His Majesty's Dragons: The Battle of Britain

[LadyTevar]

"Tha's WEST Virginia," Judith clarified. "Been that way since Virginia s'ceeded an' we din't."

"Yer showin' yer age, ol'timer," Jebediah teased lightly. "But they preach th' Word o' God, an' th' Gospels an' th' Acts. Ah'm no preacher, tho.. Ah jis' read n' sing wit' the choir. They built me a rain shelter, cause Ah can' fit eyther. But iffen yer wantin', we'll keep singin'..."

[General Havoc]

Fulminatus scoffed lightly. "Who do you think it was, threw the rebs outta your mountains?" Still, he did not seem angry or upset, but merely whimsical, falling silent for a moment, staring out at something that was apparently not there.

"'f you've got more of those hymns of yours, don't let me stop you," he finally said, but his heart clearly wasn't in the joke, and a moment later he lowered his head down to the ground again slowly, growling softly as he closed his eyes, and simply listened in silence.

[LadyTevar]

Jebediah looked down to Judith, then back to Fulminatus. "We kin do that..., and then iffen yer up to it, would ya tell us 'bout that fight?"

"When th' Reb flew th' Carn'fax Ferry, they tramped up our prop'ty ta get 'way," Judith added. "So we're right int'rested."

"Cross th' river n' up th' side o' th' mountain, a' night." Jebediah shook his head. "Tain' no road there, e'en now. But... yer wantin' a song..." There were several he could chose from, but he felt they needed a little more upbeat.

"Som' brigh' mornin' when this life is o-ver/ Ah'll fly 'way...
To a home on Heav'n's lovely shore/ Ah'll fly 'way..."

Judith joined in on the chorus, singing the descant.
"Ah'lll Fly 'Way (oh glory) Ah'lll fly way.... (in th' mornin'!)
When Ah die hallelulah bye-n-bye
Ah'll (Ah'lll!) fly 'way..."

[General Havoc]

Fulminatus did not stir or make a sound as the Smoke Devil and his captain sang their hymnal, his eyes closed, his wings folded, his head held low and quiet. What he was thinking about was anyone's guess, but as the last notes vanished over the horizon, he began to talk, quietly, without reference to anyone or opening his eyes.

"I knew the war was coming," he said. "I was in Kansas before it started, when they called her 'bleeding'. I helped her to bleed. Nearly got posted to Sumter, but they weren't takin' in volunteers yet, so I wound up in Ohio when the fighting started. Rebs wouldn't talk to a merc, so I signed on with the yanks." He snorted. "Better pay anyway."

He opened his eyes a sliver as his face curled back to a smirk. "That early on, the whole damn Fed'ral Air Corps was up north watchin' the Iroquois, so they didn't have much to throw in. Rebs didn't either. Midweight like me was the biggest thing for three hundred miles, or so we thought. They gave me a pair of Lightweights. A Mountaineer from Vermont, and a Smoke Devil. Volunteers, both of 'em. Full of piss and vinegar, out to save the union or whatnot. Thought they were the nastiest things alive." He chuckled. "So'd I."

Fulminatus raised his head to the extent he could, and turned it towards the other two. "It was fall, I think. We came up the Kanawha river from Ohio. Heard that the rebs had jumped a Fed'ral regiment somewhere up to the east. Took off up a tributary, 'Gauley', I think it was, into a canyon. Damn Vermonter clipped the canyonside tryin' to chase the Smoke Devil 'round those bends and broke his damn wing. I had to fish him out of the river and leave him for the medics. We'd lost so much time that the Devil said we'd never get there if we didn't take a shortcut, so he cut across a pass to get 'round to the back of the reb positions. Fog so thick you could chew it... I nearly ran headlong into a mountainside just tryin' to keep that little bastard in sight. I don't know how he found his way through... but..." Fulminatus chuckled. "He did..."

He sighed. "We came out on the south side of the river just as the army was engaging. Rebs had three Emeralds up harassing the Fed'ral artillery. Green as the grass, and I don't mean their scales. Two of 'em took one look at me and bolted south. I caught one and bounced him right into the river... don't think he made it. Last one tried to bumrush the Smoker... didn't go so well for him. Smoker damn near took his wing off with those claws and knocked him down behind the fed'ral lines. Last one took off south, prob'ly didn't stop flyin' till he got to Florida."

"Rebs were gettin' their tails kicked, runnin' back towards the ferry. Carnifex. Hmph. Good name for it. Ferry was built to take a hundred men and horses. Wasn't built to take me. One little pass, and the lines went, and I flipped the barge over like a playin' card. Two hundred men went into the drink, and maybe five of 'em made it back to shore. The rest got to stand there and watch. I broke the ferry in half and let it sink to the bottom of the river, and pulled back up with that Smoker cheerin' and hollerin' his head off and the Fed'ral troopers waving their hats in the air..."

Fulminatus trailed off for a moment.

"... never saw the damn thing comin'. Just wasn't lookin' in the right place. Only damn reason I'm here to tell you about it is that whoever that fool of a cap'n was picked the Smoker as his target, 'stead of me. Musta thought I was feral, no harness, no captain. Easy pickings."

He paused.

"A longhorn..." he said, and there was a bitter venom in the words. "A goddamned Longhorn. In Virginia. I'd never heard of Bobbie Lee back then, but he'd hustled the damn thing up from Richmond as quick as it could fly, and it jumped us both like an Osprey. One second the Smoker's sittin' up there, happy as a dragonet in an egg, hollerin' and screamin'... next second, that Longhorn spears him like a fish on a harpoon. Straight in one side and out the other. Killed him and his cap'n dead before he knew what hit him..." Fulminatus said nothing for a moment, and when he did speak again, his voice was thinner, quieter, and slightly more ethereal, as though he had forgotten what he was talking about. "... I never got his name."

[LadyTevar]

"Right 'cross th' River, on toppa th' ridge... tha's our farm." Judith said softly.
"Funny how small th' world kin be, tain't it," Jebediah added.

[General Havoc]

A quiet chuckle, softer than a midweight normally could manage. It was unclear what Fulminatus was thinking about as he stared off at the Norman coast. "... yeah."

The dragon took a very long, slow breath, and let it out, before speaking in a wooden, clear manner, one that took no pleasure in what he had now to say, but would not beat around the bush.

"Now..." he said carefully, as though he had all the time in the world. "I want you to listen to me, whelp. When they take you to wherever they take you, keep your ears open and your mind sharp. Whatever happens, you show 'em that you're good enough to work at whatever they want from you. Heavy labor, construction, whatever it is. The Todt, that's the German labor service, the Todt people'll be all over you like white on rice with them claws o' yours. You stick to them, they'll be in brown uniforms, not black. Keep with them, and they'll keep you alive at least. Do not let the SS get their claws on you, but don't try fightin' a Stuka or snappin' at one of their guards, or they'll take it out on your cap'n."

He took another breath and sighed. "You do all that, and you'll come out a'right if they still make Smokers the way they used to. It's your first war, and international law says you're a uniformed soldier of the USAAF. Might not help much, but then again it might. You don't have war crimes under your harness, so they won't be as eager for your blood as they will for..."

He stopped.

"... you got all that?"

[Cynical Cat]

"Is every extraneous piece of equipment stripped off the harness?" Nathan asked. "Every unmanned gun, every extra chute, ectetera etcetera?"

"Yes sir. We're flying at half crew, full armour, full ammo. He'll make good speed still."

"Good," said Reynolds. "We'll need it. Remember, we're not leaving with the rest of the squadron. They're sneaking in low first. We're making trouble latter, so when they move out and hit the Jerries they'll be distracted. We've still got some time."

He headed over to Rankin. "Get our people back, don't let anyone get killed, and don't play hero. It's no fun when you fuck it up. Good luck." He extended his hand. "I'll have your back."

[LadyTevar]

He took another breath and sighed. "You do all that, and you'll come out a'right if they still make Smokers the way they used to. It's your first war, and international law says you're a uniformed soldier of the USAAF. Might not help much, but then again it might. You don't have war crimes under your harness, so they won't be as eager for your blood as they will for..."

He stopped.

"... you got all that?"

"Ah got it..." Jebediah answered. He also got the rest of it -- Fulminatus did not think he'd make it out.

"Fulminatus ..." Judith started to speak, then realized she didn't know how to say it. "... yer not 'spectin' ta come back, are ya...."

[Dark Silver]

After the requisite two hours, Thomas and Hermeticus was on the runway. The heavyweight dragon was fully rigged up, armor plates and harnesses made him look like a flying fortress.

Thomas and the crew stood next to their dragon, each of them to a man a colored. Thomas stood by the head, stroking Hermeticus' snout as he waited for Rankin's arrival.

[Charon]

Kunja kept his eyes on Frostfell and Reynolds, this was their operation and so he was going to take his signals from them. For now anyway.

Jake meanwhile was grumbling still that he wasn't on rescue duty. Kunja gently bumped his captain with his shoulder and almost sent him sprawling.

"Watch it you overgrown lizard, or I'm gonna be wearin' your skin as boots." Jake half-scowled half-grinned at his dragon.

Kunja smirked. "I could say the same for you, some nice human-skin foot warmers. Then again, there isn't enough flesh on you to get those, maybe just some toe warmers. This freezing weather is killing me."

"Well, we'll just have to open up a Kampie for you to crawl up in to keep warm."

The two continued to banter, it was their way of preparing for combat.

[General Havoc]

The covert was quiet that evening, as dragons, crews, and captains hastily prepared for the operation, trying not to think about what was to come ahead, and the people who might not be returning. He wondered idly which of them had the worst odds to face, and couldn't square it, but that didn't matter so much. All of them were flying into danger far beyond the normal scheme of things. All of them knew it.

He had just finished consulting the Master Artificer, who had attested that every scrap of Æquitas' harness was working as planned. Neither man mentioned that the Artificer would not be accompanying them. The man had a wife and four children in the East End of London, and had taken Rankin at his word when he had asked for volunteers only.

Captain Reynolds walked over, his dragon already armed and armored, though he was not to leave for another several hours. Kunja would be accompanying him on his ride, but there was a very real possibility that the two of them would be encountering the entire balance of JG-1. And perversely, the better Frostfell and Kunja did their jobs, the worse off they would be personally.

And of course, Albatros was out there somewhere...

Rankin expected Reynolds to deliver some last-minute threat or to brag, but the eve of battle had apparently dialed the man's attitude back, and he was calm and collected, and offered luck and his hand. Rankin managed to contain his surprise... barely.

He took Reynolds' hand firmly and shook it, staring the Canadian in the eye. "Captain," he said, not particularly good at this sort of thing. "Godspeed, and get yourself and Frostfell back to Tangmere alive. We can spare you even less than we can Fulminatus and Jebediah." It was a poor offering, but Rankin had no tongue for inspirational speeches, and he doubted very much that a man like Reynolds needed one.

"Good luck Captain," he said. "Give us the chance, and we'll finish the job."

It was the best he could do.

Takeoff time was in five minutes, and Hermecritus was lined up on the tarmac, his crew ready to board at Rankin's order. Rankin took a deep breath as he walked towards the Longhorn's captain. He did not want to have to bring this up, but he had to.

"Captain," he said to Thomas, in low enough tones to avoid being overhead by the rest of the crew. "Before we go... I... I'm sure I don't need to remind you of what fate will likely await any negro captured in arms against the Germans? Let alone an airman? This mission is higher risk than normal, and any man among your crew unwilling to undertake it can step out now. I don't know how things are done in America, but in the RAF they could hardly be faulted for failing to obey an illegal order."

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

"I've been wailing on the Krauts since they put their damn country together. I was in the Great War, 1870, I was there when they burned out the Hottentots and when they tried to hold Port Arthur. I'm a war criminal, far as they're concerned, and the nearest thing dragons've got to a nigger. Worse'n a nigger even."

He sighed. "And on top of all that, I'm too old for 'em to work to death, and I don't have a captain to make me behave. I got a list of enemies in Germany long as my tail. They're not giving me to Todt. 'f I'm lucky, they'll use me for combat training some of their new Stukas." He chuckled darkly. "Maybe I'll even get in a swipe'r two."

He sighed again, slowly. "You two worry about yourselves, not about me. Only reason the Brits brought me on was so's I'd get myself killed and stop messing with 'em in their little brushfires. There's some things in the world you can change, and some things you can't. Better part o' me died eighty years ago." He paused again, letting the wind whistle softly in the rafters overhead. "Just took this long to take the rest o' me with it."

[Dark Silver]

Thomas looked at Captain Rankin with cold eyes as he spoke. He took one full breath, before he started to say something, only to be interrupted by Hermeticus himself, his voice decidedly against being hushed; "They can try doing something to Thomas or any of my crew."

Thomas placed a hand against Hermeticus' head, and looked back to his crew. "Boys, the good Captain says anyone who wants to bow out now, can go on back to the tent and cool his heels."

There was a mummer from the crew, before one of them shouted out, "Fuck that Captain. We're going."

Thomas turned his attention back to Rankin, and nodded, his deep voice even, "There's your answer Captain. We're in."

[LadyTevar]

"I've been wailing on the Krauts since they put their damn country together. I was in the Great War, 1870, I was there when they burned out the Hottentots and when they tried to hold Port Arthur. I'm a war criminal, far as they're concerned, and the nearest thing dragons've got to a nigger. Worse'n a nigger even."

He sighed. "And on top of all that, I'm too old for 'em to work to death, and I don't have a captain to make me behave. I got a list of enemies in Germany long as my tail. They're not giving me to Todt. 'f I'm lucky, they'll use me for combat training some of their new Stukas." He chuckled darkly. "Maybe I'll even get in a swipe'r two."

He sighed again, slowly. "You two worry about yourselves, not about me. Only reason the Brits brought me on was so's I'd get myself killed and stop messing with 'em in their little brushfires. There's some things in the world you can change, and some things you can't. Better part o' me died eighty years ago." He paused again, letting the wind whistle softly in the rafters overhead. "Just took this long to take the rest o' me with it."

Judith looked up to Jebediah, stricken. Jebediah, met her gaze and slowly shook his head before she could say a word. There was nothing they could do, here, inside this cage. Fulminatus was right. Judith's head lowered, fists clenching in frustration.

Jebediah, to take their minds off it, started another song.

"When I got homesick, for a country...
To which I've never been before.
No sad goodbyes will there be spoken
And time won't matter anymore

Beulaah Land Ah'm longin' fer ya
An' som'day on thee Ah'll stand
Thair my home shall be ater'nal
Beulaah Land... Sweet Beulaaah Land."

Judith joined in on the second verse, once again singing counterpoint to Jedediah's melody as she'd done since she was a child.

"Ah'm lookin' now 'cross tha' river
T'where my faith is gonna end in sight.
Thair's jis a few mor' days to labour,
Then Ah'll take my heav'nly flight.

Beulaaah Land
Ah'm longin' fer you,
An' som'day on thee Ah'll stand.
Thair my home shall be ater'nal
Beulaah Land ... Sweet Beulaaah Land "

[General Havoc]

Hermecritus and his crew both spoke bravely, declining the offer to stay behind, and while Rankin knew the risks at stake, he was privately relieved. There was no chance of this operation succeeding without Hermecritus. There was little enough of it with him.

Still, he had to say something...

"They will try," he said to Hermecritus. "An entire squadron's worth, if not more. We're going to have our work cut out for us." He paused for a moment, unable to think of anything suitable to say. "I will see you in the air."

He turned, and walked back to Æquitas and his flagcrew, mounted into the captain's position without a word, and after a final radio check, tapped Æquitas on the side of the neck, and held on as the midweight Malachite Reaper burst into the air, waiting for the others to take wing before setting out south and west, aiming for the coast of Normandy near Avranches...

... and the lion's den.

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

Fulminatus neither said a word nor moved a muscle as Jeb and Judith joined in for another hymn, the Luftwaffe guards standing watch over them falling a little more quiet in their rounds as they listened to the song on the quiet night. And when it was over, and the last note faded, Fulminatus did something completely unexpected, in that he responded with a song of his own.

Fulminatus could not sing, nor did he attempt to, and the song that he performed was not done with words, but with a clear, focused whistle. Despite Fulminatus' raw volume and size, it started almost inaudibly, as though the wind were making the noise, and Fulminatus himself gave no external sign that it was he doing it. Yet slowly it grew in strength and volume, until it was as loud as a full-throated clarinet. Though the guards would not have been able to identify the song, it was as apparent to Judith and Jebediah as any of their hymns, a song as old as Fulminatus himself. "The Yellow Rose of Texas".

And yet, while the pitch was perfect, and the volume intense, the song was strangely hollow, whistled at half the speed as it ought have been, a nostalgic dirge, better suited to the circumstances perhaps, rather than the upbeat folk ballad it normally was. The notes were long, sustained, and almost mournful, a hollow core to them like an echo rather than a real note. And all the time he whistled it, Fulminatus did not so much as move or emerge from the blank stare written on his face, his expression unreadable, up through to the final long note, held for just a moment longer than it ought to have been, before it finally faded off into silence.

[Dark Silver]

The crew swarmed over Hermeticus as they scrambled into position even as Rankin walked away. Thomas was picked up by Hermeticus' forepaw, and placed next to his harness.

As the Malacite Reaper took to the air, Hermeticus started his run, beating his wings, and took to the air just behind them. Each of the crew was belted in, gripping their weapons, and waiting for time.

[LadyTevar]

Judith let the silence sit for a long moment, allowing Fulminatus his memories of whomever had taught him how to whistle. Time stretched out with neither human or dragon speaking.

Then she started a song herself, that was song as an altar call at the end of the service, the end of the day. It was one of the first songs she learned, because it was always the same, just like the call to offering. Hearing the song repeated every Sunday had burnt it into her mind before she was old enough to read. Like the church, she sang it low and slow, a plea to the sinner (if there were any) to come forth, and a plea to God to show them the way to Salvation.

"Jis as Ah am, wit'out one plea
But tha' thy Blood, was shed fer me
An' tha' Thou bid'st me come
To Thee, oh Lamb Of God
Ah come. Ah Come.

Jis' as Ah am, and waitin' not
Ta rid my soul o' one dark blot
Ta Thee, whos' blood can cleanse
Each spot, oh Lamb of God
Ah come. Ah Come.

Jis' as Ah am, tho tossed a-bout
Wit' many-a conflict, many-a doubt,
Fightin's 'n fears wit'in,
Wit'out, oh Lamb of God
Ah come. Ah Come.

Jis as Ah am an' wilt r'ceive
Wilt welcome, par'don, cleanse, r'lieve
B'cause Thy promise Ah
Believe oh Lamb of God
Ah come. Ah Come."

[General Havoc]

Several hours later:

It had thus been easier than Rankin had expected.

The coast of Normandy was, as it turned out, semi-impossible to completely secure, or at least the Germans had not figured out a way to do it yet. A couple hours of flying had brought them in over the western coast of the Cotentin penninsula, south of Avranches, a desolate series of cliffs that did not sport so much as a lighthouse. Despite the fact that regular ground patrols by the local Wehrmacht garrison authorities were supposed to be active in this area, there had been nothing whatsoever to indicate that the place was occupied at all. Rankin had anticipated the need to ambush the occasional Kubelwagon full of germans, or pitch a squad-sized patrol or two into the nearest ravine, but they had encountered nothing beyond the odd french farm cart heading to market or bicyclist out on rounds.

Not of course that Rankin had the slightest intention of allowing the french to see his dragons. Hiding a 20-ton armed wardragon was generally an exercise in impossibility, but in the dead of night, avoiding major roads and villages, it was not so impossible. They had to keep to the ground to avoid the radar station at Pointe du Hoc from picking them up, for Frostfell and Kunja were not scheduled to hit it for another hour or so, but Aequitas was capable of keeping his head, and the brisk hike over the hills and fields was not too much for him or the others, even if the farmers would all be cursing them tomorrow for having flattened half of their crops.

The crew was keyed up and nervous, but then so was Rankin, so was Aequitas. And every mile that they made into French territory only increased the danger. They passed upriver along a stream that had no name, south of Carentan, cut cross-country passed Merderet and St Lo, and yet still they had encountered nothing whatsoever to indicate that the Germans were in residence, save for a handful of street signs hastily repainted in German, and the occasional smoking ruin where a building had once stood, signs of where the French had resisted when the Germans overran Normandy back in June.

The sun was due up in less than an hour, and the sky was already beginning to lighten, when Ranikin directed Aequitas to a stand of tall trees overlooking a small valley, through which ran a river, a road, and a railroad track, all three of which were presently empty. Within the cover of the trees, even a monster like Hermecritus could be safely hidden, unless of course some German Landser should blunder into them looking for a place to dig a latrine.

Aequitas settled to the ground, allowing Rankin to dismount and inspect the valley himself on foot. Intelligence claimed that the Germans, with their unfailing punctuality would send the train through this valley every single day at precisely 7:12 AM, roughly ten minutes after it left Bayeux.

He checked his watch. It was 6:45.

Pointe du Hoc was supposed to be destroyed at 7:00 sharp.

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

The first sign that anything was happening was the hanger doors opening, revealing a platoon of soldiers armed with heavy weapons, as well as two Prussian Bluejackets in full combat harness. With them, barely a fraction of their size, stood Albatros, his brown speckled scales once more resplendant in crimson paint, and war gear draped about him like the decorations of royalty. And yet for all the aura of command Albatros held around him, every eye in the room was turned to the black obscenity of creation that flanked him, slightly larger than either Bluejacket, and equipped with neither harness nor chain, a twisted mockery of nature in the form of a dragon, from which everything else seemed to shy away, even the other German dragons. The Stuka.

"I trust you are all prepared for ze journey," said Albatros, not deigning to even glance at the Stuka beside him, the only person, human or draconic, who could avoid doing so. "Ze train vill be leavink in less zan ten minutes. You vill be loaded up for transport to ze reich. If you attempt to resist, you vill be killed on ze spot."

Albatros' voice was perfunctory and emotionless, like he was reciting a rote shopping list, and he stepped aside to allow the Bluejackets and the soldiers enter the hanger, and, along with the guards, move towards Jeb and Judith's cage, and Fulminatus' chains. The Stuka did not move, watching the proceedings like it was trying to determine what to eat first, a soft hiss that seemed like a snake crossed with a volcanic vent eminating from its snout. Captain Lothar von Richtoffen and Colonel Werner Lorenz were there as well, the former standing next to his illustrious dragon, the latter standing before his, occasionally glancing back up and whispering something to the Stuka, who gave no sign as to its thoughts, but watched Jebediah and Judith and Fulminatus with all the care and intensity of a snake staring down a field mouse.

[LadyTevar]

Judith gave Jedediah a final hug, before allowing herself to be escorted out of his cage for the trip. Jebediah made no moves himself until the cage door was shut again. Behind the protective bars, then he raised his voice, the only defiance he had left.

"Courage, brother, do not stumble,
Though thy path be dark as night;
Thair’s a star to guide the humble:
Trust in God and do the right.
Let the road be rough an' dreary,
And its end far out o' sight,
Foot it bravely; strong or weary,

Trust in God, trust in God,
Trust in God and do th' right."

It was a tent revival song, so he did not know more than just the one verse, but he sang it loudly and sang it proudly, to give both Judith and Fulminatus strength.

[Cynical Cat]

"I hate bomb racks," hissed Frostfell.

"Easy," said Nathan. "Nine times in ten, you're a poor choice to carry bombs. I know that, you know that, anyone who can do the math should know that. You're better used as escort and way clearer. This, however, is time number ten. Accept it with good grace. Just an hour or so, a quick trip over the channel and the bombs and the harness go."

"Alright," said Frostfell. "I don't know why we are doing this. An illegal mission for a man who despises us. He doesn't listen."

"To be fair, I'm not the most likable person on the planet," said Nathan. "And my manner could use some work. Too many bloody fools have worn me to all edges."

"How many of you killed? How many have I killed? We are strong and cunning."

"Only one of us is strong," said Nathan gently.

"Doesn't matter," growled Frostfell. "These officers are obsessed with order and control and we both know what that means. Combat is fast and fluid and they will always be too slow and too ignorant."

"Uh huh," said Nathan as the crew fitted armour to his dragon. "More men getting killed that could have been saved. That doesn't change. God I am tired of this."

"He should listen to you."

"He thinks I'm a braggart."

"And which of the battles of the Great War have you mention? Does he even know one of your kills? And he thinks you're a braggart. Bah. We do the errand of a fool."

"You brag enough for both of us," said Nathan gently. "And I talked him out of the worst foolishness. This may work. Feel up to tricking your way past a small army of Germans?"

"I was born for that," replied Frostfell.

Nathan checked the straps and fittings. "Alright, let us take to the air." The bone white dragon launched himself into the night sky. He flew low over the waters of the Channel

"We should be doing the other end," grumbled Frostfell.

"You just don't like carrying bombs. Who else but us has the size to be good bait and the cunning to escape?"

"Point," replied Frostfell. "There it is. Now to get ourselves noticed."

[Charon]

Kunja had spent the time helping Jake fit bits of scrap metal on the small Victorian. Many of the bits and pieces had quick release straps for when the large radar signature would be no longer needed and maneuvering would be more important. The banter had continued the whole time as the pair psyched themselves up and when the time came for their part in the mad mission they took to the air behind Frostfell.

As they came closer to the target Kunja beat his wings and started going higher into the sky to get into position to better cover the heavy.

[Dark Silver]

Hermeticus was hidden.

As hidden as a 18 ton dragon could get anyway.

He and his crew rested and waited for Rankin's orders. They knew what they were to do by now.

[rhoenix]

A very unusual day was turning into an equally unusual evening, but both Veritas and Alexander were just fine with such a situation.

A short time ago, Veritas stoically withstood the sawbones' worst tortures, and the only noises he made were quite intelligible and biting insults, mostly toward the sawbones in question.

Afterward however, Veritas was straining at the seams to join the others in their non-mission, despite Captain Braithwaite's rather unconvincing arguments of "you're not at your fighting best right now after that bomb" or "you were just hit with a bomb today, and you should probably let that heal first." All of them fell on very skeptical and dismissive large red ears.

After an hour's worth of heated discussion (on the part of Alexander, who was becoming frustrated with Veritas - and not for the first time), Captain Braithwaite finally (and very reluctantly) agreed. Veritas was painted a night camouflage color, and all his wounds were set and bandaged as best as possible for a dragon his size. They waited for the others to take off, Veritas and Captain Braithwaite knowing they'd never be enthusiastically welcomed into this little black operation, because of that "piddling little oversized match" (as Veritas called the bomb that hit him, the one that tore apart his wing and dislocated his shoulder).

And so, as the others left the ground, Veritas waited for the others to leave, and then left the ground himself (more slowly and carefully than usual, despite his growling protests that he "was just fine").

Gaining a bit more height than the others, he caught up to the others before very long. However, he did not announce himself yet. Unless he was noticed, he would casually advertise his presence when the group was a bit more than halfway to their destination.

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell swooped down. "Remember," said Nathan, "no stupid risks. We're just here mostly to make noise."

Frostfell growled wordlessly. Tracer shells flicked through the sky, none of them even close. The dragon began to dive.

"Fucking pride," said Nathan. "I bet Bishop doesn't have these problems."

"Now," said Frostfell. Nathan released the bombs. He was a very, very good shot. As a bombadier though, he was just adequate.

[LadyTevar]

As the German soldiers began to hustle her out, Judith paused. "A moment, Commander Albatros?"

She took the slight tilt of his head as he looked her way for permission and walked over to look up at him, keeping his bulk between herself and the Stuka, which put her next to the young Baron von Richtoffen. She looked up at Albatros in his crimson warpaint and stiffled the thought of Cowboys and Indians.

"I'm still much 'bliged ta you, fer savin' my life," she said, coming to attention in front of the elder Dragon. "May you n' yours mak' it through this war saf'ly." Then she saluted, holding it for a three-count before dropping her arm.

Albatros nodded curtly in recognition of the gesture. "You are qvite velcome, Fraulein. Ze war vill be over before you know it, so do not vorry...."

She nodded back before turning crisply to face Captain Lothar von Richtoffen. "Donkey-shane, an' Off-veeder-shane, Captain," she said, giving him the same three-count salute, then offered her hand out for him to shake it.

Lothar, a Baron with all the rights, responsibilities, and culture that title entailed, took the lady's hand, bowing over it and kissing it with grace and due courtesy. The blush it raised on Judith's face was nearly amusing enough for the German soldiers to forget the Stuka's presence for a moment. They were quickly reminded as the black nightmare dragon began to laugh mockingly as his SS Captain frowned impatiently. "Perhapz you may keep her after ve vin the war, Keptan von Richtoffen."

The Stuka's use of English was a studied insult, knowing full well that Albatros spoke it, but his Captain did not. Judith also knew it, and was stung by voice and the implication. Like many mountaineers before her, Judith let her temper get the better of her. "May th' next wound ya take ne'er heal, but weep always n' for'eer, showin' all th' blackness o' yer heart!" she threw back at the mocking dragon.

Then, like many mountaineers before and since, she suddenly realized that might not have been the smartest or safest thing to do as the Stuka's eyes blazed and he drew himself up in fury. Then Fulminatus began to laugh. "Feel like takin' a chance with that you inbred Kraut bastard? Go ahead and kill her and watch what happens..."

"ENOUGH." Albatros' voice cut across the warehouse. "Fraulein, the train awaits." He gave an order in German and the soldiers reformed around her, leading her out into the early morning fog.

[General Havoc]

Judith did not get to see it, but Albatros shot the Stuka a look that would have melted armor plate, even as Lothar von Richtoffen looked around to try and determine what had been said. The Stuka glared right back at Albatros, its glare carrying considerably more venom than the Bavarian a bare quarter its size. Still Albatros did not back down, and marched over to the Stuka to begin whispering some sort of hissed threat to the larger SS dragon, which reared up and growled as though preparing to dine on the Bavarian dragon. The guards around them looked nervous, and quickly hussled all three prisoners to the waiting train.

God only knew what might have happened next, had a young messenger not run up, breathless, to within twenty feet of Albatros, as close as the boy would dare approach the Stuka his flagdragon was facing down.

"Was ist los?" snapped Albatros, not removing his eyes from the Stuka for even an instant.

"P... P... Punkt-Hoc-Berichterstattung mein Oberst... sagen sie, dass es einen Angriff auf Fortschritte durch mehrere Drachen."

Albatros did not sound impressed. "Ein weiteres Ärgernis Angriff. Lassen Sie den Morgen Patrouille umzugehen."

"M.. Mein... Mein Kommandant..." stammered the messenger, "sie... sie sagen, es ist ein Wendigo."

That one got Albatros' attention. He blinked, and slowly turned to the messenger. "Wendigo?"

"Jawohl, Herr Oberst."

Albatros took two seconds to think about the situation.

"Voll Alarm."

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

"Wir sind unter Beschuss durch schwere Drachen! Wir brauchen Hilfe!"

The German at the radio screamed for assistance as the sound of explosions and gunfire burst all around him. He was drawing breath to repeat his cry when a 500 kg bomb crashed through the roof of his radio transceiver and atomized him.

The radar station at Pointe du Hoc had been attacked before by shuttle raids from RAF strike dragons. Those, however, had been little more than nuisances, a quick run in and out to drop bombs and escape. They had never come under assault from a sustained pounding by a full scale heavyweight, and they learned to their chagrin that there was quite a difference.

Flanked by 20 and 37 millimeter AD guns, and covered by a pair of Speckled Bavarians and a barrage balloon, the radar station was simply not prepared for an attack of this weight. The patrols had been called in after the savaging that RAF Tangmere had sustained earlier that day, and no attacks were expected beyond perhaps a lightweight probe or two. Pointe du Hoc's radar station had been directing its beams north-east, towards the still-active RAF bases at Dover and Kent. They had not spotted the incoming dragons until it was far too late to summon help, and when they did, the impact of the bombs, the panic of the radar operators, and the radar reflectors both Kunja and Frostfell wore led them to overstate their targets. The radio operator's last act was to transmit that an entire flight of Heavyweight dragons was assaulting the radar station, and then the signal died.

The two Bavarians on-station knew better what they were dealing with of course, but that didn't make the odds any better. They could not physically arrest Frostfell from coming in and assaulting the radar base, but they could jump him as he pulled out of his bomb run. As the radio hut vanished into a plume of debris and smoke, and the gun pits below vomited streams of fire up at Frostfell, both Bavarians positioned themselves to hit the Wendigo from different directions as he pulled out of his bomb run.

Unfortunately, while the radar operators below had tried to warn them that there was a second dragon above, the operators had insisted that the second dragon was a heavy middleweight at least, and since they could see no such dragon nearby, both Bavarians assumed quite reasonably that the radar operators had panicked, and did not look for a second dragon to be anywhere near them, let alone a wingblade-armed Victorian hidden in the fog-banks above...

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

In Bayeux however, there was a scene of barely organized chaos as dragons stood to for battle. Lothar von Richtoffen had scrambled into his Captain's seat of course, but Albatros was not insane enough to fly off alone, and was shouting orders in German into his radio-microphone, as the loudspeakers sounded the air raid warning and ordered captains and crews to their dragons. The two Bluejackets that had escorted Fulminatus to the armored prisoner-car that he was now chained within raced over to Albatros, but Albatros simply dismissed them with a nod of his head, to fly escort for the train as it moved away south. What orders he gave in the chaos were lost in the noise, even had anyone but Fulminatus spoken German, but soon thereafter the enormous form of a Kampfritter floated up into the sky, followed by a trio of Swabian Lightning Bolts and another of Leuchtkaffers. Albatros took off last of all, and while the Kampfritter remained behind, too slow to be of use in a pursuit, the remaining dragons put on their best speed north-west, directly towards Pointe du Hoc, vanishing into the fog towards their enemies.

And as the train lurched forward and slowly began to pick up steam, only then did anyone realize that the Stuka, the Nightmare given form that had been standing in the middle of the tarmac just a moment ago... had vanished without a trace.