His Majesty's Dragons: World at War

[LadyTevar]

"Capt Reynolds," Judith touched his sleeve. "Rankin left wit'out sayin' a word ta the Regal Copper n' its Captain. Since yer in charge fer now, shou'dnt we go greet 'em while Frostfell gets his limelight?"

+++++

Jebediah walked over to stand in Frostfell's shadow, tiny in comparison to the Wendigo but sharing the long lithe physique. "Ye crack'd him good, I'll give ya that," the white-swirled bluish lightweight told Faust. "Th' White Bastard here'll be xpectin' much more outta ya now that y'all done impress'd him." The use of the curseword was shocking, even if Frostfell considered it a badge of honor. War was hell on polite language.

"Ah'm Jebediah, a SmokeDevil iffen y'all n'er seen one. M' girl Judith's o'er there wit' Frostfell's Captain, Nathan Reynolds. He's th' one Rankin left in charge, an' he's as tough as this white monster," a wry look up at Frostfell, who could easily carry Jebediah in his mouth like a cat carrying a kitten, "bu' less lik'ly ta bite yer head off. Less yer stupid, then y'all get wha'er y'all d'serve."

The HillBilly accent of the Appalachians had met the 'mother tongue' of the Scottish Highlands during Jebediah's service up there, and his normal drawl had thickened in response. He and the Scottish Winchesters had sniped at each other nearly-incomprehensibly the whole time.

[JimmyTheCannon]

Stepping up to Captain Reynolds and Judith, James offered a hand to shake. "Captain James Cannon, with Faustus. I hope we can be of service here." The lean young man tried his best, charming "Please ignore the fact that I just attacked a heavyweight," smile.

Faust nodded seriously as Frostfell warned him of the German dragons they might soon be facing, doing his best not to preen with the praise he and Jebediah gave. "Of course - we wouldn't have even dreamed of trying such an attack one-on-one... but we couldn't sit back and do nothing while our new squadmates were being attacked." The little rust-red dragon nodded to Jebediah. "I am Faustus; James is my captain. I have met Smoke-Devils before, but most didn't have your color."

[General Havoc]

It took the better part of an hour for the barge carrying the Cauchador Real to make the crossing to Algeciras, the small wing of dragons dispatched to escort it circling lazily above as it made its way towards the Spanish air base. The forms of dragons, large and less large, loomed in the distance, some in the ground, some in the air. But no transmissions did they send, nor did any of the dragons approach. They seemed simply to watch, waiting as the British formation slowly approached. Only as the barge was nearing the shore did a single Cauchador Real take to the air, crewed, armed, and laden with chain mail, while from below, three more Whirlwinds and a Cacafuego watched the proceedings, even as a second Cauchador slept uncaring beneath a hastily-erected tarpaulin.

The assembled British dragons could have been forgiven for expecting the worst from yet another Cauchador Real, but Magister made no effort to intercept this newcomer, which flew up to the assembled British dragons with a stern look on its face. Larger than Campeador, with a hide scored by scarring and old injury, the weatherbeaten dragon stared daggers at each British beast in turn, as though considering which one to eat first.

"I am Ferretero," said the Cauchador Real, its accent thick but understandable. "What is the meaning of this?"

[dragnl0rd]

MALTA
2 DAYS AGO

"Oy, Alacritas, is it just me or is the general waiting for us on the ground personally?" Marcus lowered the binoculars from his face and let the strap slide so they'd be hanging at his hip with his camera.

Alacritas banked to the right and began to descend towards the landing field from the south, so that the setting sun wouldn't be in his eyes. "That's him all right. Wonder what he wants?"

Marcus began to detach the carabiners and dismount almost before his dragon finished his landing. "You might want to get some food in you once the ground crews take care of our gear. Just in case we're going back up." The dragon said nothing as Marcus walked to meet the general, and headed off to grab his dinner as soon as he was relieved of his gear.


"Sir!" Marcus snapped to attention and saluted his superior officer. "Reporting no visible change in position of Sicilian forces, However it seems they've been clearing a lot of space, as if to prepare for new arrivals of some sort."

"Very good, Captain Wainwright. At ease. Excellent work as usual." The General signalled an adjutant, who moved forward to relieve Marcus of his camera. "Were you seen?"

"No sir. There were sufficient clouds over Sicily to give me cover when the enemy got close. Lasted just long enough for me to complete my mission and get out."

"I only wish we had more like you, Captain. Unfortunately we don't, which makes me regret all the more that this will be the last report you give me."

"Sir?" Marcus made no effort to hide the confusion from his face.

"You're being detached from MI 15 Captain, and being reassigned to Gibraltar, effective immediately." He handed a folder to Marcus, and allowed a moment of pause as the captain skimmed the contents.

"General, these orders came in..."

"This afternoon, yes. However, we are under radio silence, and the orders arrived after you departed. Hence why you weren't recalled. You have twenty minutes to refresh your provisions, and then you are to depart. Dismissed!"

"Yes Sir!" Marcus barely snapped a salute before bolting for the mess hall, noting that the ground crew was already prepping the gear they had just removed from Alacritas for reattachment. His attention returned to the folder as he ran. He didn't know who this Captain Rankin was, but he doubted being late would make for a good first impression.

OVER THE MEDITTERANEAN
PRESENT DAY

Alacritas pulled out of his dive towards the water at the last second as a last ditch attempt to gain ground on his pursuers. "I hope we're close Marcus, it's getting harder to fool them!"

Marcus tried ignoring the cramps in his legs that were borne from too much strenuous flying in too short a time. "I know... just get us to Gibraltar, The closer we get, the more likely we are to get help." He turned his gaze behind him, noting that Alacritas' fancy maneuver had given them several seconds more lead on the Italian dragons in pursuit. He lifted the radio mic to his mouth and hit the button, hoping someone friendly was in the radio's range. "MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY; RAF Gibraltar; This is Captain Marcus Wainwright flying Alacritas. I am being pursued by multiple enemy dragons..."

Alacritas stretched his wings, trying to catch more air and propel themselves just a little bit faster, detemination driving every pump of his wings. Marcus spared another glance at his pursuers as he relayed his position into the radio, hoping they'd reach help in time.

[Comrade Tortoise]

"No problem at all Captain."

Haakon was a bit relieved. There was a difference between not wanting to shy away from an obligation, and actually wanting the obligation. Of course, something Rankin said had struck with him. Recent arrival? Well, yes, but that would not in a typically world preclude missions. He was also an elder statesmen. So to speak. If anyone was going to go, he was the logical choice. Then he looked around and remembered where he was.

A Wendigo. Yes. A Wendigo. It took coalitions of Valdemarians to bring those down when they ate Valdemarian children who went too far north past Troms. They had a reputation for being... interesting under harness. His captain, Reynolds was it? Well, he certainly looked like a Wendigo captain might. A West Virginian Smoke-Devil, accent and everything. Same with his captain. A Very large Victorian reaper named Kunja, who, given the set of balls on him, might well be as insane as Campeador. Half-suicidally aggressive Bonetail though Haakon had not caught his proper name. A Xolotl. That should be 'fun'. The Weyekin might be a good conversation partner, and the Typon would not say much. Then a new arrival. A Huge Regal Copper. This was not anything even close to a standard formation. This is not something someone trying to scrounge together to make look like a standard squadron might create.

Thinking about it, he understood Rankin's reluctance to send him, especially given reports from Tangmere. Rankin got the crazy squadron. No. Not the crazy squadron. The gloriously insane squadron. The squadron that would be worthy of song a thousand years from now. The squadron that would make any mentally balanced commander want to commit ritual suicide. But then he got confused. Haakon was sane and pragmatic, if unspeakably violent when the situation called for it and... carrying Vikings on his back. From Rankin's perspective... It was then that he got a mental image of what Rankin must fear. A detachment of Huskarls on the ship (it was a barge, but that part was irrelevant) with a Valdemarian flying overhead landing in Spanish territory and doing something that comes out of 1066 AD.

Musing over this, he spoke to himself in Norwegian a few moments after Rankin had left.

"Ah. He must think I am Harald Hardråde. Excellent.". Bjorn at least heard it, and suppressed a snicker while walking over to Haakon

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"You fuss over me like a human grandparent. I am fine, nothing injured but my pride from being knocked over and pinned."

"You sure showed him though" Bjorn responded.

"I most certainly did!" Haakon said, before cutting off his urge to boast too loudly. There was one thing you did NOT want to do, and that was steal a Wendigo's thunder. "But that hold would have been possible without Frostfell providing most of the weight. A jaw hold is hard enough when a dragon weighs 20 tons." Doing it without killing the other dragon is much harder than simply killing him. It was possible with that hold to break a bigger dragon's neck if he made the wrong move, but getting to the hold in the first place with a dragon that size was possible Still, not easy. That stars would have to be in the metaphorical proper alignment. Omens provided by a Wendigo rising into the heavens bellowing 'Who Dares!?'

...


"Captain Cannon, why on earth would we ignore the fact that you all but committed suicide in an attempt to subdue a Cauchador Real in the midst of an 'episode'?" Haakon said, looking over at the little dragon after he had gotten some of the little rocks out from between his scales. They irritated him so.

"That dragon could have shaken you like a terrier shakes a rat, and the only thing we would find left of Faustus is the bone club on the end of his tail, because Campeador would have been gnawing on it like said terrier on a tennis ball." he paused, to let what seemed like a scold sink in.

"And it was awesome! A damn good job!" he said with a giant toothy grin. "An action like that is only foolish if you get torn to bits as a result. You had backup, surprise, superior position to strike. You did everything right save for going out of your weight class, which if you manage to pull it off in battle and not die, will earn you commendations instead of scorn."

Before the other dragons could respond, a runner came over from Haakon's "encampment" which itself had just erupted into a frenzy of activity. Unfortunately, he did not speak english and spoke in Norwegian. Haakon did the same.

"My Lord!" he said, bowing slightly "We have received a distress call from the Radio Hut. Captain Wainwright on the Winchester Alacritas is being pursued by multiple hostile dragons. We are being called to arms."

"Very well Lieutenant Hansen." Haakon responded. "Get the flight crew assembled."

"Already done my Lord"

"Good." he said, before turning his head to Captain Reynolds and spoke in English.

"My apologies Captain Reynolds, I am afraid my retainer does not speak English. We have received a distress call from one Captain Wainwright on the Winchester Alacritas. He is being chased by hostile forces and in need of assistance. We have received a scramble order."

[Cynical Cat]

"Your radio man doesn't speak English?" asked Reynolds. "You had better remedy that. Everyone, back to base and into harness! If we don't have time, we go crewless! Get me enemy location and bearing. There will be bloody hell to pay if they catch us on the ground! If we can't saddle up in time, Frostfell is in charge!"

[Dark Silver]

Roberts nodded as Reynolds gave the orders, and with a quick crisp "Aye, Sir" rushed back to Thundercracker.

"No time to waste, we've a lightweight over the Med being harrassed by Axis. You rested enough?"

Thundercracker eyed his Captain, then nodded, settling lower to the ground to aid Robert's nimble climb, "I can build up the charge enroute."

"Good. Let's get the boys and get set."

As Roberts settled in, snapping his carbiner straps in place, the Xolotl raised itself to height, streched it's rainbow colored wings, and took to the air. It took only a minute to get back to his crew, the men had received word of the scramble over the radio and had the fighting harness and equipment almost ready.

"Quick now boys, light combat harness. We need to get into the air as soon as possible. Longfellow! Bring your best four shooters, and forget the rear gun. No time to get them set up." Robert's was giving the orders even as he slid from the Xolotl's neck and helping the crew with the gear.

[Charon]

Kunja kept his eyes on the Whirlwinds and Cacafuego below him, though he glanced at the Cauchador as he approached and glared at him. Kunja wasn't the kind of dragon to back down, and neither was his captain.

Fortunately, this wasn't their fight. The pair kept quiet and tough looking, letting Rankin deal with the more diplomatic parts.

[Comrade Tortoise]

"Your radio man doesn't speak English?" asked Reynolds. "You had better remedy that. Everyone, back to base and into harness! If we don't have time, we go crewless! Get me enemy location and bearing. There will be bloody hell to pay if they catch us on the ground! If we can't saddle up in time, Frostfell is in charge!"

"No, that would be silly. My radio man sent Hansen ahead while he listened for further information, I imagine"

With that, Haakon reached over, picked his Bjorn up, put him on his back, permitted Lt Hansen to climb up and get himself locked in, then made his way with all due haste over toward the rest of his crew.

There was a reason he traveled in full battle harness, all that remained was for the gun turrets to be reloaded and ammunition secured. Then his crew swarmed over him, each carrying a submachine gun, and some sort of bladed weapon, and got themselves locked in. Then Haakon opened his wings, took to the air and began to climb so he could take an overwatch position while the rest of the dragons got into harness again.

[JimmyTheCannon]

Jimmy's eyes widened with surprise as Haakon started on in him... then lit with understanding and amusement as the dragon finished him. Before he could respond, however, the runner came up and delivered his message. As soon as the Valdemarian translated it, Jimmy was running over to Faustus, climbing abaord and clipping onto the harness. "Faust, we've got trouble coming, get us up there."

The Bonetail turned from Frostfell and Jebediah and sprang into the air, wings beating rapidly to gain altitude. Faustus's head turned from side to side as he searched for whatever was coming. His captain keyed his radio. "Captain Wainwright, we hear you. What's your location, and the composition of the enemy forces?" As he spoke, he readied his Thompson, scanning for the incoming dragons.

[LadyTevar]

Judith didn't need told twice. It helped that the fracas had delayed them enough that Jebediah was still harnessed. She sprinted for her dragon, yelling as she went. "Jeb! Frostfell! Scramble!"
As Faustus took off Judith climbed up into harness and buckled in, shouting Reynold's orders over to Frostfell. "Eye-talians chasing one o' ours. Best get dressed fast iffen ya wanna fight, Frostfell!"

Jebediah leapt skyward, wings beating for altitude. "Jis' like old times, righ' Frostfell?" he called back down, rising to join formation with the other lightweights. Judith tuned the radio to try to catch word from the endangered dragon, keeping radio silence herself to better hear incoming traffic.

[General Havoc]

Any other air force would have put a stop to it.

A single scouting dragon, a courierweight, one of a dozen different breeds that could be sent on such a mission, should have rated a response of perhaps a single combat lightweight, maybe two if they desperately needed it to drop. If no fast lightweights were available, certain air forces might even send up a midweight bred for speed, a Phoenix perhaps or a Swabian Lightning Bolt. But that was the end of it. There was simply no reason to send anything else after a single Winchester.

Which is why it said more about the state of the Italian Air Force than any other thing that Captain Wainwright and Alacritas found themselves being chased across the Mediterranean Sea by no less than four midweight dragons, two lightweights, and one of the most deadly Special Weapons breeds on the face of the earth.

The lightweights were Apennine Razorbacks, Samnite mountain dragons whose better speed recommended them for pursuit above the old standby Centurions. To send a pair of Razorbacks after a Winchester was a bit much perhaps, but the Italians had done one more, sending the Razorbacks' flightmaster, a Venetian Nimbus up with them. Even that might have been defensible, but for whatever reason, two Tuscan Raiders had gone up as well. Had they been Savoyards or Diavollos, one might have assumed they were acting of their own volition, but Raiders were famous for the professionalism of their mercenary natures, and were unlikely to simply chase a Lightweight halfway across creation of their own volitions. But whose orders they were following, nobody seemed to know. The Raiders themselves did not even deign to share their radio frequencies with the rest of the Italian beasts, and when a second Nimbus, returning from its own scouting patrol, happened upon the furball, its compatriot asked for help. One did not want to take chances around a pair of Raiders who could well be in the pay of some scheming Diavollo. So it was that two pairs of midweights followed the two Apennine lightweights towards their target, neither pair even chancing a glance at the other.

But it was the dragon that followed them which had everyone nervous. Where it had come from, and why, nobody knew. At one point it had not been there, and the next, a scout had spotted it coming down out of the clouds. A Sicilian Nemesis, one of the Antichrists of Sicily, a sickly-green monster that flew just behind the midweights and above them in radio silence, watching and waiting like a leopard hunting antelope. The solitary Lightweight it was chasing could not possibly have paid it much mind, occupied as it was in trying to evade a horde of dragons closer to hand, but both the crews of the midweights and the midweights themselves continually glanced back in its direction, as if expecting the terrible beast to hurl itself at them at any moment.

The clouds were thin and far between, and the weather a spectacular Azure blue as this gaggle of dragons approached the Spanish coastline. Unfortunately for the Winchester, it could not possibly reach Gibraltar before the Razorbacks and other dragons seized it. Unfortunately for the Italians, they were not so close as to seize their prey before re-enforcements could arrive, and indeed they could already seen to be forming up, specks on the horizon resolving to larger forms.

[Dark Silver]

Thundercracker's crew rushed their jobs, stripping the "casual" harness away and rigging up the Xolotl with it's combat harness. A few quick stretches and tugs born from long training tested out the rigs effectiveness, and Robert's called for his men to climb on.

The 50 calibur tailgun was left behind on this run - it would take longer rig it on than they had to get harnessed and in flight. The riflemen climbed onboard first, followed by the rest of the combat crew, and all got into place. Once all were secured, Roberts himself scaled the beast, and took his position in the saddle, a Calvary saber at his right, a Colt M1911A pistol strapped beneath his left arm, and a M1 Carbine slung on his back. He has extra clips for both weapons in his coat, though he hoped now to use them.

Once Roberts had settled in and strapped himself in, Thundercracker reared up, tested the load, then took to the air, a short run and leap clearing him of the ground, as his serpentine body arced into the air, following the lightweights who already were moving into formation, using his own wings to actually hover in the midst of the circling lightweights.

[LadyTevar]

"Lor'Above... what was he spyin' on?" Jebediah, his eyes sharper, said when he spotted the Winchester and his pursuers. "Tha's a whole squadron after 'em!" He spiraled higher, following a thermal up to gain the height he preferred to strike from. He was betting the Italians had yet to tangle with a SmokeDevil. He was already starting to grin, wondering how shocked the middleweights would be when he hooked them.

Judith just whistled, then keyed her mike. "Visual on the Winchester. I see Two Lights, FOUR Midweight, an' one more hangin' back. Permission ta engage, Frostfell?"

[dragnl0rd]

Gunfire cracked through the air as Marcus sprayed a few rounds from his Lanchester SMG at a Razorback who'd gotten a little close for comfort, hoping the bullets would make the captain hesitate before they tried following Alacritas through another maneuver, or that he'd get VERY lucky and a bullet would wound the captain and remove them from the pursuit entirely.

"...Captain Wainwright, we hear you. What's your location, and the composition of the enemy forces?"

Only his training kept Marcus from being startled by the inbound transmission mid turn, "Bloody hell, reinforcements! Can you see them Alacritas?" Marcus turned and fired at the second razorback, cursing as the spray ended in the tell-tale 'click' of an empty magazine. He ejected the clip and let it fall to the sea as he pulled one of his remaining two clips from its compartment, and clicked it home.

"I can, and a glorious sight it is! Two lightweights and a mid-weight forming up so far!" A new hope fueled adrenaline surge coursed through Alacritas' wings as they pumped harder between thermals, banking hard and pulling turns that made Marcus glad he wasn't susceptible to motion sickness. He keyed his radio...

"RAF Gibraltar, I'm currently being chased by two Apennine Razorbacks, two Tuscan Raiders, two Nimbuses, and a Sicilian Nemesis, and they are gaining! I am approaching from the southeast and we have you in visual range, please confirm!" Even giving this run everything they had, Marcus and Alacritas both knew that if their new best friends were going to make the intercept at all, it was going to be a very close thing indeed.

[JimmyTheCannon]

James and Faustus followed the more experienced Jebediah up into the air, the captain paling as Wainwright rattled off the list of dragons chasing him. He could see the Winchester now, and not far behind it, the squad of Italians. Faustus circled as he gained altitude, the dragon calm as he studied the incoming dragons.

"Copy that, Captain Wainwright, we see you." Captain Cannon cut himself off before confirming that they were moving to intercept, waiting for the order from Frostfell and Captain Reynolds. He leaned down to speak to Faust. "Be ready to hit one of those Razorbacks - if we get enough speed, we should be able to drop him in a single hit." The Bonetail rumbled agreement, his gaze fixed on the lightweights.

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell landed in cloud of dust. "Arm me!" he roared as he trotted over under his crane. The Wendigo's flight crew scrambled to attach his harness.

"The captain?" McKenzie asked as he connected a chain securing armour plates around the dragon's body. The crane whined as it maneuvered the saddle and heavy weapon mount above the dragon.

"He'll be here in a few minutes," said Frostfell. "We better be ready to fly by then."

McKenzie looked up. "The six pounder might not be ready by then."

"Make it ready," Frostfell growled. "Get the radio working."

"Yes sir," said Lacroix. The lithe operator was helping secure the saddle to the big dragon's back. He put on he earphones and turned on the wireless set. "Two lights, four mediums, and what might be a Nemesis trailing the formation. Tentatively ID of Razorbacks, two Nimbuses, and two Raiders."

Frostfell snorted. Weight inflation was normal in these situations. "We'll see."

Nathan came running onto the field. One of his crew tossed him his Thompson and an ammunition bandolier. "Situation."

"Seven enemies. Two tentative lightweights, four mediums, and one Nemesis."

"Accuracy?"

"Not bad," said McKenzie. "Judith confirms the weights, but not the identity of the Nemesis."

Nathan climbed into the saddle and helped finish readying the six pounder for action. "Get confirmation on the Nemesis. Deflect the lightweights, but try not to tangle with the mediums until we have some weight and power. If that thing is a Nemesis, leave it alone unless they have a kill shot."

One of the groundcrew threw the thumbs up sign. Nathan strapped himself in. Frostfell took a running jump and rose into the air. "Tell them we'll be with them shortly."

[LadyTevar]

"Copy, Frostfell," Judith said, acknowledging orders. "Jeb, th' one in th' back's a Nem'sis, a Special. We're ta go deflect th' Lightweights, leave th' Mids lone fer now."

Jebediah nods, and relays the orders to Faustus, Haakon, and Thundercracker. "Get th' Lightweights! Leave th' Others!" With that, he turned and started with full speed to intercept the Razorbacks before they got to the Winchester. Battle was joined, and Jebediah wasn't jus' a damned scout anymore.

[Comrade Tortoise]

The Radio crackled with Wainwright's response

I'm currently being chased by two Apennine Razorbacks, two Tuscan Raiders, two Nimbuses, and a Sicilian Nemesis

Haakon's wings stopped beating for a second, and his muscles tensed up as he continued to ride that thermal.

"Haakon? Are you OK?" Bjorn asked. Haakon snapped out of it.

"Bad memories. We need more altitude before we go anywhere near one of those." he kicked his wings into the next gear and expanded his spiral to get more height per distance. The formation made sense. At that range, any attack on the mid-weights put them in spite-range of a nemesis, but the two middleweight groups were not mutually supporting. They could get that way, but they were still tricky to attack. They needed to get the middleweights out from under the Nemesis' shadow.

Then the order came in Engage lightweights, kill or force breakoff. Avoid middlweights until weight and power is superior. Also made sense. Also needed confirmation on that Nemesis, but at this range, it was impossible to confirm visually. The distance was too far to differentiate between colors.

He left the thermal after the updraft started to dissipate and flew at all possible speed in a wide arc that would allow him to cut across into the razorback's after Faustus and Jeb got their attention, then break off after contact to avoid being grappled by a Nimbus.

[JimmyTheCannon]

They had their orders, and it was exactly what Jimmy and Faust had planned anyway. The pair was headed straight for one of the Razorbacks, the Bonetail's wings beating mightily for speed and altitude. His intentions would be clear to the rest of the squad, which had just seen him perform the maneuver they were preparing for on a much larger target. As soon as they were close, Faustus dove, his flight path bringing him down right in front of the bladed dragon, the heavy tail curling up in an arc aimed at the Razorback's head.

(Edited to remove post-dive actions, sorry.)

[Dark Silver]

Thundercracker climbed to gain height - even as Jeb and Judith relayed the orders.

"Understood," Roberts called back over his radio, "Thundercracker will climb for over-watch, just get us a shot on some of them."

The entire flight, indeed even while on their flight before the others had been arriving, Thundercracker's electrical charge had been building. Even as the rainbow swirl colored dragon took a position of height, he adapted his movements to keep him within the protection of the squad. More than anything, Roberts hoped the Italians were not familiar with the Xolotl breed, or that one had been dispatched to Gibraltar, even as Thundercracker made his mark on his first target - the Nimbus.

Now he only needed to wait for reinforcement to make his attack.

[LadyTevar]

As Faustus dove, it was obvious he was about to attempt the same attack he'd used on the Cauchador. Jebediah shook his head sadly, muttering "Tha' tain't gonna end well...." But a moment later Jebediah had reached the height he needed and folded his wings for a dive. His target was the second Razorback.

Judith leaned close against Jebediah's neck, cradling her tommygun. Once they made their dive, she'd spray the Razorback's head with gunfire, to further discourage it. She honestly didn't think that Jebediah would be trying to hook this one. As the world twisted around her and the wind sped past, she saw she was right -- Jebediah was aiming for the head/neck of the lightweight.

Jebediah was aiming for the least spiky bit he could find, which meant the neck. That, however, would mean hitting the captain, so Jeb braced for the pain he'd be getting from slamming a front claw into the Razorback's head. Hopefully, the Razorback would be smart enough to evade ...

... which meant Jeb would miss, but would also buy the Winchester more time.

[General Havoc]

Captain Rankin had scarcely begun speaking to the new Cauchador when the radio reports, transmitted from Frostfell's powerful transmitter and the repeating stations at Gibraltar itself, began to come in that a large formation of Italian dragons was chasing a courier towards Gibraltar. Captain Reynolds had (of course) ordered the squadron to scramble and attack. Rankin would have done the same in his place. But that now meant he had a difficult decision. Radio reported seven Italians in the air, five of them midweight-size or better, one a Nemesis, the nasty Sicilian specials that represented proof that Italy's air force could well be a serious threat if they could ever solve the endemic nightmares associated with it. To oppose that, Reynolds had only half of a squadron, fewer dragons than the enemy, and smaller ones, even if there were two Specials to thicken the mix, and Frostfell himself larger than anything present. Still a chancy thing given the individual prowess of many Italian breeds. And here with Æquitas were three veteran dragons, two of them midweight, and the last one who thought himself one. Forty tons of dragonweight was enough to tip the scales one way or the other, to say nothing of Æquitas himself. Yet Æquitas could not go. Someone had to stay here and explain what had happened to the Cauchador Real, and Rankin didn't feel particularly up to doing so on foot with no means of escape, nor was he prepared to send Æquitas into combat without him. That said, it was a question of a battle that might happen against one that was happening. He made his decision in three seconds.

"Kunja, Kalter, Franklin," said Rankin, picking up the radio and speaking quickly into it, "bear off and support the rest of the squadron. That Italian formation might be too much, even for them." A glance at the map told him the shortest route. "Cut across the mainland and intercept the enemy off Estepona. I'll remain here to resolve this matter with the Spanish authorities. Take your orders from Captain Reynolds in my absence."

*---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

In the air above the Alboran Sea, things were beginning to get ugly.

The first dragon to engage was Faustus, who not minutes before had hit a Cauchador Real in the skull with his terrible drubbing instrument, and lived to tell about it. Unescorted, the Northwestern Bonetail aimed its weapon this time at smaller prey, an Apennine Razorback, a combat Lightweight from the mountains of Italy, studded in spikes of bone and wearing a pair of wingblades. The Razorback had been angling towards the Winchester, but seeing the Bonetail coming, it began to bear off.

That was more or less the problem.

The Cauchador Real had been caught off-guard, partly by being below the Bonetail, partly by the sheer bald-faced insanity of the maneuver. The Razorback on the other hand had plenty of time to see the rust-red Bonetail coming, and it required no leaps of imagination to guess what the enormous flanged growth on the end of its tail was intended for. The Razorback slid back a bit, gaining altitude as the Bonetail moved up and over and then suddenly dove towards its target, the club descended towards the dragon's head. But while Razorbacks were rustic, this one knew precisely what it was doing, and with a single pulse of its wings, the Razorback bore to the right and forward, dodging the telegraphed strike with ease, before snapping one wing open into the Bonetail's path, wingblade extended. It was far too late to arrest the dive, and Faustus tore right into it.

Had Faustus hit the wing directly, it might have broken the Razorback's wing, but the Razorback knew what it was doing. Only the tip of the blade stroked Faustus' side, if by 'stroked' one meant 'sliced open'. The gash wasn't terribly deep, but it laid Faustus open from ribs to tail, running all the way down one flank and only barely avoiding slicing his Captain's foot off. The unexpected slash crumpled Faustus' dive, not that it mattered overmuch now, and he shot down past the Razorback, leaving the larger Italian dragon overhead.

Which, in all seriousness, was not where one wanted to leave a spike-studded Razorback. A point made clearly when the Razorback calmly folded its wings and dove right down after Faustus, intending to crash headlong into the lightweight and, at best, seriously wound the recalcitrant Canadian.

*--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

As first blood was drawn, and the battle engaged for real, the rest of the Italian formation began moving into position for battle.

Jebediah was also diving, though in this case, he was aiming for a much more oblique target, and the Razorback that was his own intended victim did not have the time to maneuver in such a way as to make him regret it. Instead it did much as Jebediah had hoped, ducking the intended attack by breaking to the left, leaving Jeb to shoot by in a clean miss. Both Judith and the Razorback's Captain fired their submachine guns at one another, but the angles were too extreme for anything useful, and aside from a single sparking hit on the Razorback's hindquarters, deflected harmlessly into the air by armor and dragonscale, nothing transpired from either burst.

But like Faustus, this dive placed Jebediah beneath his selected Razorback, albeit with better control of his positioning, and like his counterpart, the Razorback decided that a dragon in hand was better than one not yet acquired. Winchesters were a dime a dozen, but this strange-colored Courier-weight had not only attacked him, but tried to bash him in the head with its wing, for reasons unknown. Intrigued by the prospect of more interesting prey, the Razorback circled and dove towards Jebediah, its nimble wings pursuing the West Virginian as its claws opened and closed.

Haakon meanwhile was circling to attack the lightweights, but unfortunately had attracted attention of his own. The Nimbuses following the Razorbacks suddenly began putting on speed, first one, then the other coming about to place themselves between Haakon and their lightweights. One Nimbus shot a look at the two Tuscan Raiders and shouted something inaudible into its radio-mike, but the Raiders took no notice, remaining where they were, leaving the two Nimbus dragons to move towards the Valdemarian unaided. In fairness, each Nimbus was roughly the Haakon's equal in speed, strength, and weight, and the two of them together should not have posed a problem.

But the Nemesis on the other hand, had sighted a target of its own, and without saying a word to anyone, began gaining altitude as quickly as it could. Its target was a small mid-weight, brilliantly colored, with a crested head and broad wings, itself gaining altitude in preparation for an attack. Ignoring the midweights below, the Nemesis bore ahead and up, closing the distance on the Xolotl, though if it knew what it was approaching, it gave no sign. Nemeses did not generally need to worry themselves with the capabilities of rival dragons, and this one clearly thought it had the measure of its opponent, with ten tons extra weight and a weapon that could stop a Kampfritter's heart loaded and ready.

[Dark Silver]

While Thundercracker's eye was settled on the Nimbus he had chosen for a target, as a trained Dragon of the United States Air Force with combat experience under his wings, he was not so foolish to be aware of only his target. Fortunately, neither was his Captain - himself a long serving Officer in the Service, who had seen more than his own share of combat. They had taught the crew well, lookouts kept watch on the sky, as the Xolotl made a standard turn in the air.

"Nemesis, 8 o'clock low!" shouted the look-out, Ensign Shumacker, which Roberts relayed to the rainbow beast. "Nemesis are venom spitters Thundercracker, change targets, prepare strafe."

Thundercracker grunted his assent, even as he made his course correction, bringing the Nemesis into his 12 and just below. Within the beast, the great organs which contained and channeled his electrical attack was filled to the brim, ready to unleash the crackling hell. Despite this, Thundercracker heeded his Captain's warning, knowing from their briefings that a Nemesis could spit at them effectively even from below. There was only one truly "safe" place on a Nemesis - behind it. And as such, Thundercracker was flying in a way which would appear to it's opponent random, but the goal of giving him a clear shot.

"Thundercracker to Jebidiah, Sicilian Nemesis confirmed. Looks like it's getting ready to engage us. We'll keep them busy as long as possible."

For a brief moment, Roberts' was regreting not giving the extra few minutes to situate the rear .50 - but for now Thundercracker was bristling with guns of various sorts, his rifle crew ready to make their shots, even as Roberts himself un-slung his M1 and checked the chamber.

It was a mere second later that Thundercracker judged the Nemesis to be in range without a escort, Thundercracker dove, opened his jaws, and released his lighting as the thunderclap split the sky.

[Charon]

Kunja and Jake nodded, "Aye, sir." Jake keyed over his radio.

That was all that needed saying. Without another word, the World's Best and Only Heavy Lightweight turned and made best speed for intercept at Estepona. He would be a bit winded when he got there. But better him winded and his squadron alive than fresh and his squadron dead. Even Kunja thought twice of the prospect of solo-ing an Italian squadron that had a Nemesis.

"Gibralter. Contact Captain Reynolds. Tell him reinforcements are on route. Captain Rankin states to rendezvous off Estepona."