The Q.A.S. Flameraker drifted to the north, over the escarpment, not far from the Teeth of the Red Dragon. It was the first of a new generation of aircraft carriers. It was as long as five airships, with one solid gas envelope and a single oversized gondola. The landing deck was raised above the new aircraft storage deck, supported by stilts and cross-beams. A steam-powered elevator allowed airplanes to be transferred between the two decks. This allowed the airship to support no less than twenty aircraft and a crew of about a hundred pilots and maintenance staff. It had been designed from scratch for its mission, unlike the first generation of carrier, which had been hacked together from smaller airships.

Felix watched the craft from the red crystal balcony on the south face of the Teeth. There were only a few more details to take care of, some papers to file and some new orders to be issued, before Felix himself would fly up there and join them on their mission. The forward base on the edge of the Rilnese salt flats was already under construction. It would be several more months before the weather improved enough to cross the frigid desert, but Felix hoped to be entrenched in the region long before Shane had a chance to push north.

"There you are," Neasa said.

Felix turned away from the red crystal guard rail to face her. "Were you looking for me?"

"Yes commander. I was hoping to, um, discuss my orders with you."

Felix regarded the woman. Her blood-red hair was braided and draped over one shoulder, and with one hand she was absentmindedly tugging it. Her other hand was shaking.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Her bright red eyes suddenly looked determined. "I'm afraid Felix. Would you consider changing my orders? I can't handle... being deployed. I'm certain I'll die in the next fight."

Felix made no attempt to hide his disappointment. "You cannot command others if you don't fly," he snapped. "And if you can fly, then you need to fight. How can we send our soldiers into battle if we are not willing to risk our lives as well? We both know that..."

His mouth froze mid-sentence.

I forbid it, the Light Elemental said. With a flash of golden light she appeared at his side, her huge wings spread like a bird of prey about to strike. Neasa, I forgive you, even if Felix cannot.

"As I was trying to say..." he began. Once again his jaw physically locked up before he could say the words. He was thinking: A pilot that won't fight has no place in the Air Force. However, he also understood that this was a lie. A lie the Elemental refused to let him speak.

Neasa, the Light Elemental continued. If you seek out Princess Astrid, she can speak to you of your fate.

"No!" Felix said. "Please do not bother the Dragon. I need some time to think. For now, your orders are to land aboard the Flameraker, just as before. You are dismissed, soldier."

Neasa saluted and then marched off.

What do you do with a soldier that has lost the will to fight? he wondered. Neasa is too skilled to retire. She is also far too young.

But there was a more general problem. Many of the Paladins suffered from battle shock after that night in the darkness. It wasn't a problem in the long months before they were deployed. They went through the motions, day after day, training new pilots that they secretly hoped would die in their place. He thought about the problem often, and he had imagined some solutions. His Light Elemental did not value his privacy and she knew that he had spent a lot of time thinking about the problem.

Worrying about your privacy is not going to help, the Light Elemental observed.

Felix sighed. It was silent on the red crystal platform overlooking the escarpment. The wind was calm, and the air was filled with the sound of the whirring propellers on the Flameraker. The little purple crystal spire shone in the morning light, and in the nearby airfield, an unknown pilot was starting their engine.

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Near the stern of the Flameraker, Attached to the top of a short lookout tower, a long cable trailed behind, angled up into the sky. Felix stood in the basket of a small glider attached to the end of the cable. It had no power, but the constant tension on the cable created enough airspeed to keep the craft aloft. It was a very light craft, constructed from wood, with a thin boom ending in an empennage. The horizontal stabilizer and the oversized wings were both constructed of thin cloth covering the wooden wing ribs. The cloth had been stiffened with harsh chemicals that Felix suspected were highly flammable.

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Felix looked down upon the ruins of Silvervein, the northern-most city in Riln. From the sky, it looked like a cold fire-pit. The former Heritage Militia had razed the city, leaving only a smoldering husk. This attack, combined with the harsh winter conditions in the desert to the south, had likely resulted in the deaths of the entire civilian population. Felix had no idea what happened to the remnants of the Blue Dragon's army, though if he had been in charge of that force, he would have ordered the geomancers to construct new tunnels under the salt flats.

From his vantage in the glider, Felix was completely exposed to the weather. It was a very different type of flying. The little craft had a stick but no rudder pedals, favoring overhead handles to configure the rudder surface. The glider tended to get battered around by gusts of wind, so it required constant attention to avoid snapping the flimsy wings. Felix did not mind. Out of everyone on the crew, Felix had the most flight time in the little glider. He could feel the wind on his face and the chill of the winter air, as was proper.

He scanned the horizon with his spyglass. He saw a tiny shape racing through the sky, a little airplane approaching the Flameraker from the north. It was painted an obnoxious yellow color and was highly visible at a distance. Felix began to ring the bell to announce the approach, and a few moments later the soldiers on the deck activated the wrench, tugging the glider back.

The airplane signaled, one yellow and one green. Felix lowered his spyglass. The signal officer responded with two green fields on the rotating color wheel. As more aircraft carriers were built the need for fast communication led to the development of a new language using color wedges painted on old tables. It wasn't the best solution in poor weather but it was easy to implement and it got the job done.

The little yellow airplane was turning into the base leg of the pattern by the time the glider reached the lookout tower. Soldiers moored the glider to the tower as Felix climbed down the ladder to the deck. Shouts on the deck announced the imminent landing.

The pilot was surprisingly skilled, in spite of the fact that she was a civilian. The text "Quarian Air Mail Service" was painted in black letters on the fuselage near the tail. The landing was gentle and it did not take much runway for the craft to stop. Soldiers dragged the airplane to the side and the pilot climbed out. Under her leather cap her hair was boyish, her face bright, her smile generous.

"General Felix," the woman said as she approached. "I recognized the gleaming gold on your face from a mile away. A message from the Minister of Events."

She offered him a sealed tube, which contained a sealed scroll. Felix broke the seal and began reading with some apprehension:

You must give my praise to your event planner, General Felix. All of the proper forms are filled out with exactness. The Quarian Air Force is hereby permitted to engage in the airshow activities within the city of Flood's End as described in the filing. ~ Kathleen Siofra, Minister of Events.

Felix breathed a sigh of relief. "Summon Lieutenant General Neasa to the boardroom," he said.

"Yes commander!" the Air Sergeant said.

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The boardroom spanned the entire stern of the gondola. A dozen wide glass windows framed the oversized rudder that extended far down below the gas envelope. A massive ebony table spanned the width of the room, though all of the other chairs were empty. Felix sat directly opposite to the door, in the largest and most ornate chair in the room. There were no maps anywhere in the room, and in fact the room had absolutely no utility for the main crew of the airship.

Felix was, in truth, a guest on the craft. He needed to ask permission from the ship's Commander to board the vessel at all. It was a tradition that was inherited from civilian sea vessels. It ensured an absolute alignment of incentives. The Commander must go down with the ship, and therefore he had a strong incentive to protect the craft. Felix trusted himself, but he did not trust future generations of General Officers in the Air Force. He could imagine how some future unnamed Commander would feel when he was given insane orders within some context that required intimate knowledge of the ship's operations.

The door opened and Neasa shuffled in alone. Her uniform was immaculate. Her lips were the same color and luster as the shining red scales on her cheeks. Her forehead was hidden behind a neat curtain of blood-red bangs. The past week of service aboard the Flameraker had gone far to distract her from her fears. However, as she took her seat across the table, Felix noticed that her hands were still shaking.

Felix slid the message across the table to Neasa. She read it with sudden interest.

"Lieutenant General Neasa, I have new orders for you. You are to establish a new squadron: the Quarian Air Force Fighter Demonstration Squadron, also known as the Crimson Drakes. You will have your pick of any pilot in the Air Force when constructing this new squadron. The mission of this new squadron is as follows: to demonstrate the professionalism, excellence, and pride of the Quarian Air Force, and to inspire a positive image of the Air Force among the civilian population. You will plan and execute airshows in all of the major cities, to aid in recruitment and gain the support of the various Ministers and Viscounts across the land. Do you have any questions?"

The woman said nothing. Slowly, very slowly, recognition set in. The orders were relatively open-ended and it would take a long time for her to develop a strategy to achieve the mission.

"The Crimson Drakes will choose their own," Neasa said. "Commander, I understand the orders. Will you come to Flood's End to see the airshow?"

"I will be there," Felix said.

"Who filled out the forms?"

Felix grinned. "My Shadow Hunter told me what to do. Dark Elementals are, apparently, very good at filing government forms."