Cardinal's Direction - Part 1

War is never a pretty thing, as mothers and veterans alike will be quick to tell you. But when one nation is blatantly in the wrong, a large-scale war has a way of bringing people together like nothing else.

As is usually the case, no one was prepared when the siren went off at four in the morning. There was an audible crack as one pilot slammed his head into the bunk above him. He yelled out and sucked in a painful gasp of air as he tried to get up and throw on his flight suit along with the others.

“You okay, Dominick?” The pilot looked down to see a two foot tall, fox-like creature pulling on a leather cap. It looked rather silly with his giant ears sticking out the sides, but Dominick had eventually learned not to point those things out to the tamira.

“I’ll feel better once I get in the air, Zev,” he muttered.

“I hear that,” Zev laughed. He pulled on a pair of gloves and tucked a revolver into his belt. The sidearm looked huge in his hands, but again, Dominick kept his mouth shut.

“Hurry up!” another pilot shouted, charging out the door and onto the runway, along with several of the other pilots. Zev cursed to himself for not being the first one out and sprinted after them.

“Zev, where are you?”

Zev smacked a button on the radio clipped to his jacket and panted back, “I’m on my way Em, get ‘er started!”

Pilots scrambled to their planes as the sound of propellers started to drown out even the air raid siren. An idle plane next to him suddenly began to spew splinters, and Zev picked up speed as a low-flying plane strafed the runway, destroying the aircraft and nearly perforating the tamira.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” He could finally see his plane and ran for it. A woman already in the cockpit started moving forward, anxious to get off the ground. Zev cut off its path and grabbed the rungs on the side, swinging himself into the second seat and strapping on his cap as the craft picked up speed.

“What, you gonna leave without me?” Zev shouted, putting his goggles in place.

“I figured you’d run faster if you saw me taking off,” Emily called back, grinning. “Gotta motivate those little legs to move somehow!”
Zev growled, but of course she didn’t hear over the roar of the engine. He tucked his crimson scarf into his jacket as the plane’s wheels left the runway. His radio chirped again.

“My first dogfight, Zev!” Dominick’s voice came through. “You think I’m ready?”

“Course you’re ready!” he replied, grinning. “Don’t worry buddy, I got your back.” He spun his seat around and grabbed the rear-facing machine gun, noticing another tamira taking off aside of them in a single seat aircraft. Returning his gaze, the pilot picked up his radio.

“How about you take this one seriously for a change, Cardinal?” He sounded somewhat annoyed.

“Tad’s great, isn’t he?” Emily shouted back with a laugh. Zev shook his head and grabbed his own radio.

“Hey Amero, try not to fall too far behind today,” he joked. “I hear some o’ the greenies are starting to pass you in kills.”

“Grow up, why don’t you?” Tad snapped. He split off as they both continued their ascent.

“What’s the captain’s beef with you, anyway?” Emily shouted.

“Hell if I know,” Zev replied. “He’s probably just jealous.”

“All units, all units, ten bogeys have been spotted,” the command tower announced over the radio. “We’ve got six of our own in the air. More might be up later, but you’ve got to draw their attention from the aerodrome.”
Tad came back on the radio. “All right, Em, Yancy, I want you to clear the runway. TJ, Greg, stay with me and keep those bots off their back.”

“You got it, captain.”

“Yessir.”

“Spike, I n-” Tad was cut off by a loud, enthusiastic scream from the radio. A bright orange triplane shot past, rolling crazily before steadying itself and lifting up after the enemy craft. Its machine guns started blazing and the enemy formation rapidly dispersed.

“…All right, I guess that works,” Tad said. “Everyone else, stick to the plan!”

“Got one,” Emily shouted to Zev. He felt the plane dip forward as she locked in on one of the bots in an enemy plane. He heard her fore machine guns open fire.

“Watch your six, Zev!” Dominick’s pilot, Yancy warned over the radio.

“I got him,” Zev replied, swinging the machine gun around. It was tough aiming without being in control of the craft; Zev often told himself he wasn’t the one flying because they needed more reliable rear gunners. He hoped it was true as he opened fire, filling the air with lead.

The two twin-seaters fought fiercely against the enemy crafts: large, cheaply produced guns with wings, for the most part. They were “piloted” by programs, designed to fly without intelligent interaction. It pissed off Zev that the Honlajians would be so cowardly and send dozens of drones to their death instead, especially since the whole conflict seemed to be over resources. On the other hand, it did wonderful things for the conscience.

“HAHahahahah!” Zev laughed in glee as the bot’s upper left wing snapped off and it plummeted to the dirt. His own plane jostled suddenly and started banking hard. “Whoa, hold it steady!” he shouted.

“Heads up down there!” Tad warned. “Their backup is coming down for you now, we’re heading to intercept.”

“Hang on, Zev!” Emily shouted, trying to dodge gunfire coming from above.

“Zev, where are ya buddy?” Dominick yelled.

“They’re coming down on us hard now,” Yancy threw in. “They’ve got the drop on us but good.”

“Evade!” Tad ordered. “We’ll get ‘em off your backs, just stay alive!”
The bots were not so patient, however. Ignoring any tactical sense, they made a beeline for the lower pilots, emptying their guns in the hope something connected. Trails of thick steam poured behind them as the machines swooped toward the lower planes.

“Shit, I’m jammed up!” Dominick yelled. “We’re wide open here!”

“We’ll intercept in 10 seconds,” Tad responded.

“I don’t think we’ll last that long, cap’n,” Yancy worried.

“Bring us around, Em,” Zev shouted off the radio.

“Already am,” she replied. Dipping the nose, she swung it back up into a half loop and rolled, blowing past their pursuers. Emily’s fore guns opened up, tearing through the enemy’s formation. As they passed through, Zev followed up with his own machine gun, sending two more of the bots to their fiery destruction below.

“We’re counting four left,” the control tower announced.

“Engaging,” Tad said. Three of the smaller aircraft dropped down now, filling the air around the bots with lead. Before long only two remained. They took off, heading back in the direction they came from.

“All units check in,” Tad called.

“Yeah, what’s the kill count?” a gruff, energetic Spike shouted. “I got two.”

“Eh, I was off today,” TJ griped. “Nothing here.”

“Em and I got one,” Dominick said.

“One here,” Greg replied.

“One solo, two assisted,” Zev grinned.

“Three assists,” Em laughed. “You guys suck.”

“One here,” Tad muttered, cracking a small grin of his own. “Tower, permission to pursue?”

“Granted. Take ‘em out!”

“Cap’n, Dominick and I are hit,” Yancy called. “we gotta land.”

“Everyone else good?” Tad called. There was a smatter of affirmatives. “All right then, let’s take ‘em out. Wedge formation, fall in behind me.”

Zev spun his seat around again as they all came to formation. At this point, he was just along for the ride. “Booooo-ring!” he called, instigating some laughter.

“Zev, why don’t you just keep your mouth shut?” Tad responded irately. “Let us know if you see any more fighters, okay?”

“Hey ease up, huh, captain?” Greg requested from somewhere near the back. “We won the fight, let’s just finish it up, okay?”

“No, let him talk,” Zev declared. Em started to protest, but he ignored her and went on. “You got a problem with me, ‘captain’ Amero? Why don’t you come out with it now?”

“Cardnial, you shut it or I’ll have you out of the air for a month,” Tad warned.

“Hey, EVERYONE shut up,” TJ shouted. “Those bots look like they’re in range.”

“All right everyone, spread out and–” Tad was interrupted as an explosion went off somewhere to his right. “The hell-?”

“Flak!” Em shouted. “They’ve got anti-air, they must’ve pushed the front line!”

“We’re to low!” Tad went on. “Evasive maneuvers, everyone back to the aerodrome!” Another explosion went off directly in front of Greg. He was plummeting toward the earth before he even turned on his radio. “My prop’s shattered, I’m going down! …Hello? Is this thing working??”

The air was chaos. The squadron tried to turn around, but thick, black clouds of shrapnel surrounded them. “Dammit!” Tad roared, unheard by the others. “They hit my wing, I don’t know how long I’ve got.”

Another explosion went off not ten feet to Zev’s left. He ducked out of instinct, realizing vaguely that if he was still alive, ducking wasn’t going to help. “Shit!" he cried out. “Em, how bad was that?”

There was no response. Zev climbed up and looked at his pilot. She wasn’t moving. “Em, you all right?” No answer. He cursed again and grabbed his radio. “I’ve lost Em, I’m going to try to pilot this thing back.” There was no answer. “Can anyone hear me?” He looked around and spotted Spike’s bright orange triplane through the clouds. “They’re jamming our radios,” he muttered. “Damn, they’ve gotten slick.”

Another explosion rocked him, and he realized his plane had taken one too many as it started to sink. He grabbed his stick and yanked up, but the wings were in tatters. “This is gonna suck,” he muttered.