[Challenge 024] Flight

Title: Flight
Game: FE8
Word Count: 5,199
Characters/Pairing: Tana, Seth/Eirika
Comments: When I saw this was AU and that queenlua had specifically mentioned World War I, I couldn’t help it–I just had to go and write another piece for my WWI collection, Grey. No need to read the earlier chapters as this piece functions as a stand-alone. I managed to trim as per our admin’s suggestion and got it down to 5199 according to my word count software.

Also posted on ffnet here


Flight

Across the airfield, a pair of infantrymen stopped to gawp at an aeroplane circling overhead. Captain Tana of the Royal Frelian Air Force smirked. It happened every time a trenchman visited the airfield; most of the poor lads and lasses had never seen a plane up close. She had seen her first one as a child during an airshow in Frelia’s capital and she’d known from that moment on that she wanted to fly. That had been before anyone had thought to strap machine guns onto them.

With a sigh, Tana turned her attention back to the letter in her hands. She leaned against the fuselage of her plane, relaxing at the feel of the solid wooden frame at her back. Her brow furrowed as she read on. So intent was she that she started when someone approached.

"Sorry, Captain," the mechanic said, "but there’s someone here to see you."

"I don’t have time for visitors. We’re waiting for flight orders."

The mechanic ducked his head and, fidgeting, glanced over his shoulders. "They said you’d really want to see them, ma’am. And they had this." He handed over a creased and slightly crumpled sheet which, she realized with a shock, bore the coat of arms of Renais.

Tana glanced past the mechanic to the pair of infantrymen who approached at a halting pace–one of them was on crutches. The other...Her eyes narrowed. She stared. And then she broke into a trot, hurrying to meet them.

"Eirika!" Tana said, wrapping her arms around her friend. "I’ve been so worried."

Eirika squeezed her in return. "I’m sorry. We ran into...delays...and I wasn’t able to check for letters. I only got your message a few days ago. We hurried here. Are we–"

"Yes, you’re in time. They haven’t moved him yet, though we just got the orders," she said holding up the letter in her hand. As she released her friend, she stepped back and took a good look at her. Eirika’s hair was cropped short–much shorter than Tana’s own. She was garbed in the drab tunic and trousers of a Renais Lieutenant, complete with peaked cap and sidearm. Tana could not help but notice the dark circles beneath her eyes.

Her attention turned to the man standing next to the Princess of Renais, leaning heavily on his right crutch. His face was thinner than she remembered, but she recognised him still. "General Seth," she said, offering a smile and a salute.

He shifted, looking quite uncomfortable. "Only a major now, Princess."

"You still outrank me and please, no titles. Only my commanders know I’m not just another pilot, and I’d prefer it remain that way."

Seth raised an eyebrow. "Is Innes aware?"

Tana winced. "Yes and no. He thinks I’ve been flying one of those," she said jutting her chin towards the line of two-seaters. "Reconnaissance planes," she added, realizing that they might not recognise the planes as she did. Renais had had little in the way of an airforce at the start of the war and there had been no chance to build one up since Imperial Grado held Renais’s territory in its entirety. "As far as he knows I’ve only been patrolling within our lines."

"And that’s not the case?" Seth asked warily.

"Come and see him." She gestured for them to follow as she moved towards her plane and patted its wooden fuselage fondly. The two parallel wings and the struts that supported them were painted white, while the fuselage was dull brown, but halfway between the cockpit and the tail was the shining white pegasus that stood as the emblem of her kingdom. At rest now, the biplane’s tail lay on the ground, its nose tilted upwards as if the plane were gazing up at the sky. "This is Achaeus."

"This is a...fighter plane," Seth said.

Tana nodded. "And it’s fitted with a synchronised machine gun just like the ones the Imperials use."

"Synchronised?" Eirika repeated.

"It can fire through the propeller," Tana explained. "It makes it much easier to fly and shoot at the same time."

Seth looked paler than ever as he eyed the plane. "You’re flying a fighter plane."

"Officially," Tana said, "Captain Tanner is flying a fighter plane."

The major looked from her to Eirika with an air of exasperation. "You’ve both assumed aliases and are fighting unbeknownst to Innes. Two rogue princesses..." He shook his head. "If he ever gets word of my involvement in this, Innes won’t bother to have me court-martialled, he’ll just have me drawn and quartered."

Smiling up at him, fondness obvious in her features, Eirika reached out to squeeze his arm. "I would never let that happen, Seth."

"And I have a little influence in Frelia myself," Tana added, smiling to cover the sudden ache in her chest. To have found each other again in the middle of the war–she envied them.

She could see them as they would have been without the war, as they should have been. Seth, standing tall, general’s stars glittering on the collar of his dress uniform, Eirika, dazzling in an evening dress, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. Arm in arm, they would walk into the ballroom. The assorted guests–princes, politicians, ladies of fashion, and lieutenants–would turn their heads to catch a glimpse of them as they stepped onto the floor and danced. Tana knew she herself would have danced all night long, hoping to catch Ephraim’s eye as he stood in a corner discussing the merits of armaments and stratagems with General Duessel and her brother.

What of that now? Just a dream, the fleeting fancy of a sheltered girl, one to be put away like all the playthings of her childhood.

Looking only slightly reassured, Seth’s eyes ran the length of the plane. "Forgive me for asking, Captain, but how did this come about?"

Tana shrugged. "I did fly reconnaissance for a while but I managed to talk Syrene into letting me test fly the single-seaters. When she saw what I could do in the cockpit of one of these..." She patted the plane again. "She’s risking her career because she believes in me. I have ten kills to my name–or to Captain Tanner’s name in any case."

"What’s the record?" Eirika asked uncertainly.

Tana grimaced. "I believe the Moonstone has fifteen." Major Valter, the Moonstone, was the most renowned pilot in Grado–and the most feared outside of it. His plane’s fuselage was painted the same gold as the Imperial emblem so that other pilots would recognise him at a distance. "It’ll be different now that we have better guns. The Imperials won’t have an edge on us anymore."

"I wish your squadron luck, Captain," Seth said, eyeing the plane warily. "I must confess that I prefer to do my fighting on the ground."

"At least there aren’t any rats in the air," Eirika said with a shudder.

"Rats?" Tana repeated.

The look on Eirika’s face then made Tana’s chest constrict. "Pray you never need set foot in the trenches." She shook herself. "Shall we go see your prisoner?"

Tana nodded and led the way toward a small manor house that had been comandeered as the squadron’s base of operations and barracks. They moved at a leisurely stroll to accommodate Seth’s injury. She’d known of Eirika’s search for Ephraim and her plan to seek out Seth’s aid. The most recent letter she’d had from Eirika had been from a military hospital where Seth’s leg was being treated. But after that nothing. "You said you were delayed?"

Eirika glanced at Seth before replying. His expression was grim, his lips pressed together into a thin line. "We discovered that an acquaintance of ours, Colonel Orson, has defected to Grado and that he’d been passing information to them."

She almost laughed. The irony! "I suppose our guest evens the scales then."

"Perhaps," Seth said. "If he has information worth sharing."

Tana shrugged. "He wouldn’t tell Syrene a thing. He insists on speaking to someone from Renais." She pointed to a plane that stood alone, a short way from the manor, beneath a canopy to prevent enemy scouts from spotting it from the air. It was painted a greyish blue and emblazoned with the golden wyvern of Imperial Grado. "That’s his. It’s going to be shipped off today so the engineers can poke at it and see what makes it tick. We don’t often get to see an enemy plane intact." And indeed, several mechanics were clustered around it, preparing to dismantle it.

There was a fair bit of saluting from all manner of junior officers and staff as Tana led them into the manor. "He’s upstairs," Tana said, glancing apologetically at Seth.

He eyed the narrow stone stairway with evident trepidation, but, without a word, made his way up, step by narrow step. By the time they reached the top, he was alarmingly pale and his brow was slick with perspiration. Eirika clutched his arm to steady him. "Seth–"

"No, it’s all right," he cut in. "I only need a moment." He leaned against the nearest wall, taking the weight off his injured left leg.

Tana looked away from Eirika’s worried face. She knew worry all too well. The sky was the only place she could escape it.

Before the war, she’d received letters from Eirika that had announced with gleeful exuberance that General Seth, a family friend since he’d been a boy, and a favourite of her father’s, was courting her. Tana had met the general during her visits to Renais and had always found him very formal and serious, but Eirika had always spoken fondly of him. They would surely be married now had it not been for the war. It would have been a grand affair–a week’s worth of parties filled with music and dancing, feasting and champagne, ball gowns and bow ties. Tana would perhaps have been the maid of honour at the wedding and perhaps, a year or two later, a godmother. Instead...

Seth drew in a deep breath and righted himself. He nodded to Eirika who, in spite of the worry still etched on her features, released his arm. Tana took them to the room where the "guest" was being kept.

A private, clutching a rifle to his chest, stood guard at the door. He saluted as Tana approached. "Captain! I have orders from the squadron leader to allow entry to you, the major, and the lieutenant."

"Open it," she said and without further ado, the private unlocked the door. She held out a hand, inviting Seth and Eirika to go in ahead. They did, blocking her view of the prisoner, and Tana lingered behind them. She didn’t want to see his face.

The private glanced at her. "Is there something wrong, Captain?"

Tana shook her head. "No, nothing. It’s fine." She stepped into the stuffy room and the door closed behind her. The space was slightly bigger than a closet, the walls plastered but otherwise bare with only a chair and a straw mattress as furniture. A narrow window covered in metal grille, decorative but very sturdy, allowed light to slant into the room in long, golden lozenges.

The prisoner’s back was to them as he gazed out the window. "There are some people here to see you," Tana said. "They’ve come from Renais." He turned and the sunlight illuminated a shaggy mop of blond hair and the hawk-like features of Captain Cormag of Imperial Grado. His lips twitched and a crooked smiled appeared on his craggy face. Tana looked away. It had once been the face of her hero.

Two years before the start of the war, her father, King Hayden, had hosted an international airshow in Frelia’s capital. He and Innes both had been forward-thinking about the role of aircraft in Frelia’s future and had been strong supporters of new aeronautic developments. The show had brought together pilots, engineers, and mechanics from all over Magvel. Pilots had shown off the capabilities of their new crafts through daring air-acrobatics, and the shining star of that show had been Cormag. She remembered even now as he’d landed. He’d hopped out of his plane and tugged off his aviator goggles to grin at the adoring crowds as if he’d not been risking life and limb just minutes earlier. A sixteen-year-old princess was not allowed much freedom, so she’d only heard tales of the raucous adventures Cormag and the other pilots had had during their stay in the capital. But oh how she’d wanted to be there, to be a part of it all! After the show she had finally pestered her father into allowing her to train as a pilot. She had wanted to fly like him, to be like him. But that was before he’d started killing her friends.

The jagged scar on Cormag’s left cheek was new and gave his face a perpetually lopsided air. His brow crinkled as he peered at his visitors. "You’re...General Seth?"

"Only a Major now," Seth replied. Tana wondered how often he’d had to say that over the past year and whether it became easier with practice.

"I see. Then the rumours of your accepting a demotion to go to the front were true."

Seth’s features remained impassive, but Eirika’s eyes burned with ire–not for Cormag, Tana knew, but for Innes. Tana was uncertain of the details, but knew that Innes had had a hand in Seth’s predicament.

Cormag’s attention turned to Eirika and he raised an eyebrow. "Lieutenant..."

Eirika drew herself up. "I am Princess Eirika of Renais. If you have something to tell us on behalf of Imperial Grado then say it now."

He straightened, eyes alert and boring into Eirika. "Princess Eirika? Then you knew my brother, General Glenn."

"We met, yes. He dined with us once a few years ago. I’ve not spoken to him since."

"And you won’t again." Cormag’s eyes blazed. "He’s dead."

Eirika fell back a step, dismay plain on her features. "But we’ve heard nothing of this. How?"

"Oh you’ll hear of it soon enough once they announce that he was killed by a small band of Renais assassins led by the crown prince himself."

"No." Eirika shook her head vigorously. "Ephraim would never do such a thing."

He levelled his gaze at Eirika. "And that the princess of Renais orchestrated the entire thing."

"That’s outrageous!" Seth snapped at the same time as Tana and Eirika both uttered an alarmed, "What?"

Cormag’s lips twisted into a lopsided smile. "It’s a very good lie, one the people of Grado will eat up. My brother was a hero to our nation. But I happen to know that the crown prince of Renais was on the Jehanna border the when my brother was murdered."

Tana’s heart leaped. Ephraim was alive then! She’d been so worried all these months since he’d vanished. With every letter she sent home she asked if there was any news of him but always nothing, not even rumours.

"You’ve seen my brother?" Eirika asked eagerly, stepping closer to the prisoner. Seth, eyes narrowed and keeping a close watch on Cormag, moved closer to her, though with his crutches he made for a peculiar armed escort.

He nodded. "I was on leave in the capital and then I was sent on a sudden errand to Jehanna–to get me out of the way, I suppose. While I was there I glimpsed Prince Ephraim’s group on the border."

"And General Glenn?" Seth said, his air sober.

"When I returned to Grado, Valter told me he’d been killed. He told me he saw it with his own eyes but couldn’t do anything to stop it. He told me a very pretty lie and that same day I headed back to my aerodrome, got in my plane and flew it into Frelian-controlled air under a white flag."

For a moment there was complete silence. Tana could not look at his face, this man who had fled his country in search of revenge. She had lost friends because of him. All she wanted at that moment was to fly from the room and go back to her plane. She wanted more than anything to be in the sky, above all of this, and feel the frigid air on her face.

Seth was the first to speak. "But why would Valter do it? From what I’ve heard he’s a national hero and a personal friend of Emperor Vigarde."

A bark of laughter from Cormag. "All isn’t as it seems in Grado. You heard that the emperor is ill?" Seth and Eirika both nodded. "Decrees still officially come from his office, but it’s Valter and Reeve who are behind every Imperial decree. The emperor is no more than a puppet. My brother had spoken out against them; it was what we talked about the last time I saw him."

When she spoke, Eirika’s voice was barely more than a whisper. "What about Lyon?"

Cormag leaned back against the wall as if he were weary, letting out a long breath. "The prince has been working tirelessly on his research. They say he barely sleeps or eats anymore. Rumour has it he looks like a walking corpse."

Tana’s eyes turned to Eirika’s expression of distress. Of course, Erika had known Lyon before the war. She’d said he’d been kind, quiet, and dedicated to his studies. Tana remembered Eirika’s adamant insistence that he would never have condoned the war.

"And this research?" Seth pressed. "What do you know about it?"

Cormag shrugged. "It’s cloaked in secrecy. From what I’ve heard, the prince hopes it will lead to a cure for his father. Reeve on the other hand thinks it will have applications as a weapon, worse than what any of our artillery cannons can deliver." He raised his hands, palm outwards. "That’s all I know of the matter."

Eirika nodded. "Thank you for telling us about this. And about Ephraim."

"I’ll do anything in my power to bring down Valter," he replied, but as he did, his eyes drifted to Tana and hovered there. She scowled at him.

His brow furrowed as he stared at her. "Have we...met?"

He drew out that last word as if suggesting they had done more than simply meet. Tana bristled. She was certainly not one of his conquests. "You signed an autograph for me at an airshow in Frelia."

It took a moment, but then it registered and his eyes widened. She could see it in his face–he remembered. He remembered dinner in the palace with her family, how her brother had pestered him during most of the meal about the mechanics of flight, how she had managed to steal a moment alone with him to gush about his flying and how she so wanted to fly as well. Flight had seemed a grand adventure to her. And Cormag, to her eyes, had seemed heroic, roguishly handsome, daring. The perfect pilot.

She’d been such a little fool.

"Princess Tana," he said, bowing his head. "So you managed to win your wings after all."

She returned a curt nod. "Just in time to shoot down your fellows."

His jaw dropped but what he might of said, she never discovered, for the door flew open and they all spun to find a breathless corporal in the hall. "Captain, they need you in the air. Bombers sighted. Heading this way."

Tana’s heart began to race. "Right. On my way." She turned to Seth and Eirika. "You need to get down to the cellars. Just in case."

She sprinted down the hall and took the stairs two at a time, all but flying out of the manor and across the airfield toward her fighter. The only reason for bombers to be in this area was to try to eliminate Cormag and his plane. They must have discovered somehow that he was being held here.

Her squadron was already preparing for takeoff as she finally reached the line of one-seaters, several already taxiing across the field to turn into the wind. With an easy hop, she was in the cockpit. The familiar but tedious takeoff drill followed as she flicked switches and pressurised the gas tank. When one of mechanics stationed next to the plane decided that the pistons had taken in the necessary gas, he nodded. "Contact, ma’am?"

"Contact," she repeated. She flicked the ignition switch. The mechanic gave the propeller a heave and then leaped out the way. The engine growled to life. It coughed a couple of times, as if it were clearing its throat before a speech, but then the pistons were hitting on the cylinders and the growl became a steady roar. Tana pulled her goggles over her eyes and then her hands settled on the joystick.

The mechanics were pushing against the plane to hold it back, straining against the machine which, like nearly all current models, lacked brakes. Tana throttled down until the engine was emitting a comforting purr. She signalled the mechanics and they began removing the chocks from beneath the wheels. They stepped away and she taxied across field, turning the plane into the wind. Opening the throttle wide, she bumped across the field until the tail rose off the ground and then, with a thrill that never lessened, she felt the plane rise into the air like a winged beast.

Slow circles around the aerodrome allowed her to gain height. The rest of her squadron was doing the same. When they’d reached the proper altitude, they would form up and prepare to take on the enemy fighters that would be escorting the bombers.

Tana glanced at her polished nickel instruments. Height, speed, angle. Everything read as normal as she climbed. It felt good to be in the air. These days, it was the only time she felt good. It was the only place she could forget her gnawing worry. Up here she felt alive, focussed. Her attention was centred on the plane’s controls and the machine gun’s trigger, where her squadmates were and where the enemy was. There was no time to fret about the war or Ephraim or Eirika. Her entire being was focussed on keeping herself aloft and sending her foes crashing to the earth. Purpose filled her when she was airborne like at no other time in her life.

As squadron leader, Syrene took point. The other nine planes formed ranks in a cluster, above and behind her. Tana shuddered as they gained altitude; the air was frigid in spite of her fur cap and long leather coat. Fur-lined gloves saved her fingers, but her chin and cheeks always had to thaw out when she returned to the ground.

They had been flying west for only a few minutes when Tana spotted dark flecks against the pale haze of the sky, slightly below them over a cloudbank. She could not make out the markings on their wings but even so she recognised the silhouettes, the very feel of them: they were enemy machines. And there, yes, in the centre of the group were the larger bombers. With wingspans of over seventy-five feet, more than twice that of the fighters, they were much like the wyverns emblazoned on their hides.

Including the bombers, there were only eight Imperial planes to their ten. Syrene signalled the others, and the squadron moved to engage the enemy. As a group, they descended upon the Imperials, diving like birds of prey.

Tana’s plane roared as she dove towards one of the enemy planes. She was focussed on getting close enough to fire when something shot out of the clouds below, almost under the nose of her fighter–another Imperial plane! She shifted direction to give chase. From the corner of her eye she spotted several more of them darting out of the clouds and breaking off to attack the Frelian machines. Dammit! They’d been using the clouds as cover, hoping to catch her squadron off guard.

Her engines roared as she closed in on the enemy plane. He tried to circle away, but she followed his every move, gaining ground. He was in her sights now, maybe two hundred yards away. She opened fire. Nothing. Damn.

Before she could close again for a second attempt, she heard machine gun fire close by. Glancing over her shoulder to the left, she saw two more dogfights. And more planes a bit below and behind, judging by the stuttering sound of gunfire. The well-ordered formations of both groups had broken into a general melee. Her stomach knotted; where were the bombers?

She spotted one of her wingmates attempting to a evade a trio of machines half a mile away and turned to assist. Her plane tore across the distance in half a minute and she dove at the Imperials, breaking up their pursuit. One of them banked and dove. She followed. They circled each other, rising and falling in an aerial dance.

Machine gun fire rattled close enough to set her nerves jangling and she could see bullet holes in her plane’s wings. But she’d had closer calls than this and no one stayed on her tail for long.

Tana pulled back on the stick until the nose of her plane pointed straight up, the classic first gesture of a loop. Her pursuer shot beneath her, but she did not finish the loop. Instead, the plane stood on its tail for a few moments before she dropped it back and then tipped the stick forward, diving at her would-be pursuer. She opened fire; she was too close now to miss. The Imperial machine plunged, gaining speed. She followed to make certain it would not recover from its dive. After a few moments she pulled up. When she glanced down she could see a flaming wreck on the earth below.

There was no sign of anyone else.

Scanning the skies for the enemy and the rest of her squadron, she spotted a great deal of movement to the west. The battle was getting closer to her aerodrome–that meant the bombers surely were as well. She made several slow circles to gain altitude and turned west.

Tana reached the fray in time to spot one of their planes dive like an eagle and open fire on a bomber–Syrene, Tana was almost certain. The bomber’s nose dipped steeply and in a few seconds it was in freefall, flames trailing from its fuselage like a feathery tail. But where was the other bomber?

Sighting an enemy machine a short distance ahead, Tana angled her wings and pursued. There seemed to be planes everywhere; they moved in and out of her field of vision, sometimes like gnats for their distance, and other times so close she could see the head of the pilot poking out of the cockpit. But these things remained peripheral as she focussed all her attention on the wyvern-marked machine that zoomed in and out of her machine gun sights.

She was closing, almost close enough to open fire, when she realized she had someone on her tail again. Looking over her shoulder, she could see an Imperial plane, its fuselage painted the same gold as the wyvern that roared on its dark blue wings. Her heart lurched. She knew that plane; everyone knew that plane. Valter.

Her hands were already tilting the stick, circling around before she was in his sights. He’d crept up on her from a greater altitude, giving him the advantage of speed and angle. She circled and zigzagged, but every time she checked he was still there.

She saw no help on the way; the rest of her squadron was occupied. In spite of the frigid air, sweat beaded her brow beneath her aviator cap. The newest batch of Imperial planes was known for their manoeuverability. Achaeus was a steady old boy, but not as nimble as Valter’s plane. Banking and circling led to nothing. He was closing. Valter was known for coming in close before he opened fire and few who ever came in his sights lived to tell the tale.

Heart thrumming, hands slick inside her gloves, Tana scanned the skies. There. The low cloudbank to the south. Banking to the left she opened the throttle full and tore towards the clouds. He followed. She didn’t even need to look; she could almost feel his hot breath on her neck.

She swerved, trying to lose him in the clouds, but he was too close now. The rattle of machine gun fire sounded and she felt the plane shudder and then lurch to one side. She tugged on the stick to adjust, but something had been hit. Damn. She could think of only one way out of this now.

Titling the stick up, she dove.

The rush of air in her ears matched the roar of blood pounding in her temples. The earth hurtled towards as she dropped, the fields surrounding her aerodrome, stretched out like a mottled green cloak. She counted under her breath, estimating how long she could maintain the dive without losing control. A quick glance over her shoulder showed that she had gained some distance but it wasn’t enough. Seconds ticked by. Now, it had to be now.

She tugged on the stick to level her dive. "Come one, Achaeus," Tana murmured. She wanted to pat the fuselage as she might a faithful hound or horse, but it took all her strength to pull back on the stick and bring the plane under control. And then she had it. The wings were level again. Something creaked at the back of the fuselage. There was nothing for it; she had to land. Wasting not a single second, she turned towards her aerodrome and aimed for a clear landing area. When she glanced over her shoulder, Valter was circling away. He’d driven her to the ground and would have to be satisfied with that for today.

The landing was a bit bumpy, but finally she coasted to a stop. Pulling off her goggles, she stared up at the sky. A few planes still circled the area, but the fighting had died down. Her chest clenched. Smoke...rising from the area of the aerodrome.

After an inspection of the damage, she decided she would have to walk back. Though she hated to leave her plane, she would need assistance to get it back to the hangar and it looked as though there might be more urgent matters to deal with at the aerodrome. The smell of smoke wafted to her nostrils and she felt heartsick all the time that she walked. The second bomber must have dropped its load.

When she finally reached it, she found the manor in shambles. Cormag’s plane was intact, she realized with a shock, spotting it still whole under the canopy, but Cormag lay on a stretcher, blood smearing his face, a medic crouched next to him looking grim. Seth and Eirika, faces smudged with soot, watched in silence. The medic shook his head. Tana looked away.

You could fly as far as you liked and as high, but eventually you always had to come back down.

The End