My inability to express myself verbally greatly complicated my communication with others; my interaction was limited to listening and obeying orders. The difficulty was further exacerbated as they didn't even understand my written language. This left me with no way of knowing the time of day since I lacked access to a clock or similar device to measure time. However, I discovered that the military personnel divided time into three parts: morning, noon, and night.
It reassured me to find out that they used the same expressions to measure time, but I noticed a small difference. Noon didn't coincide with the sun being at its highest point; instead, it was when the sky took on reddish hues. They never spoke of sunset, but rather mentioned dusk directly. At this very moment, I was soaring through the skies at noon, although for Earth's inhabitants, it would be considered as sunset.
My back bore the weight of various boxes carefully secured on my saddle. I was completely unaware of the contents of these boxes, but I was always instructed to treat the cargo as if it were "fragile." However, on more than one occasion, upon landing, the soldiers unloaded the boxes by throwing their contents without any care, allowing me to discern which ones were truly fragile and which were not.
Furthermore, another key to identifying fragility, or lack thereof, was to observe how they unloaded the cargo from the planes in the hangar and how they loaded it directly onto my back. This led me to be quite diligent during the trips, accelerating only when I was sure the load wasn't fragile.
Fortunately for me, this would be the last cargo of the day that I had to carry to the large rectangular building. In the end, that building was nothing more than an extensive warehouse that stored weapons, ammunition, provisions, and vehicle parts for spares. It had nothing special; quite the opposite, in fact. In truth, I nicknamed it the "shoebox" because that's exactly what it looked like from the skies.
As I began my descent, I heard the metallic tinkling coming from inside the large wooden boxes. This sound reminded me of the numerous occasions when I had transported canned food. Nevertheless, my diet always consisted of the same thing, which was understandable since these provisions barely satisfied my voracious appetite, can and all.
However, the constant activity of carrying things back and forth always ended up generating more hunger than the rations could satisfy. It was an established routine: one animal at noon and another at night, whether alive or dead.
I landed slowly to avoid breaking anything "fragile," as one could never be a hundred percent sure of the contents of the boxes. The soldiers smoking outside the large warehouse approached with hands illuminated by green fire, ready to do their job.
After more than a month "working" with me, most of the base had grown accustomed to the constant back and forth from the hangar to the warehouse, and many had stopped fearing me, or at least they disguised it better. However, the pilots and the plane crew remained the only ones who showed an obvious fear upon seeing me. It was understandable, after all; the first thing they saw was a "drakontos," as they called dragons in that world, waiting to be loaded with boxes like a truck.
Usually, the officer in charge of me ordered to load five boxes, a number determined after various endurance tests against the air, regardless of their content. However, if the boxes were large, possibly vehicle parts, they only loaded two.
The method to secure the load always involved the use of magical chains, similar to the ones they used to capture me. However, these were easily removable, as any soldier could release them without any issues. Nevertheless, my work wasn't limited to just carrying boxes from the hangar to the warehouse; many times, I also had to do it in the opposite direction, transporting cargo from the warehouse to the hangar.
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If I completed the tasks quickly, whether at sunset or at night, I was rewarded with a live animal, as if that were a positive thing. However, not having a way to measure time often resulted in me receiving the reward, much to my dismay. This created quite a spectacle when I had to hunt the six-legged animal, which they released and expected me to go after it, as if I were a circus animal.
"Ready!" shouted a soldier, followed by a pat on my large belly, which remained lying down to facilitate the unloading of the boxes. "You can go."
I began a rapid ascent and distanced myself from the warehouse. My next destination was to visit Lieutenant Frey, who would be in charge of freeing me from the uncomfortable saddle and also providing me with food; I wished with all my might not to be rewarded.
As I was so hungry, it didn't take long to reach my destination. I landed near the huge cell that served as my home and met Lieutenant Frey, who was waiting for me as usual. I started a slow walk in his direction. Walking slowly had always been the only way to show that I had no intentions of harming anyone.
"Good job, Nixebus," said the man shorter than the other soldiers, his face covered in sweat from the heat. He continued, "I've received new orders; we have to head to a base located northwest of here, near the kingdom's border."
This took both the soldiers and me by surprise, as we all found out at the same time. This situation made me feel respected for the first time since I arrived in this world.
If I weren't an enormous fantasy animal, I would be jumping for joy, but since that would only cause fear and probably earn me an electric shock.
However, this was the first opportunity to leave the base, and to say that I was terrified would be an understatement. On the one hand, I was glad at the idea of exploring new horizons, but on the other, every quasi-freedom flap brought me inevitably closer to the battlefield; at some point, I would have to face the terrible reality of killing people.
"I-I have something else to tell you before," Frey stammered and trembled. His behavior reminded me of the first time we met, when Mibreg ordered him to ride me after putting on the saddle; the poor guy looked like jelly, but in the end, he turned out to be the bravest of them all. He let out a long sigh and continued, "I have to ride you!"
All present began to murmur, some scared and others excited because, for better or worse, they were about to witness something not seen every day. However, many felt compassion for Frey, remembering him trembling the first time he was ordered to do the same thing some time ago.
With a determination that silenced everyone, Frey spoke frankly, "I'm just an apprentice pilot; the empire wasn't going to assign you an expert. After all, you could have rebelled and eliminated him, either by throwing him in the air or devouring him on land, leaving the empire without an expert. That's why they assigned me," he said with some bitterness and self-disgust in his words. While speaking, he pulled an aviator cap from his pants and put it on along with some goggles. "However, I've been studying you for a long time; those were my orders. After several days observing you, I designed a way to pilot you, no offense," he apologized while taking out a small notebook with several illegible writings from a back pocket of his pants.
Were those back-and-forth trips just a test? Were they watching me like an animal in a documentary? Were they evaluating my response to orders? Why share all this information with me instead of just getting on and telling me what to do? Why this sudden need to communicate? I had been at his orders for days, and we barely exchanged a few sentences a day. Now, it seemed like we had advanced a week's worth of conversation. Interrupting my questions, Frey continued, "You know," he said, approaching me and placing a hand on my scales, "I always wanted to pilot planes; that was my dream since I was little." He clung to my scales and began to climb effortlessly onto the saddle, settled into it, and continued, "But I never thought that if I joined the air force, I would have to pilot a legendary drakontos. If I die today, you can be sure it wasn't in vain. Take off!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.
Everyone formed a wide circle, watching with strangeness and awe Lieutenant Frey's words and actions, not knowing quite how to react. Meanwhile, I wasted no time and started flapping my wings, raising dust around me like a helicopter about to take off. Suddenly, below me echoed applause, then another, and another, and another, and one more. Everyone was applauding the lieutenant's courage in a harmonious chant. Frey leaned out from the saddle, observed the scene unfolding below, and shouted at the top of his lungs, "See you, says goodbye the pilot of the most powerful plane of all!"