1st of Glade, 121 Steel
Onneifer Airfield
Onneifer Airfield
"How many blokes do you reckon had to die before the parachute was perfected?" Lieutenant Barron wondered aloud, as he fingered the leather strap of the harness that crisscrossed his broad chest. His commanding officer chuckled in answer to the absent query, before positing:
"Oh, you're an optimist if you believe they've been 'perfected'." Air Commander Brenner Stahl Dornkirk had served in the Zaichaer Air Defence Corps since he was seventeen years old, some twelve years earlier. He was of an age with Lieutenant Adler Barron and, indeed, they'd attended the Battle Academy together and graduated the same year- The 108th of the Age of Steel.
"Oi! Easy for you to say, when you get to sit pretty shipside whilst I'm hurdling toward the street one bad ripcord away from being liquified on the cobblestone." Unlike his commander, Lieutenant Adler Barron had come from a military family, but the two men were both the first commissioned officers in their respective families. Whilst the Dornkirks had been factory-floor labourers in the East End, the Barrons had been grunts and greasers- Mere cogs in the mighty military machine of Zaichaer.
"If it makes you feel better, Lieutenant, we never fly lower than we do during exhibitions. If your ripcord is faulty, you probably won't be totally liquified. Just the softer bits." Although Brenner was the first Dornkirk to join the ranks of Zaichaer's defence force, he'd skipped a few rungs on the ladder to command due to his family's newfound political influence. He was a capable- Some had even said a paragon- Air Commander, but it was unusual for someone with no familial legacy amongst the ranks of Zaichaer's officers to take the honourable command path.
"You're seriously freaking me out, mate..." Lt. Barron grimaced, scratching the back of his neck, as Brenner stepped closer.
"Oh, don't be daft. You've done this dozens of times from far greater heights." He began to check Adler's equipment, piece by piece. "Besides- You think I'd led you tumble to your gory death today of all days? When there are children watching?" He patted Adler's pack. "You're all good. Now, get out there. It looks like I'm giving you special treatment." Brenner smirked, turning on his heel to pace down the line of paratroopers still awaiting inspection. Sauntering down one column, he scanned the soldiers to his left appraisingly, before pivoting back round to stroll by- inspecting those on the other side. Their uniforms and equipment were in order, but he noticed more than a couple of nervous tremors and other anxious tics. He pursed his lips, and turned back to address the troops on either side of the aisle.
"Airmen!" Brenner called out, "Hail Zaichaer!"
"Hail Zaichair!" The subordinates called in response, with the appropriate accompanying salute.
"This is a glorious day for the Searing Victory!" His baritone resonated through the hangar, "No. I grant you we shall not vie today with some puissant force for the glory of our realm. No gods-fearing, spellcasting wretches shall we smite into soot with the almighty fires of industry." He cracked a smirk, "That day will come soon enough, but today we shall display our ascendancy through bloodless means..." He paused at the end of the line, and pivoted back round.
"I know that many of you are new to our ranks... Fresh conscripts, who joined for glory, for family... to settle debts, or to protect your Fatherland. Whatever your reasons, I care not. It matters how, not why you serve. And the rookies amongst you are most fortunate to take your first flight at the dawn of this New Year. To ascend in exhibition, rather than bloody constraint.
"You lucky lot." Here, Brenner paused at the centre between the two columns of soldiers, slowly turning to address them all. "To take to the skies and dive into clouds, as if they were waves in some placid, alabaster sea... With no bolts of wood nor eldritch lightning traversing your course and threatening to end your career before it truly begins. Nae..." He looked into one man's eyes, and smiled.
"Today we will loose no maelstroms of mayhem to massacre the minions of our enemies who surfeit themselves on lawless magicks. The Firestorm we engender this day will be harmless and brightly coloured- Designed to delight the senses of the civilians below who rely upon us to uphold their way of life. A show of force where, by hard work and happenstance, no force is needed." He looked into another unfamiliar pair of eyes, "Where are you from, lad?"
"...The East End, sir."
"Why do you sound bashful saying so? I ask again: From where do you hail?"
"The East End, sir! Varyan Street!"
"Is that right?" Brenner's expression softened, "My father was born and raised on Varyan Street. Did you know that?"
"Aye, sir. My father worked the floor with him when they weren't but lads."
"And does your father still work that floor?"
"Nay, sir. But he worked it 'til the day he died- right there in front of his station."
"Like a soldier." Brenner said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. "And he raised a son who joined up to be one."
"Aye, sir. For my family and for my Fatherland."
"Let's give them a show today, shall we?" Brenner shifted his head to address the larger group, once more.
"Airmen! Form up!" He turned on his heel toward the gangplank of the Searing Victory. "You are the pride of Zaichaer! Go forth today, and give this a city a glimpse of our glory! For your families!" He glanced to the young soldier from Varyan Street with a wink, "And for your Fatherland!" He marched back toward Adler Barron,
"Lieutenant, get these troopers aboard the Searing Victory. It is time we prepare for our ascent."
"Aye, Air Commander." With a nod to Barron, Brenner stalked toward the gangplank and ascended onto the waiting airship.
* * *
The massive airship Searing Victory took to the skies some time later from Onneifer Airfield. The Searing Victory was an obvious choice to represent the Z.A.D.C. in their New Years exhibition, due to the sheer size of the vessel. She wasn't some quick, manoeuvrable sky skiff, dancing upon the winds like a dolphin at sea. She was a leviathan of the air- Dark and imposing, with the emblem of Zaichaer emblazoned in blood red across a black hull that left her nearly invisible on a cloudless night. In the bright, sunlit sky, however she was impossible to miss as she hung low over the city- moving at a glacial pace over the parade route, as thousand celebrated below.
Flanked by smaller vessels, the Searing Victory was a centrepiece in the Air Defence Corps' contribution to the New Years Parade. If the audience expected a simple, hovering reminder they were treated to a midday surprise when paratroopers leapt from on high, dropping streaks of colour through the air as they fell, until they simultaneously pulled their ripcords, and matching parachutes plumed above them to slow their descent into safe landings along the parade route. Hours later, when the sky grew dark, the Searing Victory would invoke its nomenclature as a "Firestorm-Class" vessel, when Brenner ordered a pyrotechnic airstrike and streams of sparkling lights poured forth from the ventral canons.
Brenner regarded the display with a slight smile. Was it just his imagination, or could he hear the cumulative gasp of the thousands below as the first waves of sparkling light began to drip forth from the ship?
"A good day's work, Dornkirk." The Captain approached from behind the Air Commander, and placed a hand upon his epaulet-capped shoulder. "Now that the skies are sparkling, it's only fair that we get to drinking the sparkly stuff, as well."
Brenner nodded with a smile, and turned to fetch a bottle that had been chilling all day.
"I'm eager to get down to join in the revelry." The Captain grinned, "Those lucky paras got a head start on us, didn't they?"
Pop!
"That they did." Brenner replied, pouring the bubbly into flutes. "They did well, I thought."
"Mostly." The captain conceded, taking a glass by the stem. "But Lieutenant Barron wasn't in sync with the others. He's been at it long enough, you'd think he'd..." The captain paused, and considered, "You attended the Academy with him, didn't you?"
"Aye." Brenner nodded once.
"He wasn't built for the skies. You know that, don't you?"
The Air Commander hesitated, before nodding.
"Then you know what you need to do, Commander Dornkirk." He raised his glass, "Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year." Brenner said, clinking his flute against the older man's, and drawing it to his lips for a sip. "I'll put in the paperwork for his transfer to the ground corps first thing tomorrow."
The captain wrinkled his nose,
"Well. Don't let it spoil your evening." He downed the entirety of his glass in several large gulps, before adding: "It can wait 'til the afternoon."
