weight to throw around with the Luftwaffe to continue flying in this region, he'll get it. He'll have someone else lure me out so he can pounce, which gives me the option of playing coward every fight or playing the first part of his fight his way.

"Since the first option won't work for either of us, I want you to give me that West Virginian hellion for the second."

[Agent Fisher]

Jonathon stood near the pens, watching Godfrey sun himself. He had seen the new arrivals and had spotted the Vice Admiral. Jonathon had met Tolkien once or twice before, his father and Tolkien had served together for a time.

He saw the American and the Australian go talk to them.

Turning, he headed towards the Admiral. When he approached, he stood at attention and saluted him.

"It's good to see you again, sir." Jonathon said.

[LadyTevar]

If the Admiral was shocked and appalled by Jake's rather blunt talk, he gave no sign of it. "Captain Collington," he said pleasantly enough, nodding slightly towards the Australian Captain and touching his cap in salute. I'm Vice-Admiral Tolkien, Commanding Officer, RAF 11 Group. I'm here to see that things are settling in at Tangmere, and inspect the proceedings. We've a desperate need for replacement dragons at several other squadrons, and I'm to see what can be spared from here."

"A pleasure meetin' you, sir," Judith answered, minding her Pees&Ques.

He followed the Australian Captain's gaze back to the Celestial still sitting on the other side of the covert. "That would be Lord Temeraire, KDBE. One of our most veteran heavyweights. A Chinese Celestial, the only one of his kind, what with the troubles in China. He'll be joining you all in Tangmere for a bit."

There was a moment of confusion, then a slight fidget as she knew she had to know. "... Sir? Wha's a Kay-Dee-Bee-Eee?" Somehow she figured it weren't part of the dragon's name.

[rhoenix]

Veritas' large paw stopped moving as he looked down at his sketchbook. A faint smile lit up his face as he regarded his work, before closing the book and carefully putting away his charcoal sticks.

Alexander looked up from his reading idly, and looked at the large red dragon before speaking. "Well, ready to meet the brass yet?"

As way of an answer, Veritas got to his feet and stretched again. Alexander smiled, put away his book, and walked alongside Veritas toward the visitors.

[Charon]

Jake realized that he was talking to an Admiral only after the man mentioned it to him, and with the shock of realization gave him a quick salute. "Hell sir, if you're desperate for dragons why don't you just take Temeraire to wherever you need? There's nothing here that we can't handle."

[General Havoc]

"That was a formation, Captain. A poorly implemented one, I grant, but a standard German formation nonetheless. They call it "Fleigenkeil". The Flying Wedge. Five Lightweights, four mediums, three heavies, and a pair of specials. A series of escalating waves that fix the enemy in place and destroy them progressively. The only hitch was that they attacked piecemeal, and drew off too much of their strength to try and ambush you rather than employing them to fix everything in place. We must not assume that they will make the same mistake next time."

"I'll consider your request for the Smoke Devil," said Rankin, "but my inclination is to pair it with the Victorian and use them as skirmishers. The two of them should be able to overwhelm any given middleweight or Acidspitter, and break up the German formation long enough to present you or the Tasmanian with a valid target. Perhaps I'll detach the Smoke devil to you and use the Spitfire to support the Victorian instead... at the very least it will be unexpected."

He shrugged. "I have to confer with the admiral. Dismissed."

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

"Knight Draconic of the British Empire," said Admiral Tolkien. "A companion honor to the Knight Commander, specially for dragons. Lord Temeraire was the first to receive it, back in 1857. And I would use him as my fire brigade, Captain Collington, save that he's not here under my authority. Lord Temeraire and Captain Lawrence are under the auspices of SOE, not the RAF. Until then, I cannot deploy him at all."

He smiled at the younger captains' exuberance. "I have every confidence that you all can handle the worst that the Hun have to throw at you. I'm merely here to see that things are progressing as expected."

A third captain stepped up and saluted, and Tolkien turned and returned it, a moment's confusion on his face as he recognized but couldn't identify the captain standing before him. "A pleasure, Captain..." he trailed off, trying to recall where he recognized the young man in front of him from...

[Cynical Cat]

"I know a Fleigenkeil when I see one," said Reynolds. "And that wasn't one. They were running a different game that day, the Jotun's game if I'm right. They wanted our specials and heavies, by means of a forcing commitments and baiting before bringing down the hammer. Because I allowed my self to be half baited, it was Frostfell they got and then couldn't bring down while the rest of their plan went to hell. They lost because the Jotun wanted the big head to mount on the wall and our lightweights are hard to pin for the kill. They'll be ready for that next time, but the Jotunmesiter might be even more obsessed. I can use that, but I need to be able to pull Jebediah out of whatever he's doing so I can get a positional advantage on the bastard instead of the other way around."

[Agent Fisher]

Jonathon smiled softly. "Taggart, sir. It's been a few years, sir." He said, slightly understating things. The last time Jonathon had seen the Admiral was just before he had begun his cadet training.

[General Havoc]

It took Admiral Tolkien a moment to associate the name properly, but when he did, the donnish air commander broke into a broad smile of recognition and shook the younger captain's hand. "My god, Taggert? John Taggert's boy? Or rather no longer. I told 12-Group to send down one of their Spitfires, but I didn't know it was Godfrey they'd sent. And how is your father? I've not heard from him in years..."

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

"Æquitas?"

The Malachite Reaper glanced up from the remains of the sheep it was midway through devouring. Very few things could force a 20 ton dragon to glance upwards, but of all of them, this was plainly one of the things that the Malachite wanted least to see. It returned its gaze to its meal a second later without replying.

"Æquitas?" came the repeated question, a slight bit more forceful this time, and the Malachite grumbled softly as it stood up.

"Lord Temeraire?" he said in a voice that could freeze water.

The towering Celestial stood before the Malachite less than half its size, watching it carefully as though assessing what should be done. "Are you well?" he asked in what passed for a quiet tone among dragons. Heavyweights the size of a Celestial did not need to pad their words with implied threat.

Middleweights apparently did. "I was," said the Malachite Reaper in a low growl, "until a moment ago."

The obsidian Celestial visibly frowned. "What is the matter?"

"I do not think I will tell you," said Æquitas directly. "We are in the middle of a war, and there is not time for me to break a new Captain in after you burn this one at the stake."

The Celestial's frown deepened. "I did not burn your Captain at the stake, nor anything like it, nor am I here to replace your Captain. I simply wanted to make sure that nothing was..."

"Nothing was wrong?" finished Æquitas. "No, Lord Temeraire, there is nothing whatsoever wrong, but if there was, you can be certain I wouldn't tell you about it. I know what happens when you think things are 'wrong'."

"I had nothing to do with..."

"You had everything to do with it!" snarled the Malachite. "You incited the admiralty to act! You kept dredging up ancient history to force them to agree, and all because of some petty vendetta!"

"It is not a vendetta," said Temeraire, taking no mind of the Malachite's bluster. "It is prudence. And nobody but your captain was to blame for his..."

"SHUT UP!" yelled Æquitas, with the full force of a draconic roar, silencing all else for a mile around even as he spread his wings and bared his teeth. "Shut your maw this instant or I will tear out your throat!"

An enraged Malachite was quite a thing, but a Heavyweight, much less a Celestial, did not need to fear such a thing the way a middleweight might have, and Temeraire neither backed down nor rose to the challenge. He regarded the Malachite calmly, and shook his head almost in disappointment. "I was only asking after your own condition," he said. "That is all."

"I know what you were asking," said Æquitas with obvious malevolence. "You and all your kind. You want to know my condition? My condition is that if I were a Regal Copper, I would have killed you ten years ago, Divine Wind be damned! But as I am not, my condition is such, that if I am not killed in this war or the next, then one day I shall live to see you dead from wounds, disease, or simple age, and on that day, my condition will finally be much improved over its current state."

The Celestial again declined the bait, and let out a soft sigh. "Æquitas - "

"Will that be all, Lord Temeraire?" asked the Malachite loudly, paying no mind to the stares of the other dragons, nor the confused yawns of the Tasmanian Venomspitter that its shouts had woken up.

"... it will."

No sooner had Temeraire said those words than Æquitas turned and contemptuously took to the air, flying up and over the covert's perimeter and off towards the ocean for a private stroll.

And sitting on the side of the feeding paddock, Capricorn blinked a few times and turned to his Captain.

"He needs a cow." said the Venomspitter with absolute conviction. And then having spoken these words of wisdom, he promptly laid his head back down to return to sleep, leaving his captain to finish drying his scales with a towel.

[LadyTevar]

Both Jeb and Judith turned their heads towards Æquitas as he lost the last of his temper at the Celestial dragon. After Æquitas took off, enraged, both West Virginians had the exact same thing to say:

"Wha' in tarnation?"

Judith looked to Admiral Tolkien for explanation, while out in the feeding paddock Jebediah looked up to the huge black dragon, eying him critically. "Som' folks jis' don' lik' havin' noses stuck in their bus'ness," the tiny SmokeDragon said casually. There were quite a few like that back home, although they would make their points known via shotgun.

[Agent Fisher]

It took Admiral Tolkien a moment to associate the name properly, but when he did, the donnish air commander broke into a broad smile of recognition and shook the younger captain's hand. "My god, Taggert? John Taggert's boy? Or rather no longer. I told 12-Group to send down one of their Spitfires, but I didn't know it was Godfrey they'd sent. And how is your father? I've not heard from him in years..."

The young captain smiled. "Father is fine, sir." He said. "He's doing staff work now. Misses being out on the lines." He said.

[Charon]

Jake and Kunja both whistled simultaniously at the outburst.

The Victorian, smirking, turned to look at Jeb. "Looks like those two are going to get along swimmingly. Maybe we should get some pictures fer the scrapbook." The Victorian was still grinning as he coughed a few times to get his voice to the proper raspiness. "Oh my, do you remember Temeraire and Æquitas? Best of buds they were. Nigh inseperable... 'Specially once old Æquitas got his fangs around Temeraire's neck."

Jake meanwhile had kept his remarks to himself, what with an Admiral being in front of him. It was difficult, and the Aussie clearly wanted to make a comment but he held it back. Instead he also looked at Admiral Tolkien for a few moments before he shook his head. "Well this is gonna be a fun couple of months then..."

[rhoenix]

Veritas and Alexander slowed to a stop upon seeing the scene with Temeraire and Æquitas. Captain Braithwaite looked vaguely surprised, whereas Veritas looked thoughtful. "Damn Ver, it would appear that Æquitas has a demon or two," said Captain Braithwaite quietly to Veritas.

For his part, Veritas studied the scene for a few moments before replying, aware that his voice carried better than his Captain's by a fair amount. "It doesn't matter."

This made Alexander's eyebrows raise. "Doesn't matter, you say? If they're at each other's throats, that could be bad during wartime, don't you think?"

Veritas' facial expression, such as it was, didn't change. "Both are soldiers, that much is obvious. Both will put their personal feelings aside for a battle."

Captain Braithwaite's eyebrows furrowed in thought. "That can be hard to do sometimes. What happens if they let their feelings 'leak through' into what they're doing, during a battle?"

At this, Veritas looked down at his Captain, but paused a moment before speaking. "Then they create an unacceptable weakness for the enemy to exploit, which could lead to all of us getting captured or killed. Their personal feelings are their business, as long as it doesn't interfere with RAF business."

Captain Alexander Braithwaite digested that for a few moments, but his thoughts were interrupted by Veritas. "Come, let's meet the brass. It would be proper and all, despite us being newcomers."

Shrugging, Captain Braithwaite walked alongside Veritas' much larger, but slower strides until they reached Admiral Tolkien. Captain Alexander Braithwaite saluted crisply, whereas Veritas nodded his head slowly in respect. "Greetings Admiral - I am Captain Alexander Braithwaite, and this is my dragon, Veritas. I hope we find you well."

As if to add in counterpoint, Veritas spoke half a heartbeat later. "Salutations, Admiral. It is an honor to meet you."

[Cynical Cat]

Booming laughter filled the feeding pen. Frostfell threw back his head and continued and howled his glee to the skies. "Killed you years ago!" he chortled. "Tear out your throat! Beautiful. Beautiful. Will that be all?" He thumped his wings on the ground with joy. "I love it!"

He rose up, his wings fluttering and fanning the air and his tail hammered the ground as he thumped in delight. The ridiculous mask of human civilization had come off and the true dragon had revealed itself. It was a splendid thing to watch the feeble lie fall to shreds, especially when the liar in question had been so proud of his civilized pretension and so dismissive of Frostfell's truth.

[LadyTevar]

Jebediah looked from Kunja to Frostfell in annoyance. Now he understood what Ma McClung had meant by 'takin' too much fun in other's misery'. Taking a page from Ma McClung's book, he casually reached out his wing and whapped Kunja. "Jis' you b'have, now."

He'd try that with Frostfell, but the White Bastard would eat him.

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell settled down and strutted across the feeding pen, pausing to give Jebediah a playful wing tap. "Such a look little dragon," he said with a toothy smile. "One would think you didn't approve of my amusement. Don't worry. I'm just a blow hard bully who is all talk and no show. You have the words from up high on that. Don't you believe your superior officer?" Frostfell snickered, amused by his own joke. "I mean could you really seriously credit the idea that a natural born killer might actually be able to back up his words with lethal force?" He had a lopsided grin on his face. "Ridiculous! The all powerful chain of command must be obeyed! It is never wrong"

[LadyTevar]

Jeb lowered his head a little under the 'playful wing tap'. Frostfell was far larger than him, so returning the favor wouldn't quite work. However, there were other ways to skin a polecat.

"Yur rite, Frostfell," Jebediah drawled, as if discussing the time of day. "Yur jis' as you said." Meaning, a blowhard bully all talk and no show, if Frostfell stopped gloating long enough to realize the backhanded insult. To futher confuse the issue, Jeb continued. "An' Ah 'gree... Chain o' command ain't all its crack'd up ta be." Jeb had his own gripes about certain USAF dragons. "But yer no' in tha' chain, now are ya."