Chapter 1
"Martin Two, on your rear!"
"I can’t shake him off!"
Three planes battle in the skies. Flying through the clouds, the foremost aircraft made a sharp turn left, trying to throw his pursuer off his tail. Sticking on him like glue, the gray-painted enemy continued firing upon him. Its nose lit up, sending sharp metal pieces against its skin. Bullets tore through the plane’s skin, creating gaping holes in its fuselage. Fuel and oil started leaking, creating a thick black line. Sparks fly all over the plane, as the enemy continued to drill it relentlessly.
"Metal bullets! They have metal bullets!"
"Dammit!"
The lead aircraft made a sharp break to the right, the attacking plane followed closely, with no signs of wavering.
"I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!"
The pilot yelled in desperation. The rearmost plane fired several bullets at the enemy, which damaged the enemy’s tail surfaces. That wasn’t enough, however, and the attacker continued its unending volley. The lead plane tried turning left, but the enemy behind him adjusted his aim.
"Martin Two!"
"I don’t- ARGH!”
The pilot screamed, blood pouring out from his legs.
"My legs! I can’t feel them!"
"Stay a bit longer, Martin Two!"
"HELP! HELP!"
A whistle came from above, its surface reflected the shine of the morning sun. diving down at blinding speed, it put its nose at the enemy. The plane fired a burst of bullets which struck home. The bullets pierced through the engine cover and planted themselves deep in the enemy’s engine. The surprised attack threw the enemy fighter off the chase. The plane turned left, away from its target, smoke pouring out from its engine. Seemingly unsatisfied, the diving plane corrected its course and aimed for the enemy’s right wing. The pilot flew straight at his enemy, firing bullets on his way down. The bullets ripped the wing apart and the enemy flew uncontrollably to the ground, a trail of smoke followed its path.
The plane flew through the formation, flying dangerously close to the rearmost plane, before making a turn, pulling up, and leveling beside the group.
"Damn, that took you a while, Martin Four. Busy racking up those kills, huh?"
The pilot mentioned didn’t reply, instead, he stayed in his position and flew beside the Martin Two. Martin Two’s silver surface had been filled with bullet holes and burn marks, its tail rudder shaking violently like it could fall off at any moment. Despite the damage, it could still float in the sky, limping slowly back home.
"Martin flight, how’s your condition?"
"We lost Martin Three. Martin Two is severely wounded."
The leader reported, hiding the anguish beneath his voice.
"Not again... ARGH... sorry. Roger that. Martin Two, the runway is yours."
"Aff- Affirmative."
Martin Two replied, his voice shaking from the pain. He looked at the strip of runway extending beyond his vision. The three-kilometer-long runway was more than enough for him, yet the fact that his plane suffered severe damage forced him to be careful. He lowered his landing gear down, only to find out that his left landing gear had failed.
"Martin Two to- Control, my left landing gear won’t budge."
"Affirmative, Martin Two. Would you be able to do a go-around?"
"I- Negative. I- I don’t think I can handle it any longer."
"Roger that, Martin Two. We’ll raise the safety net, Proceed with the emergency landing."
He slowed down his aircraft meanwhile the crew on the runway rushed to deploy the emergency net, designed to stop damaged aircraft. Martin Two struggled to keep his damaged plane on course, unable to use his rudder. He lowered his speed, just slightly above the stall speed. He deployed his flaps, but soon found out that the left flap couldn’t be deployed thanks to extensive damage. To prevent unbalanced lift, he retracted the flaps.
The net soon came to view. The second he flew above the runway threshold, he cut the throttles, turning the plane into a powerless floating rock with wings. The plane drastically lost speed and slammed down onto the runway. Loud scraping sounds became painfully audible as his wings scraped the surface. He pulled the yoke right, trying to prevent his plane from spinning uncontrollably as the left wing tip dragged the entire thing leftward. The plane then crashed into the net, stopping it completely. Emergency units quickly came to his aid, and the two other surviving members of Martin Squadron flew above him and landed further down the runway.
The two planes taxied to a lift, which brought them down to the hangar. Upon arriving in the hangar, the two made their way to their respective parking spots.
“Yo, welcome back my friends.”
The mechanic who waited in the hangar stretched out his hands and hugged Martin Four. He tried doing the same with Martin One, but he pushed him away.
“Stay away from me.”
He said cruelly.
“You are always so serious, Robert.”
“Shut up, Phillip. You’re way too relaxed. You probably could learn a thing or two from damned Eduard here.”
Robert said while pointing his index finger to Eduard, before storming off the hangar.
“Aye aye, what happened to him?”
Phillip asked as he stood there watching Robert walk away.
“We lost Miguel up there, and Louis got shot pretty badly.”
“I see, I see. That’s unfortunate.”
“We all knew the risks, yet...”
Eduard shook his head and walked off while Phillip went toward the Mustang and banged its surface twice.
“I’ll let you two have your talk while I repair this baby, yeah?”
Eduard didn’t reply and simply raised his right hand. He let out a sigh and disappeared into the airship. He made his way through the ship, heading for his own room. The airship’s barracks were located further forward, near the center of the airship. Located precisely below the hangar, it allowed quick access for pilots heading into the fight.
He followed the brightly lit gray corridors, a sight that dulled his senses for color. The light gray corridors extended throughout the military section of the airship, making it a very boring sight. It was nowhere like the colorful and beautiful public areas located further below.
He arrived in front of his room and reached for his pocket. He took the key out and inserted it into the lock. The door unlocked with a click and he slowly pushed the door open. It made a loud squeaking sound as it slowly moved. Upon entering, he turned on the lights in the small room, which flickered for a couple of seconds before turning on completely.
He then headed for the bed and took off his brown flight equipment. Putting his flight gear and his uniform down on the table, he headed to the toilet to take a dump before checking up on himself in the mirror, his young face hardened with battle. Mother nature shone her smile on him today, as no new bruise could be seen on his face. He then took a shower, cleaning and refreshing himself. The cold water breathed in new life for him. Before he could finish, a loud fist banged on his door, its sound echoing throughout the room.
It wasn’t an alarm, so it wasn’t something serious, he thought. He took his time cleaning himself up, with the knocking getting louder as time passed. It soon became too much to bear,
“Coming!”
He yelled, clearly annoyed. He had only changed his shirt, into a plain white shirt. He wore the same pants as before, not bothering to change them, as he didn’t have the time to look for another pair buried somewhere deep in his drawer.
“What is it?”
He opened the door and found a well-dressed lady standing in front of him. She wore the signature dark blue uniform, exclusive only for the leaders of the air force. Her hair had been cut short, several medals dangle on the left side of her uniform, and epaulets that indicated her rank proudly stood on her shoulders.
“What is it?”
"Sigh... I wish you could act with more courtesy when you’re talking with me.”
“We went to the academy together, don’t try to pull that rank crap in front of me. What is it? Please don’t waste my time.”
Eduard said, pissed. The lady noticed his tone and let out a sigh.
“Never change, huh? Bad news or good news, which one first?”
“Bad news.”
“The way you act doesn’t sit well with the hire-ups, so you’ve been a topic of their discussion for a while.”
“What, they want to get rid of their best-performing pilot? I dare them.”
“You really need an ego check, Eduard.”
“Whatever. What’s the good news?”
“Your great performance was used as a consideration to let you lead your own squadron... we were all worried about your leadership style, though.”
“I would rather fly solo. All those pilots your guys put beside me, they’re nothing but dead weight.”
“You know that flying solo multiplies the risk you face, right?”
“Those people are the ones who put me at such risk, please... give me a break. Is there anything else? I’m way too tired.”
“That’s it.”
Hearing that, Eduard grabbed the handle and shut the door tight.
“Please consider your way of life, Eduard!”
The muffled voice came from outside. Eduard did not reply and he turned his back against the door, preventing it from being forcefully pushed open. The room went silent. Eduard waited for the footsteps to fade away before returning to his drawer. Eduard sorted his clothes and took them off his bed before laying down. He looked up at the boring gray ceiling that stayed the exact same since the day he moved here. He closed his eyes, planning to try and get a few minutes of some peaceful sleep when the alarms rang.
“All available units, this is an emergency. Head to the briefing room, now!”
The speaker in his room transmitted a panicked voice of a male officer. Eduard sprung up. He grunted and quickly put his military uniform back on. He spent a couple of seconds tidying himself, checking his equipment before rushing out of the room. The corridor felt suffocating, filled to the brim with similar-looking men and women running toward the center of the airship. He didn’t forget to lock his door and walked beside them, at a slightly slower pace than the people around him, although not slow enough to disrupt the traffic.
In his head, he wondered what in the world was going on. It had been months since the last time the alarm rang. Usually, they would have squadrons tasked on the ready, and only those squadrons would be sent up in case a threat came, exactly like what he had done earlier today. For everyone to be called, this threat must be a real issue.
The large theater-like room that served as the briefing room had a stage in the middle. Fifteen levels of chairs surround the stage, with twenty chairs on each level. The briefing room was often called the ‘joke room’ thanks to the fact that someone thought it was a good idea to color the walls and chairs pink, while the floors had been covered with a more ‘normal’ black carpet. Only a message colored in black above a white background displayed on the screen behind the stage gave the pilots their mission.
Go to your planes, everyone will deploy, was written on the screen. A worryingly simple, even pointless message that could make one wonder what was the point of calling them into the briefing room in the first place. To prevent the pilots from clogging up the corridors, signs had been placed around the room, routing the pilots on a circular pattern coming from the right side of the room, passing through the stage before exiting through the left side. Pilots gaze at the meaningless message, although as seconds tick, fewer pilots crowded the room, meaning someone probably rerouted them outside.
“Everyone, deploy!”
A second transmission came in, sending everyone into a panic.
Eduard followed the others into the main hangar. A white line divided the hangar into two large areas. The maintenance or parking area stood near the staircase while across from it a long runway stretched throughout the length of the ship. Eduard looked around the scenery, filled with the stink of oil and the loud deafening roars of airplane engines. He then looked toward the runway, where many twin-engine heavy fighters and gunships took off from. The sound soon became unbearable and he swiftly wore his headsets, not something he usually did in the hangar.
“Eduard!”
Phillip called him while running across the hangar floor toward him, his voice barely audible in the chaos.
“A large attack?”
Eduard asked, yelling so Phillip could hear him. Phillip nodded while trying to catch his breath.
“Yes, yes. the Union. They originally didn’t think the Union would actually open fire. An extremely large fleet. They hoped the Union would just pass, but all of a sudden they started shooting.”
“Dammit, where’s my plane?”
“F8.”
“Ok.”
Eduard turned and started running. He then remembered something and stopped. Looking back, he yelled a question at Phillip.
“Where’s-”
As he was about to voice out his question, his eyes caught the sight of a sleek, single-engine fighter taking off. The fighter had a pointy nose with a bubble canopy, an Ameri logo on its side, and a small emblem of a martin bird on its tail, with the number thirty-seven on the side behind the logo.
“-Nevermind!”
He yelled before continuing to run toward his own plane. He used the same plane model as Robert, both fly the P-51D Mustang. He ran to his aircraft, which was currently being prepared. It still had some fuel left over from the previous flight, so re-arming took significantly less time and allowed him to take off quickly. He jumped into the plane’s cockpit and began the start-up procedure. The ground crew in charge of section F8 spotted his spinning blades and ran over.
The ground crew took a quick look around the plane before giving a thumbs up, while praying that Eduard’s plane was as good as it looked. The ground crew waved a red flag, signaling that he was taking off.
Normally, planes would need to wait for clearance from the controller before they depart, but as the explosions outside warned, time was running dry. Eduard waited for another fighter to take off before aligning with the runway. The ground crew gave him another thumb and ran back to the chaotic parking area of the hangar. Eduard pushed the throttle to the max and the plane started its take-off roll.
The plane accelerated, the needle that pointed at his airspeed spun around clockwise. He quickly hit his rotation speed. He pulled his plane off the runway, and immediately pulled the landing gear up. He pulled his flaps up and steadily gain speed inside the hangar.
The hangar walls stood high enough for even two heavy bombers to be stacked on top of each other, so it gave him more than enough room to safely evade the other fighters who lined up on the runway below him. He pushed the Mustang past the hangar at blazing speed, flying it at its absolute limits. He flew dangerously fast across the remaining length of the hangar, something that probably would get him into trouble later.
Still, he managed to safely leave the hangar and quickly head to the enemy fleet. Several planes flew in front of him, forming a cloud of wings in the sky, while a large flock of opposing aircraft flew straight toward them. Explosions rang through the sky as the two fleets fired at each other, forming dark clouds that hindered both sides’ visibility. He could still see a limited distance in front of him, and spotted another Mustang flying slightly slower. He caught up to the plane and pulled up on its right.
“Martin One, you’re flying slower than usual, what happened?”
Eduard asked, his voice covered by the loud noises from outside.
“So you decided to arrive on time for once, Martin Four?”
“This isn’t the time for that!”
“Then what-”
“!”
For a very brief moment, Eduard saw the trace of a projectile heading straight toward Robert’s Mustang. For a second, everything fell silent to him. All he could hear at that moment was the loud explosions outside him and that silent, screeching voice as the projectile flew toward him. It felt as if the world lost its color and froze, but he soon found himself pulled back into reality. The projectile pierced right through Robert’s Mustang, detonating it in midair. Eduard yanked the stick to the right, dodging the incoming debris of Robert’s plane.
“Martin One! Martin One! Dammit!”
Robert did not reply, it was impossible for him to reply.
He was gone.
Meanwhile, Eduard flew away from the burning remains, fire consuming whatever was left of it. Several pieces struck his plane, scratching and damaging his aircraft. On the left side of his cockpit, a metal piece planted itself into his canopy, causing the glass to crack. Eduard breathed heavily as the recent experience sunk in.
“Dammit! Dammit!”
He cried. He tried his best to let the moment distract him. He then took a look around, smoke and explosions were everywhere, tracers covering up the blue skies. He then saw one of the gunships on the upper right of his aircraft. He took cover behind that plane.
“Control! Martin One had been shot down! I repeat, Martin One is down!”
"Fuck! Why now!? Ahem, sorry for that, Martin Four. Is Martin Two with you?"
“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure he can’t fly after his previous wound.”
The plane flying in front of Eduard burst into flames for seemingly no reason. Fire consumed the left engine, dragging the plane down. The pilot struggled to keep his plane airborne. He pulled up on the controls, the elevators at the rear wing tilted upward. It was pointless, however.
"Ok, Martin Four, you’re-"
Control didn’t finish his words when Eduard’s ears were filled with the sound of another explosion. A swarm of enemy fighters arrived and opened fire on the airplane above him. Bullets pierced through the wings and the engines, causing it to break apart. Smoke and fire appeared from the plane’s skin as it went down. Some of the remains crashed into the plane that flew in front of Eduard. The plane couldn’t hold it anymore and went down as well. Eduard managed dodge the falling plane and opened fire on the attacking enemy fighters, managing to take one down.
He put his sight on another fighter. The Union’s aircraft bears a factory shape as its mark, with rotating gear as its background. Most of their planes had been colored mostly in blue, while some others wore a green livery.
“Sorry about that, Control. A B-25 went down in front of me. You were saying?”
“Martin Four, you take control of the nonexistent squadron for now. We’ll think about your place later.”
“Roger.”
For Eduard, which squadron he would be appointed to hardly mattered. What mattered now was the enemy fighter making its way toward him, gun pointed at his plane. Eduard fired first. The shots managed to hit the enemy’s engine and wings. The enemy broke off the attack, trying to flee to the right, but his plane could not hold it and broke apart.
“Martin Four, do you see whose squadron the B-25 in front of you belongs to?”
“Negative, Control. I only saw the last number, it was three.”
“Affirmative.”
Eduard scanned the skies, looking for his next prey. He made a quick roll and spotted an enemy fighter firing on a friendly gunship not far below him. The fighter had already suffered some damage, smoke coming out from its torn right wing. Eduard pulled his stick up, and his plane, flying inverted, dove down on the enemy. He opened fire, but the enemy would not budge. It continued firing at the B-25, ignoring the damage it suffered and how dangerously close it was to the bomber. Eduard soon realized the pilot’s intention, but it was too late. The plane’s left wing sliced right through the B-25′s fuselage, just behind the wing, splitting it into two. Losing its right wing, the enemy fighter flew uncontrollably down, followed by the B-25 behind it.
Eduard cursed and pulled his plane back up. He found an enemy destroyer in his sight. The airship’s anti-aircraft gun fired at an approaching gunship, which suffered heavy punishment. He took the chance and flew straight toward the airship’s bridge located on the underside of the airship. The enemy destroyer’s underside cannons spotted him and turned their barrels toward him. They opened fire, large shells whistled as they flew past Eduard, barely missing his plane. It took a while for the cannons to reload and Eduard took this opportunity to return fire.
The bullets penetrated the airship’s bridge and lit the place on fire. It exploded, killing whoever was unlucky enough to be inside. Eduard flew under the bridge, flying dangerously close to the falling pieces from the leftover explosion. He knew taking out the lightly armored bridge would not be enough to destroy the destroyer, if anything it only momentarily crippled the ship. He made a wide turn, planning to fire on the upper cannons when the ship’s side exploded. The ship’s structure could still maintain its general shape, but it gradually lost lift and drifted from the sky, pulled down by gravity. Among the falling parts, Eduard noticed a burning tail that looked somewhat similar to that of a B-25.
Eduard then turned toward the enemy’s main fleet, which consisted of a fleet of two other destroyers and two frigates, with a single battleship. He looked behind him. The AS Future, the ship that he had just left, had already started to turn around, while the escort ships turned sideways to block the enemy. Behind him, numerous allied aircraft engaged the enemy’s air power. He knew he had to halt the enemy or else the AS Future along with its thirty thousand crew and civilians onboard would be sent down to the earth, into their watery graves, similar to what happened to another ship he once flew from. He flew straight through the hail fire of bullets. Bullets struck his aircraft, shredding the metallic skin off and damaging his engine. His engines puffed out black smoke as he dodge the bullets flung at him.
He pressed forward and open fire at one of the frigates. The frigate’s bridge swiftly exploded and with the help of another gunship flying right behind him, the entire thing went down. He flew below it, dodging the falling debris, and flying to the left toward the second frigate. He realized an enemy fighter had taken up position behind him, between him and the gunship flying behind. It opened fire at Eduard, while the turrets from the B-25 tried to fend it off. Bullets rain from the rear, damaging Eduard’s aircraft. Eduard swerved left and right, trying to throw the enemy off.
He pulled up, and the enemy followed him in his climb. He looked behind, the enemy aircraft just barely visible in his sight. It had a two-wing configuration, a biplane. Its tail was on fire, indicating that some of the bullets from the B-25 had hit. The enemy, for some reason, was bold enough to blindly follow him up. As expected, it could not keep up. The biplane stalled and fell. The biplane pilot completely lost control of his fighter, sending the biplane into an uncontrollable spin. The presumably wooden structure could not handle the stress that had been inflicted upon it, causing the plane to break up.
He pulled the stick up to complete the full circle and the plane headed down. He pulled his sights toward the enemy frigate, staring down one of the barrels on the upper cannons that pointed straight at him. The turret fired. He pulled the plane left, dodging in, and returned with his own shots. The first shots deflected the reinforced surface of the enemy airship, but eventually, they broke and pierced through the structure. Fired spit out from the holes.
The frigate started to veer sideways. A small grin appeared on Eduard’s face. He continued firing at the frigate’s right side. The bullets hit the pylons that supported the frigate’s numerous engines. It broke one by one, and engines that it had previously supported fell freely into the ocean. He pulled up beside the frigate and continued strafing at its right side. As he passed the airship, he heard an explosion on the right side of his plane. He looked out the window and found that a part of his right-wing had been ripped off.
“Dammit! Dammit!”
He cursed while pulling the plane left. He could still feel his controls responding to him, but the damage made maneuvering extremely difficult. He couldn’t pull his plane up without having it yaw to the right. Alarms blared in his cockpit, reminding him of the damage he suffered. To make matters worse, his engine slowed down and eventually reached a stop. He attempted to restart them but to no avail, all while struggling to control his aircraft and flying under fire.
“No! No! Come on!”
He yelled, but his plane refused his input. He realized he wouldn’t be able to return to his ship, so he turned on the radio and said his parting words.
“Martin Four is down!”
“Control to Martin Four, what’s going on!?”
“I lost my right wing and engine!”
“Martin Four, can you return to the airship?”
“Negative, Control.”
The radio went silent. Eduard’s eyes landed on his instruments, looking at the needle that pointed out his altitude continuously spun to the left.
“I’m sorry.”
He knew exactly what that meant. The radio cut off, and there was nothing but silence. He took his eyes off the instruments and looked at the scenery extending beyond him. Below him, the dark blue extended to the horizon, going as far as the eye can hope to see. He slowly let his hands off the controls, letting his plane decide where it wanted to go next.
Because, regardless of his inputs, only one destination remained.
