116. Winter; we couldn’t wait any longer.
“Isolus,” Nora said. “I don’t think you should be so hard on them. Tobina and the others are working their best, and she’s going to be married soon, too. You weren’t always like this. Are you alright?”
We both gazed down from her office atop the Redoubt’s new central tower, sharing a light drink. Her battery-powered aluminum wheelchair allowed her to stroll about on her own more; it left a whirring sound that not even the strong winter winds could mask.
“Forgive me, Nora. Things just don’t seem to be getting any easier. I told her department to get the scheduling sorted out so our freshly trained troops don’t end up having to take the same trains our wounded drop off from. Hell, even you can see it happening right now through the optics on the northwest window.”
She wheeled over to her desk and unwrapped a package before handing me half the documents, sealed in wax.
“Look on the bright side madam, at least Wiremu’s merfolk have assisted with the new offshore oil drill you proposed. It’s going to solve all of our fuel needs, if even a fifth of your expectations are met.”
The tower turned the city into a kind of panopticon. Here, most of the state officials work in new offices with a centralized bookkeeping network where we can easily keep an eye on the rest of Pulvera City, whose census tallies out around 42,000 souls.
Nora pulled over to the west window.
“My lady, you should take a break. Enjoy the sunset.”
“Anyway, I have to go. It’s time. Nora, take care as always.”
“Of course. Thank you, Isolus. Likewise. Have a safe trip.”
I left her office and met with Aspera who was waiting by the door, before going down the lift. She was taking her pet slime around. The same one we got from Eschaton’s castle. It’s grown quite a bit, and is more black and opaque than before. Voidautte, she called it.
Our building codes got even stricter after Aspera gave me her survey and thesis regarding the most appropriate measures for tackling housing and zoning. Her background and apparent zeal in architecture was pretty sound, at times. Most of the farmland close to Pulvera has been turned into residential districts; apartments and rowhouses. She breathed into her cold hands while we spoke in English during the descent. Opposite to the elevator doors was a large westward window with metal grates; we watched the sunset.
“It’s like one of those city-building games I played,” Aspera told me. “Well, not Cities: Skylines. More like Workers & Resources: Soviet Republics! The dark souls of citybuilders. The tutorial for that game brought me to tears for sure.”
I wasn’t familiar with those, but I did mention getting to see SimCity 2000 on a friend’s computer before I got married. She said “Yeah, just like that! But like Pulvera; less a city, and more a factory. You grew up in a soviet republic yourself, right?”
“Yes, and I don’t want to talk about it. Hard times.”
She pitched her designs along with lots of public amenities and making the city more “walkable” with public transport and less personal vehicles. Rumi, on the other hand, previously mentioned wanting more lane expansions. Aspera insisted that we should still have the prettiest city, but Euryas and I were explicit with the need for affordable housing built from prefab concrete parts.
“Man, it’s like you’re building a whole city of legos!”
“My husband loved legos, he bought them for our kids.”
“I.. I’m sorry. About your family. It must’ve been-”
“My bad. Let’s not talk about them. You, and all my other friends here, are my family now. I’ve lost everyone I’m related to by blood here on Mondo, except maybe my half-sister.”
“You, really have been here a while. Tell me about her!”
“Can’t. Haven’t met her. I can show you the photo I have of her, sometime. Also have you spoken to the Pekina officials about pig farming yet? Lean Kuridono birds can’t solve everything, and waste pig grease should help us out with the glycerin shortage. Cottage rabbit farms aren’t outputting enough, either.”
“No problem, I’ll get to it soon. I promise.”
Concrete slabs rose up the window. The elevator pinged; we’ve reached the second floor where our quarters were. It’s the same floor with some of the research labs and my old office. She got off.
“Chief, come home soon. I’ve got a surprise for you!”
“Sure. See you again soon, kid. Promise.”
The elevator doors shut, and went down a storey where the parking was. After another ping, it opened. Rumi stood before me. Her silhouette was formed by a warm glow behind her as the setting sun’s light seeped into the building from the front entrance. We exchanged a glare, and she looked away before getting in, clutching a pair of leather gloves. I then stepped out.
“I’m just returning Aspera’s gloves. She left them with me.”
“I see. She’s upstairs.”
“...” she said nothing, nodding once with a long blink.
The doors shut again, and I walked over to the garage and double-checked the bottom of my own armored car for anything suspicious. It’s unarmed and much smaller, made for leisurely transporting officers; not frontline combat like Acty and the other Armored Combat Transport series vehicles.
I fired my last two drivers.
One guy because he was unnervingly quiet, and recently one girl because she almost crashed us thrice in one week. Orvilo is nowhere to be found; he would’ve been nice to have as a driver. I’ve decided to drive myself for now. Seeing how Rumi still hasn’t recovered from the ordeal near the Montovila rebel base is sad, yet I still can’t blame her. It’s her choice.
After a half-hour drive, I arrived at the airfield at the outskirts of town. I parked the car and got out to find Pazono and Vemvane walking towards me, arguing. Behind them were a handful of officers and crewmen, some pilots too.
“Telling you, your rookies need more flight hours,” he said.
“Can’t,” Vemvane said back. “Fuel supply’s dry enough as it is. We have way more planes and airships than we used to, and the commercial trucking rolling stock is straining it even harder.”
They stopped in front of me, and saluted.
“Has Arzo’s squadron returned?” I asked.
The two nodded.
“My escorts are ready to make do, ma’am.” Vemvane said.
We proceeded with the last quick inventory management and pre-flight checks for the updated Pulvera’s Pride, which now displaces more than twice as much air and had its frame replaced with aluminum – built into a twin-hull design for more capacity and to turn the top of the airship into a large aerofoil. This combined both the gasses’ aerostatic lift and the hull’s aerodynamic lift. The envelope and gasbag materials were replaced with heat-treated vinylon. Her dual-gas systems have been upgraded for safety.
She’s been refitted with so many new parts that I think she gives the Theseus a run for her money when it comes to being rebuilt.
We’ve gutted all the amenities and almost all the crew and passenger comforts to make up more space for this project. We’ve loaded several new and old aircraft hulls into the frame as well as construction equipment and general supplies. We want to run tests up there, and we’d like to see if this airship can deliver it all in one go.
We planned on building a secret high-altitude airbase on a plateau Arzo’s squadron located and surveyed, several kilometers above sea level. The idea was that our upcoming jets could respond faster if they didn’t need to waste time ‘gaining’ altitude.
One that could quickly send multirole jet fighters to rapidly respond to any threat on the western continent spanning all of Pulvera, Royaume, and Brigantii, as well as most of Medulli. Pike Ridge was at the center of the operating range of our best aircraft yet. This was the best solution I could make, as artillery was more vulnerable and harder to manage. We had no computers to calculate fire solutions quickly yet, either.
Finally, in the dark of night, the massive airship with its five propeller engines went airborne. We had to wait for the ground and air to cool, as that would give us more lift. The aluminum monoplanes Vemvane’s escort squadron uses are the culmination of our need for cheap fighter-bombers. They’re still riveted but still better than whatever anyone else has.
The engines began having problems, but I had a dozen engineers work with me to fix the issues mid-flight. Gas leaks are minimal, so we should be able to reach our target altitude.
Things were going smoothly again. We planned this whole trip out as perfectly as possible, I shouldn’t be so worried.
Vemvane radioed up her escorts and they said they were running low on fuel; they’d have to turn back as soon as we reached the first ridge right ahead.
We boosted the engines to 105%, hitting higher speed and lift.
And then, everything shook.
“Isolus! We have a situation,” said Pazono, who ran up to me.
“I can see that, what the fuck is going on?!”
“Vemvane said the escorts found hostiles. They’re already dropping their spare fuel tanks. You have to give the order to put everyone to battle stations; there’s flak up ahead and raiders trying to board us from above,” he explained, as he wore his old pilot helmet.
I didn’t question him any further. I sounded the alarm.
“Attention all aircrew! Go to the armory if you aren’t sufficiently armed already. There are reports of us being boarded and it’s possible we may receive flak fire. This is not a drill. Arm yourself. Machinegunners, man your posts. Repeat, this is NOT a drill.”
The snowstorm kicked into high gear. We couldn’t see far, but the small cannon fire from the ground glowed brightly. It came from the same 15mm machineguns we had. They’re aiming for our escorts and firing from atop the first mountain ridge. We have no time to steer around. And then, there’s the other planes.
I looked out the windows of my command room up above, and saw large silhouettes. Biplanes, the kind we stopped using long ago.
The design of our topside machinegun nests made it difficult to board directly from above, so it seems they’re trying another way.
“Attention all aircrew! We have enemy gliders coming in from the front and sides, shoot them on sight!”
The front deck had crewmen running around trying to get to better positions. I could hear the loud inefficient engines of the biplanes overhead, there were numerous of them.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Pazono! What the fuck are the fighters doing?”
He shrugged, and we both ran to the back. Vemvane’s post.
Gliders to our port and starboard sides began landing aboard, and the firefight ensued. Both sides had semi-automatics, able to shoot as fast as fingers can pull triggers.
We got into the radio control, and found her catatonic beside the phone, squatting, frozen. Unharmed. Pazono pried the radio from her cold stiff grip and contacted the escorts, who were only now trying to respond to the boarders as they were busy avoiding flak.
I checked Vemvane, and I realized it wasn’t just her who was paralyzed from fear. Dozens of other crewmen hiding in the armory and the radio post were, too.
Airborne raiders began to take control of the front deck, I could see some of ours surrendering and being shot as they tried.
“Isolus!” Pazono yelled. “I need to get to the central storage bay! I’ll fight with you to get there. Vemmy, you stay here!”
As soon as we tried to leave the rear radio room, we began to take gunshots ourselves. The small doorway was open, and shots began to ricochet a little in the room. Vemvane screamed.
Then, the wind slammed the door shut. I realized their bullets couldn’t penetrate the door or walls; 10mm lead shots can’t.
“Paz, you’ve got a deal.” I got a small wire from my pocket and quickly modified my bullpup rifle into fully-automatic mode. It took a few seconds, then I got the fire axe on the wall and began hacking at the door hinges. “Cover me!”
I grabbed the loose aluminum door’s handle and crouched behind the doorway, angling my shield in a way that redirected the shots up. I was just strong enough to carry the door with one hand, gripped tightly by my locked and hidden prosthetic arm.
Pazono used his revolver to pick enemies off as I slowly moved up with my bullpup in one hand to clear some of them. Bullets skidded around, even grazing my false boots. My leg prosthetics were hardy and heavy-duty, but weren’t rated for gunfire.
The firefight intensified. Our resistance inspired the others in the armory ahead to begin pushing out and clearing the raiders. Even Vemvane began opening fire from her window. More were still gliding in. Those behind me began taking potshots using their revolvers. Our radio equipment got shot up, breaking our communications.
In about a minute, we managed to push up to the middle of the airship. They were hardened troops, some of them even had markings from the 4th brigade. Our crews never saw close combat. I dropped the shield and took a breather. Pazono ran up to the orange prototype jet we had in the hangar, the testbed for new tech. He’s our test pilot. Some of the crews hiding here followed his orders to mount rocket boosters to the fuselage, as well as the autocannon pods to the wings.
“Thanks for clearing it up! I’ll take over for those amateurs.”
“You better make it back.” I said.
“Hah! Maybe we can win this!” he joked, closing the canopy.
The cargo bay doors began to open as the jet engines whirred up. I ordered the crews to stand aside. As the bay opened, we could see the very top of the first ridge underneath us, with alpine resistance soldiers manning some 15 mils. They fired up at us, riddling the floor with holes. One got hit by shards of splintered metal.
“He’s fucking insane,” said one of the crewmen.
I barked back. “He’s doing this for us! Now help fend off the rest of the raiders! Go go go!”
The bright orange jet accelerated forward and exuded toxic fumes – Pazono gave me one last salute before heading off.
It gained a bit of speed, then fell off the ramp. I ran to the edge to look down, along with some of the other crews, but found no trace of Pazono. “Well, pick up the pace! Move it!” I yelled.
A dozen of our crew retook the deck, and some more began pushing down into the lower decks. We retook the machinegun nests and fired outward with fury, at the few gliders coming in.
One of the downed raiders groaned near me, and reached for a rifle. Bang, one to the head from me. I took cover behind a central pillar and pivoted around to gun more of them down. I already practiced reloading my rifle with one hand. Muscle memory.
Our escorts didn’t abandon us, half of them were still here. They began striking down the several biplanes around us.
Finally, a bright orange jet zoomed past us.
“The ace is back!” the crew cheered. “Pulvera endures!”
Pazono’s 25mm autocannons roared a frightening sound as he made short work of the remaining biplanes. Some of them even tried to crash into the airship, had he not tore them to complete shreds.
I ordered everyone to get on damage control and patch up any holes in the envelope. Two men wore the airtight maintenance suits and entered the envelope airlocks to patch them up from inside with tape. Paz probably used his own radio from the jet to tell the escorts to head back or at least try, with whatever fuel was left.
There was one more ridge before the plateau. The snowstorm began clearing up and we could see the second, higher ridge under the full moon. Well, at least I could see it with weak elven darkvision. The smoke from the crashed planes behind us grew evident, too.
With our optics, I could see that they laid an ambush there as well. There were less of them, but they still had machineguns. They fired away, with the goal of taking us down since their raid failed.
Then they turned their guns to him.
Brrrrt, a burst of 25mm autocannon shells cleared the ridge.
Vmmm, we then heard his weapons fire in a separate distant burst after the explosive rounds obliterated the opposition beneath us.
We could see a few avalanches begin cascading down after that. Pazono’s plane was hit and we saw him barrel down into the still-foggy valley. I saw one of his wings get partly clipped. Our crews managed to get the radios working again, but didn’t hear from him.
Damn, our engines were damaged too. The rear central engine sputtered into flames and we lost some speed and lift. Vemvane’s best engineer gave me his assessment and said we’d have to start dumping supplies to make up for the lost lift, and the envelopes lost some of their gas with a slight accumulation of hydrogen at the top due to damaged vents. They’re fixing it all, ASAP.
“Incoming! Chief! We’ve got incoming! Dragons! Red ones!”
Oh god. The sound of fighting must’ve lured them here.
“Man the machineguns once again! Start shooting! Now! And you four, come with me and help me grab the rocket pods!”
If those dragons get close, they’ll melt right through the envelope using magic; they might set off the hydrogen pocket above.
Dozens of small ones and a few medium-sized ones lifted out of the fog, along with a massive one. I swear I’ve seen it before.
My team quickly mounted the rocket pods onto a wheeled tripod and lugged it to the front of the airship, but by the time we got back, another snowstorm had arrived. We could barely see the approaching dragons, who I estimate would reach us in half a minute.
The gun crews began firing relentlessly, using as much ammunition as they could to the front. Fireballs began flying past us, some slightly melting the coated fabrics of our envelope.
Then, we heard it again.
Brrrt, from a distance. Pazono’s jet came zooming past us with one wing blown in half, trailed with smoke. The bastard is alive, and the crew cheered as they fired forward. I’m just glad that he’s safe, and that Pipra wasn’t going to murder me, or worse, cry at the funeral..
The smaller ones got in view and were struck by MG fire. The medium ones were hit by Pazono’s 25mm, and our rocket pods stalled them long enough. I even landed two hits out of sixteen.
But the giant one popped up underneath us, and aimed for our rear. We had a few man-portable single-shot rocket launchers and we ran to the back to meet it. I saw the scar it had on its left cheek.
This was the same dragon I’d hit with a similar rocket long ago.
Pazono zoomed by us, but he hadn’t fired in a while; he’s probably run dry by now. His jet disappeared into the snowfall.
The elder dragon approached us from behind and I had my troops hold fire until it got close enough.
“Aim for the head, three notches high! Fire on my command!”
These small rockets are likely to miss, but we have to try!
Then, we heard a strange yet furious sound from above.
It grew sharper, and louder.
A massive fireball churned in the dragon’s throat. Almost!
“All backblasts clear! Get ready to fire!”
Then, the red elder dragon was struck.
Pazono’s orange jet crashed straight into the elder dragon’s neck, severing it completely. We heard the blast a second later, then we heard another booming sound that thundered past us from above.
He broke the sound barrier, and must have used the rocket boosters to achieve that speed with that jet. He didn’t let it get close.
We lowered our rockets to process what just happened.
“No time to mourn, keep fighting! Spread out!” I yelled.
The storm worsened, and the gunners began firing frantically to fend off the remaining dragons. More and more fireballs started peppering the sides of the envelope, breaching in a few large holes tape alone couldn’t fix.
Moments passed, and the machineguns emptied their ammo racks. The icy wind kept them from burning out their barrels. We broke through the storm and finally got within view of the plateau, more than 4 kilometers above sea level.
The obscured vision cleared up around us, and most of my crewmates rejoiced. Some were in tears. Some of the raiders were alive, and tied up. Several of us cheered at the front deck.
I took whatever sense of solace I could get, by breathing deep.
Then, drops fell on my face. Rain?
I wiped it off my cheek.
Blood.
I looked up and saw Pazono hanging from his parachute’s suspension lines, still harnessed in. His chute got snagged on the forward end of the envelope. For a second I thought I had a real reason to celebrate, until I saw the massive gaping hole in his abdomen. There was no doubt that his wound was caused by one of our 15mm machineguns. Friendly fire; blue on blue.
The full moon glowed behind him, along with a view of Bestatzo’s Band over the cloudy evening sky.
Cold blood continued to drip down. Visibility was poor; maybe it was a stray shot, or maybe someone fired at his silhouette. Clutched, tied around his wrist, was a locket dripping blood.
“No! Get him down here, now!” shouted a woman behind us.
Admiral Vemvane stormed up front as she carried an injured crewman from the radio room, ordering whatever ladders and tools were at our disposal to bring Pazono down. She tried to get the medical personnel to treat him, and they clearly pretended to try and do something because there’s currently no cure for a gaping hole in your chest and a shattered spine.
“Paz.. please. I’m pregnant, you dumbass. Please, don’t go.”
I stood by, and saw the bloodied locket. It had a photo of her.
“You fuckers killed him! You took him from me! Get away!”
We all stepped back. The sense of jubilation was replaced with grief as we approached our destination. Both the head engineer and navigator said that the fuel we lost and damage we took won’t let us reliably return to any other airbase, even dropping off the supplies. We’d have to crash Pulvera’s Pride here. This was it, for Airship 17.
This meant leaving the wounded until a runway could be completed for other aircraft to arrive and take them home. The radio still worked, but our battery power was limited. I organized the construction of shelters and a runway. We cannibalized the airship for supplies and building materials. The remaining hydrogen bags worked well for keeping us warm and heating food.
Most of the previously stationed skeleton crew were able to do the site assessment already, and were out of supplies by the time we arrived. They were actually already planning to leave.
It took us about 10 days to repurpose the airship’s parts and clear out the snow to pave the runway with the machinery we brought.
During that time, Arzo’s squadron investigated the plateau and established communications. Of the 21 wounded among the 84 crew aboard Pulvera’s Pride, 13 died in the battle, and 4 died afterwards due to a lack of treatment. All the escort pilots eventually made it home, even if a few of them crashed from a lack of fuel on the way back.
After the runway was completed, a few flights were brought in to bring supplies and gradually return the wounded and other crew.
The jetfighter program would be stalled.
Pazono Airbase was soon completed atop Pike Ridge.
Not only Vemvane’s heart broke, but also Pipra’s.
Funerals never got easier.
Writing letters never did, either.
The captured raiders confessed that Solomon was behind the operation, and their goal was to acquire more supplies for a revolt while denying us of our largest air asset yet. Ostracia is working with every resource available to the Wardens to capture him.
I finally got home. Exhausted.
“Surprise! I know it’s a little late, but here! Belated happy birthday. If you got back early as promised, I would’ve baked it on time. My mom taught me how to bake stuff. Merry Christmas too! If you celebrated that back then, I mean. It might not be December, but it’s the last month of the Mondonian Year!”
Aspera baked me a birthday cake, in the form of the Redoubt.
I thought a joke would be nice.
“Huh, a cake that looks like it’s made of concrete isn’t the most appetizing thing, no? Still, I am grateful. The little cannons made of icing are very.. adorable.”
She looked me in the eyes, probing me for emotion. I could see it, and sense it. I was too tired to mask it any longer. I’d just been betrayed – and the hero who saved me twice, paid the ultimate price.
Along with many others, now in caskets. I had no appetite.
Aspera said nothing back, and smiled warmly. She put the cake into the fridge and gave me a short hug. Anything longer would’ve brought me to tears. I walked into my room and locked the door before crying myself to sleep after not having done so in ages. My mind was perpetually being flooded and emptied so quickly with thoughts I couldn’t even stop to parse, until I drifted off.
The Great Demon War’s at a standstill – we can take every measure to stamp these pests out. Solomon will pay for breaking our agreement. He knows what he’s doing, and I’ll make him regret it.
These insurgencies must be dealt with.
The seeds of revenge lingered.